Mark of the Fool
Chapter 603: The Unstoppable Juggernauts

“And without further delay, let the Grand Battle begin!” The lead Watcher cried.

Magical machinery—each piece resembling a circle of six golden orbs the size of human heads floating above brass platforms—began to hum. Spell-marks appeared on every contestant's hands, ready to whisk them away before any grave injuries could occur during the battle.

“I’ll save your places,” Alex said, drawing the gazes of his teammates. “Let’s go wreck shit!”

“Let’s wreck shit!” they echoed, save for Isolde, who looked on as wizards floating above cast teleportation magic.

“Let us achieve an undisputable final victory,” she said.

And then, Alex was gone.

He hurtled through space, cloaked in the warmth of teleportation magic that transported him to the sky above a sandy beach. The ocean crashed against the shore to his left, while flashes of teleportation magic sparked throughout the island to his right.

Alex felt where each team came from…and where they were appearing. Wasting no time, he closed his eyes and raised his staff, focusing on those flashing sparks, calling on summoning magic awaiting in the staff.

As he felt his teammates appear around him, a trusted celestial fox, swarms of elemental beetles and several air elementals were already waiting with him. These air elementals were new to his spellcasting, their girth was broad, each one as wide across as Alex was stall.

They were the results of the newest fourth-tier summoning magics that he’d learned and enhanced the aeld staff with: Conjure Medium Air Elemental.

Each crackled hungrily.

“What’s the situation?” Theresa asked, drawing her swords.

“We’ve got three teams within five hundred yards of us,” he reported, as his teammates surveyed the beach. “Two to the north and one to the east.”

“Claygon and Grimloch, why don’t you take care of the one to the east?” Khalik suggested, raising his arm, launching Najyah to the skies.

She soared away, circling the sky as the sharkman cracked his knuckles and Claygon banged the butt of his spear on the sand.

“…that is a good idea…” Claygon said.

“Consider them dead,” Grimloch growled.

“You mean eliminated, of course,” Isolde corrected him as Hogarth and Svenia took position on either side of her.

“I know what I said.”

Isolde sighed. “How did I find myself involved with such a gang of hooligans?”

“You’re at least half-hooligan.” Thundar twirled his mace.

“Right then, well, let’s start hooliganing,” Alex said. “We’ve got destruction to deal before whoever’s allying against us gets together. Let’s thin the pack.”

He conjured a few more air elementals, then pointed his staff north. “Isolde, Khalik, get flight spells on Brutus and Theresa. Thundar, you look for any illusions or invisible opponents around us. Grimloch and Claygon? I’ll get you to your prey.”

“Question?” the celestial fox said.

“Yes?”

“Will there be more of those divine sweets waiting for me?” She batted her eyelids.

“Absolutely.”

“My, my, then, I’ll need to try my best.”

Alex smiled, and with a wave of his staff, covered Claygon and Grimloch in flight magic, concentrating on the location of the group to the east.

“Everyone hang onto your butts,” then, he teleported his team into battle.

Ram could only shake his head as Alex Roth, Claygon and that horrible sharkman manifested in the centre ofa circle of surprised competitors made up of eager students and hired mercenaries.

The confident team was huddled together, discussing a plan of attack when—within seconds of arriving on Oreca’s Fall Island—challengers appeared out of the blue.

Students froze, eyes wide with shock while the mercenaries raised their weapons to defend them.

Before they could strike a single blow, the battle was over.

Claygon’s fire-beams and war-spear swept the astounded students aside, while Grimloch’s maul smashed the mercenaries straight to oblivion.

In the space of three of Ram’s heartbeats, no one was left, every member of that team had been whisked to the healing station on the island.

Alex Roth was nodding his approval at flames dancing through the spot where the opposing team once huddled, looking like a warlord watching his army sack a city. He reached out and claimed the defeated team’s flag. With a wave of his staff, he, Grimloch, and Claygon were gone.

“Baelin’s a bad influence on the young,” Professor Salinger’s voice said from above. The magical botany professor floated down from a higher altitude, shaking his head. “He’s turning a perfectly good gardener into a crazed conqueror.”

“Hm, there’s not too much wrong with that,” Harsha said, watching the golem, sharkman, and hulking wizard appear further up the beach.

Roth’s aeld staff glinted in the sunlight, and suddenly, he and several members of his team disappeared. Abruptly, an explosion rocked the forest to the north, and the Thameish wizard reappeared, joining his remaining team members on the beach.

He vanished again, taking three of them with him. Anotherfoursome disappeared.

More blasts echoed over the island from the forest to the north.

He reappeared in heartbeats, transporting the rest into battle.

“Scry and Die tactics? Really?” Ram raised an eyebrow. “From a second year student?”

