Chapter 81. Confrontation (Patreon)

Ian’s thoughts were stormy. He released Zilverna and the youth gasped, giving Ian a complicated expression. “You’ve gotten better in the past month,” Zilverna muttered.

Ian snorted. “The same goes for you.” Ian never imagined Zilverna would be able to circumvent his shield and force him to use his own energy to defend. If he ends up being responsible for revealing my pre-ascendant status...Ian wasn’t sure what he’d do to Zilverna, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. He all but wanted to break every bone in Zilverna’s body right then and there.

Zilverna rubbed at his throat and shook his head slightly. “My improvement is nothing to boast about. But you...you aren’t anything like I expected.”

Ian began to walk back to the SPU’s waiting area. Selejo’s section was on the way, so Ian wasn’t surprised to sense Zilverna walking about five feet behind him.

“What did you expect, exactly?” Ian wondered out loud.

Zilverna was quiet. “You’re a terror when killing isn’t off the table. For a while I didn’t think I could learn anything from someone like you, but I got some sense beaten into me.”

Ian turned around, his brows furrowed. What is he talking about?

Zilverna appeared pensive as he considered his next words. “You taught me that the world is but a tapestry: we but need to tug on its threads and let things unravel.” His lips curved into a scowl. “It makes more sense if you can see as I do.”

The elementalist broke eye contact and looked off to the side. “Best of luck, Skai’aren. I pray you won’t need it.”

—

When Ian returned back to the SPU’s waiting area, everyone was wearing somber expressions.

Ian stepped in through the one-way glass, huffed, and averted his eyes to the floor. “I don’t know what to say.”

Euryphel was the first to speak. “Ian...you’re not to blame for this.”

“Oh really?” he replied testily, his eyes snapping up.

“We had bad information. Zilverna is far more powerful than he should be; moreover, I suspect that the Eldemari specially prepared him to face you in combat.”

“I had one job,” Ian murmured. “I thought we prepared well enough. You’re saying the Eldemari planned this?”

Diana exhaled sharply. “We don’t know if anyone even saw anything suspicious. For one, Ian was at least thirty feet in the air. Moreover, the flames Zilverna blasted into Ian’s bone barrier obscured the area around him. Even on the close-up projection screen, all I saw was Ian defending against a ball of fire, the flames roiling off his energy like liquid nitrogen.”

Lanhui narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “Most people wouldn’t notice anything; but if you know what to look for, the distortion was present.”

Ian met Euryphel’s stare. “If the Eldemari set this up...do you think she now has enough information to know that I’m going to ascend?”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Lanhui, the only beginning practitioner among them.

“I never expected that the Eldemari would already be suspicious of the Skai’aren before today, but Zilverna’s readiness suggests that she’s had her eye on him for some time.” He inclined his head toward Euryphel. “It was beyond our calculations.”

“But will she know?” Euryphel asked, repeating Ian’s question. “Or will she simply have more supporting evidence?”

Lanhui thought for a moment, his brow furrowing. “She’ll have much more cause to suspect, though I don’t think she’ll be able to say anything for certain without further evidence.”

“If anything, I bet she’ll now be looking for evidence to support the hypothesis that the Skai’aren isn’t an ascendant,” Diana added. “Him being an ascendant is the worst possibility.”

“I think it’s best I leave for a bit,” Ian said softly, his voice silencing the room. “I should go and clear my head. If I’ve already blown everything, I might as well make sure I’m able to win the tournament. At least then I can justify to myself that it wasn’t all a complete waste.”

“I’ll be attending the second congregation of the general assembly in an hour; just make sure you’re back by the time I return around 3pm,” Euryphel said.

That gives me almost three hours, Ian thought.

“Got it.”

Euryphel sighed. “Try to avoid people as much as possible: It’ll be easier to stay out of trouble that way.”

The Fassari Summit was a spectacle filled to the brim with regular and practitioner spectators alike. Ian gave him a dubious look, but resolved to try his best.

