Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 885: The Purpose of the Path

Mordred quickly averted his gaze from Brayden, understanding that observing him further yielded little gain, despite the strong pull of curiosity. He had never witnessed such a brazen approach to combat. To defeat other mages using only raw physical power, launching them from the platform amidst a display of their magic, was certainly an unconventional tactic.

If Brayden's intention was to attract attention, he was succeeding. The spectators were clearly divided, with opinions split between admiration and disdain. Some would undoubtedly find the emphasis on brute strength amusing, while others would be irked by the lack of magical spectacle.

Mordred leaned towards the latter sentiment. He would have greatly preferred witnessing Brayden's true magical prowess. However, the absence of significant magical output served as an answer in itself. The fact that Brayden could dominate the tournament, even at this early stage, without substantial reliance on his own spells, was a testament to his formidable power.

It was peculiar. Every member of Spider's group exhibited strength exceeding Mordred's expectations, yet they seemed entirely detached from any established factions. They showed no recognition of their opponents, nor did they even attempt to feign familiarity.

Indeed, from the outset of each round, every individual from Spider's party had forged their own path. They had all proceeded to engage in various forms of unpredictable actions. None of them adopted a conservative approach, which would have allowed them to conserve their energy by remaining in a corner while lesser mages eliminated each other.

Had they chosen such a strategy, their abilities would have remained concealed for subsequent rounds. This was likely the tactic employed by the majority of other formidable mages – a crucial advantage in later stages when opponents would no longer be mere pushovers. Maintaining a hidden hand was paramount.

Yet, no one from Spider's contingent seemed concerned with such considerations. It wasn't even an act of overt peacocking or a deliberate attempt to showcase their skills. They simply acted according to their own whims. Not a single one displayed significant regard for their potential adversaries or the possibility of observers meticulously cataloging their capabilities.

It was as if they were issuing a challenge to every mage in the tournament, urging them to abandon their hesitant strategies and waiting for hypothetical future encounters.

Mordred remained uncertain about the wisdom of such an approach. Regardless of the eventual outcome, one thing was undeniable: their actions guaranteed significant attention. By the conclusion of the melee rounds, Mordred harbored no doubt that a considerable number of watchful eyes would be fixed upon each member of Spider's ensemble.

However, Mordred's purpose was not to linger and scrutinize their combat tactics. The motivations behind their actions were secondary to him. His primary interest lay in obtaining answers to his questions, an urgency that had intensified. To achieve this, his focus needed to shift away from the flamboyant mages.

Instead, his attention should be directed toward those who concealed their strength. These were the mages whose power rendered the current melee rounds inconsequential. While some were more discernible than others, a select few exuded such unshakeable confidence in their abilities that hiding their true might was an impossibility.

They were akin to affluent individuals navigating the perilous streets of a war-ravaged city. Despite concealing their bulging coin purses beneath their attire, Mordred could discern their status from the quality of their garments and the sophisticated aura they projected.

And their numbers were substantial.

Sufficiently numerous, in fact, to preclude him from dedicating the undivided attention he desired. Members of Spider's group had come into close proximity with these individuals on multiple occasions. Some were remarkably conspicuous – the giant who had aligned himself with Brayden, for instance. Though he had minimally drawn upon his magical reserves, Mordred could perceive the potent energy radiating from him.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

He possessed a deadly aura, far exceeding his apparent capabilities. Within the same arena, at least four other mages displayed comparable levels of power. They had prudently avoided the destructive path carved by Brayden and Erek, clearly unwilling to be compelled into revealing their full strength prematurely… yet, they observed keenly.

The situation in the other arenas mirrored this dynamic.

Lee, too, had attracted the attention of several powerful mages. She had instilled apprehension in one or two of them, while the rest merely exhibited keen interest. The pattern continued across the board. Each arena presented its own set of formidable threats. This was hardly surprising, given the tournament's grand scale, which made the presence of an immense number of potent contenders virtually inevitable.

The crucial question, however, was the duration it would take for these formidable mages to be pitted against one another. Once the less significant participants had been systematically eliminated, the true contests would commence – and Mordred would then be able to precisely identify those who warranted his focused observation.

***

“I won!” Lee declared elatedly.

