Chapter 11: The Winds of Precision
Arlen stood in the center of the
arena, his black hair swept by the faint breeze he summoned around him. Bragor
Flintbreaker, the hulking earth-magic user, towered opposite him, the crowd
chanting for a spectacle.
Aeron leaned forward, noting
Arlen's posture. His body remained still, except for the subtle way his feet
shifted—prepared to flow like the wind itself.
"Watch how he reacts," Aeron
murmured to Jinx.
Jinx's pencil scratched furiously
across her notebook. "He's waiting for Bragor to over-commit. His stance
screams precision and counter-strikes."
Arlen did exactly as Aeron
expected. Each attack Bragor launched—stones erupting from the ground or
gauntleted fists hammering downward—was sidestepped or redirected. The elf
hardly seemed to exert effort as bursts of wind guided him effortlessly through
the chaos.
It wasn't long before Arlen took
control. A single burst of air shattered Bragor's defenses, pinning him to the
arena wall and bringing the fight to a definitive close.
After the battle, Arlen approached
Aeron and Jinx in the waiting area. His calm, calculated aura had softened
slightly—likely because of their earlier camaraderie.
"You called it," Arlen said to
Aeron, offering a small smile. "Bragor focused entirely on offense, ignoring
the need for balance. That's not a mistake you'd make, though."
Jinx chimed in before Aeron could
respond. "What you did out there—how you handled the flow of wind around your
strikes—was brilliant. It was like the air listened to you."
Arlen raised a brow, glancing at
the endless notes Jinx had taken. "I'd say it comes naturally, but you already
know better."
Aeron chuckled. "She'll pick apart
every move you made in there before the day's out. Better get used to it."
Arlen's grin deepened. "If it
helps either of you, I don't mind."
It was a lighthearted moment—a
brief reprieve from the tense atmosphere of the competition. But the
camaraderie was fleeting. Moments later, a whistle sounded, summoning Aeron to
the preparation area for his third match.
The crystal tattoos lining his
opponent's arms glowed faintly as she entered the arena. Thin and wiry, she
looked more like a scholar than a combatant, but the confidence in her stride
suggested otherwise.
"Layla Farreach versus Aeron
Drakenhart!" the announcer called.
Arlen crossed his arms, standing
beside Jinx in the stands. "A tricky match," he muttered.
"How so?" Jinx asked, her goggles
reflecting faint traces of magic as they focused on Layla's crystals.
"She's an illusionist," Arlen
replied. "And not the flashy kind—she's subtle. This'll push Aeron's perception
to its limits."
In the center of the arena, Aeron
nodded to Layla as the bell rang. Before he could take two steps, the ground
around her shimmered, casting mirage-like distortions. A moment later, four
identical copies of Layla appeared, all moving in perfect synchronicity toward
him.
"Great," Aeron muttered, ducking
under a glowing fist aimed at his head.
From above, Jinx clapped her hands
together in excitement. "It's not perfect duplication—he can still use the
shadows to track her true body. That's her weakness."
Aeron couldn't hear her, but her
insight was sound. Unfortunately, spotting the real Layla among her projections
was easier said than done. Every clone carried weight, moving with enough
physicality to make them indistinguishable from the original.
As they swarmed him, Aeron tried
to hold his ground. His armband flashed briefly with a stone-like glow, summoning
a small earthen wall to block a particularly aggressive strike. But just as
quickly as he defended, one of the clones slipped behind him, landing a blow to
his shoulder that sent him stumbling.
"Not bad," Aeron admitted, his
lips curling into a grin.
"Thanks," the illusions replied in
unison, their voices layered and distorted.
Above the chaos, Arlen tilted his
head. "She's baiting him."
Jinx squinted. "If he doesn't take
control of the fight, she'll wear him down with distractions."
Aeron seemed to realize this
himself. His stance shifted slightly, becoming less defensive. He inhaled
deeply, letting the chaos of the illusions fade into the background. Instead of
focusing on the figures around him, he concentrated on the faint magical
fluctuations pulsing through the ground.
The next time the illusions closed
in, he didn't retreat. Instead, he planted his feet, pivoted sharply, and swung
his fist into the nearest clone. The force shattered its form, causing the
shimmering image to dissolve like mist.
"That's one," Aeron muttered, his
grin widening.
The remaining illusions paused for
half a second, their synchrony faltering. Aeron pressed his advantage, stepping
forward with a sweeping kick that connected with another clone, then dodging an
overhead strike from the third.
Jinx stood from her seat. "He's
learning her timing!"
Arlen nodded. "He's also drawing
her out. That's the key."
Layla must have realized the same
thing, as her illusions began shifting patterns, moving faster and striking
harder. But the hastened pace only revealed more openings.
Aeron's movements grew more fluid
as he destroyed the final clone. Now, it was only him and the real Layla. The
crowd erupted in cheers as he charged forward, preparing a decisive strike.
Layla smirked, her body glowing
brightly. Just as Aeron swung, she unleashed a burst of light magic—blinding
him completely.
The crowd gasped. Jinx gripped the
edge of her seat. "Aeron!"
Arlen tensed, his hand twitching
toward his dagger.
But Aeron, disoriented though he
was, held firm. He closed his eyes, trusting the vibrations of the earth
beneath his feet to guide him. As Layla prepared to land the final blow, he
sidestepped cleanly and countered with a sweeping strike of his own.
When the light cleared, Layla was
on her knees, gasping for air. The announcer's voice rang out:
"Aeron Drakenhart wins!"
Aeron stood in the arena, his
breath heavy but his determination unwavering. Jinx and Arlen hurried to meet
him as he exited.
"You were amazing!" Jinx
exclaimed.
Arlen nodded, his approval clear.
"You kept your focus. Impressive for someone with as little experience as you."
Aeron chuckled. "Don't let the
compliments go to my head."
But beneath the lighthearted
banter, the three knew the stakes were only going to get higher from here.