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An Otherworldly Scholar - 141
🕑 Added 2024-07-06 00:59:44 +0000 UTCThe ground around Vigdis Herran froze. The layer of ice crept outwards, like the tendrils of a deep-sea creature, and Ilya had to retreat to prevent her feet from being caught in the area spell. Ilya walked past the boulders until her back hit the edge of the stands. The air in the arena grew colder, and I could see her breath forming small clouds. When the mana currents stopped, the icefield encroached on the whole arena.
Ilya stomped the ice, followed by a satisfying crack sound. However, when Ilya approached the rocky area at the center of the arena, she slipped and fell to her knees. The further from the source, the weaker the spell was. Ilya buried her sword on the ice and used it as support, and even then, she stood with the balance of a newborn deer.
Vigdis grinned like she had already won. She summoned a single ice shard the size of a dagger and, with the flick of her wrist, she launched it forward. Ilya parried but stumbled over the slippery ice and fell to the ground, defenseless. Vigdis grinned and summoned half a dozen ice knives, but this time, Ilya didn’t have enough time to stand and raise her guard.
Ilya rolled across the ground, using her hands and legs to dodge the barrage. Vigdis shot the knives one by one, with a slight delay between them, just enough for Ilya to dodge narrowly but not enough to get a foot on the fight. I clenched my teeth. Vigdis was toying with Ilya.
“What’s the matter, gnome? The wendigo ate your tongue?” Vigdis mockingly said.
Ilya remained on all fours, her sword lay abandoned on the ice a meter away, and her sight focused on the ice daggers. It seemed Ilya’s words had bruised Vigdis’ ego, but I didn’t see a future when that led to a victory. The Book of Classes classified Hunters as a mixed class, half combatant and half support. It wasn’t a bad class by any extent of the word, but it had a very specific niche compared to the rest of the combatant classes. Trapped inside the arena, Ilya was a fish out of water.
[Piercing Arrow] and [Archery] were useless without a bow, not counting the fact that only a madman would bring one to a duel. [Spirit Animal] and [Mark of the Hunt] were detection skills without offensive capabilities, which rendered more than half of Ilya’s skills useless in a duel. Even her [Tracking] passive was useless. I examined the arena. The boulders and rocks brought up by Kaeli’s [Druid’s Domain] could block the ice projectiles if Ilya could move on the frozen field. Her only way out was [Entangling Vines], but casting a spell for each step would be inefficient in the long run. Ilya had a near-perfect mana control, but her mana pool wasn’t infinite.
The situation was dire, but if someone could crack the solution to the puzzle, that was Ilya.
“Every problem has a solution, Ilya!” I yelled.
Ilya muttered something I didn’t get to hear, but [Awareness] allowed me to read her lips. You don’t have to remind me. Green mana swirled around her eyes, and she cast [Mark of the Hunt]. An almost invisible string of mana linked Ilya to Vigdis. The Snow Mage didn’t know it yet, but she was about to be hunted.
Vigdis shot icicle after icicle without landing any hit. She enjoyed seeing Ilya struggle to move, but she didn’t realize the battle was about to change. Ilya tapped into her pool and extracted bright strands of mana. Vigdis remained unaware. Ilya wasn’t using a spell but a Passive.
“Stop messing around, Vigdis!” Lord Herran yelled from the sideline.
He must’ve noticed Ilya was plotting something.
The sound of the cracking ice alerted Vigdis, and she jumped away before the vine could squash her. Vigdis swung her frozen blade, but the vine returned underground. My mana sense told me it was still there, waiting. When Vigdis turned around, summoning a dozen ice knives to finish the combat, Ilya had already disappeared into the mountainous terrain.
“How?” Zaon asked.
“Mana Manipulation,” I replied. Ilya had molded the mana into small spikes and adhered them to the soles of her boots. For what little [Mana Manipulation] could do, the skill was her saving grace.
Ilya crossed the snow field and ducked behind a boulder by Vigdis side.
“Behind the rock!” Lord Herran yelled.
Vigdis dispelled the ice daggers and shot a huge icicle in the general direction Ilya had been a second earlier, but the projectile didn’t have the strength to make a dent in the rock. The ice at Vigdis' feet cracked, and a second vine emerged from the depths of the earth, catching her by surprise. The vine smacked Vigdis across the back, shattering a barrier and sending her to the ground. Once again, the girl swung her ice blade, but the vine retreated underground like a moray eel.
One by one, Ilya’s vines emerged from the ground like the tendrils of a Lovecraftian god, smashing the ground and cracking the ice with anger. Vigdis dodged, contorting her flexible body to get away, but the vines grew by the dozens. She used her ice blade and her icicles to mow down the vines, but like a hydra, for each she cut, two more emerged.
