I take my eyes off the arena for a moment and glance at my current companion. Mevana opted out of the event to keep preparing the shop for the launch. She also didn't want to leave it empty after the recent incident, even after we tried assuring her that our allies would keep it perfectly safe. It would actually be safer for her if she was with us, but I trust the Lilies and the Oreads to keep her out of trouble anyway so it's not a problem.
Therefore, I'm sitting by the side of our new friend, Niel. The timid girl is still dressed in her family maid outfit, even though she has already tried on the new attire. Sirgia wanted her to use the latter since it's more comfortable and secure, but I agree that she should keep her new employment a relative secret for now. We don't want anyone to give her more shit just because a servant isn't wearing the proper uniform on the clan's grounds. She is still technically employed by Sirgia's parents.
The other spectators throw her some looks now and then, clearly surprised and curious why one of the maids is wasting her time here instead of tending to her duties. It makes her feel visibly uncomfortable, but I do my best to shield Sirgia's sworn sister from the attention. We haven't yet gotten too close so I'm still rather careful of how familiar I get with her. Nevertheless, she's allowed me to gently hold her hand atop her thigh to ease her mind.
One would think she wouldn't have anything to worry about after seeing Sirgia's masterpieces, including the mansion, but this ceremony seems like a big deal.
It doesn't take long for the preparations to be finished and a chubby Dwarf in a suit waddles into the stadium. He stops to bow towards the stage with the clan's most important people and flicks his spatial storage cuff to pull out some kind of device. At first glance, it's hard to identify, but when he puts it close to his face, I catch on right away.
The object resembles those very old first phones where the speaker and the microphone are attached to a handhold and take the shape of a trumpet or chalice. In this case, the position of both is the same as on Earth, but the speaker is turned around to face outwards. I can spot the glimmer of a few gemstones here and there, most likely part of a magical circuit fueling this undoubtedly communication device.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you here on this exciting day to host the next iteration of the long-awaited Heir Showdown! My name is Dergir and it's my honour!" He proves my point as his voice loudly carries forward, evoking silence from the audience.
Our happy host starts trotting around the entire arena while taking care of his introduction speech, thanking the Patriarch and the Elders for showing up, hyping up the crowd, introducing the contestants, and laying down some ground rules. Most people are familiar with them, but I appreciate this little gesture of reminding everyone about the guidelines. There are quite a few regulations regarding the spectators so I bet it wasn't uncommon for people to do some stupid shit in the past.
Although, as much as I appreciate this introduction, it's a tad annoying, to be honest. This magical artefact is simple and works well, but that's just it. The best sound arrives only from the direction he is facing, all the other angles coming out fairly muted. That's when I understand why he is circling the coliseum instead of standing in the middle. He tries to make sure everyone hears his voice equally. Perhaps a stronger device would have fixed the issue, but maybe they don't want the noise to travel too far. You never know who is listening in.
Turns out, I'm not the only one miffed by the primitive megaphone. I catch Sirgia sighing heavily before she walks off her marked spot and bounds towards the host when he is the closest. He notices it, just like everyone else, and frowns, slowing down nervously, possibly worried that something he said might have triggered one of the contestants. People wait with bated breaths to see what's going to happen, but no one seems eager to intercept my petite lover.
Dergir is forced to pause when she steps in front of him. She holds her hand out and they exchange a few sentences, with the man rolling his eyes at her and shooing her away. Not wanting to deal with his attitude, Sirgia swipes his megaphone with a surprising bout of speed and tosses him a different item.
From what I catch before it disappears in his thick fingers, it resembles an actual stage microphone. The square version that is held inside a ring by elastic cords attached to the outer circle. Not super modern, but I can guess why she chose it for her design. Those were super cool. Shino or someone else might have had some influence over this.
