Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 942: The Fights Continue

Corvin stretched his arms out before him as the timer counting down to his upcoming fight ticked closer and closer to zero. He’d been preparing for this tournament for several years. And, after reaching Rank 5 — he had calculated everything he needed to do in order to win.

It was a science.

Everything in this world was. The truth of all things could be easily deduced through the appropriate calculations. It was all there waiting to be discovered. Reality was, as Corvin liked to think of it, black and white. Those who believed there were grays were just not accounting for the fact that gray was a combination of the two.

Accounting for the right wins and losses was the best way to ensure an ultimate victory.

And Corvin had done a lot of calculations.

It was for that reason he had absolutely no doubt that he would win this tournament. Not because he was the strongest warrior here. He was no fool. Corvin was more than aware a Rank 6 would absolutely obliterate him from existence. He stood no chance at all of defeating the most dangerous mages in the tournament.

But he didn’t need to win every fight. After all, the conditions for victory were simply being noticed. So long as he could appropriately prove his strength to the Faction Heads and other watching mages, hie would win. He would be chosen for his skill and knowledge. Even in defeat, there was victory for those who knew how to grasp it.

Corvin only needed to prove his complete superiority in terms of potential… while making sure anyone weaker than him looked absolutely pathetic.

He was fortunate indeed to see that the next opponent he faced would be one of the latter. It wasn’t a Rank 6. He was up against another boy, roughly his age, who looked more interested in studying the imbuements in the walls around them than paying attention to the fight itself.

Corvin flexed his fingers. This would only take a moment. A few quick, calculated cuts, right as the fight started. His opponent would collapse before he even realized what had happened… and Corvin would be the undisputed victor.

“You’d best hit me with the best you’ve got from the start,” Corvin said, drawing on his runes and letting their power flow through him. “The fight will be over too quickly for my abilities to appropriately be demonstrated if you don’t.”

“For real?” his opponent asked, his brow furrowing. He rubbed the side of his neck with a grimace, as if an old injury were something bothering him. “Well, okay. I was planning on being pretty fast anyway. Works for me.”

The timer hit zero.

Corvin’s hand shot forward, just enough to draw a few sharp blades of wind from the air around him. He sent them slicing out toward his opponent in a brilliantly fast strike that was certain to arrive before his opponent could even realize what was happening, much less gather their full defenses—

Stone erupted from the ground before the other boy. The wind broke against it, dissipating near-harmlessly. Corvin’s eyebrows rose slightly. His opponent was a little more competent than he’d expected. But he’d calculated for that possibility as well. This was a good thing.

“Very nice,” Corvin said, wind howling around him as he lifted into the air, power slicing at his fingertips.

“Thanks,” his opponent said. The rock shield before him crumbled away, revealing that his entire body had been coated by a thin layer of glistening stone armor. Strange ripples of power rolled beneath the stone in glowing patterns that faded in and out of view. The young man raised his hand, which now ended in a short tube-like structure.

Corvin gathered his power before himself as a confident grin split his lips. “Let’s see what you’re capable of! No strike will be able to penetrate my wind—”

There was a deafening crack.

A burst of flame erupted from the tube at the end of the other man’s hand.

The sound had been loud enough to make Corvin flinch, but the fire never made it anywhere near him. It sputtered out just inches before the other man’s hand. The only thing Corvin felt was a small punch of pressure near his chest. It hadn’t even been enough to disperse his wind barrier.

Corvin smirked, calling his magic as he prepared to counter-attack.

Then a faint burning sensation pulled at his thoughts.

Corvin’s smile faltered. His wind barrier sputtered out as he glanced down. Deep red bloomed across his chest, soaking into his clothes from a weeping hole the size of a finger in the center of his chest.

“Huh?” Corvin asked, his thoughts spinning faster and faster. Dizziness swirled through his mind and a wave of weakness washed over him. “When did…that…happen?”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Then Corvin fell from the sky.

***

Virgil of the Redwall was a knight and a smith.

He had forged the blood red shield tower shield in his left hand with his own sweat and blood. The wicked spear in his right hand had been his father’s, a gift for coming of age. Both weapons had accompanied Virgil for the past ten years of his life, ferrying him all the way up to the highest reaches of Rank 5.

Heavy metal plates covered his entire body. Each one of them was covered with powerful imbuements that he had spent years mastering and creating. He was clad in a set of armor that was a living demonstration of his skill and talent. Few were fortunate enough to have such an easy display of their powers for the judges to observe.

And Virgil was very much looking forward to demonstrating what else he was capable of.

Though he did not think much of tournaments as a whole — as a knight’s duty was to defend rather than to show off — he understood their purpose. He needed to prove that he was worthy of protecting others. And, to do that, he had to show that he was strong.

It was for that reason that he felt slight disappointment seeing his opponent.

A girl, probably in her early twenties at the oldest, stood before him with nothing but a plain sword on her hip. She bore no imbued armor, nor did she even look experienced enough to have been standing in this tournament in the first place. Virgil would have been very concerned for his life had this been the Rank 7 bracket.

