Chapter 511: 512. Former Champion

Time flew by faster than Dallion expected it. With the crowds reaching ludicrous size during the buildup, it proved better to remain indoors and only go out in the early hours of the morning. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to help much. While most of the people were asleep, their items weren’t, and with Dallion’s empathy level, it was enough for him to walk along a street for all visiting guardians to notice and try to exchange a few words. The first few times, Dallion decided to humor them, hoping to learn a bit more of the events in the world. Sadly, he quickly found that to be a mistake. The people who had the means and security to travel through the wilderness in times of plague and near war were almost exclusively rich enough not to know anything other than the events of their own town.

There were a few swords who had recently changed hands and knew something about the wilderness, but even their information didn’t show the big picture. In the end, Dallion had chosen to spend his time with Eury, when she wasn’t working, or focus on hedgerel training. The gorgon had invited him to join her to the Arena several times, but Dallion had flatly refused. After the warning from the overseer, he didn’t want to be anywhere near the countess, or any other nobles for that matter. And there was the matter of the general.

Dallion strongly suspected that if anyone could find an item to limit the Star, he would have it. Getting the man to give it was a different matter altogether. Dallion still owed him a favor. If he asked for help, he’d become burdened with one more. Sadly, there didn’t seem to be any way around it.

Day after day, Dallion went secretly to see the general on the side of the Arena, and each time he was nowhere to be found. The fury servants greeted Dallion with identical apologies each time, offering to convey a message. Each time Dallion refused, knowing full well that word would still reach the general.

On the sixth day, when the top eight contestants of the tournament were decided, a fury came to Eury’s workshop with an invitation to Dallion. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the invitation he was hoping for. Apparently, as the “previous tournament champion” his presence had been requested by Countess Priscord herself. In theory, refusal was an option, but Dallion knew well enough not to do so. Thus, he found himself accompanying the fury not only to the Arena, but to the noble section of the stands, half a dozen rows beneath the countess’ box along with the rest non-awakened VIPs. Funnily enough, Euryale was also there, not too far away, standing by the overseer.

The moment he saw her, Dallion waved. The gorgon, however, didn’t wave back.

“Troubles in paradise?” a familiar voice asked. Dallion didn’t even have to turn around to know that the general had made his way to the row behind him. “Just pulling your leg. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Gorgons do tend to get consumed in their work. Did I mention that I had a gorgon nanny at one point?”

Dallion remained silent. After a few seconds he noticed, none of the people in immediate vicinity were paying any attention. Even more, they were emitting a presence of sub-servitude, as if they had been bound by some curse to the general’s will. Some of the faces started looking familiar. Dallion remembered, seeing them in the corridor near the general’s room. To the public, the general liked to introduce them as “associates,” but everyone knew what they really were—people caught in the man’s web with little hope of ever escaping.

“General,” Dallion whispered curtly.

“Kilina told me that you’ve been searching for me,” the general continued. “As you could see I’ve been here the entire time.”

“There was something I wanted to discuss.”

“Of course there was. However, we’re in the midst of the tournament now. It's bad form to talk business here.”

The man adjusted the collar of his overly expensive shirt. If Dallion were to guess, the fabric had to be a combination of gem threads, spun together so as to let off different colors as light hit it. That, combined with a coat of purple leather and a multitude of rings made of sky silver, made sure that there wasn’t anyone in that part of the arena to outshine the general.

“Tell me, who do you think will win?” the general asked.

Dallion looked at the fighters. At this stage, only the best of the best remained. All of them were combat splitting, and attacking with such intensity that one would say that they were in the wilderness hunting monsters.

“Difficult to say,” Dallion admitted. Most of the pairings seemed to be evenly matched. The last one, though, seemed to be slightly tilted towards a tall dark-skinned woman. On closer examination, Dallion noticed the apprentice hunter’s emblem incorporated on her arm bracelet. “That one,” he said, glancing from the woman to the general and back.

“The mercenary hunter.” The general placed his finger on his lips. “An interesting choice. The odds don’t favor her. If you had been here the last few days, you’d have seen her almost lose during the previous rounds.”

“She’s still fighting. Her opponents aren’t.”

“Good point. Kilina, I’ll make a side bet on her. Nothing big, but something noticeable. Make it happen.”

There was no sign of the general’s personal fury, but Dallion expected her to be well within earshot.

“Any particular reason why you’re so confident?” the man asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask that before making a bet?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” the general laughed. “Besides, I trust your judgment, Dal. Shouldn’t I?”

“She’s more capable than he is, and still, she prefers not be flashy in battle. Her opponent is all too focused on impressing the crowd. He’s got talent, but no real experience, so he’s wasting actions. In a few minutes, he’ll start to slow down and that’s when she’ll strike.

“Interesting. And you’re not basing that only because she happens to be a hunter?”