—

Why am I not surprised that the least-busy place in the entire summit is the Hall of Legacy? In other words, the Fassari Summit’s lone museum. Ian stood within a cavernous hall filled with previous years’ Fassari Summit banners. Pedestals spaced two feet apart each displayed iconic moments in the tournament’s history, whether the final scenes of epic duels or other milestones like the ground-breaking and later opening of Fassar’s array station.

The museum wasn’t empty, but Ian didn’t think he needed to worry about being recognized and made into a spectacle. He’d already returned to his room to strip out of his uniform, and even changed into the kind of hooded sweatshirt he might have worn as a student at Academia Hector. He even restrained himself from using any active form of decemancy and forgoing Death energy vestments, enduring the itch for the second time in the past twenty-four hours.

Ian wandered the main hall until a certain display caught his eye: the List of Legacy, a bronze plaque listed out the names, affinities, and associated states of all the champions of each summit. Ian’s eyes trailed over each name, starting from the beginning; the first champion was a man from a state that no longer existed, a small kingdom in what was now the province of Shibaria. A Cloud and Light practitioner. The combination wasn’t what Ian would’ve expected of the first champion, both affinities better-known for their supportive utility than their offense.

His eyes narrowed the longer he read. There are very few decemancers on this list. The few he’d seen thus far all had dual affinities; there wasn’t a single person who had won with only a Death affinity.

After a minute of reading, Ian’s eyes lit up. Around forty years ago, there was a mono-affinity decemancer who’d won: Kurin Ventrebel of Gnoste. Many champions had more than one victory inscribed on the plaque, but Ventrebel only had the one.

He began to circle the hallway, trying to find any more records about Ventrebel. He eventually came before a projection of a fight between Ventrebel and another practitioner. Ventrebel had dark energy coiling around him and spearing towards his opponent, a woman with a blade of ice nearly slicing the Death practitioner’s throat in half. In the frozen moment, Ian could tell by the thick density and variable flow of the energy that Ventrebel had excellent control.

So what happened to him? Ventrebel looked quite young in the projection, possibly in his early thirties. Did he never need to compete again?

Ian frowned. But he’s from Gnoste. Gnoste was the worst-ranked state in the current summit’s bracket. Ian didn’t know how the nation fared forty years ago, but he doubted it was ever a powerhouse like Iastra. Such a state wouldn’t have had the luxury of letting a previous champion sit the tournament out.

“Are you looking for something?” a woman asked, suddenly appearing on Ian’s right. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that she was wearing a floor-length gown made of light-blue fabric.

Ian froze and tensed up. She stepped closer, her arm brushing up against his, the gesture reigniting the spark he felt the previous night. He wanted to know who she was, but was also afraid to find out.

As he spoke, he kept his eyes glued to the projection in front of him. “How did you find me?”

“It’s not that hard. You stick out.”

That’s all but an admission that she really is an End practitioner. Fantastic. Ian knew he should walk away...but he was looking for something. Or, rather, someone. He didn’t think it could hurt to poke her brain a bit. What more did he stand to lose after the last duel?

“Have you heard of Kurin Ventrebel of Gnoste?”

“Barely,” the woman replied, leaning against Ian’s arm. “I’ve seen this projection of him before, though. He was quite the storied decemancer when I was a young girl.”

That also confirms that she’s older than me by at least a decade, if that was ever in doubt.

“He won the tournament forty years ago. Do you know if he ever competed again thereafter?”

“He competed, but if I recall correctly...was disqualified.”

Ian recoiled. “Did he kill someone?”

The woman shook her head. “You’ve read through the tournament rules; you tell me what the most likely reason is.”

Ian crossed his arms. “I hope I’m wrong, but was he suspected of practicing necromancy?”

“That’s right. They never proved it, but he was still disqualified and never participated again.”

“How do you know so much about him?” Ian wondered.

“It’s my business to know the assets of other nations,” the woman replied simply. “A peak practitioner of the dark art is an asset worth keeping an eye on.”

“I presume the same can be said for all peak practitioners,” Ian replied.

“There’s an easy rule to go by. ANDS: ascendents, necromancers, decemancers, and pyromancers. In other words, the kinds of practitioners you absolutely cannot ignore.”

“You rank Death above Sun?”

