A promenade circled the edge of the arena. Wulf split from Irmond, then followed the promenade as far as he could, until he reached a small, unobtrusive doorway between two marble pillars.

  The arena itself didn’t look like the tallest building. Its outer wall was only about ten storeys high, but it sank much deeper into the butte. After all, it had to be large enough for Oronith demonstrations.

  He entered through the side door and took a tight hallway down to the locker room. The room was a small, cramped space, with wooden benches down the center and cabinets along the edges, and a few contestants within. He chucked his haversack in a locking cabinet, then pulled off his coat and shirt, leaving only trousers, and a couple inconspicuous vials in his pocket.

  They all got a weapon of choice, and equipment to suit their ability set. Wulf, under the guise of a Pilot, chose a golem. He could prepare it in the armoury, then pilot it out into the arena when his time came.

  Still need a proper weapon, he thought, but that could come later. Just win. Irmond and Kalee are watching—not to mention a whole host of faculty staff and bigwigs from the central branch.

  Already, the crowd cheered, and the roar of a couple thousand voices vibrated through the stone. Wulf’s fight wasn’t the first, and there was already one taking place.

  It wasn’t just students watching. There were also non-Ascendants from the nearby cities.

  But his fight was coming up. He had to get to the armoury. He ran out of the locker room, then down the hallway, until he reached the last room.

  Proper weapons covered the walls, this time. Steel swords, bows, some weapons slightly oversized so Pilots could use them with golems. There were a few staves for Mages, too.

  None of the weapons called to him. None felt right. For now, he’d stick with his fists.

  A few other contestants—all High-Woods—walked through the armoury, selecting gear, and a couple activated golems at the back of the room. There was a line of seven-foot-tall golems there, waiting to be used.

  Wulf approached the dark corner, where a shoddy, scuffed golem with a cracked chestpiece stood. But he didn’t need anything flashy, and his potions would hold together the cracks.

  He poured a Middle-Coal almost complete potion over the golem’s head, then drank a complete but weak poison potion (which he resisted easily). As the first almost-potion seeped through the form of the golem, he completed it with his aura, registering the entire golem as a potion. It glowed softly, but in the harsh lights of the arena, no one would notice a slight green shimmer.

  He activated [Arm of the Alchemist] too, if only to hold the potion in place while he waited for his fight. His mana was depleting slightly, but with how much larger his well was, he had plenty of time. Plus, since he wasn’t moving it nearly as much, it didn’t drain nearly as much mana.

  As he waited, he leaned against the weapon’s rack beside him. A flash of blue whipped through the corner of his vision, and he did a double take.

  It was the skyhorn girl. She kept her head down, conveniently avoiding Wulf’s gaze, and definitely on purpose. Like most of the other contestants, she wore practical trousers, and no shirt, save for a chest-wrap with her High-Wood rank-pin. But…no Fletcher pin.

  Wulf sighed. They’d probably kicked her out, hadn’t they?

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  She flinched. “If you’re going to beat me up again, save it for the arena.”

  “What? No, I was just gonna say…sorry about your constructs. I’m aware it’s considered rude to break an Arificer’s constructs.” He tilted his chin up toward her arm. “I see you got—made—new ones.”

  She sighed. “Oh, I should just resign now…let you have the victory.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “You already beat me once,” she grumbled. “I don’t think anything will be different this time. We’re up next. You versus me. The posted betting odds might favour me, but that’s just because they don’t like you and don’t want to acknowledge what you can do.”

  “Oh.” Wulf sighed. “Sorry about that.”

  “Besides, the Fletchers kicked me out after I failed to deal with you. Losing my standing in the guild moved me to the bottom of the rankings.”

  “Sorry.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Well, it was my own damn fault, throwing my lot in with those guys.”

  “It kinda was,” Wulf agreed.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He shrugged. There wasn’t much else he could give for comfort. “Don’t resign, though.”

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  “Is there a point?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Seith. Seith Telgrad.” She plucked a short sword out from the bin, then spun it, before putting it back. “You’re not as angry as I thought you’d be.”

  He chuckled. “Grudges don’t really help anyone. Learned that long ago.”

  “You’re…what, nineteen? Same as me.”

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Yeah. Well, still learned it. Look, get out there, give it your all. I’ll do the same. Then, after that, we’ll see. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get noticed by another guild. I don’t know what will happen.”

  “Not sure if I want to deal with any more guilds.”

  “Then an Oronith crew. Your constructs were pretty good for a Middle-Wood. Now High-Wood.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Do.”

  “Alright, Hrothen. But don’t hold back.”

  “Wulf,” he said. No need for everyone to call him by his family name. “And I won’t.”

  “You—”

  Before she could finish, a non-Ascendant attendant dipped his head in and called, “Telgrad, Hrothen. You two are up.”