[Mark of the Hunt] allowed Ilya to sense Vigdis’ position without having to peek and become vulnerable to the ice spells. The tides of the combat turned. Vigdis jumped, dodged, and rolled to defend her barriers but Ilya had turned the arena into her hunting ground. Panic stained Vigdis' face as the vines pushed her around. She tried to escape the center area, but the vines blocked the path between the boulders.
Despite the appearances, Ilya was only controlling half a dozen vines. When she retracted them underground, she dispelled them to conjure others near Vigdis. The effect was very credible.
In a last attempt to regain a semblance of control, Vigdis violently channeled her mana. [Awareness] informed me she was trying to use a spell way above her level. The amount of mana was too big for a low-level mage. She was desperate.
The atmosphere in the arena changed, and my memory threw me back to my first encounter with the Lich. The air seemed to freeze, the sounds became distant, and even the quality of the light seemed to change. The environmental mana flickered, a dense mist rose from the ground, and a chilling breeze made Vidris’ hair flutter. The wind raged, and a snowstorm broke into the arena. Suddenly, everything turned white.
Zaon stood to his feet, his eyes gleaming with mana as he used a skill.
“Ilya is hiding in a crevice between rocks. I can see her with my [Sonar],” he said.
A minute passed, and all I could see was a white wall. Then, just as abruptly as the storm appeared, the spell ended, leaving a neat layer of snow over the arena. Vigdis was pale, and her breath was hasty, but the storm hadn’t touched her. Snow piled on the center of the arena up to her waist. The vines around her were frozen, and she broke them with a swing of her blade.
Ilya was nowhere to be found, and for a moment, I feared the worst. The Fortifier’s barrier didn’t seem to offer great protection against heat and cold, and the padded fencing uniform was thick, but it wasn’t high-mountain gear. The crowd remained silent but only the rustle of the wind against the boulders broke the stillness of the scene.
Ilya suddenly emerged from the snow, coughing and laboriously pulling herself out. She mindlessly brushed the snow from her head and shoulders and glanced at Vigdis with a mischievous expression.
“You are not going anywhere this time,” Vigdis panted.
The snow reached Ilya’s chest, and any attempts to traverse it only made her sink more. The snow was too thin to walk on top and too dense for a slim gnome to plow through it. Despite being trapped, Ilya didn’t seem worried.
“You talk too much,” Ilya replied, channeling her mana through her feet into the ground.
The snow muffled the sound of the vines cracking the ice underneath, and the attack caught Vigdis by surprise. Vines emerged from the snow, hitting like the tentacles of a deep-sea creature. Other than her natural agility, the Snow Mage had no movement skills. No matter how much she tried to get away, vines blocked her path.
Finally, the vines curled around Vigdis’ arms and legs. She tried to cut them, but every time she lowered her guard, another vine appeared in her blind spot and smashed a barrier. The vines thrashed Vigdis around like she was a ragdoll, and her cold expression turned into one of pure frustration. Vigdis couldn’t even cast her spells without the vines interrupting her.
Ilya was ruthless, and her attack was overwhelming, but doubled down on the offensive. Only when the Master of Ceremonies ended the fight, she pulled her vines underground. The crowd exploded in cheers, waving their scarves and handkerchiefs while chanting ‘Gnome!, Gnome! Gnome!’. Ilya raised her arms in victory. No one could guess there was a little devil under her innocent smile.
Ilya gave me the thumbs up and I noticed my heart was beating fast. The little gnome crying in the cramped space between the old shed and the orphanage was no more. Ilya blew a kiss to the stands, and the crowd went crazy.
“With a perfect score and an overwhelming victory, the winner is Ilya the Hunter!” The Master of Ceremonies said, already infected by the excitement of the fight.
Ilya jumped through the snow and ran across the arena. Of all the possible scores, that was the one I least expected. Ilya high-fived Zaon, and I had to gather all my self-control not to grab her by the arms and throw her in the air. I only lamented that the rest weren’t there to see her victory.
“Firana is going to be so mad when I tell her,” Ilya grinned, her teeth chattering, her skin a deeper shade of blue than usual.
I took off my jacket and put it on her shoulders, overwhelmed by happiness and completely out of words.
“Aren't you going to congratulate me?” Ilya said, putting her hands under her armpits.
I snapped out and blabbered an apology. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit shocked.”
Ilya giggled. “I cause that reaction in people sometimes.”
