Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 939: Fierce Competition

Mordred had seen a great deal of things in his time. That was, well, his thing. He saw. He observed. He researched. And much of what he had seen had been quite horrible indeed. Mordred had seen wretched magic and monsters whose mere existence seemed to prove that the world was inherently evil. He had seen men who made those monsters look like saints and ancient powers whose mere presence was so evil that entire empires had been built to keep them contained.

But never had he seen magic like this.

It would have been wrong to claim that Moxie’s powers were evil. There was nothing inherently evil about the passing of time — and without a doubt, that was what her rune had just forced upon her opponent. Hundreds of years in an instant. Just like that.

But it was terrifying.

The march of death was on every mage’s mind. Even the strongest. Nobody was truly immortal. Age would eventually come for them all — unless they reached godhood, of course. But precious few mages made it that far. The vast majority of them would meet the very end that Moxie had just displayed before a now silenced crowd.

It was not a pleasant thought.

“Gods,” Mordred muttered. “That’s one way to make sure that absolutely nobody wants anything to do with you. Such a stark reminder of everyone’s mortality is not going to go over well. But I think it’s become quite apparent why Spider has an interest here. I should have known. She’s just as whacked as he…”

Mordred trailed off. His eyes narrowed.

Despite the fight having ended, Moxie hadn’t released her magic. She was still drawing on it. More than before, for that matter. The air around her was completely laden with power thick and strong enough to push Mordred’s mental projection backward.

Moxie extended her hand.

The skeletal figure on the ground jerked.

“Oh, no,” Mordred breathed even though he was well aware that Moxie couldn’t hear a word that he was saying. “You are practicing necromancy in front of the entire empire. Are you a fool, girl? Stop! Vivian will have no choice but to kill you and take your runes if you make it that apparent that you bear power over death.”

But Moxie didn’t stop. More and more power gathered in her outstretched hand. Coils of deep green magic wound down her fingers like vines. They descended to wind around the fallen man’s body. Not one person said a word. The surprise and dread had completely silenced the crowd.

They’d silenced Baun as well. For once, the mustached announcer could do nothing but stare, the massive projection of his head floating above them all, lips parted unknowingly.

Then Moxie’s fallen opponent twitched again. Something writhed and bubbled beneath his gaunt skin in a way that was most certainly not meant to happen to human flesh. The bubbling spread across his entire body.

His long, white hair started to recede. Dots of color bloomed in reverse as the hair wound back into his head, turning back to a ruddy brown. His flesh expanded and filled in like an inflating bladder. Every wrinkle in his skin smoothed out as muscle and flesh wove back into being. The man’s beard vanished, slipping back into his chin and the deathly hue that had swallowed him burned away within the flame of life.

And then, with a sharp gasp, the man jerked upright. He grasped at his heart, eyes wide, staring at Moxie with a mixture of emotions that could not have been perfectly distilled if a thousand scholars spent a thousand years studying them.

There was only a single word that could be used to even try and summarize the expression on the large man’s features.

Awe.

But this wasn’t the awe of seeing a mere impressive deed. The word awe had lost much of its meaning through common usage. It had become common. And there was nothing common about the look in the fallen man’s eyes. Nothing at all. Within his gaze was the true, original meaning of awe. This was an awe born of something truly awesome — something terrifying beyond compare.

There was an instant of stillness.

The man raised a trembling hand to his face. He pressed his fingers to his cheek, as if he couldn’t believe that it was there. That was there. Then he swallowed, unable to even muster the will to push himself away from Moxie.

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“There we go,” Moxie said casually, letting her hand drop as the magic finally faded around her. “I’d imagine you were gone for the round to count as finished, right? Or do I have to do this again?”

She glanced up toward Baun.

Her fallen opponent’s face went almost as pale as they had been a few seconds ago. “No! I surrender! End the fight! End the fight! Get me out of here!”

Baun blinked. He suddenly seemed to remember what his role was. He coughed into his fist.

