“Citizens and honored guests from near and far! Do you hear me out there? Welcome, welcome, to Artemest’s 51st Relic Festival!”

  A woman’s voice rang out, carried through the air by some kind of magitech device, while cheers erupted from the stands and the gathering of fighters in the arena.

  To Sibeiya though, those roars might as well have not been there. Her eyes were locked onto the girl who had just stepped onto the grounds. Lilieth stared directly back at her, fire in her eyes.

  The announcer continued. “This is Camille Valenne, senior manager of the Guild’s Artemest branch and, once again, your host for this year’s festival! Now, normally, I would be accompanied by a special guest—who was very excited to be here, I might add—but due to unforeseen circumstances, she will be unable to join us for the start of today’s festivities. Not to worry! She’s alive! I hope.”

  Giggles spread through the audience.

  “I’m sure all of you are itching for some action right about now, but, but, but! Before we begin, let’s hear some words from the pride of Artemest herself: the heir to the city, Lady Cynthia Kastrionis!”

  A shift rippled through the coliseum, like a quiet that washed over everyone, followed by applause. Sibeiya furrowed her brow. Usually, it was Archon Hektor or Valery who gave the opening speech. She turned her gaze upwards to the central balcony that overlooked the entire space.

  There, a tiny figure emerged, dressed in ornate, regal attire. Cynth—no, Cynthia Kastrionis—stood with all the noble poise of an heir apparent. Sibeiya couldn’t see the immature, silly little girl she knew anywhere.

  “Citizens,” she began, her voice carrying clearly and silencing the applause. “Friends from beyond our walls, fighters who stand upon these sacred grounds …”

  To the side, Grits shifted his eyes away from Cynthia. What was that about?

  “For fifty years, this festival has tested more than strength. It has tested hearts, wills, and the resolve to stand back up after being struck down. In this coliseum, status will not shield you nor will talent guarantee you. Only what you prove here, today, will carry you forward.”

  Cynthia raised a hand to the crowd. “To our returning contenders, may you surpass the limits you’ve set.” She raised another hand. “To those stepping onto the grounds for the first time, know that by simply standing here, you have already shown us your valor. I offer you this: Artemest shall always reward excellence. Let your future be forged in the flames of victory.”

  The little heir clenched one of her hands into a fist and raised it above her head, and with the fiercest roar she could muster, she declared: “Warriors! Show me how you stand!”

  The crowd’s response was a resounding cheer, raising their voices in zeal and their fists up high. Sibeiya was tempted to do so herself with how well the young lady handled that speech. How many times must she have practiced that?

  But her attention was drawn back to Lilieth, who stood a distance away from them.

  The hells is that bitch doing here?

  Lilieth Lasvenn felt great—maybe even better than she ever had. Her body was light, and the path ahead was clear.

  She stood amidst the crowd of fighters, all towering over her, and yet, she felt like she belonged there. These were, of course, Markosh’s feelings, but she proudly claimed them as her own. He had no more use for them, and she’d rather not put them to waste.

  That’s right. She could take what she needed from others and, through that, complete herself.

  It looks to me, Lasvenn, that you don’t know who you are.

  She remembered Yupanai Nomari’s words that day: the day she left to chase after her vision, so guided by the words of the goddess she once worshipped.

  Now, she understood perfectly well who she was.

  She was someone who could remember even the slightest details without fail, someone who could learn others’ skills and abilities after witnessing them just once.

  She was a Mimicmage through and through, and the only way she had a shot at killing those “heroes” was if she embraced that idea of herself.

  “A round of applause for our little heir, everyone!” The announcer’s voice was raised to match the fervor of the crowd. “I’m sure you’re all eager to begin, so let’s start off by establishing some ground rules!”

  Several panels appeared high above the tiered steps, projected by magitech devices hidden somewhere among the pillars. Of course, being sponsored by the Guild meant that Salcaelite magitech would be prevalent.

  “During the first round, we will be treated to a free-for-all as our one-hundred-and-sixty odd participants whittle themselves down to just sixteen!” The words the announcer, Camille, spoke displayed themselves on the panels.

  “Every participant is required to carry one main weapon and is allowed one sub-weapon! Of course, we at the Guild are happy to provide weapons that have been dulled, to ensure the safety of our fighters, but just in case, we have Healmages stationed nearby for some quick healing!”

  Lilieth briefly turned to Niko, who she noticed had joined the festival as a fighter. She guessed that, otherwise, he would have been among the healers. He didn’t seem the type to participate in the first place, really.

  “You must carry a weapon with you at all times! If you’re to attack someone, you must do it with a weapon in hand! Otherwise, you’re disqualified! If you’re divested of your weapons, then try your best to get them back or steal someone else’s! The choice is yours!”

  Similar rules to that of Spearman’s duels—Lilieth had read up on the festival’s rules in advance, so she already knew this. If Cynth’s words were to be believed, Guillem Spearman was one of the founders of the festival, so it made sense that his duels had similar rules. If only anything else about him made sense, though ...