The Master of Ceremonies entered the pavilion while the Geomancers cleared the arena. The ground trembled, and the boulders sunk into the arena. Then, they plowed the snow to the edges, where a group of aides carried it out of the arena with levitation spells. Across the pavilion, Lord Herran was trying to soothe Vigdis. The girl hadn’t taken the defeat very well.
I sighed. That was the ugly face of competition: for each winner, there were a bunch of losers who worked just as hard. Even if it hurt right now, the defeat was going to help her grow in the long run.
The Master of Ceremonies called us to the middle of the arena, and we formed before the Herran team. Wolf, Firana, and Dreva were still missing.
“The winner, with nine points in their favor, is Lowell’s Orphanage!” The Master of Ceremonies announced.
We bowed and returned to the pavilion under the cheering of the crowd. Other than Kaeli, none of the kids seemed too interested in a conversation with us. Lord Herran put his arm around Vigdis' shoulder and walked with her, muttering something to her ear. No matter how curious I was about Lord Herran’s paternal skills as the father of fifty, I suppressed [Awareness] from peeking into the conversation.
Kaeli Herran approached us and walked next to Zaon.
“I shouldn’t have used my [Druid’s Domain],” she sighed as we returned to the pavilion. “I might have won my fight, but I doomed Vigdis.”
She seemed really down due to her sister’s outcome.
“Hey, it’s not that you knew what was going to happen. Sometimes, it’s not our fault but the environment stopping us from showing all of our potential,” Zaon replied.
He was using my lines.
“Yeah, if we would’ve fought on an actual mountain, I would’ve scored perfectly against you,” Kaeli elbowed Zaon.
Instead of bowing down, Zaon countered.
“Let me get twenty levels, and no bear shape will beat me,” he replied.
Kaeli laughed. “I’ll take your word.”
“Ugh, just get married, you two,” Ilya grunted.
She was using Risha’s lines.
Kaeli jumped between Zaon and Ilya, putting her arms over their shoulders. Ilya wasn’t thrilled with the contact and tried to push her away, but Kaeli drew her closer. “You will be seeing me often from now on. I can’t let an odorless anti-flea potion go away so easily, Alchemists just brew the same stinky garbage all over the kingdom.”
“I’ll make sure the potion is done in a timely manner if that is the price of not seeing you ever again,” Ilya replied.
“You don’t have to be so protective of your brother. I only want to be friends with him,” Kaeli mockingly said as we entered the pavilion.
Something in Kaeli’s words must’ve alerted Lord Herran because he left Vigdis and approached us.
“How old are you, kid?” He asked.
“Fifteen, sir,” Zaon replied.
Lord Herran scratched his beard and squinted his eyes as if he were making complex calculations. “Mmm… elves are late bloomers, though. If, in three more years, you manage to get at least this tall and this wide,” he said, showing with his hands, “I might consider welcoming you into the family.”
I wasn’t sure anyone in the orphanage other than Wolf could meet Lord Herran’s size requirements.
Kaeli’s face turned into a tomato. “Dad, I beg you…” she winced, one of her ears twitching, but Lord Herran was having none of it. Managing the suitors and arranged marriages of dozens of kids must be a hellish task.
“We must keep the bloodline strong for the future of our House,” he said.
Then, Lord Herran turned to me.
“Congratulations on your victory, Caretaker,” he said, looking at Zaon and Ilya. “There’s always a piece of the father in the son, even if they are not related by blood.”
“Thanks for your kind words, Lord Herran. Your kids did an excellent job, they have great potential,” I replied with a bow.
Without beautiful ladies around, Lord Herran seemed to be a pleasant guy.
Lord Herran said his farewell, and Kaeli pushed him to the other side of the pavilion. I wasn’t expecting Zaon’s potential to be recognized by one of the three big dukes, but I wasn’t expecting Ilya to win with a perfect score either. As much as I had high expectations, they had crushed them beyond my wildest dreams.
“Ilya won with a perfect score, and Zaon was recognized by a Duke. Firana isn’t going to be happy at all,” I jokingly said.
The rest of the tournament day was relatively short. More than half of the teams had already been eliminated, so by midday, the main event was over. Farcrest Team was beaten to the ground by Team Osgiria, and the Marquis wasn’t particularly happy, but Istvan Kiln managed to scratch a personal win. Ilya wasn’t happy either but for a completely different reason. She lamented that she wouldn’t be allowed to beat up Istvan Kiln in front of the whole city herself.
We watched a pyromancer’s show while the tournament aides updated the chalkboard.
