Victory.
No matter how confident he was before a battle, no matter how incompetent his opponent, or how in his favor he’d swung the situation, victory always tasted sweet.
Leon stood proudly, the bow he’d made from the branch of the Stormborn Oak in his hand, the power contained within vibrating in time with his. He had but to barely express his power, and the bow would form a destructive spatial bolt that would savage all it touched. Were it only less taxing on his power reserves, it would be the perfect ranged weapon.
Regardless of any flaws, it had performed magnificently, obliterating Mikaela’s Adamant armor—a rare feat, according to all conventional wisdom. Now hundreds of thousands of eyes were turned in his direction as the reality that he’d just soundly defeated a mage a tier higher than he was settled over the theater. Anushirawan stood over Mikaela’s broken form, his power swiftly putting her back together. Behind him a good way was Ingrid, sating her wrath and antipathy upon her feckless husband. They’d exchanged some words during their fight, but Leon had been too preoccupied with his own to listen in. Whatever they’d said hadn’t seemed to have soothed any of Ingrid’s anger, however, as she rained blow after blow upon her former husband, her face twisted in greater wrath than even before the fight had begun.
Grave words brought his attention back to the Sun King, still staring at him with a strange look in his eyes.
“You nearly killed her.”
As if in response to his words, many of the Storm Lords in the stands started to cheer. They were likely only reacting to two of their own defeating a Gale Lord and a traitor, but Leon imagined that few among their number would care overmuch if he had killed Mikaela. Other Lords cheered too, with the Shadow Lords making up the largest portion as far as he could tell—which, if he were honest, wasn’t that far. Those not cheering, he guessed, were mostly Gale Lords.
“But I didn’t,” said Leon cheekily as he stashed his bow back in his soul realm. The force of the cheering crowd shook not just the ground beneath his feet but also the entire mountain range the amphitheater had been built into.
Long seconds passed as the unwavering attention of the Sun King settled around him, and Leon started to feel uncomfortable as the rush of victory began to abate.
‘He wants something,’ Leon thought as he met the Sun King’s gaze unwaveringly. ‘Are you going to tell me?’
Behind him, Ingrid finally seemed to sate herself enough on violence to grab Vrothgar’s leg and drag him across the broken theater floor toward Anushirawan. She’d beaten him bloody, and so many of his bones were broken that he looked like a limp sack of meat. He yet lived—barely—and Ingrid didn’t look fully satisfied.
Anushirawan’s power, without him having to turn around, extended to meet Ingrid and Vrothgar, covering them, healing whatever injuries they sustained. Little work seemed to be needed for Ingrid, but Leon could hear even from hundreds of feet away Vrothgar’s bones stitching themselves back together. It was a soul-wrenching sound that sent shivers down his spine.
Finally, Anushirawan turned his attention away from Leon and addressed the watching crowd, his voice overpowering even the boisterousness of the celebrating Lords.
“WITH US ALL BEARING WITNESS, DESPOTS LEON AND INGRID HAVE DEFEATED THEIR OPPONENTS IN FAIR COMBAT! BY MY HONOR, THE TERMS AGREED UPON BEFORE THE DUEL SHALL BE FULFILLED! LET NONE SAY THAT THIS VICTORY IS DISHONORABLE; LET NO TONGUE TARNISH THE HONOR OF THE VICTORIOUS—OR THE DEFEATED, WHO FOUGHT WITH HONOR OF THEIR OWN!”
In tones more suited for conversation, Anushirawan said to Leon, “Leon Raime, descendant of the Thunderbird. This was certainly one way to make your power known.”
“I had a more personally consequential fight back on Voidshore,” Leon casually said as Ingrid finally dropped Vrothgar next to Mikaela and joined him, her glowering expression unmoved even after Anushirawan’s announcement. “I’d say that was the true announcement of my descent.”
“Perhaps…” replied the Sun King, his eyes growing distant for a moment. “I would like to invite you two to a celebration I will be holding soon, one dedicated to the peace efforts that my Games promo—”
Before he could finish his statement, another titanic aura settled over the amphitheater; another Elemental King was making her presence known, finally. The Gale Queen appeared above Anushirawan, hovering only a hundred feet in the air, seemingly glaring down at the five of them like an imperious Queen staring at the lowliest peasants she’d ever seen.
Then a smile broke through her exterior, and she gracefully, though swiftly, floated down, landing next to the Sun King.
“A marvelous show, truly marvelous!” she gushed, against Leon’s expectation. “The spurned lover taking her revenge; the reveal of another’s true power! You two have played your parts magnificently!” Her gaze sharpened, focusing mostly on Leon. “I look forward to the next act. May it be more spectacular than this.”
“Esmerelda,” Anushirawan stated in a half-hearted greeting. “There is no need to bother the victors.”
“Who’s bothering who?!” she retorted. “When the play is over and the actors come out and bow, it is only polite to praise their performance if their performance was praiseworthy! Even the villains!”
