Mark of the Fool
Chapter 602: Prelude to the Second Grand Battle

Days of intense competition had built to this moment, capping them with an event that all of Generasi longed for, the most anticipated test in the Games of Roal: The Grand Battle.

Gemini floated in the air, pointing to the illusion of a low, flat-topped mountain sitting high above her. Her commanding voice gave the competitors their instructions. “For reaching the central point of the island, a total of sixty points will be awarded. For holding that position—and preventing other teams from reaching it—the successful team will receive ninety points for each hour it’s held under their control. The Grand Battle shall run for the duration of four hours, or, until only three teams are left standing! Remember, if an entire team is eliminated, it doesn’t matter how many points they’ve accumulated, all points will be forfeited and that team will suffer defeat. Now, with that being said, I wish you all good luck, and may the greatest warriors of weapon and spell triumph! And please, we expect no less from you than to act with integrity. No dishonesty, underhandedness, or duplicitousness will be tolerated. Monitors are watching the island from above.”

Toraka Shale was seated in a VIP box in the stands with Sim, pointing Claygon out to a new crop of investors. Richly clad, and leaning forward, they watched the golem with marked interest.

Near them, King Aksuma and Queen Ishtar sat with Sinope, surrounded by a squad of alert plainclothes Tekazashi honour guards, blending in with the crowd. The royals’ applause remained polite, but not quite as subdued as it had been, it seemed the dryad’s enthusiasm had infected them over the course of the tournament. Their cheering was animated, far more than when they watched Khalik and Najyah compete in the Duel by Proxy, especially in Queen Ishtar’s case.

For his part—her husband seemed to actually be paying attention to people for once, and not just the bea—

Huh…wait...

Alex squinted, looking closer, realising that the king’s attention was on Vesuvius as much as it was on his son and his team. His eyes were lit with delight as he admired the enormous beast.

The young wizard could only smile and shake his head. ‘Everyone’s got their hobby, I guess,’ he thought, looking for Selina in the crowd.

He found her looking relaxed and a lot more at ease than he’d seen her for a while. That subtle tension that played in her body language since the demon attack last year, was mostly gone.

Happy.

Content.

Watching her, he felt relieved, knowing that she’d started to heal. Her journey wasn’t over, it was just beginning, but—at least for now—she’d come to a good place inside herself. She was sitting beside Kybas, laughing at something he was saying and waving around a placard covered with figures representing her brother’s entire Grand Battle team. The young fire mage was cheering like she was about to burst with excitement as Kybas whooped and jumped up and down, holding up his own placard of…what looked to be Harmless and Grimloch eating the competitors.

‘Well, at least his heart’s in the right place,’ Alex smiled to himself. ‘I wonder who else is here?’

He looked around, spotting Carey seated high in the stands, surrounded by members of the expedition team as she made short work of what looked like a fried pastry, her eyes rarely left Alex’s and Tyris’ teams.

She did look different; her expression was harder, more confident, surer than before. Alex remembered what Tyris had said between matches during the Duel by Proxy—about Carey changing—he could see what she’d meant, the difference in the young woman’s manner was pretty stark.

She was talking to a few people near her with a self-assurance he hadn’t seen in her since he first met her back in first year when she was trying to get him to join Campus for Uldar.

‘Looks like maybe she’s making friends,’ Alex thought. ‘Which reminds me…I guess Baelin’s still with his.’

He looked back at the VIP box, noting one conspicuously empty seat.

The chancellor was nowhere to be seen during this year's Games. Alex hadn’t seen him at a single event, and now, he wasn’t even at the most important one of all—The Grand Battle.

He wasn’t gonna lie, it made him…nervous.

His thoughts went back to the demon attack and how much chaos it had caused almost exactly one year ago. He knew how crucial having the chancellor around had been to stemming the amount of destruction and death those demons had brought to Generasi.