Dallion didn’t reply, focusing on the fight instead. Things happened exactly as he expected them to. The hunter apprentice remained on the defensive for the next five minutes. Her opponent, in contrast, attacked every opportunity he got. Dallion could see the dozens of instances he burst into, each attacking in a unique fashion. No matter now how he tried, though, all of the attacks were deflected time after time. A casual observer would have said that the woman was on her last legs. However, Dallion knew that not to be the case. All the blocks and evasions were meticulously calculated to exhaust her opponent to a point at which she’d be able to take advantage.

Two minutes later, precisely as Dallion had predicted, something seemed to snap. The hunter’s opponent miscalculated, going too deep with a series of strike attacks. It seemed like a minor mistake—only one of eight instances were out of place, and yet somehow that ended up being the instance that became reality. The elite froze for a second—just enough time for his brain to register that this wasn’t planned, and enough to have the hunter follow up with a series of pummeling punches. Three quarters of them were evaded, but the final quarter wasn’t, pushing him back.

Barely had she done so, the hunter then proceeded to split into five instances, each drawing a dagger at almost point-blank range and throwing it at him. Once more, the fighter attempted to use instances to escape, but failed to do so at all. One of his failures was pulled into reality, causing the dagger to wound him in the shoulder.

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Things only went downhill from there. Each time the man would split, more and more instances failed to achieve a positive outcome. At one point, it even became unnecessary for the woman to even pull the instance she wanted. Her attacks, slowly and methodically chipped away at her opponent’s defenses, until it became obvious to all that he had no coming back.

Another few minutes later, the man himself acknowledged it, publicly surrendering and putting an end to the fight.

“Would you look at that,” the general said, his voice clearly heard among the boos and cheers of the crowd. “I wouldn’t have believed it. Quite the sneaky thing, that one. Maybe I’ll have a chat with her once the tournament is over.

“Does that mean I won the bet?”

“Did we make a bet?” The general smirked. “Don’t worry, I’m just playing with you. You did help me with this one, and so you’ll be rewarded.” Several people in Dallion’s row stood up, allowing him to pass by them. “Come along. I don’t want to catch the crowd.”

It took Dallion seconds to dash to the nearest arena exit using his awakening skills. When he got there, he noticed that the general had already arrived, a large fury bodyguard at his side.

The general gave the fury a quick glance. For a moment Dallion thought he saw the air surrounding them ripple.

“Here.” The general handed Dallion a large black bracelet. “it’s not that I don’t trust you, but I prefer not to tempt fate when doing business. After the events last year, security has become quite tight and I wouldn’t want anyone to come to the wrong conclusions.”

There was a lot Dallion could say on the matter. However, he preferred to quietly comply. He was the one asking for a favor, after all.

“Do you have an artifact that limits someone’s level?” Dallion asked straight out.

“Huh?” The general made an expression as if he had just choked.

Never before had Dallion seen the man shocked to such an extent. The general’s expression was almost worth it.

“Do you want to get us banished?” The man looked about in all directions.

“No.”

“Then you’re simply an idiot,” the general snapped. “That’s not something you should even joke about. The Order has eyes everywhere, from the Imperial Capital to the smallest piece of crap village. And they wouldn’t like anyone stepping into their matters.”

“Limit temporarily,” Dallion clarified. “Like the training daggers.”

Upon hearing that the general’s expression softened. He was no longer as fidgety as before, straightening the sleeves of his vest, as if nothing of importance had occurred.

“It would be a good idea to increase your vocabulary and linguistics skills,” he said. “Misspeaking like that could well get you in a lot of trouble.” The man cleared his throat. “So, you want an artifact to help you level up? You’re aware that such trinkets won’t help you increase your level beyond where you are now.”

“That’s not what I’m aiming for. I want to make sure that the person I potentially fight has the same limitations I do.”

“Intriguing.” The wicked smile returned to the general’s face. “That’s definitely a new one. Do you have any particular person in mind?”

“Yes,” Dallion replied.

“Well, that’s your business.” The general shrugged after several seconds of silence. “To be honest, I haven’t heard of anything similar existing. I’ll ask about, of course. It’ll definitely be an exotic find. More than likely something I’ll like to add to my collection. I assume you’ll need it before you set off for Linatol?”

Dallion didn’t budge a muscle. Deep inside, he knew that it was pointless to pretend. The general had learned about his mission, as he usually did. It was starting to seem that people were incapable of keeping secrets in this world.

“Not to worry, I’ll do my best.” The general tapped Dallion on the shoulder with measured disgust, then quickly pulled his hand away. “In return, I’d be thankful if you do me a small favor while there.”

“It might be a bit out of my league.”

“Nonsense.” The man waved his hand. “It’s nothing involving fighting. All you have to do is take part in a certain auction—a very legal auction—and procure a specific item. I’ll provide the funds. All you have to do is make sure no one outbids you. Doesn’t sound difficult, does it?”

“Depends on the funds.”

“Oh, don’t worry. No one will outbid you. As long as you don’t lose them on the way.”

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