Ater fell to his knees. His eyes and ears were still recovering from the lightning strike. His stomach churned. He vomited on the floor.
"Turbulent journey?" asked the Catalyst operator. "Where are you coming from that you're feeling this bad?"
Ater wiped his mouth with his sleeve and got to his feet. He turned to the operator: "Europe," he said briefly.
"Oh…"
Ater laughed; the dizziness finally stopped, and he could pay attention to his surroundings.
Arbor was in a spacious room. The walls were high, painted in a greenish hue. The floor beneath them was marble. In the middle of the room stood a huge dark blue stone, supported by three pillars. Next to the crystal stood the operator, a short, elderly man with a full gray mustache and a balding head. He was leaning on a large lever next to the Catalyst control panel. He returned Ater's smile.
The Prince's Healer stepped onto the main street of Baraka, the capital city of the Veteres tribe. The street itself was paved with a special material that the Mundi used for their infrastructure: stone ice.
Stone ice was produced by ice masters mixing water, clay, and another special ingredient. They froze this mixture with magic and later cut it into bricks, slabs, beams, practically anything. The Veteres tribe was the first to use stone ice and was known for it.
The stone ice was barely visible under a thick layer of red soil and dust. The Mundi mostly walked along the road, but Ater noticed a rider turning a corner. The Mundi often rode qilins, animals specific to the Continent. Qilins are generally the size of a horse but can grow to be twice the size of the largest European stallion. They are very easy to train and can reach exceptional speeds.
Ater quickly stepped off the main street. He didn't want to be recognized; he had urgent business. He had to reach the home of the Great Chief, which was four days' ride on a good qilin from the city of Baraka.
Arbor walked into the poorer part of the city with his hands in his pockets. The streets were narrower, windows were blocked with boards, and the houses were huddled as if hiding from something.
"Ater! Ater! Wait, boy!" a familiar voice called from behind our hero.
Ater turned around and smiled broadly. He had time for this.
"Ridsig! Still holding up, old man? Every time I see you, you look shakier on your feet!"
"Maybe my legs are trembling, but I still have my hair, unlike your bald ass!" Ridsig and Ater laughed.
"What brings you back to Baraka? I thought you went to Europe to accompany our Prince?" Ridsig asked, scratching under his armpit.
"My mouth is dry; I won't say anything until I wet it a bit," Ater replied.
"Come to my place then, come to my place! You've been away too long, young man!" Ridsig waved Ater to follow him.
They stopped in front of the only clean building in the area. Ater just now noticed how much it resembled a theater back in Europe. Only here, dramas were not played...
Ater and Ridsig climbed into a special box overlooking a large ring. In the ring, two Mundi were fighting.
"Business is booming, I see," Ater commented.
"Duels, gladiators, fights to the death... The finest form of entertainment," the old man boasted with a big smile.
"We haven't seen you down there in a long time! Are you up for a bit of fun?"
"Ridsig, I haven't fought here since I turned 16..."
"I'll take that as a yes! But first, a drink! And a conversation, of course, hoho," Ridsig laughed heartily. His stomach, chin, and shoulders bounced whenever he laughed.
"So, how did you spend your time in the land of the pale?" the old man asked after the servant brought the drinks. He placed a large bowl full of wine in front of Ridsig and a tall glass of green tea in front of Ater. Arbor smiled: "I'm glad to see you haven't forgotten my preference!" The servant bowed and left them alone.
"It was interesting, very interesting. Our cultures are so different, yet our value systems are almost the same. They also have a very similar social hierarchy…"
Ridsig nodded his head: "And what about their women?"
"They're not interested in you, old man, that's for sure!" Ater teased him.
"They're not interested in your bald head either, I'm sure of it," Ridsig retorted. Both of them started to laugh.
"You know, ever since you first came here, how old were you? You must have been 8 or 9 years old… Anyway, when you first came here and asked for your first fight, do you remember how much I laughed at you? A blood user, to fight? Ridiculous… Actually, it was ridiculous until you beat half of my best guys," the old man laughed and got up from his chair. He turned toward the arena. The first Mundi fighter was mastering fire, the second was an invocator. Fireballs were flying from all directions at the invocator, but he stopped each one in the air by creating floating, semi-transparent shields around himself. With one of them, he struck his opponent, who flew to the other end of the arena. The crowd roared like a pack of angry animals.
"What do you think of this invocator? His name is Bazi," Ridsig asked Ater.
"He seems to have potential… Full of himself, that could be his downfall."
"Do you want to bring the kid down to earth a bit?" Ridsig smiled at him.
Ater looked at him from the corner of his eye: "What if I kill him?"
"He knows the risks of the job."
Arbor clapped his hands together. "Then it's decided! Let's go right away while he's still heated up!"
Ridsig laughed: "I'm glad to see that life in Europe hasn't softened you," Ater threw his arm over Ridsig's shoulder, "Old man, did you really doubt me?"
Ridsig and Ater parted at the entrance to the arena ring. Next to the semicircular arch marking the entrance to the ring was a cage full of melee weapons. Ater approached it and picked up a short, curved knife. He tossed it from hand to hand, cutting the air a few times to test it. Satisfied, he nodded his head and stepped onto the stage while Ridsig announced him from the center of the ring: "After a long time, back again for your entertainment, fresh from his travels in Europe, the Protector of the Black Tree, Master of Blood and the Prince's Healer, please give a THUNDEROUS welcome to the four-time champion of the Arena, our black and white hero: ATER ARBOR!"
