In the heart of a noble man, even the purest intentions may be led astray, for he may be deceived to commit wrongs, believing them righteous in the service of a higher cause.

  Likewise, the selfish heart of a wicked man may unknowingly tread the path of virtue, thinking it serves only his own gain.

  Thus, the flow of the world bends even the intentions of men, like a stream altering course by the rocks and stones in its path.

  - The Book of Wise Tellings from the Land of Streams.

  We had a somewhat pleasant dinner, the pair of us. Not only had Larynda's manner of speech changed for the better, but there had been a marked improvement in her table manners since my time in the Dream. Noticeably, so.

  However, five years had done nothing to curb her appetite for finer foods, and she ate with the same enthusiasm as when I first met her. She was almost comically gluttonous, stuffing her cheeks like a hamster. Bubbles, her old pet, would greedily eat from her hand. I noticed that the creature, having grown considerably in weight, it now resembled little more than a fat ball of fur on six legs. I was taken aback by how easily a pet could come to resemble its master.

  When Larynda had left, I retired almost immediately to bed. Thankfully, the night passed without dream nor nightmare.

  I stirred, clearing my eyes of sleep. Getting up slowly, the servants attended to me, anointing with me oils and unguents before dressing me. The morning sun streamed through stained glass windows, refracting the lights in places into colorful patterns. Even the simple act of getting dressed had notes of ceremony about it.

  Sitting down at the table, I ate a simple breakfast of roasted oatcakes and finely sliced fruit. This would give me some of the energy I would need for the rest of the day, without sitting in my stomach like a stone.

  On my wall was a mechanical clock, a rarity I presumed, telling me it was currently the eighth hour of the day. The first bouts would begin in the next hour, and mine would begin on the tenth. I smiled after washing down my breakfast with some cool honeyed water, feeling positively pleased with how things had turned out. Earlier this morning I had been informed by one of the officials, a weedy of man of middling stature and lank oily hair, that I had drawn against an old acquaintance. The Silver Ranked adventurer Sevas of the Pale Wars.

  Oh, how fate truly worked its way to please me. To place those who had wronged squarely in my path so that I might cut them down. In truth, I had almost forgotten about the arrogant man as I had spent what had seemed like long years under intense and grueling training.

  It was time to make things right in the world.

  With plenty of time to spare, I went about my morning ablutions, enjoying a relaxing bath and lording it over the staff that served me. It certainly felt good being served on hand and foot. Were it not for the fact that the rest of the day would be spent dealing in violence, I could have mistaken that I was spending time on holiday in some fancy lodgings.

  With a little time to spare, I meandered to the arena, taking my time and finding a good spot to witness some of the early fights. The fights between Adventurers were generally interesting to watch, especially the spellcasters who were able to fight their way successfully to this stage.

  Larynda put up a good show, her command over her element and her considerable grappling and unarmed skills earning her another easy win against a man almost twice her weight and size. She used her magic in this tournament more as a distraction, a tool to create openings, rather than as her main tool of offense. In her movements, I saw the shadow of my friend’s tutelage and felt almost wistful for a moment. With her magical necklace, she enjoyed far greater Strength than one could have guessed. The little cheat.

  Would I ever meet the northern barbarian again? I doubted it. The world I had come from was small, with everyone just a digital message away from each other. It was a world that had become so close that we could enjoy living vicariously through each other. This world was huge, with information and people traveling at best at the pace of a fast horse.

  However, these thoughts were for the birds. I decided to pay a sliver of attention to the fights that were unfolding before me.

  A duel that stood out was a magical contest between two mages, both brimming with the power of their Mana. Curious, I confirmed their classes with Identify spells before their bouts.

  One was a Floramancer, his spells rooted in the plant life of nature itself. He summoned writhing vines, their thorny tendrils lashing at his opponent, while explosive seeds burst in showers of wood fragments. But the other mage was a Pyromancer, a poor match for him. Flames flickered in his hands, dancing with the promise of hungry destruction. Vegetation and vines, no matter how infused with magic, were little more than kindling to him. Arcs of fire leaped from his fingers, searing the air, while his fists and feet struck with heat so intense I could feel it from my seat. The scent of charred wood and scorched stone filled the arena, carried on the waves of blistering heat.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  It had been a lesson in the application and variety of the types of magic in this world. Their spells had come out slowly, almost painfully slow. That a stick of wood could somehow make you able to cast spells faster, and with enhanced effect, was yet silliness stacked up on more silliness. It made no sense when I tried to think through it logically so I simply decided to turn that part of my thoughts off.

  With the Pyromancer Tommaso Bucceri’s victory, a foreigner by both name and looks, his next opponent would be my ward Larynda. With two magic users of such diametrically opposed elements, I eagerly wondered who would prevail.

  However, I readied myself. Readied myself to intervene if necessary if he threatened Larynda’s life, the rules and this city be damned. With no weight classes and very loose limitations, there had been a fair few deaths, even with the advanced healing available outside of Vindication.

