The opening: 2v2 arena tournament!

In Dalaran's enormous sewers, Antonidas floated in the air, resting with his eyes closed.

Citizens and adventurers gradually filed into the stands, with gasps and exclamations of admiration sounding from time to time.

They had never seen such a vast, hidden arena. Perhaps only Gurubashi Arena, far to the south of the Kingdom of Azeroth, could compare.

But the Trolls of the Gurubashi Empire reportedly still practiced the barbaric tradition of cannibalism. No country had established diplomatic relations with them, and only a handful of adventurers and Goblins operated in that savage land.

Time slowly passed. The stands filled with people, and fierce arguments and curses broke out now and then. Antonidas frowned, opened his eyes, and cast a mass concentration spell before saying,

"Welcome to Dalaran, everyone. Today..."

Sitting in the VIP section on the arena's eastern side, Hemet ignored Antonidas's lengthy opening speech and closed his eyes, snoring away. Only a flick to his head startled the old dwarf out of his pleasant dreams.

"Which bas... ah, it's you, Lord Al. Never mind, then."

Under the boy's angry gaze, the old dwarf sheepishly rubbed the large bump on his head. Antonidas had already finished his speech and returned to the western VIP section. The match was about to begin.

"Distinguished guests and dignitaries, I'm your host for this tournament. You can call me Edman 'Brush.'"

A handsome human host stood on a platform suspended beneath the dome, whipping up the crowd.

"Ahem. Now, let me introduce the rules."

Edman cleared his throat, and the noise in the stands quieted.

"The rules are... there are no rules!"

"Whooo!"

The stands, which had just fallen quiet, instantly erupted with thunderous cheers and whistles.

"I'm starting to like that sissy."

A burly dwarf waved his arms as he spoke to his companions. The host's words stirred the darkness in people's hearts, sending the crowd into an even wilder frenzy.

"Is this... really..."

Sitting behind Antonidas, Modera spoke uneasily, only to receive a warning look from him.

"This 2v2 tournament-or rather, 2v2 deathmatch-will end with the losers' surrender or death. Now, please welcome our red team's contestants with a round of applause..."

Satisfied with the crowd's excitement, Edman continued.

"From Fairbreeze Village in Quel'Thalas... Swineherd-Kainar Flamesun!"

"Booo!"

Boos swept through the stands. People sneered at the nickname Swineherd, and some even threw unfinished food and bottles into the arena below.

Rommath sneered. Though he could not make that lowborn Kaynell pay, having this bastard humiliated took only a word from him.

"You'll regret this, Rommath."

Al did not ask Rommath why he had done it. He simply spoke calmly.

"I don't think I caught that, Lord Al. Were you telling a joke?"

The grand archmage laughed as though he had heard something hilarious.

"I said his achievements are destined to surpass yours."

Al spoke as though stating a fact. With that, he ignored the furious grand archmage and turned his full attention to the match.

"Our other contestant is a genius of the younger generation from Silvermoon City's Sunwing family, Flame of the Phoenix-Quinnthas!"

Quinnthas waved ostentatiously at the stands, only to receive scattered applause.

"I hate that long-ear. He doesn't look like a gladiator at all."

An adventurer in crude leather armor hurled insults. Those delicate elves really irritated him.

Kaynell stood calmly beside Quinnthas, ignoring the high-ranking mage's taunts as he lowered his head in thought.

"Next are the blue team's contestants, representing Dalaran's Kirin Tor."

Clap, clap, clap!

Enthusiastic applause resounded throughout the arena, leaving the elves looking rather unhappy.

"He is the pride of Ironforge's mages, one of Dalaran's few dwarven mages. He... is the ruthless Arfus Alphamale!"

Before the host even finished, every dwarf in the stands rose to their feet. They had traveled all the way from Dun Morogh, crossing mountains and rivers to reach Dalaran.

All to cheer for their hero, their pride, Ironforge's only high-ranking mage.

A dwarf's naturally booming voice was worth three others. The dozen or so dwarves sounded like several hundred people cheering.

"See him, Erin? That's the pride of us Ironforge mages! Oh, heavens, his beard is so sexy! And that beautiful nose! His big nose is making me melt!"

The dwarven matron named Mel gripped the gnome girl's shoulders and shook her until the little gnome foamed at the mouth.

Ignoring the audience's reaction, the host continued his introductions:

"The other contestant is a battle mage from Dalaran's Kirin Tor. Our dear colleagues have given him a resounding nickname. He is... Mage's Bane-Xylem!"

"I'm sure you're all familiar with today's teams now. So, let's welcome the contestants entering our 2v2 tournament with your screams!"