Knowing that Baelin was still absent made Alex feel like something was missing; in lots of the most dangerous moments in the past two years of his life, the chancellor had been there, if not right there, then at least within teleportation distance. Lately, Baelin had been off among the stars somewhere with his own cabal mates.

He’d been spending very little time at the university recently, only returning to take care of duties needing his personal attention, then leaving for days or even weeks at a time.

If demons were to attack…

Alex shook his head.

‘You’re being paranoid,’ he thought. ‘We’re going to have a nice, safe, clean Grand Battle. We’re going to win, and no demons are showing up to try to kill us…though, maybe the competition might.’

All around, competing teams seemed to be watching Alex and his companions, sizing them up, making their plans.

Wolud Ranier was whispering to his teammates, eyes fixed on Alex’s team. Tyris was grinning at them, wearing a smile almost as shark-like as Grimloch’s. Even her own team looked unnerved, keeping a respectful distance from her and Vesuvius, who was eyeing Claygon with his tongue poking out.

The Ursa-Lupine brotherhood, clad in their traditional green shirts, were glaring at Alex’s team openly. One even ran a finger along his throat that sent Grimloch and Thundar into hysterics.

Some of the brotherhood were exchanging knowing glances with the Hydra Companions as they clustered together in their customary blue shirts. This year, none of the Hydra’s had sought to join forces with Alex’s team like they had last year, if anything, they seemed to have aligned with their rivals—the Ursa-Lupines.

They must have had their reasons.

‘We’ve grown a lot this past year,’ he thought about his fight at the windmill in Greymoor, training sessions with the Heroes, trips to the Hells with Baelin, harvesting dungeon cores. ‘Throw in Claygon’s evolution, and it’s pretty clear that we’re the biggest threat.’

His attention fell on Hanuman’s team. ‘The Grand Melee had only helped to confirm that.’

The life enforcement practitioner was standing in the middle of his comrades, arms crossed as he stared at Thundar, Theresa and Grimloch. His eyes were hard, his face twisted in a scowl, in no way trying to hide how much he resented losing to them. The sting of defeat was still playing through the tenseness of his muscles, the guardedness of his stance, and the tightness in his jaw.

Now and then, he would rub the side of his face as though feeling the pain of the final blow he’d taken in the Grand Melee.

This year's event had started off similarly—mostly—to last year’s. The one difference was a slight rules change; after Claygon's and Vesuvius' performance in the Grant Battle last year, folk had petitioned to allow beasts and servants to participate in the melee, aside from mounts, to spice up the competition.

Now the field was deadlier than ever.

Like last year, Theresa, Grimloch, Thundar and Brutus had formed their own team to take on all contenders, the competition had been stiff; proud knights clad in full plate armour, warrior-monks—some martial artists, and some life enforcement practitioners—horse archers, giant beastmen, monster wranglers and more, were vying for first place.

The pack was fierce, ready for anything…except Theresa, Grimloch, Thundar and Brutus.

Over the last year, they’d all transformed, gaining might from every challenge they’d faced… facing Ravener-spawn and demons didn’t provide a lot of different outcomes.

It was either grow, or die.

And they’d quickly shown their adversaries in the Melee that they were far from dead.

Last year, their plan had been to fight by making quick decisions, and to use skill and strategy to sweep the competition.

This year, their strategy was much simpler.

Come out swinging.

And dominate.

They’d formed two teams, Theresa was with Brutus, and Grimloch was with Thundar—and they’d attacked like…like…

…well, like Grimloch at an open buffet.

Even without the Twinblade, the huntress’ speed, skill and strength—honed against foes like Zonon-In, and trained against the impossible might and skill of Hart Redfletcher—was unstoppable. She’d blurred among the warriors, every strike taking down another opponent as her dulled tournament blades gleamed in the daylight.

Brutus hardly had anything to do, he simply trotted behind her, jumping on anyone who’d slipped past the blades and circled around to his mother’s back.

In truth, it looked like he was having trouble keeping up with her at times.