“Even… if your side lost?” asked Ingrid, trepidation filling her voice.
“Lessons can be taken from even the most depressing endings,” Esmerelda said as her eyes turned upon Mikaela, unconscious on the theater floor and still surrounded by Anushirawan’s healing magic. “Low points are to be expected in any good character’s story. Disappointments come when they are mishandled.”
She paused as something seemed to occur to her.
“Although… Disappointments can also come when expectations are not met in other ways. Leon, your performance was satisfying, but I had hoped for more. To see the strength within you, the strength you did not use.”
Leon’s lips curled in a manner most unfriendly as he replied, “I wasn’t pressed hard enough.” He left it at that, not wanting to discuss any of his further options with either of the two Elemental Kings. In fact, he just wanted to get this over with and relax, as the attention of so many powerful mages crawled over his skin like a million ants.
A smile and a laugh were the Gale Queen’s response. Then, with a wave of her hand, Esmerelda broke through Anushirawan’s power and surrounded both Mikaela and Vrothgar—for his part, Anushirawan looked utterly disinterested in contesting her over the two defeated mages. Then, Esmerelda said, “Congratulations again, you two. I’ll be watching you with great interest…”
As she flew off, Anushirawan simply smiled and said, “I’ll send someone with a more formal invitation later. I hope you’ll accept. Until then, I will leave you to your victory celebrations.” Following his congratulations, he, too, took to the skies, leaving Leon and Ingrid alone on the stage, the only subjects of attention for the hundreds of thousands of watching mages.
Thankfully, now that the duel was over, many mages were keen to leave, though fewer than Leon would’ve liked. Pretending that the attention wasn’t getting to him, he clapped Ingrid on the shoulder and steered her toward his waiting people. He could see a few of her still-loyal officers waiting with the group of his supporters.
As he pulled her into the air to meet them in the stands, he asked, “Did you get what you were after?”
She spat, “From Vro? No. Or… he told me what I wanted to know, and…” She sighed deeply, tiredly. “Let’s talk later, Leon. Right now, we should celebrate our win, no matter how bitter the situation as a whole is.”
Content enough to let the matter lie, Leon smiled and nodded, and together, the two flew out to meet with their waiting supporters, all of whom were eager to greet them like conquering heroes.
---
In the days following the duel, Leon received a veritable mountain of letters of introduction, which Archelaus, Gwarim, and Realiz were happy to help deal with. Few were as thrilled with his and Ingrid’s victory as those three, though many were certainly ecstatic and were willing to effusively praise his performance in their letters.
‘Not like Gale Lords aren’t losing all the time,’ Leon thought, fatigue never failing to immediately assert itself with every letter he read. ‘A thousand duels have been fought since mine and Ingrid’s, yet this is the only one most people seem to be talking about…’
When asked about it, Archelaus explained, “Duels fought here are almost always personal in nature, and it can be difficult for others to invest themselves in personal drama. However, the Gale Queen herself helped to arrange and publicize this duel, which turned this personal affair into a political one. The Storm Lords had to show up to support their fellows, as did the Gale Lords. And with such attention, the other Lords took notice, too. The response is unsurprising, especially after such an upset victory.”
Overhearing them, Gwarim added, “That wench had a certain reputation—a reputation which has deservedly fallen in these few days, surely—but I heard so many in the stands speculate over your chances.”
“My wives have told me some of that,” Leon said. “Apparently people thought Mikaela was going to win no matter what?”
“An entire tier is hard to overcome,” Archelaus said. “Not everyone has an Inherited Bloodline or possesses powerful artifacts and weapons to fight with.”
“Bah! Paltry excuses!” Gwarim boomed. “All one needs to succeed is fighting spirit! Only those with the will to win will win! The cowards and the faithless who believe their victory is impossible only make it impossible!”
Leon smiled. He’d spoken with the Thunderbird a bit after the duel, and though she’d mostly just used her time to praise his performance, she also said something to that same effect. He’d won due to his employment of sheer, overwhelming violence, not because of pure power, which he’d been quick to point out. She’d simply responded that the ability to employ violence was, itself, a form of power, a point that he’d conceded.
“Oh!” Realiz chimed in, a letter in his hand. “Anax Hargrim saw the duel and is putting together a friendly spar among like-minded Storm Lords!”
“A spar?” Gwarim eagerly asked. “How open is the invitation?!”
“The Anax only names Despot Leon, but he says it’s open to any who shows up.”
Gwarim’s eyes began to sparkle in glee while Leon sighed and leaned back, a smile decorating his face even though it wasn’t what he’d been hoping for.
‘An Anax… Certainly a coup, but…’
“What’s wrong, friend?” Archelaus asked as Realiz and Gwarim lost themselves in imagined glories and honorable combat with Anax Hargrim.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Leon asked, “That obvious?”
