Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 878: Sage advice

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Noah’s gaze shifted from his badge to Brayden, who held his own up. Darkness still cloaked everything; he hadn't been selected. Lee’s badge was equally dark. Noah realized he would be entering this round solo, which, in some respects, might be advantageous, as making a significant impact was often simpler when one wasn’t concerned about others. “You’re up, huh?” Brayden remarked, noting the luminescence of Noah’s rune. “Best of luck. Try not to do anything too reckless, and remember to manage your energy. Making a statement is crucial, but so is advancing far enough in the tournament to gain recognition. Overshare your presence, and you risk drawing unwanted attention.” “Wise words,” Noah replied. “Thank you.” “Have fun,” Lee chimed in. Her usual amusement softened as she turned serious. “Don’t die. That would be unfortunate.” Everyone, save for Fist, understood Lee’s underlying meaning. Her concern wasn’t about Noah’s immediate well-being. Even outside Obsidia, Sunder’s abilities would likely remain unknown. If others discovered his capabilities here, the consequences could be dire for everyone involved. Noah offered a grim nod. He had no intention of jeopardizing his unbroken survival record, especially not in a tournament, and certainly not so early on. This was merely an elimination stage; his primary concern wasn’t about survival itself. However, the time for contemplation had passed. Placing his hand on the badge, Noah felt a crackle of molten green energy. A fierce tingling spread through his skin as the power enveloped him in a cocoon. For a strange moment, nothing else seemed to happen. He remained still, immersed in a tempest of magical energy. It almost appeared as if the badge was malfunctioning. Just as a puzzled frown began to form on his face, a sharp pop echoed, and the pressure in his ears shifted abruptly. The ground vanished beneath him, only to be replaced by solid stone an instant later. A distant roar met his ears. The surrounding magic dissipated with a reluctant sigh, like air escaping a deflating balloon, and Noah found himself standing some distance from the arena's edge. Other mages were scattered across the battlegrounds; he seemed to be among the last to arrive. Above him, an immense crowd stretched as far as the eye could see. Their collective noise was far more potent here than it had been in the previous room. Even with magic dampening the sound, the roar of the eager spectators carried clearly to the arena floor. Lingering confusion persisted in Noah’s mind. Something about his transportation felt peculiar. The magic hadn’t taken nearly as long to engulf Fist. He glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers. Even now, the atmosphere around him seemed subtly altered. Yet, Noah couldn’t pinpoint what felt amiss. It simply… was. He dismissed the thoughts. There was no time for them now. Perhaps his badge was simply old or slightly defective. It likely didn't matter much. Deep down, Noah suspected there was more to it, but this wasn't the moment to ponder if the Mistress had somehow cursed his badge. Baun’s voice boomed from above, rousing the crowd for the upcoming round. His words held no particular interest; all that mattered was the impending ten-minute countdown to the fight. Unfortunately, Noah hadn't yet determined his optimal strategy. Some individuals nearby had already begun coalescing into groups, some appearing to know each other, others simply seeking the company of those who looked approachable. This was something Noah had absolutely no intention of doing. No one would forge a name for themselves by joining a mob of mages. While this might be a melee stage, the tournament had officially begun, demanding his utmost decorum. Noah adjusted his stance. The frown beneath his mask deepened. Something still felt off. The air around him was heavier than it should be. Aqua Terra’s suppression on sensing other domains appeared to still be active, but this sensation was different. He shook his head. The crowd’s roar intensified. Rubbing his eyes and clenching his jaw, he looked skyward—only to discover the countdown timer already displayed.

Baun had commenced the countdown at some juncture. However, more than that, two minutes had already elapsed. The counter now indicated only 8 minutes remaining. A ripple of bewilderment crossed Noah’s mind. He was certain he hadn’t been standing idle for that duration. His gaze returned to the arena floor surrounding him.

Then, his frown deepened further. Several substantial groups were milling about him. They had all turned their backs on each other, casting suspicious glances towards the outsiders, poised for an assault. But that couldn’t be right. Everyone had only just been assembling and solidifying their alliances moments before.

The swift formation of cohesive groups didn’t compute, especially considering that a number of the mages were clearly unacquainted with one another.

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Noah shook his head resolutely. Ultimately, this development changed nothing. He had no intention of joining any group. If anything, the congregation of opponents would simplify matters for him. Nobody would forge a significant reputation if they didn’t eliminate at least a handful of mages from the competition in the initial round.

Having his adversaries grouped together would merely facilitate the elimination of numerous opponents simultaneously. After all… it was highly improbable that anyone truly formidable would align themselves with a cohort of weaker mages.

It was the smaller factions and individual mages who held the greatest likelihood of posing a genuine threat. Fortunately for Noah, such individuals were scarce in his vicinity. Nearly everyone was part of a team numbering around 10 or 11 participants.

He observed only a single other lone mage within his immediate surroundings.

An peculiar sensation tickled the back of Noah’s neck. It was quite unusual. He had never been prone to experiencing significant stage fright. Particularly not after all he had accomplished in Arbalest. Yet, Noah couldn’t quite identify the source of this feeling. It didn’t feel like fear, but he couldn’t fathom what else it could possibly be.

