Kassorith – and, by extension, Percy – stood at the side of the arena, waiting for the battles to begin. The pillar they were on looked identical to the other seven, both inside and out. The stadium had the same number of seats, all of them filled with cheering spectators. The air trembled with the collective hum of thousands of voices, a living tide that ebbed and swelled with every movement on the stage. The faint scent of hot oils from snack vendors drifted between the rows, making Kassorith’s mouth water.

For the most part, everything felt the same as the preliminaries.

Percy knew this was an illusion, however. Most people were watching from home, the countless eyes previously scattered across the eight blocks now converging upon them. On top of that, the second phase of the tournament would likely draw even more attention, and the fights were now spaced farther apart to give everyone a chance to watch them all. Alas, there was nothing he could do about it – other than grit his host’s gums and do his best to win the prizes.

Kassorith was scheduled for the first match, but they still had some time before it started – time that they were using productively.

Well… sort of.

‘Careful! Less pressure! You’re going to shatter my core!’ Kassorith’s voice cracked in Percy’s mind, edged with panic.

Percy drew mana from his host’s stomach, guiding it to his sternum. He paused for a fraction of a second, aiming at the hairline cracks the initial burst had revealed, then sent the elixir-augmented mana into them.

‘Calm down.’ Percy rolled their eyes. ‘I’m not an idiot – I wouldn’t risk crippling you right before our fight. Look closely. I’m going slower than you showed me. The real risk here is wasting the pill, not damaging the organ.’

He’d been on Thess’kala for several weeks now, with plenty of opportunities to watch Kassorith’s so-called “Cascading Cracks” technique in action. They hadn’t missed a single session either – except during their first fight which had lasted five days. Percy’s proficiency was climbing nicely as a result. It was a tricky technique to learn, but experiencing Kassorith’s mana flow directly made all the difference. Percy had even pressured his host into letting him try it by himself a few times – much to the Blue’s dismay.

At this rate, Percy was confident he’d master the technique within a month after returning to Remior. Incorporating it into his current core-cleansing method might take a bit longer, but that was ultimately a small price to pay to essentially double his stash of Aurora Dew. Micky would have it even easier with just a single core to cleanse – the clone would pass him the knowledge in no time once they reshuffled.

For Percy, the Cascading Cracks technique was among the least impactful things he’d found on Thess’kala – which only spoke volumes to how rich greater springs truly were. If he compared it to most of his other adventures, the cleansing art was quite the haul. Still, it fell short of the life-extending leaf or the body-strengthening ritual. That only applied to him as an individual, however. Neither of those things could be used by a large number of people, so the cleansing technique was by far the most important thing to bring back to Remior.

‘You speak as if wasting my cleansing session is a small matter!’ Kassorith snapped, though he sounded less tense now that he realized he wasn’t in danger.

‘What’s the big deal?’

Percy shrugged. ‘You’re a Yellow-born with a doubled lifespan. Missing a day – or hell, even a century – won’t stop you from reaching the Clear grade.’

Kassorith clicked his tongue. ‘Becoming a demigod isn’t everything. Sure, attaining divinity doesn’t require a fixed amount of time like the earlier grades, but that doesn’t mean you can do it instantly. Need I remind you that most ancestors in the universe run out of time in the end?’

Okay… Percy had to admit that his host had a point.

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Even among Green-borns, only a tiny fraction made it to godhood. Comprehending a concept and forging one’s internal world was a monumental challenge. The most talented demigods achieved that in mere centuries, but others exhausted their remaining lifespan – often tens of thousands of years – only to fail.

For someone like Percy – who’d been told his whole life that he’d never reach White, let alone Clear – even a slim chance of becoming a demigod was cause for joy. Even if he only got a few years left in that grade, he was determined to make them count. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to plan ahead – to ensure that he gave himself some leeway. Especially since he had a hunch that his promotion to godhood would be a lot messier than the average demigod’s.

“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen,”a booming voice said, drawing everyone’s attention.

The sound rolled through the arena like a struck gong, resonating in the chest more than the ears, and the crowd responded in kind – slapping their tails against the ground, clapping, even hissing sect chants that tangled together into an electric chaos. The announcer was another elderly White with a trim, but not the same one as before. Percy was once again reminded of how lucrative this tournament was – they had over a hundred such powerful figures serving as mere presenters each year.

“Today, we gather for the tournament’s main event: the finals!”

The man paused, letting the crowd’s roar crest before continuing.

“Every elite disciple in the tournament is a remarkable mage – the pride of our world. This applies as much to those eliminated early as it does to the chosen few standing before me. To all the defeated contestants – I wish you luck with your training – we hope to see you again next year. That said, some of our young talents have climbed higher than their peers. It is them that we are here to celebrate.”

The elder turned toward Kassorith and the others, his gaze lingering on each of them for a moment.

“The first match of the fifth round will be fought between veteran of sixty-seven tournaments and three-time champion, Laathsalath of the Tall Pillar Sect, and this year’s rising star, Kassorith of the Broken Fang Sect! May you compete confidently, and honourably – remember that all of Thess’kala is watching!”

Percy swallowed hard. This was exactly what he was worried about. But it was too late to back down now.

Oblivious to his thoughts, his host and his opponent slithered onto the stage, stopping a couple dozen metres apart. Laathsalath bore a long vertical scar over his left eye – a wound he could have healed easily, yet had clearly chosen to keep. It was likely a memento from some old battle. Or a cliché fashion statement.

Percy hadn’t seen him fight, since they’d come from different blocks. Luckily, Kassorith knew a few things about him, as the man was quite famous. Like Kassorith, he had an innate metal affinity and fought similarly.

But Laathsalath had… something else that his host didn’t…

“If both contestants are ready…” the announcer said, receiving two nods. “…let the match begin!”

A silver bloom of liquid mana erupted from each fighter’s body. One rapidly condensed into a flock of flying longswords, the other into a storm of throwing axes. Neither side wasted any time, hurling their constructs against one another. The crisp ting of metal filled the arena alongside a spray of silver fragments and orange sparks. Gasps and shouts rippled through the stands as the first collisions rang out, though Percy and Kassorith tuned them out, used to the crowd by now.

Both combatants remained glued to the ground, knowing that this match would be decided by the quality of their constructs, the efficiency by which they forged them, and the skill with which they manipulated them – not their ability to fly away.

Unfortunately, this was a contest that Kassorith was bound to lose.

He wasn’t bad in any of these areas – his opponent was simply better. Percy quickly noticed that his host’s swords shattered more easily, each axe slashing through two or even three before breaking. The scarred man’s domain pressed forward, pushing against Kassorith’s in lockstep with his weapons. Within seconds, Laathsalath seized control of two-thirds of the battlefield, driving Kassorith to a corner. As far as Percy could see, his host was forced to burn through his mana twice as fast just to keep up.

‘What an absolute monster…’

It wasn’t hard to see why. On closer inspection, faint patterns covered the axes. These weren’t deliberate enchantments like Percy’s – they resembled natural ripples engraved into the steel in shifting shades of grey.

This time, there was no doubt about it – this truly was the result of a blessing.

If its effect wasn’t obvious enough, the intel they’d gathered before the fight sealed the deal. Unlike Gabe’s blessing of heat – which only affected his fire affinity, thus making it difficult to incorporate it into his light spells in a balanced manner – Laathsalath’s blessing was one perfectly tailored to his metal mana, greatly elevating the strength of his constructs.

Percy sighed.

‘I guess there’s no avoiding it. We’ll have to go all out…’