Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 884: Pansies

Brayden brought the flat side of his sword down on a man’s skull with a ringing clang. There was a thunk that carried more than a little bit of a satisfactory element to it, not that Brayden had any plans of admitting such to anyone he knew. He didn’t need them to start thinking he’d gone insane or bloodthirsty.

The struck man crumpled to the ground in a pile of limbs. A massive beam of light crashed down from the sky to swallow him, leaving the space before Brayden barren when it faded away. He really never should have been here in the first place.

But, for that matter, most of the people in this tournament shouldn’t have been. Brayden was becoming increasingly convinced of that. This was why there were so many different rounds. Aqua Terra hadn’t even bothered filtering any of their combatants. They just let anybody who managed to get their hands on a badge enter the tournament.

And worse, he knew why.

It made for good show. That was why there good mages in these first few rounds were few and far in between. Aqua Terra the talented mages to have a chance to show off and start building hype around themselves by just slaughtering all the idiots they’d been grouped up with.

Unease prickled against the back of Brayden’s neck. The implications of that were… deeply unsettling. He’d known that Obsidia was far larger than Arbalest. But in Arbalest, even the weakest Rank 5 mage still would have held a great deal of power.

For them to be reduced to nothing more than fodder for the crowds’ amusement here… it couldn’t help but make his thoughts wander. The peak of power was so much higher than he’d previously thought. There were godlike beings, and they were somewhere in the crowd above him. Just… watching.

A furious scream from off to the side forced Brayden’s eyes to flick in its direction. A young mage was sprinting toward him, fire crackling off his palms and spittle flying from his lips as he lunged, presumably aiming to melt Brayden’s face off.

Brayden sighed.

He drew on his magic.

Then he vanished, a shower of purple sparks dancing through the air where he’d been a moment before. The other mage’s eyes only had an instant to widen before a ringing clang echoed through the arena. He hit the ground in an undignified, bouncing roll.

A moment later, a beam of brilliant light swallowed him whole.

Brayden’s gaze lingered on the spot where the boy had been. Then he shook his head, irritation bubbling up within him. He’d finally gotten out from Father’s thumb. And yet, somehow, it seemed he’d found himself dancing for someone else’s amusement once again.

There was no honor in tossing children around. He wasn’t getting stronger. He wasn’t honing his skills. He wasn’t even practicing. This was just entertaining a bunch of people in the crowd like some kind of trumped up clown. And it wasn’t like he was going to get all that far in the tournament.

Despite how easy the melee round had been thus far, Brayden was no fool. There were terrifying mages lurking around him. Maybe not in this round, maybe not on this exact stage, but they were there. And when the melees ended and the real fights started… he would be outclassed.

A small smile pulled at the corners of Brayden’s lips. That was a nice thought. Knowing that someone genuinely had his back. Father had never tolerated failure. But now… it wasn’t like he to succeed. Noah and Lee would definitely get all the attention needed for their students to notice them.

And that meant Brayden could rest. He could just make his way through the tournament and try to focus on fights that would actually push his skills. And, when he inevitably met someone powerful, someone that he couldn’t defeat, that would be okay as well.

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He would fight. He would learn. He would lose.

And that would be it. Nobody was actually counting on him winning. And nobody would be pissed when he didn’t. Nobody would even get hurt. And that alone was more than enough to start pulling a faint smile across Brayden’s lips. All he had to do was get through these melees.

Even though he was quite interested in testing his skill against other worthwhile mages, he had no desire at all to act a clown entertaining the clouds. Beating lesser mages was nothing at all to be proud of.

A woman flew past Brayden.

He blinked. But, by the time he’d properly registered her, she was gone. She hadn’t been trying to attack him. Something had launched her.

A scream cut through the air. Brayden turned as a man tumbled through the sky, limbs flailing. He flew in a long arc before vanishing over the edge of the arena and his voice came to an abrupt halt. A pillar of light crashed down a second later.

Moments after the first two flying mages took to the skies, another figure launched themselves from the dense crowd gathered at the edge of the stage. A chaotic brawl was raging among a large contingent, the thick, choking smog obscuring most of the details. Brief bursts of arcane light would periodically pierce the haze, casting colossal, dancing shadows within the swirling miasma.

