Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 886: Preferred Strategies

Noah couldn’t help but let out a snort.< /p>

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

Fist shot him a perplexed look. “What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“What is this entire tournament even for?” Noah inquired incredulously. “They’re going through all this trouble to bring so many people here for a massive tournament, solely to select one or two new disciples? Is there truly no more efficient method? Why endure all this hassle? And why convene all of Obsidia for such an event? Wouldn’t it be more logical to confine it to the individual factions?”

Fist raised her hands in a defensive gesture. “That’s like… a dozen questions. Can you perhaps narrow it down to one or two, or at least pose them sequentially?”

Noah cleared his throat into his fist. “Let’s start with the first, perhaps?”

“This isn’t merely for one or two disciples,” Fist stated, shaking her head. “From what I understand, there isn’t a strict limit. Becoming a disciple isn’t a prize for winning the tournament; it’s simply a possibility that arises if one performs exceptionally well. If you catch the attention of a Faction Head, one of them will likely approach you. That’s the objective. They’ll probably recruit several dozen each.”

“Who would want that many disciples?” Noah questioned. Despite not particularly caring about the Faction Heads, his curiosity was piqued. The notion of taking on even a dozen new students seemed daunting. Ensuring his current students were well-looked-after was already more than enough.)

“Well, you’ll need a few backups, I’d imagine,” Fist replied. “Most of them will likely perish, either at the hands of opposing forces or during training. You can’t place all your reliance on a single individual, can you?”

Noah regarded her for a prolonged moment. “The opposing forces you refer to…”

“Yes. Likely the other factions.”

“Which brings us perfectly to my second question,” Noah admitted, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Why have they chosen to assemble the entirety of Obsidia for this event? Surely, it would have been more prudent to conduct individual tournaments, avoiding widespread conflict.”

“Perhaps,” Fist conceded. “But I can hazard a guess as to why they opted against it. Not every Faction Head’s ideal candidate might be found within their own faction. They need to cast a wide net. Hence, they declare a truce. Sort of. Once a Faction Head expresses interest in a disciple, the others will likely attempt to eliminate them.”

“They really couldn’t simply… search within their own factions?” Noah inquired with a sigh. “Are they so discerning that they must scout externally and then risk losing their chosen disciples anyway?”

“I believe you are significantly underestimating the gravity of this situation,” Fist asserted. “The chance to learn from one of the most formidable mages in existence is not an opportunity to be readily dismissed. They will only extend such an offer to the perfect candidate. There’s even a possibility that no one from this tournament will be selected.”

“I see.” Noah cast his gaze back out the window, looking down at the figures milling about on the arena floor far below. “That’s… quite prestigious. I suppose. Good to know. Do you happen to know what qualities they seek in a disciple?”

“No,” Fist responded. “Power, most likely. But if anyone possessed more specific knowledge, that information would be exceedingly valuable. They wouldn’t be casually divulging it over tea. They’d be capitalizing on it for substantial profit. I’m surprised you weren’t aware of this. Are you considering stepping up your efforts?”

“Yeah,” Noah drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Definitely. Nothing I’d want more.”

***

“Well?” Moxie inquired, the roar of the crowd a dominant sound above her as the overhead timer relentlessly counted down. She leaned against Grim, her arms folded atop the massive grimoire, pointedly ignoring the mages attempting to recruit each other in her vicinity.

“Nothing,” came Grim’s hushed reply. “But is present. I am certain of it.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Moxie quipped. She drew her white cloak tighter, her fingers digging into the soft fur for comfort. “It’s not a question of whether Noah or any of the others made it; I know they did. The challenge lies in locating them.”

“Even my abilities have limitations,” Grim confided. “My senses are obscured by this disreputable city. If you were to provide me with additional—”

“Not happening,” Moxie interjected decisively. “We both recall the outcome when you persuaded me to supplement your sustenance.”

“I can maintain control.”

