Chapter 15: Round 1 Fight

  Time slowed to a crawl, and Ambrose took a second to study his opponent’s fierce grin and admire the fire in her eyes. He knew from experience that she would come out swinging and not let up. Raeva favored raw aggression, and the best way to fight her was to not let her control the tempo of the fight.

  Easier said than done, but he relished a challenge.

  Round 1

  Cantrip: [Vampiric Kiss], Signature Creature: [Hateful Imp], Creature: [Festering Wretch], Spell: [Sleight of Blood]

  All things considered, a decent opening hand. He blinked, and everything sped back up. Raeva was already running right at him. She pulled one hand back and reddish-black coals glowed in her hand.

  He didn’t panic, but he did resign himself to inevitable pain before she launched her cantrip at him.

  [Singe: A small blaze that ramps in intensity with every hit

  Spell Effect: Launch a small fireball that deals stacking damage to the same target, resetting when a new target is chosen.]

  Ambrose tried to feint and duck to the other side, but Raeva’s aim was incredible and she beaned him right in the chest. The flash of heat and small detonation almost made him panic, but he was used to this spell at this point, and the burst of pain that came with it.

  Instead, he chose and summoned his Signature Creature as he put more distance between him and the advancing primal wizard. The summoning circle formed in the center of the arena; he had no need to be tricky.

  “Stop running, Ambrose, I’ll make it quick!” She laughed as she summoned her hatchling.

  The imp showed up first, practically clawing itself out of the void. Its ugly, simian face twisted with rage, and it shrieked its displeasure to the world. It broke out of the finished summoning circle and scrambled for Raeva, but she smoothly twisted out of the way as it sailed past her.

  It landed next to the red summoning circle, which had just finished its call. Large ebony wings unfurled over a small, awkward lizard body.

  [Fiery Hatchling: A baby dragon, already hungry, cranky, and greedy. Feed her foes and gold to watch her grow big and strong!

  Special: Flying

  Special: Fire Breath

  Strength: C. Defense: C. Speed: B. Magic: C.]

  It blinked slitted eyes before it saw the imp and enraged. It leaped on the still recovering creature and savaged the snaky, spaded tail. The imp screeched and twisted around to rip at the baby dragon’s wings. The creatures rolled around on the ground, locked in a fight to the death.

  About half of their round was over, and they both still had spells to cast, or else they’d lose them until the shuffle. Raeva held up a hand and conjured her weapon, an obsidian spear that was as sharp as it was brittle, but Ambrose had already started summoning his [Festering Wretch] between the two of them.

  “Hiding behind your abominations?” Raeva teased, brandishing her spear at the undead creature.

  “Well, it’s not like I’m going to just let you stick me,” he said as the creature’s rotting face opened and it let out a low, guttural moan. “Why don’t you poke him instead?”

  The wretch lurched forward and swung at her. Raeva backed up, nearly tripping over the dueling Signature Creatures before slapping the wretch with the side of her weapon. It staggered, and she shoved past it to get to her real opponent, who pointed a blackened finger at her and cast his cantrip.

  She winced at the ray of light that hit her and drained some of her strength and vitality into him. [Vampiric Kiss] wasn’t known for doing that much damage, but healed Ambrose a little each time he used it. Raeva had already used all three cards she drew for the round, but so had he.

  Raeva raised her spear, but Ambrose grinned and said, “Behind you!”

  As much as she didn’t want to fall for it, she whirled in place and with one smooth slice, took off the [Festering Wretch]’s head. The stump spewed out its corrosive blood everywhere, including all over her and her weapon.

  A gasp went through the audience as she jerked backwards. Spots on her cheeks and arms sizzled, but Raeva was too used to combat to let a little pain get in the way. She looked at Ambrose, jaw set, and hurled her spear at him.

  He barely dove out of the way in time to avoid being skewered. The weapon hit the arena floor and shattered. Ambrose made it back to his feet just as the Countdown ended, and the world Paused.

  His imp had managed to tear a wing off, but Raeva’s [Fiery Hatchling] had gotten an arm. Both looked rough, but they didn’t matter. Raeva was a bit more hurt than he was, but the longer the fight went on, the more her cantrip would do real damage. It was still anyone’s game.

  Round 2

  Cantrip: [Vampiric Kiss], Creature: [Night Terror], Spell: [Assassin’s Strike], Spell: [Shred Mind]

  This hand was risky. It had his best creature, and his best way of dealing with her creatures, but he didn’t have the mana to cast it all. Unlike some of their peers, Raeva could actually deal with the [Night Terror] if she had to. Still, it might’ve been his best option.

  Time resumed, and Raeva clapped her hands together. A large summoning circle formed between them. “You’re in trouble~” she crowed. She held up her right hand and snapped, and a second summoning circle formed next to the first, both filling in at the same rate.

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  “Shit,” Ambrose groaned.

  [Copy Spell] was one of Raeva’s most powerful cards, and oddly cheap at two mana. It was good for most kinds of spells, but she tended to make her cantrip more effective with it. Not this time.

  “That’s right. I’ve always wanted to see you weasel your way out of this one,” Raeva cackled, making sure the crowd could hear it.

  As much as he appreciated her showmanship, two of what was probably her best creature at a time was more than he could reasonably handle. The shapes inside the circles were about his height, but with large wings and talons, and a curved, wicked beak. Ambrose didn’t know how she did it, but one phoenix was made of red flame, and the other blue.

  [Kindling Phoenix: Uncommon. A brash, reckless phoenix burning out, bright and fast.

  Special: Flying

  Special: Fleeting. This creature lasts for twenty seconds before dying.

