Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 938: Arrogant

Mordered had long since lost the fight against the urge to pace back and forth within his room. It had become incredibly, incredibly clear that something had gone seriously awry at some point. He just wasn’t sure what that point was. Trying to pinpoint exactly where every single thread had gotten crossed into a giant ball of yarn was impossible, even for him.

Spider had just completely slaughtered an opponent that Mordred was absolutely certain to be considerably more powerful than him. At least, he had been. Things had changed when Fist reported that Spider had literally vanished from their room to go on a quick trip before coming back as if nothing had happened.

And he hadn’t come back empty-handed. He’d apparently returned with a massive grimoire.

That didn’t add up at all.

Nobody could just waltz around Aqua Terra — especially during the tournament — without the Prophet knowing about it. Which left only two options for Mordred to contend with. The first was that Spider was somehow powerful enough to actually trick Vivian. And the second… Vivian knew what Spider was doing and wasn’t bothered by it.

Mordred might not have had the faintest idea of what was going on. But if there was one thing he was absolutely certain about, it was that Spider was not stronger than Vivian. And that meant it wasn’t possible for her to have been tricked.

Thus, she was aware of Spider and what he was doing.

She was aware that he was able to walk in and out of the supposedly inescapable rooms with practically no effort.

She was aware that Spider was, technically speaking, breaking tournament rules.

And she’d done nothing about it.

More than that. Not only had Vivian done nothing about Spider strolling around, but Mordred was actually quite certain that she’d helped him during the fight against Kali. The anti-domain miasma that filled Aqua Terra had strangely grown considerably stronger around the arena during the fight.

It had completely prevented him from picking up on exactly what magic Spider had used to toss his opponent around like a toy. That wasn’t something that just… happened. No. For some reason, Vivian had him.

Which, if one continued down that path of reasoning for long enough, made a rather compelling case that Spider was working together with Vivian to some degree. Maybe they had an agreement. Maybe Spider was her agent. Or maybe it was something else altogether. But Mordred was willing to bet a considerable number of his hand-crafted decks that Spider and Vivian were in cahoots.

Unfortunately, that didn’t make the slightest scrap of sense.

Mordred ran his hands through his hair as he bit back an irritated curse. This was one of the most vexing situations he’d ever found himself in. If the Prophet were truly working with Spider, then there should have been no need for him to be hunting down Spider’s friend in the first place.

And if Spider were truly working with the Prophet, then he certainly wouldn’t have gone asking Mordred to find his friends for him. One of which, according to Fist, Spider had somehow just found entirely on his own.

Mordred came to a stop before the wall. Then he thunked his head against it.

No, not one scrap of this made sense at all.

“How do I get myself into situations like this?” Mordred asked the air. “My curiosity is tickled beyond the point where I can ignore it. I know I should probably ignore this case. Pursuing it is a dangerous path. One that will lead to more trouble than it is worth. But the questions…”

He trailed off.

The mere idea of leaving this un-researched was painful.

One thing he knew for sure was that he wasn’t going to go and leave his hard-earned questioning session with Lee on the table. No matter what Spider’s relationship with Vivian was, Mordred would be getting his pay. And that meant he had to get more information.

There were still fights to watch. People to catalogue. Targets to find. So he took a moment to gather his thoughts, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Then he sent his mind tearing outward once more. He cast his attention over all the arenas, searching for anything of interest.

And he found it.

As he flew through the combatants, one of the rounds that was just in the early stages of its countdown caught his attention instantly. One of the fighters was a large man with a wicked-looking axe in each of his hands. He was decently strong, definitely in the earliest stages of Rank 6.

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Mordred recognized him from one of the earlier fights. He’d done a real number on his opponent, using some odd manner of wind and earth magic that made his movements almost impossible to keep up with and his blows land incredibly hard.

But it was the other combatant that Mordered was more interested in.

She stood idly, almost bored, her long red hair spilling over her shoulders and a faint grin on her lips. Her clothes were a rich, earthen green — intricately woven from vines that seemed to still be alive.

The hair and clothes caught his attention first.

And then he noticed her magic.

A cold chill ran down Mordred’s spine.