Before his words faded, powerful torrents erupted from the enormous drainage pipes at the arena's four corners, washing the unprepared gladiators onto the fighting platform in disarray.

At the sight of the soaking wet gladiators scattered across the platform, the spectators burst into deafening laughter.

"Ha! It looks like our contestants are already getting fired up. For the audience's safety, we'd better cool them down first."

Edman delivered his rather unfunny joke, but the audience seemed to love it. The roar they unleashed nearly lifted the dome.

"Cheap showmanship."

Rommath curled his lip in disdain. To him, these dull little tricks could only please those lowly peasants.

Al, however, watched with relish. The bedraggled contestants below reminded him of funny moments from his previous life.

Quinnthas, the high-ranking mage from the Sunwing family, struck first. An instant Presence of Mind and Pyroblast combination sent powerful magical fluctuations surging out as it flew toward the dwarven mage, who had just stood up.

The dwarven mage stood motionless, seemingly unable to react. The fiercely blazing Pyroblast struck him square in the chest. Seeing black smoke rising from the dwarf, the audience let out sharp gasps.

"Hmph. Pathetic. Just stand here and watch me perform, Swineherd. You're getting off easy."

Quinnthas spat a thick gob of phlegm toward Kaynell, then aimed at the human mage and began chanting. He wanted to finish this quickly.

"Watch out!"

Kaynell's pupils contracted. He had seen that Pyroblast clearly. It was indeed an exceptional high-level spell, but something was very strange about that dwarf. As a high-ranking mage, there was no way he could have failed to sense such powerful magical fluctuations.

Just then, six or seven Fireballs flew out of the thick smoke. Every one struck Quinnthas. The proud elf paid the price for his arrogance.

Quinnthas collapsed, coughing blood. Blood bubbled from his mouth, and several large, charred holes in his chest and abdomen lay exposed before everyone.

"Impossible!"

Rommath shot to his feet, at a loss over what had happened in the arena.

As he panted heavily, huge beads of sweat rolled down the grand archmage's forehead. This was the youngest, most promising high-ranking mage of the Sunwing family's new generation. Quinnthas's death left him unable to sit still. The thought of how the Sunwing patriarch and His Majesty the Sun King would react when he returned to Quel'Thalas made him shudder.

Kaynell silently cast Molten Armor on himself. It was the first fifth-circle spell he had inscribed after becoming a high-ranking mage.

Then he chanted rapidly, casting the two protective spells, [Fire Ward] and [Frost Ward], on himself in turn. Strangely, however, the human mage in the distance made no other move, merely watching him mockingly.

The dwarven mage walked out of the smoke with only a couple of light coughs.

Kaynell looked closely, but found only a faint scorch mark on the dark brown robes the dwarf wore.

"Merciless Gladiator's Silk Armor..."

Al murmured to himself, making the dwarves and elves beside him pause.

As though offering an explanation, or recalling something, Al continued:

"According to legend, these robes forgo the spell enhancements of traditional mage robes, instead increasing spell resistance and the caster's stamina..."

"This is cheating! What right do they have..."

Rommath lost all his former arrogance and elegance, loudly denouncing Antonidas and the Kirin Tor's despicable conduct. But then, as though something had occurred to him, his agitation suddenly wilted, leaving him fumbling for words.

"Don't worry. Tools are only ever tools, and equipment is no different. I believe in him."

Al smiled faintly, as though Antonidas's underhanded maneuvers were nothing more than petty pranks.

"But..."

Kael'thas wanted to say more, but Hemet interrupted him with a solemn expression. The prince seemed to understand the meaning in the old dwarf's eyes: trust him. Trust Lord Al.

The view returned to the arena.

Kaynell threw himself entirely into the battle. He no longer paid attention to the cheers erupting from the stands, the mocking expressions on his opponents' faces, or... Lord Al's gaze.

A blur of light flashed, and Kaynell vanished.

The dwarf watched his surroundings warily. To think that Swineherd could use Greater Invisibility from the arcane school. It made his hair stand on end, and he stopped underestimating his opponent.

Xylem stood aside with his arms folded, having no intention of intervening. This was the agreement he had reached with the dwarven mage.

To him, this 2v2 arena match was merely a stepping stone, a stairway to advancement. The stronger his opponent, the more excited he became. He wanted the chairman to see his potential, and that dwarf was nothing more than a stepping stone.

That idiot. Why isn't he attacking?

With his back to the others, Antonidas cursed inwardly. This match was a crucial part of his plan. Nothing could be allowed to go wrong.

Shhk!

The sound of a blade slicing through flesh came from the dwarf. Unfortunately, with a desperate dodge, he ensured that the blade formed from flames pierced only his shoulder.