Then, my genius artificer spins around and marches away from the host. He stares between her and the object in his hands, sneaking a peek at the stage, at a complete loss on what to do. Before he can complain to the judges though, he and everyone else flinch slightly when a brief noise of static interference spreads through the air. Snapping towards the source, we spot Sirgia in one of the corners of the arena with a tall metal pole on a tripod next to her, four megaphones attached to its top, looking like those bombing alarms from the war era.
She unhurriedly makes a full lap, setting down three more of these, before directing a telling look at the host, the spectators following her each step with bewilderment. The man taps the microphone a few times, making everyone wince again, and tests it with a few words after realising that it works similarly to his previous artefact. The quality is impeccable, though the volume is too high. My lover points it out and shows him some controls that we can't see, the two of them bringing the audio to a comfortable level.
Judging the issue resolved, Sirgia nonchalantly returns to her spot, ignoring the baffled stares of her rivals.
"Uh, apologies for the short interruption, folks, but as you can see, or hear to be more specific, our sound system has gone through a little upgrade," the host explains with a wry laugh. "Please, offer your thanks to dear Sirgia for this kind gesture. Though, keep in mind that this wasn't part of the contest so try not to show her any favouritism due to this act, as impressive as it might be. Now, where have we left off…"
He tries to downplay her gesture a bit, but it's impossible to completely bury it under the rug. Whispers are already spreading through the audience rows. No one can tell if this is going to sway the jurors, but the spectators certainly won't forget that she has just bested their clan's officials. Or at the very least pointed out their laziness in not pursuing a better solution, which might have earned her some ire from the more senior groups.
We haven't even really started and she's already making waves.
My little troublemaker.
"Alright, without further ado, let us move on to the part you have been waiting for," Dergir finishes his extended speech. "The first category selected by the Elders is… ranged weaponry! Can I ask the keepers to bring out the targets?"
He strolls to the centre, rejoining the contestants and the judges, no longer having to keep himself on the edges. There's a slight rumble as the ground at the end of the contesting strips shifts, opening up a hidden trapdoor. A thick metal wall rises from it, covering the width of the challenge playground and reaching as high as the bottom of the lowest audience row so as not to obscure vision from that side. Still, from the angle near the floor, it provides enough safety in case of a missed shot.
Next, traditional archery targets appear in front of it, circular wooden plates set on easels. The wood is noticeably tough and heavy, about an average Human torso's size. It's painted with colours denoting the scoring most likely. Though, I'm sure accuracy won't be that important besides actually hitting the target and doing damage to it.
As everything settles down, the challengers turn to their chests, barrels, crates, or whatever storage they have brought with them, picking up the weapons they are going to enter the category with. Only Sirgia doesn't have the tiniest box with her, which confuses people. While the others tweak their crossbow-like contraptions, she raises her hand into the air.
"Oh, what is this?" The host notices immediately, walking up to her. "The competition hasn't yet started properly and we might have our first capitulation? After such a fine display earlier? I'm sorry, little one, but you know it was up to you to deliver your gear to the servants ahead of time. It's too late now."
Sirgia doesn't react to his teasing even as the spectators chuckle at her.
As the man holds the microphone to her, she leans in. "I would like to request the help of an attendant."
With a flourish, she waves her hand and a complex black bow materialises in her grasp. Dergir flinches a bit, his eyes widening at both the display and the size of that thing. It can be considered a full longbow, almost twice their height. There's no way Dwarves are able to draw it properly.
Well, besides her, of course, even if she holds it horizontally, but I understand why she doesn't want to give away her full capabilities.
After taking control of his shock, the host spins to face the stage. "You've heard Contestant Five, Elders. It's been a while since this right has been called upon. Are you willing to permit the use of a helper?"
The jury starts exchanging hushed whispers and I bring myself closer to Niel.
"This seems like a big deal," I note. "Are they going to make problems for her because of this bow?"