The crowd roared, greeting Ater with a deafening shout. On the other side of the arena, Bazi shifted nervously from foot to foot. He was a relatively unknown fighter who had mainly fought in illegal street fights until now. He had never heard of any "Ater," but it seemed this guy had fought here before… He also worked for the Prince, so he must be a professional. Bazi hadn't expected this. Still, how much real damage could a Blood Master do?
Ater stood twenty paces from his opponent. His tall, dark figure, full of confidence, filled Basilisk with unease.
Basilisk made the first move. With a wave of his hand, he created 31 arrows above himself. Ater didn't wipe the cunning smile off his face. He placed the knife into the green belt around his waist. He crouched slightly and spread his arms in front of him. Invocation? Arrows? He wouldn't need magic for this.
Basilisk stood confused. He slightly lowered his hand, followed by the arrow tips.
"You think you're a big shot, huh?"
"Yes."
"You think you can beat me without magic?"
"Yes."
"Well, you're wrong," said Bazi and swung his hand. The arrows flew towards Ater on command.
Ater tensed his leg muscles and dove to the side, rolling. The arrows impaled the ground one after another, landing where he had stood just a moment ago. However, Ater was faster, dodging and evading the arrows with elegant ease.
"Invocator, tired already?" Ater taunted.
Bazi exhaled angrily. He was already tired. Summoning required an enormous amount of magical energy, and controlling the summons even more. Invocators typically fought defensively, waiting for the right opening to attack. Even the best Mundi Invocator couldn't manage more than four offensives before exhausting his magical capacity.
Bazi stood in place, waiting for Ater to make a move. There was no point in attacking him from a distance; it was obvious Ater was more agile than him.
Ater began to walk toward him slowly. He stopped four paces away and bent slightly.
"Scared?" Bazi shouted.
With a powerful leap, Ater flew towards him. The crowd held its breath.
Bazi expected this move. He created a shield in front of himself, hoping Ater would crash into it. Instead, Ater bent forward, using his foot to push off the semi-transparent shield and vaulting over it, falling towards Bazi. Bazi tried to raise his hands to defend himself a moment before Ater's knee made contact with his nose. Bazi flew four paces back from the force of the blow. He quickly got back on his feet and started retreating frantically.
Ater followed him with calm, balanced steps. The crowd was going wild. They hadn't seen a spectacle like this in a long time.
"Hno, Hno, Hno," Bazi shouted with his broken nose. He waved his hands in panic as he retreated, throwing various summoned blades at the Healer. None of them hit him.
From the dust that had risen, Ater stepped forward. Bazi had nowhere else to go. Ater stopped half a meter away from him and put his hands in his coat pockets. Bazi was out of magical energy.
"Already empty?" Ater tilted his head. Bazi didn't respond. He looked utterly defeated.
Ater swung his leg and kicked Bazi in the stomach. He spat blood and fell to the ground, clutching his waist. Ater swung again and kicked him in the chest this time. Bazi flew from the force of the blow. The crowd cheered with every hit Ater delivered.
Arbor approached Bazi, who was gasping for air. The Dark Healer lifted him by the hair. They stood face to face, and Bazi's legs dangled in the air. He grabbed Ater's hand, trying to free himself. Arbor's grip was ironclad.
Arbor let him go, and as his opponent fell back to the ground, Ater swung his leg again and kicked him in mid-air. The blow was so powerful that Bazi flew and hit the arena wall, falling to the ground unconscious. The fight was over.
Ater spread his arms victoriously toward the crowd: "ATER! ATER! ATER!" the crowd shouted. Arbor enjoyed the moment.
"AND THE WINNER OF THIS DUEL IS THE ONE AND ONLY, ATERRRRRRRRRRRR," Ridsig announced from the center of the podium, overpowering the crowd.
"You held back," Ridsig commented when the two of them returned to the lodge.
"So what. I was fighting a kid," Arbor shrugged.
"That didn't stop you from leaving them headless before," Ridsig noted with a smile.
"I used to be a kid myself then."
"Fair enough."
"The kid will recover. At worst, he has a mild concussion. Let him rest for a few days and give him plenty of water," the Prince's Healer spoke.
"Sometimes I forget that you're just as good at healing as you are at hurting," Ridsig said.
"If you can't undo your actions, you're just a charlatan," Ater said coldly.
'You're probably the only healer-fighter I know. Did he just call all of us charlatans?' Ridsig thought to himself.
"You're right," he said aloud.
"So, how long will you stay in Baraka?" Ridsig asked after a long pause in the conversation.
"I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I have urgent business with the Great Chief."
"The Blood Master has urgent business with the Chief? Are you cursing someone?" the old man raised an eyebrow.
"You know I can't tell you that, old man," Ater replied.
"I know, I know… But someday you'll have to tell me everything! Absolutely everything! I can't die without hearing about your deeds and misdeeds!"
Ater smiled somewhat sadly. "You have my promise, old man," Arbor said knowing he wouldn't be able to fulfill it.
"In that case, please spend the night here! The other inns have cold beds and bad women! Stay this night in the room next to mine, as a sign of gratitude for entertaining the crowd so well."
Ater nodded: "Once again, I'm in your debt, old man."
The two of them talked late into the night. Arbor declined female company for the night; he wasn't in the mood. It surprised even him. The next morning, Ater borrowed a beautiful Qilin and left Baraka. He headed north, towards the continent's center. That was where the Chief's home was. The journey should take two days if he rode even at night.