"Hiss!"

Enduring the pain, the dwarf stirred all the mana in his body. A golden shock wave swept across the entire arena. Xylem hovered in the air as though prepared, and the fiery shock wave did not harm him in the slightest.

Kaynell had no choice but to hover in the air. A trace of regret crossed his face, but he quickly regained his composure and began chanting.

Not to be outdone, the dwarf chanted as well. The two high-ranking fire mages began the mages' traditional specialty: trading spells head-on.

Brilliant light and thunderous explosions collided in the arena, drawing tremendous gasps from the audience. No one had expected this 2v2 arena match to be so spectacular. It was already worth far more than the five-gold admission price.

"Hit him! Hit him! Shove your big fireball into that little girl's mouth!"

The wild dwarven matron stood and waved her fists. Rather than annoying the spectators beside her, her filthy language stirred their ferocity. They all stood, hurling insults and cheering for the dwarf.

Kaynell cast Fireballs wearily, occasionally weaving in a Fire Blast or Living Bomb. His robes were already in tatters. Enduring the pain, he used Blink to reach the shelter of a mountain-like pile of wooden crates.

The elven mage's move sent the entire arena into an uproar. People angrily shouted, "Coward! Chicken!" and threw rotten apples and empty bottles into the arena below.

Kaynell slumped to the ground, leaning against the crates and panting heavily. Ignoring the noisy spectators overhead, he heard only one voice in his heart:

For Lord Al, I have to win...

Scorching flames exploded above Kaynell's head, turning the crates to ash. The elven mage could only drag his exhausted body onward and continue chanting.

The dwarven mage clutched his wound, looking somewhat bedraggled, but continued recklessly unleashing powerful fire magic.

There he is.

Seeing Kaynell flash out in disarray, the dwarf was thrilled. He released the spell he had been chanting all along.

A huge pillar of fire erupted beneath the elf's feet. Like a volcanic eruption, it melted the entire ground, and agonized howls rang out from the surging flames.

[Flamestrike], the fifth-circle war spell Kaynell had once cast, was perfectly reproduced by the dwarven mage and unleashed upon the poor elf.

"It's over. I knew that damned lowborn..."

Rommath's face was livid as he cursed incessantly. His followers behind him began whispering among themselves.

"It's not over yet."

The boy stared unblinkingly at the figure screaming within the Flamestrike. A moment later, he actually laughed heartily.

"He learns pretty fast."

"It's over! I'm the winner of this match!"

The dwarf failed to notice Xylem's grave expression beside him. He brazenly raised both arms and proclaimed his victory to his compatriots.

Shhk!

The dwarven mage's eyes widened as he stared incredulously at the blood-red flame blade protruding from his heart.

"Gurgle, gurgle."

Blood gushed from his mouth like a fountain. In the final moments of his life, the old dwarf abruptly remembered the long-ear who had just died at his feet.

"I... am... the... win... ner..."

In a daze, he uttered those faint, broken words, then fell to the ground with a thud.

Clap, clap, clap!

"What a splendid hat trick. Well done, elf."

Clapping, Xylem descended from the air. A wondrous gleam shone in the young human's eyes-the thrill and excitement of encountering an evenly matched opponent.

Kaynell panted heavily and dispersed the magical blade in his hand. The one who had rushed out from the crates was merely his mirror image. His real body had already approached the dwarven mage using Greater Invisibility once its cooldown ended.

"But in your current condition, do you still have any chance of beating me?"

Xylem spoke mockingly.

"Perhaps you should kneel and lick my boots. Then, merciful as I am, I'll accept your surrender."

The human mage licked the corner of his mouth and gave a bloodthirsty smile. Perhaps this was his true face. Perhaps this was the true meaning of Mage's Bane-Xylem.

His answer was a little fireball that flickered unsteadily. It wobbled into his robes, which remained as lustrous as new, without even the slightest scorch mark.

Xylem looked down at his robes, then let out an incredulous exclamation.

"All right, all right. It seems you've made your choice. And I... won't let you die easily."

Before the human mage finished speaking, he vanished. Pale violet magical fluctuations flashed, and Xylem appeared before Kaynell.

Kaynell sank weakly to his knees. Looking at the fist against his chest and Xylem's twisted smile, he merely sneered disdainfully and spat a thick gob of blood-flecked phlegm into the human mage's face.

A weak voice reached Xylem's ears.

"For... Al."

PS: First, thank you to the generous boss Tianqi Wang Hexi for the tip. You're too kind.

Posting first, editing later. Here's a 7,000-character chapter. On my knees begging for recommendation votes and monthly votes.

My deepest thanks~