“Death is slower but ultimately more insidious. With pyromancy, you can destroy a city to the last brick. With decemancy, you can empty a city out and use its people as your army. In the end, the former is far-less dangerous...and distasteful.”

Ian took in a shallow breath, swallowed, and turned his head to glance down at her face.

Fuck.

“Why did you follow me here?” Ian murmured. Just talking to her is dancing on the edge of a precipice. Why does that only make me want to talk to her more?

The woman’s eyes crinkled. “I was curious why you left the dueling arena and went off on your own. You won your duel against my son; I’d think you should be celebrating back with the other SPU delegates...unless there’s something I’ve missed.”

This woman has every reason to kill you...besides, she’s almost twenty years your senior.

“I’m sorry, but I need to excuse myself,” Ian said, turning abruptly. He noticed the presence of a practitioner wearing Selejo’s colors by the entrance of the museum, as well as another across the hall.

The Eldemari’s grin was both predatory and alluring. “Why the rush? Our countries are at peace. I’d treasure the opportunity to speak with the Crowned Prime’s personal retainer about the future.”

Ian cleared his throat and began to stride off toward the museum’s entrance. “I apologize, but we’ll need to talk at another time. I must be going.”

Ian heard the Eldemari sigh behind him. “I can’t force you to stay here, but perhaps you’d be interested in entertaining an offer. We’d like to commission a soul gem.”

Ian’s stride faltered and he turned back. “For what purpose?”

“For any purpose; soul gems are versatile. Are you interested?”

Ian was trying to figure out what the Eldemari’s strategy was. If I say no, is that admitting that the SPU is unwilling to cooperate? But if I say yes, won’t I need to provide our enemy with a weaponizable energy source?

“You can ask the Crowned Prime and the congressional delegates for their approval.”

Ian slipped past the exit and tried his best to quickly disappear into the crowd. After he was fairly sure she wasn’t following, he let out a deep breath, temporarily relieved.

So you kissed the Eldemari at the gala. Big deal. Part of Ian was nervous that kissing had formed a bond between the two of them. He knew that fear was irrational: Active use of End was required to actually form bindings along arrows of fate.

Ian tried calming his mind by following the balloon-like souls drifting across the sky. Even after knowing that she has no power over me, I can’t get her out of my head. Ian knew that they were on a collision course towards destruction and hate, that they were already long past the point of no return.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. If only things were different.

“Ian,” a voice called out. Euryphel placed a hand upon his shoulder. “I thought she might choose to approach you, though I didn’t think she’d do so right before the assembly.”

Ian shrugged his hand away. “I’m sorry you had to go and find me.”

“I didn’t come to babysit you, Ian. I trust you to handle yourself.”

Ian sighed. “It was a mistake for me to come here.”

“Perhaps,” the prince replied, tone somber. “Though if she needed to seek you out now, she must still be unsure of what she saw.” Euryphel didn’t say any more; Ian assumed he was trying to refrain from saying as much as possible, not even mentioning the Eldemari’s name.

“I’d like to believe that.”

Euryphel walked in front of Ian and placed his hands reassuringly on the man’s shoulders, seizing Ian’s gaze. “I’d tell you there’s no use in worrying about what we can’t change, but I’d be a hypocrite. No matter what you think the future has in store, I’ll be here for you. Do you understand me?”

Ian found himself unable to look away, surprised by the seriousness of the prince’s vow.

“I’m not sure you’ll have a choice.”

Euryphel snorted and shook his head, withdrawing backwards. “I’ve worked every day of my life so that I can choose my own path, fate be damned. Anyway, I need to continue on my way; I’ll be seeing you later.”

Though Ian opened his mouth to say something, he remained silent. Y’jeni, Eury...I know we supposedly share fate...but I don’t think I deserve your devotion. I might bring your nation to ruin.

Perhaps that’s what it truly means to believe in someone, Ian thought. It’s easy to believe when all the odds are stacked in someone’s favor. The true test of faith comes later, when the tables have turned and there’s no way out. Who will stand with you on the day death comes knocking?

Only two names immediately came to Ian’s mind: Germaine and Eury.