Yet another individual was propelled, shrieking, out of the smoke-enshrouded melee. They struck the ground once, bounced, and then slid uncontrollably off the platform.

Brayden's eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

Despite having absolutely no desire to become entangled in a massive conflict between a hoard of mages, his attention had been undeniably captured. He began to advance towards the fray. No one attempted to hinder his progress; they were all fully engrossed in their own struggles, or they had witnessed his efficient dispatch of those who had dared approach him.

It appeared that witnessing his capability was sufficient to deter any more foolhardy mages from targeting him simply because he stood alone.

As Brayden drew within a dozen feet of the thick cloud of smoke and the battle raging inside it, a potent force violently shook the ground beneath them. An immense gust of wind erupted from the center of the mage congregation, sending numerous individuals skidding backward across the arena floor. Several were propelled clear past Brayden's position.

The spell had effectively annihilated one of the assembled groups and, by clearing the smoke, had also revealed that the other group was, in fact, composed of only a single individual.

A truly colossal man at that. Standing nearly eight feet tall, he towered over the other mages, clad only in simple robes interwoven with heavy metal plates, all secured by what appeared to be magically imbued ropes. A profusion of dark, bushy beard obscured his features, and blood stained nearly every visible inch of his body.

As Brayden observed, the enormous warrior seized a nearby mage by the arm and hurled him screaming into the air. The man flew considerably farther than any of the previous projectiles.

The colossal figure then drove a foot deep into the ground. Another tempestuous wave of wind surged through the arena. The remaining mages who had foolishly remained in close proximity to him were violently swept backward, tumbling across the ground and away from the giant's immediate vicinity.

Brayden instinctively raised his hands as the wind rushed past, but the magical force lacked the sufficient power to lift him from his feet. He was positioned just beyond its effective range. Yet, only as his arms lowered did it dawn on him that almost every mage remaining within the group had either fallen or turned and fled.

Brayden himself was the sole individual left standing anywhere near the towering warrior.

And even if he had harbored any intention of retreating, the opportunity had long since passed.

The colossal man had already turned his attention directly toward him.

Their gazes locked. A prolonged second of silence transpired as they simply observed each other, assessing their respective presences. Both had clearly recognized that the other was fundamentally different from the common run of mages who had entered this particular tournament round.

Then, the bearded man began to lumber toward Brayden. His steps, while not quite causing the earth to tremble, possessed a palpable sense of impending impact. Brayden, however, remained resolute. He, too, began to walk. The two men converged in the center of the arena, not a single word exchanged between them.

There was simply no immediate necessity for speech.

Brayden found himself compelled to slightly tilt his head upward. His formidable, bearded adversary stood a head and a bit taller than him. This was an unfamiliar sensation; generally, he was accustomed to being the tallest individual present.

A bolt of gray lightning suddenly streaked towards them from the flank. Brayden raised his sword without breaking eye contact with the other man, allowing the magical energy to strike the Imbued metal of his weapon, dissipating harmlessly into a shower of sparks.

“Body Imbuements?” the giant man inquired in a deep rumble.

“No,” Brayden responded. “Training. And you?”

“Training,” a smile spread across the other man’s face. “How long have you been at it?”

“Since birth,” Brayden replied. “Felt like a constructive outlet for my frustrations.”

“And problems are more easily managed when they can be squashed.” The bearded man scrutinized Brayden for another moment before extending a massive hand. “Erek.”

Brayden inclined his head slightly. Accepting Erek’s hand felt akin to deliberately placing his head into a monster’s open maw. He had already witnessed the extent of the other man’s formidable power. Should Erek decide to forcefully rip his arm off, Brayden conceded there would be little he could do to prevent it.

Nevertheless, it was a gesture of greeting, an offer of a handshake.

A civilized individual does not refuse such an overture.

Brayden clasped Erek’s hand. “Brayden.”

The other man’s grip was immense, reminiscent of an iron vise attempting to pulverize his own. Brayden, however, was far from weak. He met Erek’s strength with his own, his gaze unwavering. For a long second, they maintained their firm handshake.

Then, Erek’s grin widened considerably.

“Care to determine which of us can launch one of these pathetic mages farther?”

Brayden paused briefly. “Are we permitted to utilize magic?”

“Only if you’re a coward,” Erek rumbled back. “No one here warrants the expenditure of magic unless they dare to swarm you.”