The woman’s magic almost seemed to cycle on its own. It felt like watching his entire life flash past his eyes in an instant. The brilliance of life weaving with the inevitability of death, a wheel grinding away, eternally.

It was immense.

Not in the way of raw power, but in concept.

He felt his veins freeze. This was not a weak concept. It was not a concept that a mage in this tournament should have access to in the first place. There was no doubt at all in his mind.

This woman had Death Runes.

But that was an understatement. It wasn’t just that she had Death Runes. She was using in a way that he had never seen. This was not the kind of magic one could build by just getting lucky by finding the right rune. It was intentional. Designed to a degree that left absolutely no doubt in Mordred’s mind that he was facing a mage that understood herself and her power perfectly.

She was definitely a Rank 5. The strength of her domain wasn’t quite enough to match that of a Rank 6. But even in spite of that, Mordred’s senses were all screaming warnings. Whatever combinations Moxie had managed to form… they were terrifying.

That wasn’t all. She was somehow managing to hide the Death Runes within her combination. All the life magic she’d incorporated wasn’t just obscuring it. It was melding into the death, changing it into something entirely new. There was a very good chance that her death magic would become completely unnoticeable by the time she hit Rank 6. If Mordred’s senses hadn’t been so sharp and he hadn’t been looking for someone that fit her description, he would have skipped right past her.

Mordred glanced up at the timer in the air. There were only five seconds left before the fight started. Even though he technically wasn’t going to get any useful information for Spider given that he’d already found Moxie… there was no way he could miss this fight.

The counter ticked down.

Moxie’s opponent readied his axes. His lips pulled back into a hungry grin and his muscles tensed as he prepared to explode into motion. Mordred recalled his fighting style well. The man was a savage. A fast, dangerous one. He would try to cut Moxie apart before she had a chance to defend herself.

Curiously, Moxie barely even seemed to register the fact that she was about to start a fight. She was just… standing there. Idly. There was a faint smile on her lips, but it wasn’t one of anticipation. It was one of remembrance. Her mind was off somewhere in a memory a thousand miles away.

The counter ticked down.

It hit zero.

The man exploded into a blur motion.

And, as Mordred watched in disbelief, his axes carved straight through Moxie’s stomach. They passed through with nearly no resistance, severing the upper half of her body in an instant.

Even he seemed slightly surprised at the ease of his victory. He took a small step to the side, his brow furrowing in mild confusion as he looked down at the blood covering his axes. There was no doubt that he’d hit her.

More than that, he’d quite literally cut her in half.

Mordred winced.

The large man turned, the crowd rumbling overhead as he raised his axes into the air.

“Too easy,” he roared, his body rocking with laughter. “Send me a real warrior, Prophet! I wish to wet my blades with the blood of someone worthy! Not a worthless woman who can’t even defend against a single blow! Her death is on the hands of those who believed that someone so weak and pathetic could be allowed to stand in the same arena as I!”

Mordred was halfway through pulling back to head over to the next arena when he registered something very odd.

Moxie’s domain hadn’t faded.

He glanced closer at Moxie. At the upper half of her body, which hadn’t quite fallen away from her legs — and at the hundreds of tiny vines that were winding themselves back together, pulling her form back into its proper place.

Moxie stepped forward. Her hand fell on the man’s shoulder, even as he turned back toward her in surprise.

His eyes bulged.

And then something very odd happened.

His hair started to grow.

It curled down the back of his neck in a race to the ground to as a thick beard sprouted from his chin. A confused, gabled word managed to make it out from the man’s lips.

Then his skin wrinkled. Spots appeared across his face. A surprised wheeze escaped his lips. His hair turned white. He staggered, falling to one knee, as the axes dropped from his hands. Mordred felt him call on his magic.

But nothing came. The man’s lips cracked and dried. His muscles retreated, melting away as his flesh started to sag and droop. He fell to one knee.

And, as Mordred watched in a mixture of horror and awe, the massive man withered away before him. Decades flew by in an instant.

Moxie finally lifted her hand.

What remained of the warrior pitched back to the ground. He landed with a weak, soft thump. All that remained of him was a bleached, skeletal figure with gaunt skin wearing robes far too large for it.