Mark of the Fool
Chapter 591: The Tool of the Mind in War

In the past two plus years, Alex had learned a lot about combat. Over time, he’d come to see and take note of how different fighters embraced their own ways of battle, using what best suited them, yet sharing the same goal; winning.

A fighter like Grimloch relied on the might of their physique and natural talent to devastate, crush, and stop an opponent in their tracks. Incredible strength. Insurmountable speed. Titanic mass. Overwhelming magical power. Towering natural talent all came together.

With such abilities, a combatant could easily bury an adversary with crushing blows, or a hurricane of swift strikes and spells that left them in a broken heap sprawled in the dirt in their wake.

Another way was through hard practise and honing skills through thousands of hours of training. Combat forms—perfected by cultures over millenia—often triumphed over those less practised and less proficient, as a master musician would perfect a song through long days of practise.

A third way was through analysis and by noting patterns in their opponent’s fighting style, using the agility of a keen mind to spot details.

By canvassing the terrain for anything that could be used to one’s advantage.

Searching an opponent’s form for weaknesses.

A keen mind was Alex Roth’s ultimate tool in battle; as someone who was prevented by the Mark from even throwing a punch at someone or something bent on taking his life, his brain was the greatest tool he had to protect himself and those fighting beside him. Though his time was most often spent with dangerous companions, a war-golem and a staff that wielded fantastic magics, his mind was still his greatest weapon and shield.

Now—in this contest against a man with far greater years of combat experience than him—he’d been using that mind with the precision of a scalpel…

…probing for any weaknesses in Prime and Harsha Ram.

And as the fight continued, he believed he’d uncovered one.

In the arena, Prime wrapped around Claygon like a black death shroud, wresting the golem from the sky and down toward the ground.

‘Father!’ Claygon cried in Alex’s mind. ‘Prime’s moving around me…like water! I can’t…fight my way out…I’ll try my war-spear!’

Prime transfigured as something stabbed it, parting the construct around the tip of Claygon’s blade like tall grass separating as the war-spear poked through the struggling mass of black force.

Then the force construct’s shifting form closed on the war-spear’s haft.

‘It has…my spear! Father!’ the golem shouted.

‘Don’t give up, Claygon,’ Alex thought. ‘Keep struggling; I’m noticing something about Ram. I think he has to control Prime directly, like he would a cart or a wagon. I don’t think it can function on its own…and I believe there’s a strong connection between the two of them. Prime’s like a cloud, so start blasting it with your fire-beams, full power; they’re causing some kind of discomfort to Ram.’

‘I will…father…’ Claygon thought.

“And Prime grapples Claygon, wrapping around him like an evil blanket of force!” the announcer shouted. “The mighty golem is struggling, but Prime literally has him surrounded! This is unprecedented folks! Only at events like these can you expect to see such life-or-death struggles, such death-defying feats, and such fantabulous feints without risking your life to watch—wait…what’s this?”

Ram glowered at Claygon, his brow furrowing as Prime suddenly expanded.

Crackling explosions raged within the force construct. Claygon blasted his opponent again and again, bathing Prime with flame. Across the arena, Ram’s face hardened, a line of sweat dripped down his temple.

Prime constricted, binding the struggling golem, enduring explosion after explosion.

The audience gasped and cheered.

In the VIP box, Shale watched with the same grim expression as one attending a loved one’s funeral. Around her, the potential clients were watching the battle with unnerving interest.

Alex bit the inside of his cheek, watching Ram’s expression and body language.

The well disciplined Professor was standing tall and straight-backed…but wore tension in his body and a stiffening of his shoulders like an unwelcome cloak.

‘Yes…’ Alex thought. ‘We’re going to corner you, Professor Ram.’’

Yet, within the arena, Prime was the one gaining the lead.

Despite Claygon’s fire and mighty strength, the force construct was slowly pulling its prey to the ground. Both constructs touched the arena floor, the golem firmly constricted by Prime’s cloud-like form.

A wave of shock pulsed through the link. ‘Are we on…the floor…father?’