She shakes her head albeit with a trace of uncertainty. "They shouldn't. It's rare for one of our kind to pride themselves in creations meant for the use of the other races, but it isn't ruled out. That's what the assistants are for. In this category, everyone usually goes for crossbows, because they make it easier to produce power. Bows are better for long range. Which is a disadvantage here."
We stop when someone walks into the arena from the gate below us. I can't help but register that Niel is just as knowledgeable and passionate about this craft as the others and Sirgia. Well, the Sirgia from her past, most likely. It's a shame what happened to this poor woman. She still yearns for the forges, that's for certain.
Nevertheless, the attention shifts to the tall Elf dressed in a simple garb. He must be some kind of a slave to the family. I'm not sure about the details. All I recall from my studies is that most places around the world use similar systems as Humans, just somewhat less malicious. He doesn't look abused so it's not my business what got him into that position.
Reaching Sirgia, the male receives the weapon and examines it closely, his brows drawn down in puzzlement as she fills him in on her creation. Not that I blame him for being unsure. This isn't your ordinary bow.
My lover has chosen something akin to a composite combat model. It has that wavy design with pulleys integrated into the edges as they work the double string that crosses in the middle. But, as much as it resembles the modern bows, there's no doubt it hides quite some magical improvements. The runic paths decorating its body make it obvious. Just like the sporadic crystals.
The archer receives a quiver full of arrows and makes a few test pulls, his eyes widening at the ease of the motion. Sirgia smacks him on the thigh and scolds the man for some reason, perhaps drawing too fast and far. The bow did bend almost halfway through the action, showing its incredible flexibility.
Soon, everyone is set, and the host readies himself to signal the start. Save for Sirgia, the other contestants hold onto various designs of those blocky Chinese crossbow things from early eras. Some don't even have a string, everything crammed inside the rectangular box to hide their patent. A few of them show cocky smirks as they peer at the alien bow.
Contrary to my expectations, they don't go all together. Dergir gives the signal and the first person makes their shot. Unfortunately, Sirgia is the last one in this order so we'll have to wait a bit.
The contestant's crossbow releases a wooden thunk and a whiz, sending forward a handful of bolts shotgun-style. Half of them hit the target, covering most of the circular dish with spread-out projectiles sunk about two-thirds in. He opens up the back of his crossbow with a little door, and grabs a prepared square reloader, using it to push another batch of bolts into the internal magazine, closing the access right after. His display evokes some cheers as he bows in all directions.
"A fantastic result!" the host announces. "Looks to me like a smart utilisation of a bunch of wind enchantments huddled in a sealed chamber! Quick, easy, and effective! I wouldn't want to find myself on the other end of this crafty contraption! Even a full plate armour can't completely guarantee that none of the bolts will slip through the gaps!"
The judges chat amongst themselves and note some things down while Dergir walks up to the second contender.
I lean towards Niel again. "Is it really that impressive?"
"It does seem more effective than the current iteration most military forces use. Especially the reloading system. It all depends on the maintenance aspects. If it uses magic crystals, how often do they need to be charged or changed? But, such things can still be tweaked after the show. What's important is making your creation stand out. It succeeded," she replies softly.
Chuckling quietly, I stretch backwards and let out a bored sigh. She doesn't miss that.
"You don't look too worried," Niel comments. "I admit that it's not an artefact of the highest grade, but Sirgia always struggled with these, as she said. I can understand why she chose a bow instead. Yet, it will be hard to compete against crossbows. Especially with those like that, launching multiple projectiles at once."
Smirking at her, I delicately ruffled through her purple hair. "I'm sorry to say that, but you better forget everything you know about Sirgia. Or at least everything regarding her projects. Just kick back and enjoy the show. Want some snacks?"
I bring out cookies that my lovely wife had more than enough time to prepare in the morning instead of fussing over her preparations like the others most likely did. Not exactly fully believing in my confidence, Niel still accepts her share and cutely noms on the sweets while her attentive gaze locks on her best friend.