“Come now, you’re being overdramatic, Harsha,” Professor Salinger squinted to the east, scanning the quiet forests in that part of Oreca’s Fall. “Scry Image is a tricky spell, and it takes a crystal ball or some other—”

“It’s an expression, Holden,” Ram said,watching the explosions fade in the north. “It means somehow they’re locating opponents and teleporting in on top of them.”

“Don’t patronise me, Harsha. I may not be a force-headed battlebrain like you, you crazy bastard—entering the Duel by Proxy at your age and skill level—but I know enough about combat magic to understand what it means.”

“I don’t think you get it—” Ram started to say.

Another explosion tore through the forest, this time a few hundred yards to the east. Harsha gestured in that direction, one eyebrow raised at his colleague. “You see that, Holden? Something unusual’s happening: Roth’s team is locating their rivals like they already know where they’re going to turn up, or like they have a spy, or spies, flying above the island.”

“Maybe Khalik’s eagle…I don’t remember her name…is acting as their spotter?” Holden suggested. “But, exactly what’re you saying, Ram? Don’t tell me you’re going to accuse them of cheating?”

“No, I don’t think that’s what it is…” Ram said. “I’m not sensing any fifth-level spells and I’m certain the deployment map wasn’t compromised. But…it’s uncanny. How would they know where their opponents are so fast?”

Holden threw his hands up. “I don’t know, Harsha? Luck? Fairy Allies? I dunno, there could be a dozen reasons. I don’t know what you’re so worried about.”

“It’s not cheating, but…” Ram said.

Another explosion ripped through the trees, this time a few hundred yards south of the last. Roth’s companions had found another team, and were wiping them out like a swarm of locusts attacking a cottage garden.

“When you’re a warrior, anything on the battlefield that you can't explain or account for raises your curiosity,” Ram said slowly. The fingers on his prosthetic arm twitched as he remembered the battle between Prime and Claygon.

“You mean it makes you nervous, don’t you?” Holden grinned, patting the taller wizard on his shoulder. “You’re getting old, friend. That’s all. You should stick to gardening, like me!”

“Quiet, you!”

“Hah! You’re afraid! I knew it.” Holden laughed so hard, he doubled over in mid-air, slapping his knee. “Just stop making a big deal out of nothing, you’re not going to be replaced yet: Roth’s not being particularly smart.”

“What do you mean?” Ram asked.

“He pushed his staff to the limit teleporting Claygon around in the battle with that oversized prototype of yours, right?” Holden pointed out. “Well, now he’s teleporting an entire team around. By the time he actually meets any of their true threats, he’ll already have burned away most of his staff’s mana. His team’s going to lose at this rate.”

Holden nodded to a field in the centre of the island. “Especially since everyone else is joining together to get rid of them.”

Harsha followed his friend’s gaze.

There, in the centre of the island, rival teams gathered like a storm cloud forming. Tyris Goldtooth’s squad, led by the titanic Vesuvius, flew over the field toward the sprinting forms of Hanuman and his companions.

The Hydras and Ursa-Lupines emerged from the trees alongside several other teams. Wolud Ranier’s group popped out of the tall grass like raptors, invisibility magic bleeding from them.

“Roth’s team’s going to burn through their resources, then everyone’s going to attack them at once. It’ll be a bloody slaughter: they likely won’t even get third placethis year,” Holden sighed. “The young are often prone to rushing in too fast at times. So have no fear, you won’t be replaced quite yet, old frie—oh! Hold on, sixth-tier spell to the south. Let’s go take care of that, shall we?”

“Yes,” Ram said, thinking on Holden’s words.

On the surface, they were true: Roth did seem to be burning his mana far too quickly. By the time his team met that devastating alliance forming against them, he probably will have spent all the energy in his staff, and personal mana pool.

It was the only logical conclusion, considering the rate he was using mana at.

‘So then why do I still feel like I’ve missed something?’ Ram thought.

Even as he teleported south to apprehend the cheaters, his warrior’s instincts screamed at him:

There was more going on here than met the eye.

“Plan fast!” Wolud called, paying close attention to his screens. “They’re going reach us in a few minutes.”

“Already?” Hanuman demanded incredulously, staring over Wolud’s shoulder at his illusionary screens. “How—”

The question died on his lips.

The doom squad that was Grimloch’s team was teleporting from place to place, destroying every single team in their path. Alex Roth—along with Khalik Behr-Medr—acted as their leaders and tacticians.

Other teams had been moving through the wilderness cautiously, readying ambushes or fighting another team when Roth would suddenly appear among their ranks between Grimloch and the golem, Claygon.

A couple more teleportation spells later would bring the rest of his team into the skirmish, and they would unleash such devastation that all opponents would be wiped out before they could resist.

They were a team of unstoppable juggernauts...

Meanwhile, Roth’s summoned monsters were spreading through the wilderness in every direction, rooting out enemy teams trying to stay hidden among the brush. If they found anything that wasn’t a forest creature, they’d quickly alert, flying into the sky, howling or giving some other signal, bringing Roth with his death squad in tow.