Brayden narrowed his eyes, observing her. They had both rejoined Noah and Fist in the viewing room shortly after their melee rounds had concluded. It didn't appear that either had exerted significant effort to survive, bearing only a few minor scratches between them.

“I’m not entirely certain about that,” Brayden stated deliberately. “I eliminated twenty-three individuals. You managed to get nineteen.”

“Correct,” Lee confirmed.

“So…” Brayden paused, his brow arching slightly. “I secured twenty-three. You secured nineteen. This logically implies I defeated more opponents.”

“Indeed,” Lee acknowledged.

“Therefore, I am the victor,” Brayden asserted.

“Negative.”

Brayden turned to Noah. “A little assistance, perhaps?”

“Don’t involve me,” Noah scoffed. “This predicament is a consequence of you making a wager with her in the first place.”

“You emerged victorious in the wager. That implies you are the loser,” Lee stated, a cunning smile playing on her lips.

“Oh? And by what peculiar logic do you arrive at that conclusion?” Brayden inquired, crossing his arms with an amused smirk.

“Our wager stipulated that the victor would treat the loser to a meal,” Lee explained, her grin widening. “And you won. Consequently, you are obligated to provide me with sustenance.”

Brayden opened his mouth to speak. Then he halted, a finger rising halfway before falling as the realization dawned. “Wait. That wasn’t a misstatement? You genuinely intended that. How could that possibly follow?”

“It’s a bet, not a legal decree. It is not bound by logic. And a deal is a deal. It makes no difference if a statement is uttered incorrectly, correct? Thus, you win, which paradoxically means you lose.”

Brayden gazed at her for a moment before erupting into laughter. “A fair point. After the tournament concludes, then. I’m uncertain if we'll be permitted to leave this chamber beforehand.”

“It’s highly probable that we will,” Fist interjected.

Noah looked at her in surprise, having fully anticipated being confined until the event’s completion. “Really?”

“Should we advance sufficiently far,” Fist elaborated with a nod. “At least, that’s my estimation. I haven’t personally competed in the Tournament of Heaven’s Path before, but I’ve observed and attended it. They invariably host mixers and similar gatherings to facilitate networking with the influential figures towards the latter stages. This also serves to shape the narrative for the climactic confrontations.”

“Hold on.” Noah’s forehead creased. “A narrative?”

“This entire spectacle is performative,” Fist declared, gesturing towards the arenas below where another round of melees was commencing. It appeared some mages had yet to engage in combat. “All of it. However, the script remains unwritten. They won't invest in crafting it until the final stages.”

“Are you suggesting these bouts are predetermined?” Brayden questioned, a frown touching his features. “That the victor is not legitimately earned?”

“Oh, goodness no. The other Faction Heads would never permit the Prophet to orchestrate such a deception. I am certain she harbors the desire, but it is unequivocally impossible.” Fist shook her head resolutely. “The outcomes are not fixed. But efforts will still be made to engineer the most dramatic confrontations. It’s a logical approach, as these often serve to best showcase a combatant's prowess.”

“Does this imply that if two individuals harbor a degree of animosity, they are more likely to face each other should they both progress significantly in the tournament?” Noah inquired.

“That would be my conjecture. They are not manipulating the match results, but if an opportunity arises for a more compelling contest… you can be assured they will endeavor to arrange it. A captivating story is one of their primary objectives, after all. That constitutes the essence of the tournament. Well, half of its essence. The portion that generates substantial revenue.”

“And the other half?” Noah asked casually.

“That would be the ultimate objective.”

“Which is?” Noah pressed.

“How could you possibly not know? Is that not precisely why all of us are present?” Fist inquired, her tone conveying mild disbelief. “It is, after all, the Tournament of Heaven’s Path.”

The manner in which she articulated this made it abundantly clear that Noah should have possessed this knowledge. Unfortunately, regardless of the tournament’s notoriety, he was not indigenous to Obsidia. His sole motivation for participating was the pursuit of Moxie and his disciples.

“Indulge me,” Noah requested. “What is it?”

“To seek a new master,” Fist answered. “The fundamental purpose of the Tournament of Heaven’s Path is to be selected as a new disciple by one of the Faction Heads.”