‘Yes. It’s going to pin you, Claygon,’ Alex thought, watching his former professor. ‘And I don’t think there’s any way we’re going to stop that.’

He quickly checked the timer. ‘Don’t panic but, we’re going to lose this round.’

‘No…’ Claygon said.

‘Trust me, we’re not going to lose the match. All you need to do is struggle as hard as you can for the rest of the round; make sure you put everything you’ve got into making Prime work for this victory. Don’t prioritise pins and knockdowns, just throw as many attacks into it as you can.’

‘Understood…father…’ Claygon thought.

“And pin!” the announcer cried as the count finished. “The score is 9-7 in favour of Harsha Ram and Prime!”

Roaring cheers spread through the audience as fans clapped and chanted in unison. “Prime! Prime! Prime! Prime!”

Prime disengaged from Claygon, but the golem immediately whirled, bathing the force construct in flame. He shot after Prime, war-spear thrusting and fires blazing.

He swung the blade in broad strokes, slashing Prime even as he reformed. The force construct moulded, returning to its combat form and drilling Claygon with an earth-shattering blow, driving him across the arena, rattling the cage bars.

“You need…to hit harder…” the golem said.

Claygon flew back into the melee, leading with war-spear and fire-beams, slashing the larger construct with his blade, pounding his massive fist into Prime’s core. The force creature spun through the air, slamming into the bars.

A great tremor ripped through the cage.

And as Claygon was about to move in for the kill…

…the bell rang.

“And the first round goes to Priiiime! What a devastating contest, folks! And a great showing from both combatants! Truly, Prime has been a monstrously powerful foe, but what a truly destructive display we’d be witnessing if it wasn’t for the arena’s protective magics!”

“Yeah, it would be, wouldn’t it…” Alex muttered, observing Ram.

His former force magic professor watched the crowd distantly, lowering his head politely as they cheered his name. His body appeared still, calm and serene…but Alex could see past that.

There was a lack of focus deep in his eyes—so subtle that most might not notice it lurking there—but it could not escape the notice of the Fool of Thameland.

“Father…we lost…” Claygon groaned, floating down in front of Alex. “This fight…is frustrating…like fighting mist that can punch you…”

‘It’s okay,’ Alex responded mentally, watching the timer. ‘We’re going to get him soon. How strong is Prime?’

‘Very strong…as strong as a golem…’

‘As strong as one of the new golems that we make at Shale’s?’ Alex asked.

‘I…it’s hard to answer father…’ Claygon said, a troubled note in his voice.

More suspicions grew in Alex’s mind. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Sometimes it feels weaker…sometimes it feels as strong as I was last year…sometimes it feels almost as strong as me…or even stronger…then it feels weaker again…’

‘So its strength is fluctuating,’ Alex considered. ‘That makes sense…’

‘What…are you thinking…father?’

‘I’ve got a hypothesis. Ram’s created this truly badass spell, and don’t get me wrong, but there’s no spell that I know of that could possibly create infinite energy. When force armour shatters, you need to reform it. When you fire force bolts, you need to power those force bolts with mana…so I have to ask myself, how is Prime putting out so much power without any power source?’

‘You are…right father…all fires…need fuel…’ Claygon looked at the fire-gems in his palms.

‘Exactly.’ Alex thought. ‘Prime’s firing force bolts, changing shape and increasing and decreasing its strength…some spells are self-sustaining, but we’re not talking about a static wall of force. And if you crack a wall of force, the wizard who cast it has to cast the spell again to repair it.’

‘Then what’s Prime’s fuel?’ Claygon thought.

Alex glanced at the force professor who was examining Prime carefully. ‘Ram is, I think. I think the spell’s continuously drawing from his mana pool. Whenever Prime’s strength spikes? It’s probably because Ram’s poured more mana into it.’

‘Then…Ram is powering it…and controlling it…that’s why Prime favours its right side.’

Alex glanced at the professor’s arms. ‘Because Ram would fight with his force prosthetic, that makes sense!’

‘So then what’s the plan…?’ Claygon asked.