While we were talking, two more people went through their trials. One woman made her crossbow shoot two bolts at the same time, capable of five such bursts before she had to lift the top and click new ones into the mechanism. It's a more accurate approach than her predecessor but still works.
And the next guy seemed to try and come up with his own attempt at firearms because his blocky contraption exploded in his hands, thankfully only singeing his front. I don't think he used gunpowder judging by the still-going flames that ate the dirt beneath his feet. Oh, well.
Then, the last guy before Sirgia takes his chance shoots a spinning disc out of his weapon. It doesn't pierce as deep as the other projectiles, but it's obvious that its rotary force would allow it to sever a limb without a problem. Might not be too good against armoured targets, but you can easily get decapitated if you underestimate it too much.
Finally, her turn arrives, and the host passes the show to Sirgia. The Elf nocks a sleek black arrow with white feather tips and uses the built-in crosshair to take aim. Sirgia's bow bends a bit as he draws the string to his chest. Then, as she gives the command, the archer lets it go, a quiet thwip breaking the silence in the arena. Everyone's eyes snap from his figure to the target and…
"Whoops! Looks like our friend here might still be a little groggy in the morning!" Dergir laughs openly as he spots no sign of the arrow on the painted surface. "Where could it have gone? Hopefully, no one is injured. Are you good out there, folks?"
The audience fills with snickers and Niel tenses next to me.
"Happens to the best." The commentator shrugs. "Would you kindly try again, considerate sir? The fate of this brave lass rests in your capable hands. Do your best, please."
The person in question turns to stare at the presenter with an offended and annoyed expression. His gaze moves onto Sirgia, who sighs softly and dismissively waves the comments off. Taking a deep breath, the male takes the proper stance and repeats his attempt, taking a bit longer to aim.
Thwip.
And the target remains barren, evoking more laughter and jokes. Even the jury sniggers under their noses. Only the Patriarch is somewhat different, squinting heavily into the distance.
"Bastard!" Niel curses quietly, surprising me a bit. "He is obviously sabotaging her! They brought in a corrupt helper to get rid of her!"
I look at her charming face twisted in a fairly adorable depiction of fury. I have a feeling she would have wreaked havoc in their midst if only she had the means to do so. But, she can only helplessly observe the injustice.
Squeezing her shoulder, I grin at her optimistically, half glancing towards the target. "Just trust in your friend. Is she someone who would risk everything on an impossible gambit?"
The distressed girl bites into her bottom lip. "No… She never displays her work before it's ready… That's why I know it's not the bow…"
"And you are right." I wink at her. "Now watch."
We turn to the middle just as the host manages to tame the audience.
"Now, now. We are enjoying this brief bit of entertainment, but let's get serious, shall we?" He directs that quip towards the archer. "Last chance or she gets disqualified. Third time's the charm, eh?"
The Elf grinds his teeth as he bristles, but Sirgia shakes her head, holding onto his forearm. There's no sign of worry on her face, just indifference. One might think that she's resigned to her fate, but I know better.
When her assistant draws the bowstring the final time, the Patriarch is gripping his armrest firmly while leaning heavily forward. With another thwip another shot is made… and the arrow pierces right into the very centre of the tightest ring, barely digging in. The loudest cheers accompany this achievement, but it's clear they are more mocking than honest, the Elf growing red with anger.
"And there you have it, people! Impeccable accuracy! Perhaps in someone else's hands, this bow would be a killer weapon! Let's see what the judges have to say about the performance of the first round—"
Dergir cuts himself off as another Dwarf sprints up to him from a different gate. Leaning forward to catch his breath, the messenger relays some information that makes the presenter scoff and then frown in disbelief.
"—all three hits? Bullshit. There's no—" A bit of his conversation with the newcomer leaks into the sensitive microphone as he's not used to such fine equipment.
After a moment, they jog together to the targets while the crowd is full of murmurs. I cross my arms over my chest and wait for them to arrive at their destination, smiling proudly. Niel is just as lost as everyone else, if not more.