“How many fourth-tier spells is that?” one of the Ursa-Lupines asked nervously.

“Too many,” a Hydra Companion answered. “We should’ve allied with them again this year.”

“Less chatting. More planning.” Wolud said through clenched teeth. A stream of curse words rolled off his tongue as a screen was suddenly obscured by red and gold light. “That bloody celestial fox of his is disrupting my Wizard’s Eyes! We’ll be completely blind soon if it doesn’t stop!”

“Calm down, calm down. You get way too excited about things, Ranier!” Tyris’ grin was broad, and her gold tooth sparkled. Behind her, Vesuvius ground brush under his massive feet, turning it to paste.

All eyes turned to the redheaded battle mage as she casually strode up beside Wolud, looking at his screens.

“Goldtooth, you fight beside these people in Thameland, right?” Hanuman asked. “Do you have a way to beat them?”

“Easily? No.” She pursed her lips. “Claygon’s too powerful, Theresa’s too fast, Grimloch’s too strong, and the rest of them are some of the most coordinated battle wizards I’ve ever seen. But, there is a chance.”

She pointed to a screen showing Roth from a distance, standing between his golem and Grimloch. “Look at how he’s taking down the other teams: he teleports those two towering monsters in with him first, then goes back to get his teammates. I know he’s a bit slow when it comes to spellcasting. You ever notice he doesn’t use spells very often in combat?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it,” Wolud said.

“So it’s simple. Some of us wait out here as bait. Alex teleports in, and we hit him with everything we’ve got. Wolud, you make sure Hanuman’s invisible. Hanuman, you grab his staff then hit him with it hard enough to eliminate him. Then, their mobility’s gone.”

Hanuman was nodding, right…right…then what?” he asked.

“We eliminate Grimloch—” Tyris continued.

“I like the sound of that.” Hanuman cracked his knuckles.

“Even if we lose some people when we’re getting rid of those two, it’ll be worth it. Then me and Vesuvius slow Claygon down, and we all escape. The golem will be separated from the rest of his team, and they would have lost most of their mobility. Then, we find the rest of them, blow them all away, and go our separate ways.”

“Solid plan,” Wolud was nodding enthusiastically.

“Mhm, and they’ll be low on mana while we’ll be fresh,” Hanuman said. “You’ve given us the victory, Tyris.”

“I’ve given us a chance,” she corrected. “Trust me, these bastards are probably going to have something else up their sleeves.”

“Well, we’ll see what he’s got left when I get his staff,” Hanuman said.

“Hello folks,” Alex grinned, teleporting above a field with Claygon and a grinning Grimloch flanking him.

Swarms of elemental beetles were flying through the sky above, combing the air for invisible threats. Below them gaped a group of stunned Ursa-Lupines and Hydra Companions.

“Bad luck, I’m afraid,” he said lightly. “Better luck next year.”

The Ursa-Lupines and Hydras gasped as Claygon aimed his fire-gems at them.

Girmloch grinned, diving toward his prey. “Feeding frenzy!” he roared.

Alex smiled, lifting his staff, preparing to go collect the rest of the team.

Then an elemental beetle began buzzing loudly.

To his left, it sat perched in mid-air, resting on something invisible.

His eyes flew wide.

“Ambu—” he began.

Something unseen grabbed his staff.

“What th—” Alex cried as Hanuman materialised in front of him, the warrior’s muscles bulging as he strained against Alex.

“Father!” Claygon cried, as a stream of lava washed over him, followed by a series of ice bolts that struck the molten rock, turning it solid.

“Hello, Alex,” Tyris appeared about forty feet above him, standing on the head of a flying Vesuvius. She grinned broadly, gold tooth and green eyes shining with malice. “Welcome to the trap.”

“Thanks,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

With a growl, Hanuman—his muscles powered by life enforcement—barely managed to twist the staff from Alex’s hand. He laughed at the Thameish wizard as he pointed the aeld branch—it gave off waves of indignation—like a spear.

The aeld’s staff’s power built in retribution, but the battle wizard quickly aimed it.

“Goodbye,” Hanuman said politely, thrusting it at Alex’s chest.

It was a solid, perfectly executed blow, the kind that would have easily sent the Thameish wizard to the healing camp and eliminated him from the Grand Battle.

He had no time for spellcasting.

No time to draw a weapon.

And all Alex could do…

…was smile.

And—without his staff, or uttering a single syllable of a spell—he disappeared.

“What?” Hanuman cried, his head swivelling left and right. “Where did he go—”

A large hand fell on his shoulder from behind.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” Alex said lightly. “This is the reason why you don’t reveal all your trump cards. Now let’s go on a trip, shall we?”

“Wai—” Hanuman started.

Then they both disappeared.