Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 882: Big Trouble

The round concluded.

This was not an unexpected outcome, after all, it’s what rounds typically do. A massive melee would be pointless if it continued until every participant was eliminated. Such a scenario would leave hardly any of the tournament remaining.

Pulled back through a swirling green portal, Noah found himself deposited into his waiting room, precisely where he had been standing before the fight commenced, right in front of the window.

He blinked. For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to spin in a disorienting fashion. Then, everything stabilized. He drew a deep breath, feeling the peculiar haze that had clouded his mind dissipate as quickly as mist under the sun.

Noah blinked once more.

His gaze fell upon his hand, and he flexed his fingers. A sense of normalcy returned; the strange, detached feeling that had plagued him throughout the arena fight had vanished completely. It appeared that time had resumed its natural course, or perhaps he had simply found his proper place within it once again.

“Spider?” Brayden’s voice, laced with concern, cut through the silence. “Are you alright?”

“I — yes. I’m fine,” Noah replied, shaking his head. “My apologies. I was merely distracted.”

“I’ll say,” Brayden remarked with a slight chuckle. “You seemed a thousand miles away.”

“And it doesn’t even appear you engaged in any combat,” Fist observed, her head tilted. “Did you have to fight anyone at all?”

“That depends entirely on your definition of a fight,” Noah answered absently, shifting his stance. He then turned to Lee. “Does anything seem unusual with the air?”

She wrinkled her nose. “How would I possibly know?”

Noah winced. “Right. My apologies. I keep forgetting.”

Lee walked closer, taking a deliberate sniff of the air. She paused momentarily, disregarding Fist’s bewildered expression, then shook her head. “I don’t detect anything amiss. Everything feels quite normal, but it’s difficult to be certain given the current circumstances.”

“That’s understandable. Thank you regardless,” Noah said. He sank back into a chair, his brow deeply furrowed. “Did either of you happen to observe my match?”

“I don’t believe so,” Brayden responded. “It must have occurred in one of the other arenas. I didn’t catch a glimpse of you.”

“Same here,” Fist confirmed.

Noah let out a low grunt. “I see. Well… that’s just great.”

“Why do you say that?” Brayden inquired.

“Just curious,” Noah replied. “Fist, when you passed through the portal, did anything feel… I don’t know… strange?”

“Strange?” Fist repeated, shaking her head. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. Did something happen to you?”

Before anyone could utter another word, a subtle green luminescence emanated from the room. Noah looked up, noticing Brayden gazing at his badge, which had just illuminated. He wasn't the only one; Lee’s badge had also activated. It seemed both of them had been selected for the subsequent stage of the competition.

“We’ll be together!” Lee exclaimed with delight.

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“There’s no guarantee of that,” Brayden cautioned. “We could be in separate arenas. However, even if we are competing together, let’s refrain from revealing our alliances for now. I wish to gauge my own progress.”

A playful grin spread across Lee’s lips as she pressed her finger against her badge, summoning her portal. “I wasn’t initially planning on forming a team. I simply hoped we could compete in the same arena. But I suppose it makes little difference. Keep track of your victories. The loser owes the winner a meal.”

“Wait, what?” Brayden turned towards Lee, but it was too late. She had already stepped through her portal.

“She’s certainly got a lot of confidence,” Fist commented dryly.

“Best of luck,” Noah advised. “She’s likely to hold you to that promise.”

Brayden grimaced. “Indeed. I’m aware. It’s uncertain if she fully comprehends the implications of her words, but I certainly do.”

He then pressed down on his own badge, conjuring a portal and stepping through it.

***

Lee emerged into the arena, the low roar of the distant crowd intensifying slightly to acknowledge her arrival. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. The air was still devoid of any discernible scent. Aqua Terra might very well be the most unpleasant city in all of Obsidia. Whoever designed this place ought to be sent tumbling down a hillside.

Mages materialized around her in quick succession. Normally, it would have been a straightforward task to identify the weakest opponents first. Unfortunately, due to her nose’s aforementioned lack of function, this proved to be a far more challenging endeavor than it should have been.

Not all powerful mages project themselves in the same manner. If there was one fundamental truth Lee had absorbed during her time traversing the Damned Plains and the Mortal Plane, it was that individuals varied greatly across different realms. However, people also shared certain prominent commonalities.

And the melee round of this tournament had been meticulously crafted to expose these underlying similarities. The option to form alliances with strangers felt like the most transparent trap Lee had ever encountered. Placing trust in anyone other than a proven ally was an exceptionally swift route to betrayal.

The only individuals inclined to ally with larger factions would be those too feeble to protect themselves. Unsurprisingly, the majority had grasped this reality by this stage of the tournament. Even in the preceding round, fewer substantial groups had formed. Most participants had coalesced into medium-sized alliances, aiming to diminish the likelihood of betrayal from within their ranks, yet Lee remained indifferent.

Consequently, she remained stationary as the countdown commenced. She made no effort to associate with any individuals casting glances her way. It was utterly futile. She perceived no necessity to expend energy feigning integration into a group with the intent of dismantling it from the inside—though the notion briefly crossed her mind.

There was simply no need for her to exert such significant effort.

Ultimately, her objective wasn't to clinch victory in the tournament. Her sole aim was to locate her companions. Fortunately, this did not preclude her from assessing the extent of her recent power increase in the interim. Her tongue flicked out to trace her lips.

The countdown neared its conclusion.

Fortuitously for her, Noah was already managing the 'create a spectacle' facet of their predicament. This alleviated her concern about orchestrating a massive disturbance herself. It would be permissible for her to derive a measure of enjoyment from the tournament.

***

Mordred folded his arms across his chest as the subsequent series of rounds initiated. His awareness surveyed the various arenas, though his thoughts lingered somewhat on Spider. Certain aspects of the mage's abilities continued to perplex him.

Whatever magic he had employed… it was unlike anything Mordred had ever encountered. This unsettling fact put him on edge. Magic, by its nature, is a composite. All originate from the same fundamental source, merely diverging onto different paths to reach it. This is a foundational principle of the universe.

Admittedly, some sources are far more obscure than others, and a few even verge on non-existence. However, Mordred has devoted a significant duration to the study of magic. He ought to have been capable of recognizing at least a single element within Spider’s power.

While he had identified several of the offensive capabilities the man had demonstrated, his extraordinary command over his soul… Mordred’s inability to maintain a lock on the mage’s position, even with a clear understanding of his vicinity… this did not sit right at all. He could not discern a single contributing factor that might have enabled such a unique form of magic.

Mordred would have exhaled slowly were his spiritual form capable of such actions. Instead, he merely allowed his senses to extend across the arenas. He found focusing difficult. The entirety of Spider’s group held a peculiar fascination for him. He had never encountered such an unusual assembly of mages.

And, given his professional endeavors, that was a considerable statement.

Then, Mordred paused.

Something had captured his attention within one of the arenas. He had only just passed it, but he had distinctly heard—

Screams.

A multitude of them.

His senses retracted.

He then observed, with a mixture of dread and astonishment.

It was difficult to direct his attention elsewhere.

Mordred winced. He then hastily diverted his focus from that specific arena, directing it toward another.