“I— that’s the fight! The winner is decided!”

He couldn’t manage to muster up anything more than that. Two swirling green portals snapped into being a second later. Moxie didn’t even send her opponent another glance. She just turned and walked into her portal. The strangest thing was, the look on her face was still the same as it had been at the start of the fight.

Her expression made it painfully clear that she hadn’t taken the fight seriously. Moxie’s thoughts had never made it to the fight in the first place. They were still off, occupied with whatever had kept a faint, lingering smile on her lips.

And that meant she’d managed to do all this with only a fragment of her focus.

A cold chill ran down Mordred’s back. He’d been fairly convinced that he had a good read on Moxie’s runes. But he’d been completely wrong. Whatever power she’d used was completely beyond what he’d expected. He’d never seen anything like this at all.

Mordred swallowed. If it was, then Moxie was about to become popular with just about every old mage in the kingdom. The approach of death was one of the greatest things that prevented the less skilled Rank 7 and 8s from reaching the next step.

The prickling against the back of Mordred’s neck grew stronger. It was time to leave. There were other presences here. Attention that he didn’t need to be competing for.

That was a very bad sign. People had noticed already. There would be more eyes the next time Moxie fought. A more.

Mordred let his specter pull back from the arena, moving carefully and slowly to avoid broadcasting his presence too much. He could feel the presence of at least one Rank 8 here. The back of his throat felt dry.

Even when his mind returned to his body and his eyes snapped back open, Mordred didn’t relax. Everything had just become a hell of a lot more complicated. He didn’t even think Moxie had quite registered what it was that she’d done. She was still young. It probably hadn’t occurred to her just how incredibly and impossibly valuable the ability to halt the march of death could actually be.

He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Moxie wasn’t going to get a to become more powerful if she wasn’t prepared for what was to come.

“Brilliant,” the Imperator of Man breathed. His tongue flicked out to taste the air. “What an incredible application of Life magic. I didn’t think such a thing was even possible. And she cut right through a domain with it. The quality of her runes is definitely superb.”

“I haven’t seen that before either,” Vivian admitted. Her fingers twitched. Desire spun through her thoughts. She’d already staked her claim on Spider… but this mage was equally as interesting as he was, if not more.

“She’s not one of yours?” Baress asked, having returned from her departure a short while ago. Her eyes sparkled with interest. “Then nobody has laid claim to her. I never expected to see such promise in such a low bracket. That mage is going to be a big mover. Killing her out of jealousy is off limits. We’re going to play a fair game this time.”

“Rich, coming from you,” the Imperator said with a scoff.

“Nobody is killing anyone during my tournament,” Vivian said sharply. “Not outside of the arena, at least. None of us have a claim left. That means we’ll be doing this the normal way. You may approach the mage at my next social event and present her with your offer as you wish.”

“So you aren’t going to try to sneak her out from under our noses?” the Imperator asked, arching an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Why would I need to?” Vivian’s lips curled. “My offer will be better than yours.”

“And so the aloof mask falls,” the Imperator said. “You’ll be competing as well?”

“I would be a fool not to,” Vivian said as she sent him a sharp look. “I think we’re all more than aware that a unique magic like that is not a talent that comes often. I see no reason to hide my true goals. We are all of the same mind. And an unclaimed mage like that—”

A cold wind sliced through the room.

Vivian’s hair stood on end. Her back went stiff.

Darkness gathered at the far end of the room. Not shadows like those that Maria controlled, but true, pitch-black emptiness. It was colder than the dark. Hungrier than any light ever could be.

It was death.

The darkness twisted into the form of a sharp-featured man. Even though he wasn’t physically present in the room, his strength rolled out in an oppressive aura that threatened to choke the air from their lungs. His sharp features were clear enough in the darkness for Vivian to make out an emotion that she had almost never before seen on this particular face.

Pride.

“Sit back down. All of you. That woman is not unclaimed,” Sievan said, his voice driving down on the room like a falling hammer. “She is my disciple.”