I stood on the tip of my toes. Only four teams remained. In the left bracket, Imperial Cadets versus House Jorn, and in the right bracket House Osgiria versus Lowell’s Orphanage. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Whether the Osgirians were kicked out in the semifinals by an unknown orphanage or in the finals by the Imperial Cadets, the royalist faction would benefit the most. I wondered if this was Prince Adrien’s doing.
“What are we up against?” Ilya asked, trying to look over the shoulders of the crowd.
“House Osgiria,” I replied.
Ilya nodded in silence. She was probably thinking the same as me. A political hit to the Osgirians could harm their relationship with Kellaren and their plans for Firana.
“Do you want to watch the pyromancers or go home?”
“Let’s go home. We have a fight to plan,” Ilya said, and Zaon agreed.
The Marquis congratulated us for our victory, although he didn’t seem pleased at all, and Captain Kiln guided us to the infirmary. I didn’t read too much into the Marquis's demeanor considering his team had been trampled down in front of the whole city. We entered the Great Hall. The infirmary was mostly empty. Dreva and Firana were standing on a bed, shoulder by shoulder, looking at a sliver of the arena visible through a small skylight located on the wall.
Lord Herran’s brother was sitting in the corner, with one eye on a book and the other on Dreva.
“Can we go see the fireworks?” Firana asked as soon as we entered. She had regained color, and she looked ready to roll, but Elincia shot her down, saying she had to return to the orphanage to rest.
“How did the combat go?” Elincia asked.
“Didn’t you hear?” I replied, wondering if the voice of the Master of Ceremonies didn’t reach the infirmary.
“Architectonic magic. The room is magically isolated, just like the Towers of Neskarath. Otherwise, you’d hear the foundries all day and night,” Dreva pointed out as she came down the bed.
I remembered seeing the Architect Class in the Book.
“So?” Elincia crossed her arms, impatient.
“We won,” I grinned, and Elincia jumped into my arms, disregarding the presence of the kids, Captain Kiln, and Lord Herran’s brother in the corner. A wave of relief washed through my body as Elincia squeezed me. I lived for those little moments.
Ilya boasted all the way back to the entrance, reminding everyone that not only did she have the perfect score, but also was the only member of the team who hadn’t lost a fight. Wolf, of course, didn’t care too much, but Firana took it as a personal challenge. Elincia had to emphasize that no training was going to occur until her stacks of Mana Exhaustion were gone.
“How are things going?” Captain Kiln grabbed my arm, falling behind.
Since Janus revealed his suspicions about the Marquis, I have kept communication with Captain Kiln to a minimum. I refused to believe Izabeka had anything to do with the attacks on the orphanage, but her allegiance to the marquisate put her in a difficult spot. I ignored how deep her loyalty towards the Marquis went.
“Things are going smooth so far, but we might need a miracle for the next round,” I replied.
Captain Kiln gave me a scrutinizing glance, and I knew she was using her [Awareness]. Before she could say anything, a man emerged from a lateral corridor and stopped us. I recognized him as a courier, as he dressed the same as Corin. He pulled a letter from his satchel and handed it to me.
“It was paid in advance,” the courier said as I reached for my coin purse.
“Who sent it?” Captain Kiln grabbed the man’s arm before he could fly off.
I expected a low-ranking noble with an invitation for one of the kids.
“A housemaid, she didn’t introduce herself. She was pretty, though,” the courier said with a naughty smile.
Captain Kiln let the man go, and I looked at the envelope. It wasn’t signed. After the first combat, the kids had received all sorts of invitations, but I had not gotten one for myself. It made sense, considering there was a weak correlation between instruction and skills in this world. Nobody believed the kid’s performance was due to my coaching but their natural talent and the System’s blessings.
Teaching was a thing of Scholars for Scholars, after all.
“Open it,” Captain Kiln said. “It gives me a bad feeling. Housemaids don’t go around giving love letters, they usually send an older, more experienced maid as a middleman.”
I opened the envelope and joined heads with Captain Kiln over the letter.
Dear Robert Clarke. If you value those close to you, you will stop overstepping into our affairs. Commoners should not blend with nobility. Drop out of the tournament, otherwise, we would be forced to act. Not even your patron can protect you from a threat nobody can see. —A friend.
Comments
I Dare Korval
I wonder if he checked the letter for finger prints if he would know who sent it? He saw everyone prints from the feast murder stuff and [Awareness] should properly remind him of who the prints belong to if he's seen them before. Since very few were present when he explained what finger prints are, it's unlikely the writer took any precausions. Also, is no one going to call Duke Herran out for inteferring in the fight by pointing out where Ilya was hiding?!? Seems like it should have been called out and a penalty applied as a result.
Cazitron
The enemy is becoming desperate. They've taken matters into their own hands.