  A quick look at the Festival’s board later showed that the old man Tai-san had also been victorious in his match. Excellent, with a little luck I would face him in a later stage of the tournament. Keep winning you old fool, I will rip out your tongue and feed it to you, I promised grimly.

  It was time to watch Larynda’s match. The slender girl had somehow built up quite a following, as there was a bit of applause as she alighted onto the fighting area. Her opponent, Tommaso, also enjoyed some applause.

  An officious judge, clad in the robes of his office, gestured for them to approach the center. Mana potions must have been available in the healing rooms, for both fighters were at full.

  I myself had not availed myself to the amenities of the Festival, my own regeneration and Rest skill more than up to the task. In a pinch, the serving staff or the spectators could stand in the stead of a Health or Mana potion anyway. But, if I were honest with myself, this was really due to the stubborn part of me not wanting to be indebted to anyone.

  The pair of them now stood in the center of the stone fighting ring. Like rival cats who had met in neutral territory, the two of them stood stock still, sizing each other up. I found it amusing that a man could be intimidated by a slip of a girl, no matter how powerful or skilled.

  “Since you are a girl, I will allow you to yield now. You have gained more than enough honor to come this far. It would be bad form to hurt such beauty,” Tomasso offered Larynda arrogantly, his voice condescendingly polite. “I will not even need my magic to deal with the likes of you,” he added, boasting with a superior grin.

  This one’s attitude irked me, his entire mien redolent with raw arrogance.

  It must have irked Larynda too, for she gripped her fists at her side and gave him a forced, strained smile. “If it's alright with you, I’d rather see how far I can go. Of course, I wouldn’t mind if you went easy on me,” she replied sweetly.

  The judge, wishing to be safe, went to the end of the fighting ring. He looked at both combatants, saw that nothing was remiss, and cut down with his sharp metal sword. The match had begun.

  Almost instantly, both combatants jumped back and began chanting, respectively. It seemed that voices were struggling against each other, both rising in volume as their competition continued. Tomasso, however, finished his chant first, and a dry wave of searing heat emanated from him, seeming for a moment to cook the very air of the arena.

  “Foolish girl, your magic is too frail,” he said, his voice lecturing. And sure, in his victory, he started to walk slowly up to Larynda without a shred of caution, not even bothering to put up a guard. “Only the Mer can fight with the weakest of the Elements. It is simply not suited for battle above the waves. And, I have burned away what water was here! The flames of the first fire were always superior,” the Pyromancer declared haughtily, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Was that stress or worry? A subtle instinct, a mere whisper, told me that this was perhaps personal for the flame magician.

  "You sure you should be getting so close to me? You know over half your body is made of water, right? All I see is a walking bag of it," Larynda retorted, halting her chant and staring at him defiantly, the jade of her eyes burning with a viridian flame.

  At this distance, I imagined I saw her lips moving, as if muttering to herself. Or, chanting once more.

  "What of it? Mastery of the arcane is rooted in the ability to envision your element. You would not have any idea how water flows inside a man… let alone how to extract and manipulate it. But I, girl, I have spent many years making a study of Fire. Of how it burns, of how it consumes," the man scoffed, closing the last few steps with a fist raised.

  He was one of the kinds of person that I hated most, in this world and my last. The talkative type who would go on at great lengths to explain his superiority.

  In a moment of childishness, I decided to mentally label him as “Tomato.”

  A blaze now wreathed his fist as he swung at the girl. Luckily, Larynda saw the blow coming and dodged his fire-enhanced blow. But, the man kept on coming, feet and fists of flames making deadly patterns in the air as he struck out at her.

  The girl's face was a mask of concentration as she wove through his storm of fire. However, Larynda, no matter how nimble she was, could not hope to dodge this barrage of blows forever. The Pyromancer was a bad match with his flames and had the advantage over her. Not only did he enjoy a height and weight advantage, but with him being on fire, making physical contact with him would be painful at best. Trying to bring him down to the ground would be an impossibility.

  A cruel smile of victory crossed the girl's face, almost a mirror to one of my own. An anticlimactic squelch and sucking sound soon followed, and just like that, Tomasso became... less. Hovering near Larynda's outstretched hand was a fresh globule of clear water, suspended in the air.

  "Guess you just a bag of hot air now," she muttered, her voice ragged, before spitting on the floor.

  The flames that danced across the Pyromancer flickered out. Tomasso had been reduced to a dry husk, like a corpse abandoned for decades under the unforgiving desert sun. The water orb had been drawn from the Pyromancer's own body, Larynda's spell having slipped through whatever wards or arcane protections he had thought would keep him safe.

  It seemed that I had taught the child well. The knowledge of my old world, combined with her raw magical talent, had created something that should have been impossible.

  Though I'd never admit it, it left me... more than a little worried. But, also, a little bit proud. More than that, I was glad that someone had shut Tomato up.