Ashborn 334: The Ravager’s Fight (Patreon)

The cheering seemed to go on forever, and Vir wondered if it’d ever end when Thaman finally raised his arms and motioned for quiet.

It took a while, but the crowd finally acquiesced. Even long after silence had befallen the Ravager’s Den, Vir felt his ears ringing with the echoes of that din. The sound may have dissipated, but the energy behind it didn’t leave Vir’s mind so easily. There was power there. Power… And respect.

Vir looked at his godfather with renewed appreciation. This was the demon who’d worn an apron and cooked up a delicious meal only hours earlier, like any average demon.

If anything, that only made Cirayus even more impressive in Vir’s mind. He wasn’t just a Warrior. He was a general. He was a philosopher, wise in the ways of the world. He was a politician. And above all, he was family. He was also someone Vir—Vaak—had to defeat.

Vir doubted the demon was seriously lacking in any department. Truly a master of all trades… though he supposed that was the inevitable outcome of centuries of relentless self-improvement. Someone who transcended mortal bounds. Who became more than the sum of his parts.

“My brothers. My sisters. Everyone! I thank you for coming. This tournament is steeped deep in the history of our people. Let this be one for the ages. Both marking the return of our most beloved living legend…” Thaman was interrupted by another round of hoots and cheers and stomping. “Yes! But also, let us watch as all these Warriors test their mettle. Let us put aside our clan and support them on merit only. May the best Warrior win!”

Predictably, the arena burst out into cheers after this, and this time, Thaman allowed it to run its course.

“Now, as you are all aware, this year features sixteen combatants fighting in single-elimination bouts. Sixteen fighters. Four rounds. Yes, this is somewhat fewer than the past several tournaments, but I assure you, after that gauntlet in the Ashen Realm, only the very best remain. So you better not miss a moment of any fight, lest your grandchildren tease you about it for centuries to come.”

A round of laughter echoed through the stands, and once again, Thaman allowed it to run its course. His timing was masterful—continuing at the exact moment when the sounds started to die off.

“Now, as has always been tradition, our first round brackets will be determined by random chance.”

He gestured to an oversized table with a giant glass sphere sitting on top.

“Nothing new here, though for the sake of the young ones and those joining us for the first time, I shall summarize. Inside this container are sixteen names, which I shall now draw. The first name pairs with the second. The third with the fourth. And so on, so forth. Now, I shall begin.”

Vir prayed to all the gods that he wouldn’t be matched against Cirayus in the first round. Though, upon reflection, it hardly mattered, didn’t it? Cirayus would dominate every fight, of that he had little doubt. Which meant their bout was inevitable, should both keep winning.

What difference did it make if it was round one or four?

“Our first combatant is…”

Thaman drew the folded piece of paper, unfurled it… and sighed so loudly, it was audible to the entire stadium thanks to the amplification.

“I swear… Badrak must be playing games with me. Yes. Our first combatant is none other than Cirayus the Ravager!”

Vir braced himself for the deafening applause this time. It didn’t help. He was forced to plug his ears, though thankfully the shouts and whoops died off faster than when Cirayus had first made his entrance. Even afterward, though, the sound of stomping feet filled the arena, forcing Thaman to speak louder.

“And his foe will be…”

Vir looked up and down the line. All fifteen awaited with bated breath. Even Zarak’Nor looked pale, and that was saying something, considering he was a Ghael. They all looked like they were one step away from the grave.

“Aalok’Yar!”

Vir—and everyone other than the poor Iksana—sighed in relief. Aalok merely gritted his teeth and nodded toward Cirayus, who nodded back.

“And next, we have… Vaak—of Ash!”

Vir gaped. This couldn’t have been random. How could Cirayus have shown up first, with Vir second? It was too implausible. 

There was a very unenthusiastic round of clapping this time, but Vir was too distracted to pay it any mind.

The old man had to have set this up. He must’ve—

“And he will fight… Oh. Oh dear.”

Thaman paused, looking at the name. Vir knew beyond a shred of a doubt he was doing it strictly for dramatic effect. 

As obvious as it was, it worked. The whole stadium seemed to lean forward, waiting on Thaman’s next work.

“Our reigning champion—Zarak’Nor!”

This time, it was Vir’s turn to grit his teeth. Sure, it wasn’t Cirayus, but Nor was nearly as bad. There were no advantages to fighting Nor at this early stage, Vir knew. If he lost… Well, Vir would look pathetic.

If he won, however, he’d instantly shoot onto everyone’s mind—the crowd, and fellow combatants alike. Surprise was his biggest advantage. 

To retain that, Vir would have to win, but he’d have to win in a way that made it look like a fluke.

How in the realm am I going to pull this off?

— — 

“Well? Placing any bets?” Tara asked from beside Vir. They’d relocated to the grandstands—the fighters all had positions of honor at the very bottom of the stands next to the stages. While Cirayus’ match was due to start in a few moments, a dozen challenge duels taking place on the smaller rings had provided entertainment for the past hour. Demons shouted out bets left and right, resulting in a constant thrum of activity. 

Vir snorted. “Look at the odds. I’ll make nothing by betting on Cirayus.”

Tara sighed. “True. The hype for Ravager fights is real, but I doubt much money will flow for his fights. Maybe except for the finals, depending on who he fights. A Nor versus Ravager fight would be something…”

“You think Zarak’Nor would win?” Vir asked, raising a brow.

“Gods, no!” Tara laughed. “But some chals undoubtedly would. That’s all you need to even the odds a bit. Easy money betting on the Ravager should that matchup happen.”

Vir supposed she had a point. There were likely even a few desperate demons betting on Cirayus’ first round opponent. The odds were astronomical—but so too were Aalok’Yar’s chances of winning.