  Wulf nodded, then willed his chosen golem to open up, guiding the material of the potion. He stepped into the golem, then sealed it around him. With heavy steps, he followed Seith out into the arena.

  The arena looked much larger from the inside. It didn’t help that he was about thirty storeys below ground level, on an expanse of packed sand about the size of a farm field. He knew Ascendants could get powerful, and Oroniths needed room, but this…was massive.

  Enormous mana-powered light constructs hung up on ropes across the top of the arena, and the glare shone bright in his eyes. He sealed up his stone helmet over his head, but the light still blasted through the crack in the visor.

  As well, an enormous sheet of enchanted paper was suspended from the upper ring of the arena, large enough to read from the ground. Words scrawled across it, reading: Hrothen V.S. Telgrad. Below it, another sheet of paper provided: Odds: 3:8.

  Wulf snorted, but he wouldn’t let that get to him. If anything, it was a reminder. The last thing he needed was to be cocky, especially in front of a crowd like this. With how many lights they had strung up, and how much enchanted paper and ink they were using…well, they clearly hadn’t spared any expense for the bigwigs from the main branch of the Academy, had they?

  Wulf and Seith walked to the center of the arena, standing thirty paces apart from each other. He felt like just a speck in the center of the sand-field.

  He raised his golem’s hands.

  “Five minutes,” the attendant said to them softly. “Either knock your opponent out, force them to surrender, or score more hits. Killing your opponent will be frowned upon, as it demonstrates a lack of control.”

  Wulf swallowed. This time, killing was only frowned upon.

  The attendant turned and walked away. As soon as he reached the edge of the arena, the Headmaster’s voice rang out from a glass booth near the top of the arena. A construct of some sort (Wulf couldn’t see it) amplified his voice into a scratchy shout. “Up next, we have Wulf Hrothen of Carolaign, who has shown extraordinary control of golems in his labs and…extracurriculars.”

  The crowd was awfully silent after that.

  “He is up against Seith Telgrade, a notable artificer who has shown extreme proficiency with weapon constructs. Notably, she is the only artificer in the Telgrade family—the ruling family in the White Mountains.”

  Again, the crowd remained mostly silent. They were going to need a better announcer, one who knew how to rile up a crowd better. But a few seconds later, a horn sounded, signalling the fight to start, and the crowd’s roar returned.

  Wulf immediately stepped back, giving himself and his golem more room. By now, he’d only chewed through an eighth of his mana, and he could last the full five minutes if he had to. But Seith was going to be more nimble, and she’d inevitably score more hits than he would. If it went up to the end of the timer, he’d lose.

  She activated the bangles along her arms. Tendrils of mana shot between the silver bands, illuminating runes, and two blades poked out from both her wrists—both slightly longer than last time. With a shout, she charged.

  Wulf watched her approach. She had decent form, and she’d been practicing since they last fought, but she was no Kalee.

  With a jump, she spun, slashing with one blade. Wulf deflected it with rock-covered forearms, but her second blade stabbed right at his helmet. He shifted his hand to the side and blocked the blade with his palm.

  He was expecting to stumble back with the force she struck with, but the sand only shifted at his feet. He held his ground.

  “Do you have an aspect yet?” he asked.

  “Not yet!” She spun back, pulling her blade away. “You?”

  “Not yet!” he called.

  She darted forward, unleashing a flurry of blows, but Wulf deflected most of them—except a jab that caught him across the shoulder, taking a good chunk out of the golem’s shoulder pauldron. His mind screamed out in warning, knowing that had this been an Oronith, the Field would be offering damage warnings.

  “You’re showing me what you’re going to do before you do it,” Wulf said softly, but he didn’t know if she heard.

  He just needed an opening to strike her hard and fast. End the fight quickly, with one blow.

  Come on, Kalee and Irmond. Drink your potions, he thought. Drink your potions. He needed them to activate [Bastion].

  After a few more seconds, and a few more blows blocked, Seith had him stumbling backward with a hit. She must’ve triggered a Mark to increase her strength.

  But Wulf wasn’t about to lose to someone his same level, not when he had decades of experience on her. He widened his stance, channelled the bonuses he’d received from consuming potions, and caught her blade, before pulling her to the side. As she stumbled, he finally received a burst of strength from the edge of the arena. Invisible tendrils reached out through the air, empowering him with more strength as the Field recognized his friends using his potions.

  As Seith stumbled, he lunged forward and drove a knee into her stomach, making her stumble back, then punched her in the chest. Gasping, she staggered back then fell on her back. Wulf snagged one of her arms and pinned her to the sand.

  She grunted, “You know, I actually had hope there.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  “Then give up. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She blew a puff of air out her mouth, making ripples in the sand. “Fine. I yield.”