But for the Ranks 4-6 bracket…

“I must ask,” Virgil called as the timer ticked down above his head. “What Rank are you? Feel free to refuse to answer my question if you feel it would disadvantage you. I simply do not wish to accidentally draw to great a force against someone who is unprepared to face it.”

“Are you an idiot?” the girl asked, arching an eyebrow.“It’s a tournament. We’re here to try to beat the life out of each other in as big of a spectacle as possible. Why would you be even slightly concerned about going too hard? It’s not your problem.”

“Because having a goal does not mean we must throw away our nobility in pursuit of it,” Virgil replied. “And I will hold myself to a standard that I believe worthy to my name as Virgil of the Redwall.”

The young woman studied him for a second. Then she let out a small laugh. It was at that point that Virgil noticed there was something slightly… . Her eyes were wrong. Colder than those of anyone else her age. Whoever this girl was, she had seen combat.

She had seen death.

“I’m Rank 4,” she said. “But I don’t think you should hold back against me. It won’t do you well. Unless you’re a Rank 6?”

“I am not,” Virgil said. “I am Rank 5, but I bear a great deal of imbued equipment that will unfairly tip the scales in my favor.”

The girl glanced up. It struck Virgil that the timer above their heads had hit zero. He hadn’t been watching it. She clearly had been… but she hadn’t taken advantage of his distraction.

“I think I’ll be fine,” the girl said. “But I appreciate the consideration. I won’t say no to you holding back against me. I would love an easy win. But I think a few people I know would disapprove of me taking too much advantage of you. If you hold back, you’re going to lose. Badly.”

Virgil’s head tilted. She was confident. But confidence did not make a warrior.

“I see,” Virgil said. “Then I suppose we shall test our mettle. I will come against you as I would any opponent. But I will seek to avoid deadly blows to the best of my ability. I will not cut down one weaker than me.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed.

Then she let out a small laugh.

“You’re making this really difficult for me, you know? I guess I’ll do the same.”

“Ready yourself,” Virgil said. He lowered his stance. “I am coming.”

“Do you always announce your plans to your enemies?” the girl asked. She drew her sword.

“We are opponents. Not enemies.” Virgil smiled behind his helm. “And yes. I do.”

Then magic ignited within his body. It flowed within his Body Runes. The earth cracked beneath his feet and he exploded into a blur of motion, driving his spear toward the girl’s shoulder.

She shifted to the side, letting the blow whistle harmlessly past her side as she thrust her palm into Virgil’s stomach.

He didn’t bother dodging her attack. A fist strike, even imbued with magic, would do nothing against his—

A spike of pain exploded through Virgil.

His eyes bulged as a pained wheeze burst from his lungs.

He stumbled backward, staring down at his stomach in disbelief — but his armor hadn’t been so much as scratched. There was no damage at all. At least, there shouldn’t have been.

The pain wracking the deepest part of his being begged to differ. It felt like someone had sliced into his very soul. His breath came out in sharp gasps as he drove his shield into the ground, trying to steady himself. Disbelief burned in his thoughts.

“What?” Virgil wheezed. “What… what is this?”

“I’m sorry,” the girl said. “You got a real shit matchup. But at least I didn’t damage your armor. I know a guy who cares about his toys a lot. He got really mad when I broke them. You seem nice enough, so I left yours intact.”

Virgil gritted his teeth. He pushed the pain back, forcing himself to raise his shield once more. The girl hadn’t pressed her advantage. He wasn’t sure if it mattered. It felt like there was a blade lodged in his gut. Any attempts to move felt like they just drove it deeper.

“I would probably surrender,” the girl advised. “Your soul didn’t have any protection at all. You’re going to tear yourself apart if you keep fighting. It’s not worth it. You won’t get far in this tournament if you can’t shape your soul.”

Virgil stared at her for a long second.

“You… can shape your soul? At Rank 4?”

She gave him a small smile. “I had good teachers.”

“Who?” Virgil managed.

“I don’t think all of them want to be mentioned,” she said. A smile crossed her lips. “But the other would. He goes by Spider.”

“Spider,” Virgil muttered. His hand clenched around his spear. He tried to shift his weight, but the girl’s words rang true. Whatever she’d done to him was going to tear his insides to bits.

His jaw clenched. Then he let his shoulders sink.

“It seems your confidence was not misplaced,” Virgil said. “How unfortunate for me. What a pathetic defeat.”

“Bad roll,” the girl said with a shrug. “My boyfriend would probably love a lot of your imbuements. They seem good. I’ve just got a lot of practice getting through that kind of thing.”

Virgil let out a sharp burst of laughter. “And who are you? I would know the name of the prodigy that struck me down without even scratching my equipment.”

The girl hesitated for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Isabel.”

“Isabel,” Virgil mused. Then he nodded, teeth still gritted in pain. “You have bested me. I surrender.”