Finally, the pair comes face-to-face with Sirgia's easel and the messenger drags the host behind as Dergir stops to examine it from the front. The audience notices the reason for the interruption just as the duo does, gasps of shock and disbelief echoing through the arena. A thin black line connects the protective metal wall with the target. Easy to guess, it's made out of three black arrows, the white feathers adorning its combined length at regular intervals, which pokes out of the dish from the other side.
And that's why you don't use black paint for bullseye, kids. A pure white background with coloured rings is superior.
"Uhhh… We might need to take a moment to reassess the attempt… May I request one of the referees to take a look at this?" Dergir awkwardly suggests.
As the Patriarch almost runs to the scene of the accident, pretty much everyone can tell that the first projectile pierced the target and lodged itself one-third deep into the metal. The following ones struck the same spot, and with them being extremely durable, the arrows stacked up. Two weren't enough to reach the target from the back, so it required a third one to poke through the hole that the initial shot created.
The trio gapes at the sight dumbfoundedly and proceeds to examine the wood, proving that it's as durable as the entire row. It takes a while as they return to the stage and discuss the news. At the same time, Niel turns to me with wide eyes.
"You knew?" she asks incredulously.
"I didn't notice at first either, but with the second shot, it became obvious." I snicker back at her. "Though, I never doubted Sirgia. My first thought was that she might have made the projectile invisible or something, going to prove that it's there afterwards, but this is better. Told you. Just enjoy the show."
"Alright, folks, the results are in." The host interrupts us. "Contestant number three is out. We are moving on to the second round. And the next topic is… armoured defence against projectiles!"
Seems like no one is going to apologise to the Elf or comment on his insane aim. At least Sirgia is kindly trying to cheer him up with her praise. He still looks irritated but nods in gratitude at her.
The audience politely applauds the announced category while my companion groans in dissatisfaction.
"Another weakness?" I raise a brow at the shy Dwarf.
"Sirgia focused mostly on melee weapons and livelihood trinkets…" Niel reveals. "Armour is a tough thing to nail properly… I know because I was the one handling it in our joint projects… It was fun seeing which one of us came out on top, defence or offence…"
I glance down at my reinforced attire but say nothing. Sirgia is dressed in her adventuring garb too, but I guess the vibes the dark leather gives off isn't that trustworthy. No one really knows that it's supported by some quite tough materials from the inside, light and yet extremely sturdy. Plus all the enchantments.
"Additionally, the Elders have decided to use Contestant Five's bow from the first round to conduct the effectiveness test!" Dergir adds, pushing through the conversations.
Oh.
Well, that might not be so good.
If there's any person who can defeat Sirgia in this competition, it's obviously herself.
For the first time, my forehead creases in slight worry.
And yet, as the challengers scramble to drag their equipment towards the reforming range, which replaces targets with wooden mannequins, my lover whispers something to her assistant, which makes him do a double take at her, and casually saunters down the strip. His gaze drills into her back so hard it's going to tear holes in it. Only the host coming to take him away brings him out of his stupor.
Finding herself next to the mannequin, Sirgia tilts her head… and kicks it aside, the force of the blow splintering the support pole. The other three turn to look at her, stunned momentarily. It doesn't help when she snaps her fingers and her upper garments disappear, leaving only a simple black bra. With another snap, a metal chestplate covers it, and everyone seems to catch on, the whispers going through the audience growing into a deafening thunder.
Niel grasps my arm hard. "Tell me she isn't doing what I'm thinking she is. Please, tell me I'm just hallucinating from being nervous."
Her face is ghastly pale as she seeks reassurance in my eyes, but unfortunately, it definitely is what it seems to be.
I place my hand on top of hers and brush her skin fondly. "There is one thing Sirgia fears more than death. And that's me being upset. She knows damn well how upset I will be with her if even a fraction of her perfect skin gets scratched out there."