  “You’re out of the tournament if you can’t fight anymore, if you’re without a weapon in your hands for more than ten seconds, or if your identification bracelet breaks! Keep them safe, folks! Oh, and for the Blessed people participating! Remember: spells are not allowed! Those bracelets will notify us if you’re casting any, and you will automatically be disqualified!”

  “That’s a bit different from Spearman’s duels,” Lilieth said to herself. “No spells allowed, period.”

  That was fine. Right now, she wasn’t focused on stealing spells. She could tell, instinctively, that the only reason she was able to use Markosh’s spells at all was because of his memories, and Lilieth still didn’t really know the conditions for stealing memories yet.

  Lilieth scanned the crowd of fighters, trying to evaluate her opponents.

  She had three goals for this festival.

  One: test out the techniques she knew. So far, she’d only ever fought against wyverns and the Flockmother or sparred against Spearman’s students. This was the perfect opportunity to test her newfound skills against a wider variety of targets.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Two: find more techniques to steal. The Relic Festival was a hotpot of combat styles from many different arts, disciplines, and cultures.

  And three ...

  Lilieth’s gaze met Sibeiya’s. There was a crowd between them now, and they were quite a distance away from each other, but it was like there was no one there but the two of them.

  Spearman’s rules were clear, and he had specific distinctions about what counted as a duel.

  It will not be counted as a proper duel if it is not officiated either by me or by one who bears Artemest’s archon sigil.

  The Relic Festival was held and hosted by the Kastrionis family, the current archons of Artemest.

  You have until the end of this year’s Azalerra tournament. Once it is over and a winner for the tournament has been announced, then this contract is null and void.

  The winner for the tournament won’t be announced until after the fight has ended.

  Before then, you may choose to hold a duel at any time so long as the other party agrees to the duel and an officiator—or their representative—is present and validates it.

  Lilieth stared at Sibeiya, though it was much more of a glare than anything else at that point. The desert girl’s eyes widened then melted into a fierce death stare of her own. That was all the confirmation Lilieth needed to know that Sibeiya was aware of what she was after—the acceptance of a duel, right here amidst the sea of fighters they stood among.

  Cynthia Kastrionis was present as the officiator to this tournament. The other party agreed to fight. She’d checked all the boxes.

  This Relic Festival now counted as the third of Spearman’s duels. Lilieth didn’t need to win the tournament, she just needed to defeat her.

  “And without further ado,” the announcer said, “let’s kick the festivities off! Everyone, count down with me!”

  The fighters shifted, moving to get more advantageous spots before the tournament began.

  “Ten!” the crowd roared. “Nine! Eight!”

  The warriors in the arena became frantic, pushing each other as they positioned themselves. Some agreed to team-up for better chances, though Lilieth was skeptical that such alliances would hold.

  “Seven! Six!”

  Lilieth calmly moved to the edge of the arena. She could see Sibeiya, Albus, and Grits do the same, along with many other fighters, including Phaedon in the distance.

  “Five!”

  The first few seconds were going to be the most chaotic. That instant would see the fastest decline in participants, she guessed.

  “Four!”

  Lilieth didn’t yet unsheathe her longsword. It was smaller than the one she was used to, but it would be enough for now.

  “Three!”

  Time seemed to slow down. Lilieth checked her backup weapon, a small blunt dagger sheathed behind her belt. You were allowed to bring in your own weapons, provided they weren’t lethal.

  “Two!”

  She could feel the hearts of everyone in the arena rumble. Everyone, in that moment, collectively held their breaths.

  “One!”

  She let out a breath.

  “Let the festival begin!”

  Dozens of blades clashed in a thunderous roar. Immediately, four fighters rushed at Lilieth, seeing her as an easy target.

  She anticipated that, of course, and with a single swing, she unsheathed her blade, her one strike landing a solid, lightning-fast hit across their temples. She’d already sheathed her blade before the four hit the ground, unconscious.

  She doubted she needed to use Zero Mind for that. They were far slower than the people she’d fought so far. Still, it was better than being complacent and letting people get an advantage over her.

  “We’re off, folks!” the announcer’s voice battled against the chaos of the crowd. “My, my! Everyone’s bringing their A-game already! Counts are in: of the hundred-and-sixty participants, forty-eight have already been taken out, and that number is rapidly climbing!”

  Lilieth scanned the arena, keeping track of the more powerful participants and making sure she knew where they were all while fending off the fodder. She was starting to have an appreciation for Spearman and his students. These other fighters were skilled in their own rights, but they were so much easier to deal with compared to the likes of Grits and Albus. It was eye-opening. A month ago, she wouldn’t have been able to hold her own like this.

  “...”

  She sucked in a breath, forcing herself to focus.

  Any one of the people in the hero’s party would have been able to deal with this entire crowd by themselves. She couldn’t be impressed with this level of performance.

  Greedy—she needed to be a lot more greedy.

  “What an incredible turn of events!” announcer Camille said, rising alongside gasps and cheers from the crowd. “Fighters Zoryn and Myrkaela have been taken down! They were fan favorites from last year, so this is one hell of an upset! Ooh, and there goes Fighter Jeremiah, once again falling in the first round, making this his seventh consecutive first-round loss! Looks like this year isn’t his year either!”