“You uttered the same words last time,” Moxie retorted curtly. “We both know how accurate that proved to be. You decimated an entire ruin filled with invaluable knowledge. Such a waste.”

“I also eliminated the group attempting to end your life,” Grim lamented, his tone reminiscent of a petulant child. “How many others could dispatch multiple Rank 5 mages with such effortless grace? I aided you. You ought to be expressing gratitude.”

“You promised you would exercise self-control,” Moxie stated. “I fail to see how obliterating centuries of accumulated knowledge constitutes controlling yourself.”

“It wasn’t destroyed; it’s still within me,” Grim’s pages fluttered. “Somewhere, at least. I will retrieve it eventually. Cease harping on it; it was an isolated incident.”

“That’s solely because I augmented you with additional Qi but once,” Moxie countered. “I have no intention of repeating that error. Furthermore, our objective isn’t to annihilate everyone present; merely reaching the subsequent stage is sufficient.”

“Mere survival will prove inadequate,” Grim opined. “We must capture attention. Simply enduring will not facilitate the discovery of others. If we eliminate all opponents in our melee, word of our prowess will disseminate. This represents the most expedient method for locating the rest.”

“That would undoubtedly contravene the established regulations,” Moxie observed, her gaze flicking towards the timer. With mere minutes remaining before the commencement of the round, she continued, “They explicitly advised against excessive bloodshed. Moreover, we are unaware of our adversaries; there might be Rank 6 cultivators among them. I stand no chance against such opponents, particularly while constrained to wielding only half my strength.”

“You would if you permitted me—”

Moxie offered no verbal response, her eyes merely narrowing. Grim abruptly ceased speaking.

“What was that?” Moxie inquired. “Were you about to say something?”

“I long for Noah,” Grim declared. “Return me to him; he was more engaging.”

“That’s because he’s an imbecile who acts impulsively and addresses the ramifications later,” Moxie recounted, a faint smile gracing her lips. “However, you are correct that mere survival isn’t enough. We must devise a strategy to signal our presence to the others.”

“Advance sufficiently far in the tournament, then bellow our tavern and room number at the highest possible volume?” Grim proposed.

“That is a spectacularly dreadful notion,” Moxie retorted. “It would merely attract unwanted attention. We shall proceed discreetly through the initial rounds, avoiding any premature notice. It will be inconsequential amidst the prevailing chaos. Numerous other competitors strive to forge their reputations, and given the vast number of participants and the scale of the tournament, our sole concern is advancing to the stages with significant viewership.”

“A meticulously devised yet utterly monotonous strategy,” Grim commented.

“Do you possess a superior alternative?” Moxie challenged. “One that doesn’t necessitate my employing arcane arts that result in… well, you comprehend.”

“Negative,” Grim conceded. “My preferred approach involves dispatching all combatants and absorbing their cultivation. It matters little if a Rank 6 mage exists when I am sustained by the life essence of everyone else on this platform. The accumulated power of numerous Rank 5 mages…”

A fleeting shadow of apprehension crossed Moxie’s features. She was uncertain of his true capabilities, and it was highly plausible that Grim’s assessment was accurate. Nevertheless, this was hardly the opportune moment to ascertain the extent of his powers. Showcasing his abilities prematurely was best reserved for dire emergencies.

Moxie channeled her Qi. The countdown displayed above had dwindled to less than a minute, mere seconds separating her from the commencement of her melee bout. The fellow mages in her vicinity had relinquished their attempts to engage her, dispersing into scattered clusters.

Besides Moxie, only a solitary mage remained unaligned within the area. He was a reptilian humanoid, adorned with dull green scales and clad only in bangles of tarnished gold adorning his arms. His tongue flicked out, sampling the air, as his gaze met Moxie’s.

A subtle smirk touched his lips.

He then turned, merging with the throng of mages, and disappeared from view.

At long last, the celestial timer descended to zero.

“Commence!” Baun’s voice thundered from above. “Let’s witness your capabilities!”

Moxie’s round had officially begun.