  Special: Parting Gift. When this creature dies, it explodes in a ball of fire.

  Strength: C. Defense: D. Speed: C. Magic: B. 2 Mana]

  There would be no ongoing cost for creatures like that. They existed in that twenty second timespan, or until they were destroyed. The problem with destroying them was it was like killing his [Festering Wretch]: they did damage on their way out.

  “Cute pets,” said Ambrose, keeping his distance from the advancing enemy. He held up his middle finger, which sprouted his arcane tattoos. A black sword formed in his hand, and he thrust the spell out towards the nearest phoenix.

  The dark magic collided with the volatile, unsteady vitality of the phoenix, and detonated it. It sent the other firebird into the air, and Raeva had to cover her face from the sudden flash of heat. Ambrose seized his opportunity and ran at her.

  She tried to duck away, but Ambrose swung his boot into her stomach. Raeva doubled over with a muted gasp, but grabbed onto his leg before he could pull it back. Then it was his turn to burn as she cast [Singe] directly against his calves.

  It hurt bad enough for his knee to buckle, and Raeva held his legs apart at an awkward, agonizing angle. “Say goodnight, Ambrose.”

  The furious flapping of wings behind him made his blood go cold. Raeva’s remaining phoenix let out a sound that was half predator bloodlust, half beautiful song, and dove.

  This was going to hurt.

  But then, a scrabbling of claws on stone made his ears prickle. He looked over his shoulder in time to see his one-armed imp fly between him and the descending phoenix. Ambrose yanked his leg back and rolled away from the explosion.

  The blast was big enough to give Raeva pause again, but this time she stalked forward. “Clock’s ticking, Ambrose. You’re not going to like the next hand.”

  Ambrose came to a stop and held out his hand. “Maybe, but neither are you!” He cast [Shred Mind].

  [Shred Mind: Lash out at their spirit with all your contempt. Discard two cards from the target’s deck. 2 Mana]

  The Countdown paused for the two seconds it took the spell to coalesce into existence. Raeva snarled and followed his example with a kick to the middle. She was a lot stronger than him, but whatever ace in the hole she had prepared was gone. There was always the chance she’d draw it again in the shuffle, but just as much chance that it would go dormant and unavailable for the fight.

  Ambrose pointed and cast [Vampiric Kiss] again. The pain in his stomach and chest lessened, but he still couldn’t put much weight on his burned leg without it crumpling.

  “Bast -- “ the Countdown ended, likely just a second before hers. The pain was great, but at least he’d kept the pressure up at the end. His hand refilled.

  Round 3

  Cantrip: [Vampiric Kiss], Spell: [Tap Thoughts]

  And then his mind fluttered as his discard shuffled and became his deck once more. One card stayed behind and went dark in his mind: [Night Terror].

  Well, that wasn’t ideal, but at least the spell in his hand would get it back.

  Creature: [Festering Wretch], Spell: [Shred Mind]

  If Ambrose still had use of his leg, it would’ve been a perfect hand to buy one more round so he could give a good counterattack later, knowing he’d have another imp and his kill spell again.

  “--ard!” Raeva finished, blinking the hiccup in awareness away. Then she smiled and pointed her finger at him. She looked hurt and weary, but still confident. It could have been a bluff. “Surrender now, and we’ll walk out, hand in hand.”

  “Over my dead body,” said Ambrose, pointing his own finger at her. “Which you’ll have to pay for. How about you surrender, and I’ll apologize to your brother anyway.”

  Surprise crossed her face, and he took that opportunity to cast [Vampiric Kiss] and drain some of her life. The agony in his leg lessened to discomfort, and he took off running gleefully.

  “Big mistake!” she crowed. Raeva cast her cantrip, and then copied it.

  “Oh,” said Ambrose, looking over his shoulder as the malevolent coals in her hand burst to life in angry flames. She flung a small avalanche of exploding embers his way. They connected with his back, and then everything went black.

  …

  “Ambrose?”

  …

  “Ambrose Adams!” The voice came from far away, from a land of light and aches and pains. He didn’t want anything to do with that voice. The dark void he floated in was much preferable to the noise that waited out there.

  “Ambrose!”

  The void jolted white, and then all the pain crashed into him at once. He tried to scream, but it came out as a whimper.

  “He’s alive, but is a bit charred. Let’s get him out of here. Medic!”

  Ambrose didn’t want to be wheeled out of the arena. His pride refused.

  “I’m okay,” he garbled, and forced himself to sit. His entire body screamed in protest, but he ignored it. A breeze on his back told him that his spell-resistant clothes were damaged. Whatever semblance of dignity he thought he had crumbled to dust.

  “Oh thank goodness,” Raeva said, cupping her hands over her mouth. For a second, she actually looked worried, and that took a little of the sting out.

  “Aww, you care,” he said, coughing weakly.

  “Give him some space,” said Professor Dietrich, waving her away.

  She ignored it and held out her hand. When he took it, she said, “Naw, I just want to make sure I don’t have to pay for your resuscitation. It was a good match, Ambrose. You might’ve won if you didn’t hit the barrier headfirst.”

  He grunted, and she pulled him to his feet. Within a second, his leg buckled.

  “Alright, enough of this bravado, we’re bringing in the stretcher,” said Dietrech. She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

  The medical team came out and loaded him up. He hated how much of a relief it was to not have to walk.

  “Remember Ambrose, when you get out of the infirmary, Meli’s place for dinner, with drinks on me,” Raeva called after him. “Work on your apology until then!”

  That’s when it really sunk in. His first match of the tournament, the first chance he had to establish himself as a force to be reckoned with…

  And he lost.