Noah extended his hand. A faint luminescence of magical Qi coursed down his arm, and his violin materialized in his grasp. The instrument’s bow appeared in his other hand. Noah positioned it against the strings, drawing in a deep inhalation as he quieted his mind and expelled every thought except—

The timer displayed 4 minutes.

Confusion flooded his thoughts.

Noah narrowed his eyes at the timer, as if daring the seconds to accelerate their passage.

They did not.

Time was proceeding as it ought to. Regrettably, there wasn’t nearly sufficient time to spare for deciphering the situation. Perhaps Baun had alluded to an accelerated start if participants formed their teams prematurely, or something to that effect.

Four minutes was ample time for him to establish a Formation. However, if he were to lose even more time, there was a possibility the tournament might commence before he could even grasp what was transpiring. Noah exhaled sharply. He silenced all his thoughts. His gaze became focused.

Then, he drew the bow across his violin’s strings and began to play.

***

“…and what of this particular round?”

Vivian blinked. She shifted her gaze away from the arenas far below her vantage point as the timer crept inexorably toward zero.

Seated around a table were the other Faction leaders—or, at the very least, those who had deemed it worthwhile to attend the Tournament of Heaven’s Path.

The Imperator of Man’s gaze was fixed directly upon her. His lips curved into a subtle grin across his sun-weathered countenance. Magical Qi shimmered over his heavy bronze armor and the colossal, twin-headed axe secured to his back.

A flash of irritation crossed Vivian’s features. Every other Faction Head had left their armaments and armor behind in their quarters. He was the sole individual who had arrived seemingly prepared for direct combat. While not a direct contravention of the tournament’s explicit rules, it certainly conveyed a degree of disrespect.

“I was engrossed in observing the tournament,” Vivian responded. “What was your query?”

“I was merely inquiring if you had any particular favorites this round,” the Imperator of Man replied. He clasped his gauntleted hands, producing a faint metallic click. “There were certainly several intriguing performances in the preceding one. I couldn’t help but notice that none of them appeared to hail from your Empire.”

“Our most formidable warriors have yet to compete,” Vivian stated smoothly. She recognized the Imperator’s attempt to provoke her. Again. “However, I concur that there were numerous impressive displays. As for this round… our top combatants have still not been selected.”

“A pity,” the Monarch of Obsidian Gate commented, her voice barely a whisper from beneath her hood. “And you, Imperator? Is there anyone from your court that we should keep an eye on?”

“Not this bout,” the Imperator responded, a shake of his head accompanying his words. “It appears we might need to temper our expectations. One cannot anticipate every round to unfold like the previous one. That pyromancer… she was truly remarkable, wouldn’t you agree? It seems she might go quite far.”

“The cryomancer displayed similar skill,” the Monarch whispered. “I would seek to recruit her if she progresses sufficiently and showcases greater aptitude. Her innate affinity aligns with my requirements.”

“Naturally, you would,” the Imperator remarked with a scoff. “And what of you, Prophet? Have any caught your discerning eye?”

Vivian offered a silent negative with a shake of her head. “No. I have not. I orchestrate this tournament out of solemn respect and to publicly display the formidable might of my empire. I possess no desire to take on a protégé.”

“ That’s because your perspective is skewed. You’re approaching this as if… well, I’m not entirely sure. As if they are destined to become your pupils.” The Imperator gestured vaguely in the air, his head shaking slightly. “Consider it more of a preliminary trial with added advantages.”

“That perhaps explains why your Faction experiences the highest rate of desertion among all the others,” the Monarch chimed in.

“Says the one to talk.” The Imperator swiveled towards the other woman, fixing her with an accusatory gaze. “If we are to unearth past grievances, must I then bring forth the little affair from five decades ago?”

Vivian elected to tune them out. Engaging in their verbal sparring held no value. It was all an illusion. Not a single soul present was truly focused on the proceedings within this chamber. Each of them possessed the formidable capacity to divide their genuine attention across multiple vectors simultaneously. This entire exchange was merely a facade, a collection of hollow words intended to mask their true objective: discerning the altered capabilities of rival factions.

It was probable that each individual was engaged in silent, mental communion with their respective operatives, all while harboring the hope that another faction might inadvertently let slip a crucial piece of intelligence. Vivian, at this moment, simply lacked the fortitude for such strategic maneuvering. If the Imperator and the Monarch wished to persist in this charade for the benefit of everyone else, she would gladly concede the stage to them.

Her focus was, unfortunately, elsewhere.

For while every other individual in the room was preoccupied with the intricate dance of power, Vivian’s inner world was entirely consumed by the overwhelming tide of fear and incredulity threatening to shatter her composure. She had, thus far, managed this internal turmoil with remarkable success.

Not a single soul had perceived her distress.

They lacked the necessary acuity to recognize the true danger.

Yet Vivian possessed this awareness. And unlike every other Faction Leader present, she understood that a summoning from the Beyond had been invoked. They were actively drawing power from the Beyond — and should she so much as breathe a syllable of this truth, or divert even a fraction of her concentration to investigate its source, she would render herself critically vulnerable.

The ancient monstrosity had at last made its presence known in the very heart of her dominion… and all she could do was remain seated, fervently hoping that it would first consume her adversaries.