He was still young and energetic, but she’d grown to the point of outpacing him from time to time. Alex had noticed the concern on her face when she slowed her attacks to wait for him to catch up.

Brutus didn’t seem to mind, but Alex could clearly see the fear on his partner’s face; the gap between her and her beloved hunting hound was growing. There’d come a day when the cerberus wouldn’t be able to adventure with her anymore.

And as time passed, she’d grow stronger with life enforcement, while Brutus would do what most companions did, grow older.

Until finally…

Alex had shaken his head. ‘I’m going to do something about that.’

He’d turned his attention to the other devastating duo, and watched as Grimloch crushed entire groups of warriors with broad swings of his stone-headed maul.

Thundar—however—wasn’t just content to trot behind the sharkman and deal with strays like Brutus had. He’d leapt into the fray, mace dancing in his hands.

Even without using illusion magic, combat spells, or hismagical mace, he became master over a host of fighters on the field. Maybe he didn’t have the supernatural strength and speed that Theresa did, or the titanic force and mass of Grimloch, but what he did have was untold hours of training with the two of them, and testing himself against towering, demonic foes like Kaz-Mowang, and Yantrahpretaye.

Compared to that? The average knight or mercenary was just a bit more meat to be tenderised.

At the start of the Grand Melee, Alex had noticed that his friends weren’t the only ones showing increased strength and skills. The warrior-wizard Hanuman was faster and stronger than last year, and seemed intent on wiping the shame of losing the foot race to Grimloch away.

Unfortunately for him, wanting to defeat the sharkman was not the same as actually defeating him.

Hanuman and Grimloch had come together in an epic clash of strength, speed and power. Their weapons had blurred, lips pulled back, baring gleaming teeth as their eyes burned with intensity and a deep desire to win.

Well, Hanuman’s had been burning.

Grimloch’s eyes still held the same dead, doll-like stare as he drove his maul through his rival’s defences. Poor Hanuman fought back with everything he had, but—as skilled as he was—he was like a toddler compared to the heroic force that Grimloch often faced in practise—Hart Redfletcher—and the sharkman crushed the smaller warrior like a fly.

Once Hanuman was soundly beaten, his team scattered, seeking advantage and ralling the other competitors, forming a small army that bore down on Theresa and Grimloch’s teams, intending to swarm the four warriors.

But, they shouldn’t have wasted time joining forces.

Together, the fearsome four had upped their plan of domination and handily stomped their opponents with power, speed, and sheer brute force, leading to a commanding lead, and a first place win in the Grand Melee for the second year in a row.

Every team present had been witness to just how dangerous members of Alex’s team had become.

His eyes swept over the entire field of competitors, locking eyes with those looking to intimidate him. Only their former classmates from the Art of the Wizard in Combat seemed to not be focusing on them, instead talking among themselves.

Malcolm, Rhea, Angelar, Caramiyus, Eyvinder and a few others Alex didn’t recognise were paying attention to their own flag, intent on keeping it safe.

Their strategy looked simple, yet practical. Let others take the risks first.

‘They’ll let us take on the alliance of doom that’s uniting against us, while they—and any other team that’s smart—focuses on protecting themselves and scoring a few points,’ he reasoned. ‘While we, being super gracious, wipe out their competition. Well, that’s alright. We’llcarry you to second, or third place.’

He smiled, gripping his aeld staff tightly and nodding his head to their competitors.

The entire tournament had been leading up to this moment.

All of his friends’ planning, training and hard work.

By now, they’d all made a ton of coin thanks to Kybas’ bets, so this final victory would be the very plump cherry on the top of the cake.

‘We didn’t win last year,’ he thought. ‘So the odds aren’t in our favour. We’ll either make a killing…or lose it all.’

He took a deep breath, his eyes on Brutus.

He’d pulled an all-nighter to make his plan happen, but his gift was ready. No matter what, he was going to ask Theresa to marry him.

‘After the Grand Battle ends, my real battle begins,’ he thought. ‘So, let’s just finish these Games with a bang.’