Which was why the bets had shifted from ‘Who will win’ to ‘Guess how quickly the Ravager defeats his opponent’, along with a dozen others, including bets involving guessing which strategy Cirayus would employ and what move he’d use to land the final blow.

It was so chaotic, with the Bookmakers shouting out bets in rapid fire, and gamblers raising coins into the air and yelling back. Vir couldn’t fathom how the system possibly worked without everyone’s bets getting mixed up. And yet it did, and a boggling amount of coin was exchanged on a regular basis. 

If Thaman is taking even a tiny cut of these… Vir shuddered to think of Clan Baira’s coffers. The image of opening a door, only to be drowned in the deluge of coins that poured out, came to mind.

A sneaky pincer from an Aindri competitor and his tamed boar brought Vir’s attention back to the stages. The fights themselves varied from captivating to head shaking as opponents of all calibers faced off against one another. Vir felt several would have easily made the cut into the top sixteen, though since the qualifying challenge was a race, slower demons were at a disadvantage.

The duels wound down in anticipation of the main event. The referee walked out on to the stage, and in his amplified voice, announced the combatants.

“And now, I bring you the up-and-coming Iksana. The young. The hopeful! Aaaalok’Yaaaar!”

The Iksana camp lit up with cheers and stamping, but Aalok had almost no support from the other clans’ seats.

As for Cirayus… Vir and Tara both plugged their ears well before the ref had finished announcing him. 

When the arena finally returned to sane levels of noise, Tara looked to Vir and grinned. “Okay, no bets. But how do you think the Ravager will fight? You know him much better than I do.”

Vir had to think on that for a moment. “Well, ordinarily, I’d say he’d look to end the fight as quickly as possible. Cirayus doesn’t do flair. He doesn’t show off. His fighting style is efficient, relentless, and brutal… But that’s against Ash Beasts. I’ve never seen him fight another demon before.”

“From the way he entered, I’d say he loves being the center of attention,” Tara said. “I think he’ll draw this out. Give people a show.”

“I suppose we’ll know soon enough.”

“Combatants… Fight!”

The spear-wielding Iksana made the first move, sinking into his shadow.

Tara rolled her eyes. “So predictable. This is why nobody likes watching Iksana fight. They’re all so formulaic.”

Vir had to admit, he’d guessed Aalok would reach for Dance of the Shadow Demon—it just made so much sense. The ability was almost unfairly powerful for being a regular Iksana Bloodline Art, and with Aalok’s spear, he wasn’t as horribly outmatched in range as most.

Cirayus… Didn’t do much of anything. Sikandar was still slung across his back, and he merely stood there with two arms crossed. The other two waved to the crowd, and Vir thought he even saw the demon blow kisses.

“Looks like you were right on the money…” Vir muttered, feeling almost embarrassed for the demon.

“He’s not the most beloved champ for nothing. Efficient fighting sometimes makes for a good show, but not usually.”

To most people, Cirayus looked as though he hadn’t a care in the world. He was full of openings, and it seemed like he wasn’t even paying attention to the fight.

Vir knew that simply wasn’t true. No matter how much his godfather showboated, he always took fights seriously. 

Which was why it came as no surprise to Vir when Cirayus calmly reached behind his back and leisurely grabbed hold of the Ghael’s spear.

Aalok desperately tried to wrench his weapon back, but to no avail.

“That… looked incredibly easy,” Tara said. “Wonder why more people don’t do that.”

Vir shook his head. “Cirayus made it look easy. Even without Balancer of Scales, he has monstrous power, and knows exactly how to use it. It’s not so easy to catch a spear mid-strike. As I’m sure you know.”

“That I do…” Tara admitted, eyes glued on the battle, the same as Vir.

He genuinely didn’t know what Cirayus planned to do. While he had a significant advantage while holding his enemy’s weapon captive, that wasn’t enough to win.

It happened faster than anyone could see. Aalok surged out of the shadow, going from pulling his spear one moment to driving it forth with the full weight of his body.

Against most demons, that would’ve resulted in the spear penetrated straight through Cirayus’ body—especially with the movement art Aalok used.

Against Cirayus and his Giant’s Hide, however, it simply glanced off. It hadn’t helped the Cirayus moved the barest amount, redirecting the blade as it struck him.

In the next instant, he’d grabbed hold of Aalok’s arm.

The Iksana’s legs were still in the shadow, and he seemed unwilling to give it up. So instead, Cirayus simply lowered himself to the ground. Slowly.

His shadow constricted, becoming smaller and smaller around Aalok’Yar’s exposed torso.

“You sure you want to play this game?” Cirayus asked gently, his voice amplified so it could be heard by the audience. “I know what happens if you lose a limb in that Shadow Realm of yours. There’s no getting it back.”

Cirayus was almost on his knees now. His shadow continued to tighten.

Vir could see the conflict in the Iksana’s eyes. He was caught in an impossible situation. Remain in the shadow and lose a limb? Or exit and risk losing the duel?

With the shadow now dangerously close to shearing his torso, the Iksana finally made his decision.

He leapt out of his shadow… Only for Cirayus to grab him with all four hands. Lifting him high into the sky, Cirayus launched the demon.

Aalok sailed through the air helplessly… and landed on his bum.

Outside the ring.

“W-Winnnerrrrr!!!!” The referee shouted.

Cirayus raised all of his arms to the crowd, and the arena that had fallen utterly silent broke out in uproarious adulation.

“Well,” Vir muttered, knowing Tara couldn’t hear him over the din. “Looks like we were both wrong. He was not only efficient, he also gave everyone a show.”

And soon, it would be Vir’s turn. Could he match his godfather’s performance? Or would he be taking a loss in the very first round?

Vir steeled his face and rose. He had to succeed. He had to.