The intensity in my voice makes her tremble, but she doesn't back off, giving me the tiniest nod.
"So, let's watch." I offer her my best smile. "We'll lecture that idiot after."
Her dainty lips curl into a tiny smile too, the briefest hint of rosiness sneaking onto her fair cheeks. We turn back to the arena and my gaze finds Sirgia's, who is looking up at us. She swallows thickly as I glare at her, definitely sweating buckets under all that fancy armour.
And not because of the test.
But, what a fancy armour it is. Sleek black, it seems to be made of stylised metal plates layered atop each other, making it slightly prominent over the chest area, but only a bit, barely noticeable, passing as what you would call a boob incision but without the over-sexualised curves. The layers don't touch, I think. There is a bit of purple in those thin gaps, but it's hard to distinguish from afar. For sure, it's not just a stylistic choice.
The others finish dressing up their puppets and walk back to the starting line, staring at their crazy rival with pure disbelief. Sirgia ignores them just like earlier, facing the faraway Elders and Patriarch with a confident expression. After recomposing herself from our short contact.
"Ladies and gentlemen… Today seems to be the day of surprises… Because Contestant Five has decided to put her life on the line when it comes to her work…" The host sounds uncomfortable and that's not unexpected. "But, before we get to that, let's maybe give a chance to our other contenders before we have to pause the proceedings due to… technical difficulties…"
He means her dying, obviously. I bet they planned to start the second round from the other end of the row but Sirgia's antics threw them off. That's one good thing that came out of it. And something she certainly had in mind when coming up with this absurd idea.
So, the first contestant starts again. His armour is of standard silver shade. It actually works in a similar fashion to Sirgia's. Multiple plates make the protective chestpiece, but they are in a more conventional arrangement. The rhomb-shaped protrusion from the upper middle makes it clear. It relies on angles to some extent, providing greater safety from the front, perfect for charging ahead.
"Aim for the centre," Dergir instructs the archer and the spectators quiet down a bit.
The Elf draws his arm back and releases the arrow with another thwip. The next instant, a metallic tink follows, but the projectile isn't anywhere in the chestplate. What is there, though, is a tiny hole near the apex of the protruding rhomb. Knowing what to expect, we find the arrow embedded into the safety wall behind the mannequin, another hole present in its back.
Contestant One drops on his butt, growing white. I bet he didn't expect this kind of result. I pity the poor guy. Just a little bit.
The presenter clears his throat. "Okay. Next."
The second and third spots had the same idea. Their armours aren't any clever or remarkable, but they bear many magical circuits and are embedded with gems. Turning those paths on, they activate bluish barriers that extend outwards. One forms into an oval around the puppet while the other hugs the mannequin like a plastic vacuum bag.
The bubble offers little resistance as the projectile shatters the protection with the noise of breaking glass and effortlessly goes through the armour, hitting the wall again. It doesn't puncture it as deeply this time, but that doesn't matter much. It wasn't stopped.
In the case of the neat glowing sheet, it doesn't crumble after taking the hit, but the projectile still pushes through and strikes the target. Surprisingly, it doesn't exit fully, stopped by the second layer in the back. Though, I'm not sure which is better. The wearer would have ended up with the arrow lodged firmly inside their body. That sounds worse to me.
In any way, the closer we get to Sirgia's turn, the heavier the silence gets. You can hear a pin drop when the archer takes position in front of her, dragging the action out quite a bit. No one blames him, really. This is crazy and he knows it. Perhaps even will be punished for killing a member of the family regardless of the circumstances.
One last look at the Patriarch confirms that there is no going back. The serious Dwarf urges him to go on. Sirgia brought this upon herself through her own arrogance. At this point, it feels like a direct challenge. The Patriarch knows that even if he wanted to, he can't stop this or he might be accused of favouring one of the contestants.
Taking a deep breath, the Elf carefully puts Sirgia in his crosshair. My fearless wife raises her arms over her head to minimise the danger to her limbs. A smart cookie that one.
