Chapter 10: A New Ally
The tournament had reached a fever pitch. Cheers and excited chatter echoed across the expansive arena as mages from every corner of the kingdom clashed in dazzling displays of skill and strength. Aeron made his way to the stands after his second match, a faint ache lingering in his knuckles from his earlier hand-to-hand combat victory.
Jinx trailed behind him, notebook tucked under her arm, her goggles perched on her head. The crowd parted slightly as they walked, recognizing Aeron as one of the more intriguing competitors. Jinx, however, was more focused on her observations than the attention.
"Your precision is improving," she remarked, her voice tinged with pride. "That throw at the end of your last match was flawless."
"Thanks," Aeron replied. "Though I'm still not convinced the arena design isn't biased toward fire mages. Seems a little too convenient for Kelton and others like him."
Jinx rolled her eyes but couldn't argue. The heat runes etched into certain sections of the arena floor did seem like an advantage for fire-users. "Guess that means you'll have to work harder to prove you're better than Kelton."
As Aeron opened his mouth to reply, he noticed a figure seated a few rows away, leaning against the stone railing with a calm detachment that contrasted sharply with the surrounding noise. The young man had an air of quiet intensity about him. His long black hair was tied back into a loose braid, a striking contrast to his pale, sharp features.
What drew Aeron's attention even more, though, was the way the stranger's emerald eyes scanned the ongoing match with surgical precision, as if breaking it down piece by piece.
"You see that?" Jinx asked, nudging Aeron and pointing subtly toward the newcomer. "He's been watching all the matches. Barely even blinks. Creepy or just... focused?"
"Maybe both," Aeron said, stepping closer.
As if sensing their attention, the young man turned his gaze toward them. He studied Aeron for a moment, his expression unreadable, before offering a slight nod. It wasn't a gesture of acknowledgment so much as one of mutual recognition—two people silently measuring each other's potential.
Not one to back down from an intriguing encounter, Aeron closed the distance, Jinx following close behind. "Enjoying the matches?" he asked, his tone light but curious.
The stranger glanced back at the arena, where a lightning mage unleashed a crackling storm against a water-user. "It's informative," he replied, his voice low and even. "You can learn a lot by watching."
"I'll bet," Aeron said, taking a seat nearby. "You're competing, I assume?"
The young man nodded. "Started at the same time as you. I've seen both your matches." His emerald eyes flickered with interest. "Your style is... unconventional."
"Unconventional," Jinx repeated, raising an eyebrow. "He calls it adaptive."
The stranger's lips twitched into the barest hint of a smirk. "Adaptive works, too."
"And you?" Aeron asked. "What's your style?"
The young man hesitated before replying, as if debating whether to reveal anything. Finally, he said, "Precise."
Jinx snorted. "Well, isn't that vague."
"I'm Arlen," the stranger offered, ignoring her sarcasm and focusing on Aeron. "From the Evershade forests."
Aeron nodded, catching the subtle cadence of Arlen's words that suggested a life spent in solitude or secrecy. "Aeron Drakenhart. This is Jinx."
"Pleasure," Arlen said, though the word seemed more perfunctory than sincere. His attention shifted back to the match. "Your earth magic—it's strong, but you rely on it too much to force outcomes. Sometimes finesse wins over brute strength."
Aeron stiffened slightly but took the critique in stride. "That's fair. What about you? What's your specialty?"
"Wind," Arlen replied, glancing back at him.
Jinx's eyes lit up. "Wind magic? Rare and complicated. Let me guess—you're all about precision and control, right? Subtle movements, using your opponent's momentum against them? That kind of thing?"
Arlen gave a small nod, a hint of surprise in his expression. "You're observant."
"Observant, brilliant—take your pick," Jinx quipped, already scribbling notes in her book.
The crowd suddenly erupted into cheers as the match below reached its climax. A powerful surge of lightning roared across the arena, forcing the water mage to yield. Arlen's attention shifted back to the fight, his expression neutral.
Aeron leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You're not just here for the tournament, are you?"
Arlen met his gaze, his green eyes unreadable. After a long pause, he said, "I'm here to test myself. See how my training holds up against others."
"And the prize?" Jinx asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Secondary," Arlen said with a shrug. "Skill and experience are worth more than any artifact."
Jinx tilted her head, watching him closely. "Not many people think like that. Most are here for glory, gold, or both."
"Let them have it," Arlen said simply. "I'm not interested in either."
For a moment, the three of them sat in silence, watching the arena reset for the next match. Aeron couldn't shake the feeling that Arlen was holding back—that there was more to the quiet elf than he let on. But he decided not to push.
Instead, he said, "Good luck in your next match."
Arlen inclined his head slightly. "You too."
As Aeron and Jinx stood to leave, she glanced over her shoulder at Arlen one last time. "He's weird," she whispered once they were out of earshot.
"Yeah," Aeron agreed, his mind already running through scenarios where their paths might cross again. "But in a good way."