  Lilieth tore through opponent after opponent, defeating each of them soundly as they rushed at her. She never initiated—she waited until someone went offensive on her. They came in droves, perhaps thinking a small girl would be easy pickings. She switched from fighting style to fighting style, deliberately using a different one against each opponent, if only to test them out.

  Zero Mind, Diagrama, United Heavens, Highland Anvil, Violet Moon, Beggar’s Style, Bumblebee, Saltpillar.

  More. More!

  Her blood boiled, and at some point down the line, she was laughing as she fought. However, Lilieth found herself unsatisfied. When she fought Sibeiya, who countered each one of the styles she fought with, she found herself improving drastically faster as a fighter. These bouts left her unstimulated on a level she never expected.

  Then, there was a loud explosion accompanied by screams. Lilieth turned to see several men flying through the air, thrown to the ground senseless.

  At the source, she saw a familiar woman standing, a giant gauntlet of steel, gears, and cogs around her right arm. The pale blonde hair tied into a complicated braid, completed by a top hat, and round-framed goggles on her head made her easy enough to recognise.

  “U-uh, incredible!” the announcer said, her voice trembling slightly for some reason. “That was, uh, such an incredible attack! And, um ...”

  Lilieth dodged a strike from behind and retaliated with a hit to the head with her pommel. Then, a pause from Camille.

  The announcer gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Rohgi’s seven nights, Sandrine, what in the Salt King’s name are you doing down there?” Her tone immediately shifted from that of a professional announcer to one of more roughness and annoyance. “You’re supposed to be! Up! Here!” The crowd laughed.

  “Camille!” Sandrine Isabeau Artois waved to the press box on the stands. It seemed she was unsure that that was where the announcer even was. “Don’t worry! These gauntlets are non-lethal! I made sure!”

  “I can’t hear what you’re saying, but I know it’s something stupid again!” Camille all but yelled. “You’re here as an announcer! What are you doing fighting?! When did you even—?!”

  Sandrine only gave a thumbs-up with her giant fist, with a wide toothy grin to accompany it.

  “I swear to the Gods, I’m going to—!”

  The announcer continued her rant for some time, but Lilieth had already realigned her focus to fighting again. As the round progressed, the fighters she battled became increasingly more skilled; the weaker ones were culled. Still, none of them were as skilled as Spearman’s students. She could get by.

  One fighter, a massive man thrice her size, swung a battle-axe towards her. His style of fighting was slow but powerful. She recognized it as the Krysanthian Ringing Bell. She learned it during Spearman’s training, but the way the man used the style was different, some moves trading power for slightly more speed. Was it a variation of Ringing Bell or just a personal quirk of his?

  Either way, it seemed useful, so she committed it to memory—not that she had the choice not to.

  The man managed to knock Lilieth’s weapon away. She immediately grabbed hold of his axe and pulled herself upwards, locking his head with her legs and pulling him down, slamming his face to the ground.

  Lilieth wrested the man’s axe from him, held it by its butt, then swung it around. It was a heavy piece of work, but she was able to build up enough momentum to twirl it four times, knocking away a group of people that tried to charge at her. She released the axe in the direction of another oncoming large fighter. He was wearing heavy armor, but the force of the attack was enough to dent his plate and knock him back and onto the ground. Lilieth immediately retrieved her longsword and switched to the Bladewaltz, tearing through a bundled crowd like a whirlwind.

  “...”

  There was a ringing in her mind.

  As she danced through the crowd, something was tugging at her.

  What was it?

  Something was missing. Something that shouldn’t have been gone was gone.

  “Tch!”

  Lilieth cleared her head as she swept her leg across the ground, knocking someone down and, with a single slash, broke their identification bracelet, the protruding gemstone shattering into pieces.

  She continued onwards, switching disciplines as the situation called for it. She slashed, and slashed, and slashed, and slashed, and slashed.

  More, more, more!

  Her blood was searing her from the inside, and her body felt desperate to satisfy the thrill that dominated her. Her desire to feed it grew and grew, threatening to burst out and devour her whole. And she wanted to let it.

  More! Rip and tear through those bloody bastards! Show them! Show all of them!

  She exploded into roaring laughter as she continued her streak—a vulgar sound that didn’t belong to her. And—

  Lilieth felt a powerful presence behind her. She turned and blocked a spear strike, the dulled tip just centimeters away from her eye. Her focus quickly darted between the weapon and the desert girl before their gazes locked, the embers from the flames in their eyes colliding. Lilieth pushed back, creating distance between them.

  Once again, it was like everything else disappeared, and it was only the two of them. She would have preferred to face off against her earlier, but everyone else was in the way.

  Lilieth smiled, readying her blade. Sibeiya pointed her spear low, prepared to lunge. Two arrows pulled back, aimed true.

  A moment passed—a single second stretched to eternity.

  “—”

  Two exhales released at the same time.

  And the arrows loosed.