Nodding at her, the archer loosens the arrow.
Everyone holds their breath, and the next instant, another metallic tink follows, albeit toned differently. Sirgia's figure jolts as the projectile strikes her chest with a spark, then deflects into the ground by her right foot. A collective exhale rolls through the audience and Niel releases a small whimper, undoubtedly feeling that hit as much as her friend down in the arena. That arrow might have as well been sent after her heart.
As for Sirgia, she rolls her shoulder and rubs the point of impact. The first layer got heavily dented into the second one, then the path ricocheted to the side, the slight tear travelling southwards, barely grazing the rest of the chestplate. All in all, it doesn't look out of commission. Feels like it could bear another arrow or three striking the very same spot, not to mention the rest of it.
She's made something completely cracked again, hasn't she?
Before the host can launch into his usual tirade, the Patriarch ambushes him from behind and snatches the microphone, making everyone jolt as that action causes a slight interference in the connection.
"Could you explain how that works?" he asks, undoubtedly referring to the method behind her chestplate.
Starting to walk towards her, he stops, spotting her holding a copy of the same device as he has in his hand.
"Simple," Sirgia answers, letting go of her microphone, which starts levitating by her face.
Summoning a small knife, she wedges it underneath the outermost plate and slides it in, making the spectators gasp. But, the angle is too flat to do anything to her. So, she saws around the top layer until she makes a full lap, then tears it off, revealing a violet interior. Purplish threads hang off the edges of the piece she has in her fingers and some kind of gelatinous substance starts staining her armour as it drips down her front.
"There's a thin cushion between every plate, filled with processed slime of my own formula. It's tough but tender enough that you can feel it shifting when you apply strong pressure," she explains slowly, showing the plate around. "Structured that way, this arrangement of layers aims to receive the kinetic impact of the blow and disperse its energy throughout the entirety of the armour. It works best for melee hits, but as you have seen, even extremely powerful projectiles can still be deflected. One layer might get compromised, but there are enough of them to redirect the tip after the initial collision."
Silence descends upon the arena as everyone processes her words, including the Patriarch. I'm fairly sure it's not as simple as she paints it because otherwise, this would be standard on Earth, but we are in a realm of magic and fictional minerals so it's not exactly completely unthinkable. I bet it still would have trouble stopping a gun. An AR at the very least.
The clan head passes the microphone to the host and returns to his seat, deep in thought.
"Luck seems to be with us today, folks, as the brave Contestant Five comes out of her lethal trial unharmed!" Dergir tries to defuse the tension a bit. "As you can guess, Contestant One is out this round while we move onto—"
"I give up!" The mic picks up the shout of the nearby female challenger and he turns to the contenders. "This is insane!"
"Same here!" Her rival joins in. "There is no way we can compete with that monster! It's just a game to her!"
And just like that, the remaining two participants step back from their stations, joining the duo who have been observing the proceedings after their failures. Together, they stroll towards Sirgia and reach her while everyone else is caught in stunned silence. They begin to chat with my little genius, gesticulating vehemently. But, I don't spot too much aggravation, mostly fiery passion.
"What… just happened?" Niel peers at me, similarly stupefied.
"Well… I think we won?" I respond with an uncertain shrug.
The host chooses that moment to come back to us. "Ummm… What an astonishing turn of events! First time in decades, the Heir Showdown seems to have concluded halfway! Ladies and gentlemen, hold onto your seats while the judges discuss the final verdict, but I think we all know the outcome to—"
"Objection!" One of the Elders jumps off his throne.
This time, Dergir is ready and holds out the mic to the angry man, willingly passing the device on.
"This is a joke!" the mad juror continues, sweeping his arm over the testing grounds. "A missing child miraculously returning three days ago and breezing through every category? It's a clear scheme!"
Right.
It would have been too easy, wouldn't it?