‘We snuff out the pool. Ram’s got to have an immense pool of mana, and he’s the kind of wizard who would definitelylearn mana regeneration techniques, but that still doesn’t mean his pool is infinite. It’s probably taking a lot to keep powering the spell, and every adjustment he makes is only going to draw even more power from him.’

‘Yes…so we can drain him…by hitting Prime over and over.’ Claygon thought.

‘Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking,’ Alex thought. ‘It’d probably be easier outside of this arena—then we could do some realdamage—but let’s wear him down. And I think we should pull out one of my trump cards…and…huh.’

‘What is it, father?’ Claygon asked.

Alex peered at Prime. ‘He can’t cast any spells on Prime. Since the new rules came into effect this year, every wizard in the tournament has been casting spells to power up their proxies. But he hasn’t done that, not at all…makes me wonder if he can.’

‘Then…that is more advantage…to us…’ Claygon thought.

‘Which is a good thing.’ Alex looked up at Toraka’s prospective clients. ‘Those buyers are looking at Prime with a lot of hunger in their eyes.’

‘Do not worry father…’ Claygon said. ‘We will slaughter your competition…’

‘Claygon, we can’t, that’s murder—’

‘...slaughter them in business. In business.’

Alex wasn’t completely sure if Claygon actually meant ‘in business’.

“Round two’s beginning, folks! Our first round went to Prime, but will round two go as swimmingly for Harsha Ram and Prime?” the announcer shouted.

‘Claygon…’ Alex thought. ‘I have a plan—’

Ram watched Claygon intently. In the arena, Prime skittered into position, scraping its legs against the arena floor. Its fists clenched and unclenched.

“May the best construct win,” Ram said. “Can you stand in the way of progress?”

“It’s not progress until all the bugs are worked out, but you already knew that.”

“True, your data will be valuable to my advancement,” Ram said.

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.”

“A battle between warriors! Between wizards! Between scientists! Who will win? What exciting new ventures will be born from this match?”

Claygon and Prime tensed.

“Begin!” the announcer shouted.

Alex flicked his staff, pouring flight and haste magic into Claygon.

Prime charged, its tail sweeping out to knock him to the arena floor, but the golem parried with his war-spear. Prime came in hard, using a flurry of measured attacks that came from all sides.

Ram’s training and experience shone through his force construct, and its speed heightened with every strike. Soon Claygon was being pounded beneath a hurricane of blows, each slipping through his guard.

Alex thanked the Traveller that Prime wasn’t a familiar; they’d have no chance if Ram was able to cast his own devastating spells through the construct.

And for that, Alex was grateful.

‘Fire your central gem, Claygon…’ Alex thought. ‘But don’t break away from the fight. Keep Prime in melee. At the same time, blast the cage in front of Ram.’

‘Yes father…’ Claygon thought, gems flaring.

Beams of flame lanced out, striking Prime in its axe-shaped skull, while another beam flew across the cage, hitting the bars in front of Ram. The Professor didn’t flinch.

But Prime did.

Alex grinned.

Claygon drove his war-spear into the creature, raking it with fire from his central gem. Prime responded with bolts of force from its ballista, but it was clearly firing blind.

The golem slammed the larger construct to the floor.

“Knockdoooown!” the announcer bellowed.

10-9 in Claygon’s favour from all three judges.

‘One point down,’ Alex thought. ‘But points don’t matter.

Ram stepped out from behind the flames.

His face twitched.

Suddenly Prime was diving forward.

The axe-blade struck Claygon on the shoulder, driving the golem to the ground.

“A knock-down from Prime!” the announcer screamed.

9-9 from the judges.

Alex didn’t flinch.

Claygon raised both arms, firing his fire-beams right into Prime’s chest.

And—as predicted—the construct dissolved into a cloud of force, sweeping over Claygon, trying to constrict him again.

Alex smiled.

“Got you,” he said, raising his staff. It was time for the first of his new trump cards.

He poured power into the staff.

The aeld blooms flared.

And Claygon vanished.

“What?” Ram cried.