“In my experience,” replied Archelaus sagely, “you are no fan of the formal trappings of power. But you’ve been particularly unenthused about seeing to all these letters. Do you dislike all the attention?”
Leon pursed his lips, wondering how much he should say. Esmerelda knew that there was something else in his blood other than the power of the Thunderbird, and no small part of him had hoped that someone else might’ve seen that, too, someone who might spread word to other ears. With Clear Day still out on Belicenion, trying to find some way to get into contact with the Great Dragons other than just flying up to them and announcing himself, doing away with all safety and subtlety, Leon was at a loss as to how to proceed on that angle.
The Great Black Dragon Clan was right there, and he would’ve already tried to introduce himself to them were it not for the myriad of security issues that doing so, especially in so public a way, would bring.
Inhaling to respond, Leon’s words were cut off by a knock at the door. When opened, the messenger told him of some important-looking girl standing outside Storm Herald’s berth, demanding to see him. A quick scan with his magic senses had Leon wondering at the universe’s sense of timing…
---
When he laid his eyes upon the girl in question, Leon almost smiled. He’d never seen her before in his life, nor had he ever truly heard of her, but there was just something familiar about her in a way that he couldn’t quite pin his finger on.
Of course, he knew what that thing was, but there was a difference between knowing it and feeling it.
The girl herself was quite young, appearing to be in her mid-teens by mortal standards. Despite her youth, she emanated a strong sixth-tier aura, which even for the Nexus was no small feat for her apparent age. She was a full head shorter than Leon, though one would hardly know it, given the authoritative stance she took standing in the exact center of the open hangar doors.
Her appearance was, in a word, gold. Her skin was so perfectly tanned that it could only be natural, while the long hair that spilled down her back, gently curled around her jaw, and brushed against her eyebrows couldn’t have been more golden had it been spun from actual gold. Her eyes, too, were gold—not amber like Miuna’s, but the same hue as Leon’s.
She was dressed, in contrast, all in white, with a skirt that cut off just above the knee, a pair of shorts beneath it, and a shirt that exposed her arms, both of which revealed the golden scales scattered, glittering, over her arms and legs.
Haughtily, she met his gaze, only faltering slightly despite their massive power disparity. Otherwise, she didn’t move an inch from where she stood, her arms crossed, waiting for him to arrive.
So eye-catching was her appearance that Leon almost missed the half dozen others at her back, all of similar appearance to her. However, none of them had golden eyes or scales, and they were all older and stronger than she was, despite appearing more subordinate given where they stood. Three of them, notably, were eleventh-tier.
“Leon Raime?!” she called out as he took flight and landed a few dozen feet in front of her. Archelaus, Gwarim, Realiz, and a dozen Tempest Knights landed beside and behind him.
“That is my name,” Leon replied. “Though you seem to have me at a disadvantage…?”
Ignoring the true meaning behind his words, the girl replied, “That’s common for those I stand against.” She unfolded her arms and pointed at him, determination writ large in her movements. “Now… fight me.”
“Wha—” Leon began before she was upon him in a flash. White-gold lightning covered her body, revealing her Clan affiliation had her golden scales not done that already.
Taken aback, Leon didn’t react as quickly as he might’ve otherwise. Despite that, the girl still moved practically in slow motion to him, and he found it easy to raise a hand and block her opening move: a kick aimed at his neck. He hardly felt the impact, and with his power and skill in lightning magic, the girl’s power arced around him, never touching him, let alone harming him.
Unfazed, she pivoted and struck at his legs. Leon took the hit head-on, their shins meeting with a thunderclap that would’ve deafened a mortal. Leon was unmoved, but the girl stumbled back, a look of pain gracing her face.
“Owww…” she moaned as her lightning surged, forming something of a protective wall of lightning between her and Leon.
“Bold of you to attack me,” Leon said. “Especially doing so before a proper introduction.” He smiled in what he hoped was a disarming way, and made no move to capitalize on his ‘opponent’ limping back, nor to stop her from slapping a healing spell on her likely cracked, if not broken, shin.
She glowered at him as one of her post-Apotheosis followers walked into the hangar, the only one of the half dozen to move since Leon arrived.
“Despot Leon,” the man said, curt and formal, “you stand in the presence of Nyra, Princess of the Great Gold Dragon Clan.”
Pride poured from the girl like water over a waterfall, and she did her best to cross her arms again and stand with that pride… without putting too much weight on her injured leg.
“I saw your fight with the gusty cow,” she said, her pride quickly tempered by eagerness, her sheer, genuine excitement soon overpowering any other emotion she might’ve displayed. “I wanted to test you myself! No Storm Lord should ever forget the strength of my Clan!”
“Well,” Leon said as he glanced at the Storm Lords beside him, a smile gracing his lips. “Why don’t you and your party come in, then? The Great Gold Dragon Clan is welcome beside any hearth I own…”
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