Nor, unable to move, took the attack and roared in pain as Shan’s fangs seared into his flesh.
Empowering his legs, Vir swept the Iksana’s feet out from under him, and with one hand on Nor’s arm and the other on his shoulder, managed to roll so that he was on top of the demon.
Shan let go, then re-engaged, biting Nor’s leg and holding him there.
But Vir hadn’t just flipped Nor. He’d flipped him in a very particular direction. A direction that took him right to his Artifact Chakram.
Straddling Nor, Vir picked up the weapon and brought it to Nor’s neck.
The demon went very still, staring at the weapon in terror. Words might’ve been unnecessary, but Vir wanted to take no chances.
“You’ve seen what this can do,” he said. “And I’ll tell you right now, I haven’t opened the Shield Chakra. If you hit me with a Warrior Chakra attack, I’ll be forced to take it in full. And I know you know what that means.”
For one, it’d mean Vir would be crippled for life, but it also meant Nor would be disqualified from the Tournament, and would likely face criminal charges. It was, perhaps, an unorthodox way of fighting—admitting to a weakness.
Vir didn’t care. He’d use every means at his disposal to win. Especially when it meant depriving his enemy of an ability that would have killed him in any setting outside a sanctioned, nonlethal tournament.
Nor looked at Vir with a blank expression for a long moment, and then, without emotion, he spoke.
“I yield.”
There was silence for a moment. Then two.
Then the commentator finally spoke.
“V-Victoooor, Vaak!”
There was another moment of silence, and then the arena erupted. Not with cheers, but boos.
“It was the wolf!” they said.
“Wolf’s victory!”
“No, it was the Artifact! That’s cheating, using a weapon of the gods!”
“Freeloader!”
“Hack!”
To Vir, the denouncement couldn’t have made him happier. Not only had he defeated Nor, but he’d won in a way that would cause his next opponents to underestimate him, paying more attention to Shan instead.
It was, in fact, the best possible outcome. For there was a saying amongst warriors who survived the Ash.
The Shrike hides its talons.
The first round was over. Only three more remained.
Vir stepped off the stage and smiled.
96TO MAKE WAVES
“Did you see the look on his face?” Cirayus roared. “Devastated! Utterly devastated, I tell you!”
Aida, Vir, and Cirayus were currently back at home, having fought past the crowds and the cheers—though in reality, mostly booing—to make it back safely. Cirayus and Shan’s presences had almost been necessary to ward off would-be lynchers.
After playing his guard role, Shan had disappeared as he tended to, leaving Vir and Cirayus alone until Aida had arrived.
The amount of hatred and disbelief that had come Vir’s way was a sight to behold. Individually, he could’ve taken any of them. But against a crowd of tens of thousands? Vir was beyond glad for Cirayus’ comforting presence.
Unfortunately, his godfather wouldn’t always be around to protect him. The next time he ventured out there, he’d have to deal with this problem himself.
“Serves that upstart right. Never once did he beat me. What an embarrassment, eh?”
Vir smiled, but it was an empty smile.
“What’s got you worried, lad? Don’t tell me you’re put out by not being able to join the others?”
The tournament fighters all tended to congregate at a particular tavern near the center of Camar Gadin after the day’s fights. It’d been a tradition for centuries. Tara was likely there right now, drinking it up.
“Not in the slightest. I’ve drawn too much attention as it is. And if I’m not mistaken, Tara’s probably the only one there who doesn’t hate my guts right now.”
“Well, that may be an exaggeration, but…” Even Cirayus must have concluded that this was indeed the case because he quickly switched tacks. “The booing? Don’t worry about it. The mood of a crowd can be swayed in the course of a single fight. Keep winning and you’ll be a fan favorite.”
Cirayus was once again working the kitchen whipping up a feast, each of his four hands handling a different dish on the stove. This was to be a celebratory meal, commemorating Vir’s first win, and Vir couldn’t wait to taste it.
“That’s actually what I’m afraid of,” he replied. “I can’t help but think this matchup was rigged. Either by Thaman or some other party. It’d have been so much easier for my enemies to underestimate me, like Zarak’Nor did. Sure, they’d have caught on by the third fight, but then I’d only have two left, and one would be against you.”
“Now, don’t be so sure of that, lad,” Cirayus said, prompting Vir to roll his eyes.
“Now, my next opponent will be on their guard against me. It’s going to make this a lot harder.”
Aida shrugged. “Cirayus tells me you’re trying to make a name for yourself. Wouldn’t you rather fight at the top of your game and put on a show? What use is it to take the low road?”
“That’s… fair,” Vir admitted. The more of a spectacle he put on now, the more his name would be remembered when he eventually revealed himself. “Just wish I had the confidence to win. That was not an easy fight.”
“Lad, you just bested the last tournament’s champion!” Cirayus said with a chuckle. “Of course, it wasn’t an easy fight.”
“You’re saying my fights should be easier from here?” Vir asked, suspicious.
“Not saying that at all,” Cirayus replied. “Roshan would’ve mopped the floor with Nor, as could several others competing this time. Nor won not because he was strong, but because his competition was lacking.”
Great, Vir thought. There was no way it would have been that easy. Besides, he had the uneasy feeling he’d be fighting Tara. She didn’t seem like the type to lose in the first round. Not one bit.
Oddly, fighting her left a sour taste in his mouth. Even more than the prospect of fighting Cirayus. At least between them, there’d be no hard feelings, no matter who won. With Tara? He was less certain. The demoness had a fierce combative streak, and if Vir did defeat her, he worried their relationship may suffer.
Tara was quickly becoming a friend and ally, and the thought of jeopardizing that saddened him.
“I swear,” Aida said, rising from her position across the room and coming to stand before Vir. “You look like you just lost your match, not won it! This isn’t how a victor should be. Now come on. Cheer up, and let’s enjoy this meal. It might just be the last one I get before I head out.”
Vir’s brows raised. “You’re ready to leave for the Ash?” he asked, feeling his pulse quicken.
The giantess grinned knowingly. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. You have another thing coming if you think you can get rid of me that easily.”
“What do you mean?” Vir asked, genuinely confused.
“I mean the competition, of course! I’m not going anywhere until I see the finals.”
Vir blinked, unsure how to take that.
“She’s not joking, lad,” Cirayus said, waving his ladle. “You’d best resign yourself to the fact that your troops won’t be getting a Thaumaturge until after the tournament’s finished.”
Vir deflated, slumping back in his chair. “Balagra will kill me if he hears of this.”
Still, the tournament would last less than two weeks. Soon, he’d return to the Ash. He’d get to reunite with Malik and Balagra and check in on the troops.
Vir smiled. Regardless of how the tournament went, that made him happy.
Dinner went about as expected, which was to say—blissfully. Not only was Cirayus’ medley of curries, rice dishes, and cooked flatbread delicious, the desserts he’d made were otherworldly. It seemed the giant had started cooking the night before in preparation of Vir’s victory.