The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

The fight between Charlotte Wick and DiOrtho Vant at least satisfied the audience’s desire for a huge confrontation. Most of the high-level image work went above their heads, but there was certainly plenty of arena breaking and massive impacts. Randidly was, in fact, forced to deploy more and more of his Nether storm around the arena to keep the kinetic impacts from ripping outward and pulping some of the more mundane audience members.

Who knew that Tatiana just wanted me here as a public safety mechanism…

After that match, the tournament took a two-hour break for lunch. Randidly licked his lips and looked over at the wooden board on which Tatiana wrote the winners of the various matches. Halfway through the round, four of the people who would challenge him had been determined: Alana, Kimpap, Paolo, and Charlotte Wick.

Get four more competitors like this and maybe this will be fun, Randidly grinned wolfishly. Then he pulled out his Philosopher’s Key and went to B’s Crossing for lunch.

He came back slightly late, earning him a sharp look from Tatiana. He could practically see her judging the timeline of various events to keep the day from going off without a hitch. But Randidly didn’t regret it; after hearing about B’s Crossing’s increasing pressure from the Zone 1 developers from Bethyl, Randidly planned to act personally.

Partially because he was tired of relying on Tatiana to handle certain problems, but partially because he felt like he should interact more with an average person on Expira.

But that was for later. For now, the next match: Hank Howard v. Wolfram.

The massive three-headed ogre’s skin had darkened since Randidly had last seen him. His arms were covered in vicious scars that made it appear the ogre had dipped his arms in lava. But each of his three heads still wore vicious expressions of determination. Despite the fact that most ogres outed themselves as kindly scholars in recent years, it was still easy to understand why so many were afraid of the ogres as Hank Howard stood at one-third his height.

The former leader of the Ogre World had ruled for quite a while. That innate dominance rolled off him and pressured the entire arena.

“I feel obliged ta admit I made anti-magic bullets ta fight ya,” Hank grinned without acknowledging that aura.

Wolfram’s middle head smirked. The left head snorted. The right said. “I have anti-bullet magic. So we are even, horse rider.”

This match felt like watching a pre-System fireworks display. Both the complex tapestry of mana Skills released by Wolfram and Hank’s sharp shots from his repeater glittered and exploded in bursts of delightful color. And the variety was breathtaking. There were fireballs, lightning bolts, ice novas, acid splashes, purple waves of corrosion, and white rays of annihilation. Wolfram waved his hands and the various Skills seemed to combine and split until he fire bolts of acid, waves of annihilation, balls of lightning, and sweeping tides of fire.

From a small group of starting Skills, soon he had thousands of different combinations sizzling across toward his foe.

Yet each time, Hank’s shots were accurate and cut through the core circuit of the Skill. For a small amount of time, the attacks drifted forward, but eventually, they sputtered and exploded in a burst of color.

Of course, their high Stats meant that the two were exchanging about five such exchanges a second. The remnants of the prior Skills popped and crackled to the ground even as the next barrage started. And in the meantime, both developed their images in the periphery around the confrontation.

Hank’s was a song about himself, the last cowboy, fighting in a strange world full of monsters and magic. He was grit and effort and charm and the desire to solve a problem with his own hands. Wolfram’s image concerned himself as well, an ancient allegory for the forgotten ogre, despised by his family, who climbed the ladder of power through sheer force of will and a desire to live. He was a maestro of magic, creating and repurposing Skills to form unique attacks.

He was a genius. He was unstoppable. He was indomitable.

The two images curled around each other, varying their frequencies to try and grasp an advantage for several minutes. Skills and bullets destroyed each other, over and over again. Neither individual had moved from their starting positions.

At the same time, they ceased their glittering and sparkling display. The whole arena fell silent, holding its breath.

“So, we finally get serious,” Hank grunted and drew his revolver. The ivory-handled weapon glittered in the sunlight. He lazily reached up, popped out the cylinder and spun it. With a flick of the wrist, the weapon snapped back together, ready to fire. He took careful aim.

“Volcano.”

“Tidal Wave.”

“Surge of Pestilence,”

Wolfram’s three heads activated different Skills in unison. The ground began to rumble as energies rushed to form the three different and violent manifestations. However, Wolfram deftly plucked the pieces he wanted from the three different Skills and wove them together into a new, more powerful form.

Hank’s finger tightened on the trigger.

From within the ground, Randidly felt a sinister pressure building. When that ‘volcano’ erupted, it would unleash a tide of sickness and disease, a grey sludge that could corrode even an image. Randidly leaned back in his seat feeling vaguely flattered. His image… he took his inspiration from me. From my ability to utilize three separate images at once. And combined it directly with his Skills-

A horrifying explosion of death surged out of the ground. Small worms and grubs, filled with ill will and hunger, squirmed and twisted to intercept Hank’s bullet. Wolfram’s image spun together and empowered that wave of death; this became the ultimate genius of the ogre’s three minds, his masterwork Skill.

Randidly clicked his tongue. You are trying too hard. If you don’t yet believe this is your greatest possible Skill-

Hank’s bullet blazed like a golden comet. It ripped through the explosion tinted by doubt and drilled through Wolfram’s shoulder.

The ogre staggered and sighed. “Heh, my tools are too mundane, even with clever arrangements. I just recently achieved this capability. For now, I am inferior. However, when I develop higher Rarity Skills… when I finally grow a fourth head to incorporate into this capability…”

“I’ll take a rematch, annatime,” Hank flashed a smile. He blew smoke away from the barrel of his revolver, spun the weapon, then slammed it back into his leather holster.

“The winner is Hank Howard,” Randidly announced. And so the tournament continued.

Next came Allowaen, the woman who was also a Chimera descended from Randidly subconscious, fighting against Li Hong from Zone 7. Before the match, Randidly had very little impression of either of them, aside from the fact that Li Hong possessed a deep connection to Arbor.

In the match, both demonstrated that they were much more capable than Randidly’s cursory glances had indicated.

Allowaen had inherited more than a little of the Calamity’s raw might. Her attacks were vicious and filled with an implacable greyness that was born in the vicious intensity of the Grey Creature. Randidly rubbed his chest, where his Nether Core twinged painfully, as Allowaen managed to release great wedges of raw destruction toward her foe. She hacked with a massive ax, cleaving the very air with each attack.

However, Li Hong simply smiled and spun in a graceful dance. His arms twisted and swayed to an inaudible rhythm. He dispersed Allowaen’s raw force and left her frustrated and spent. His own attacks were deft palms with surprising penetrative power. After deflecting a massive destructive wave, he spun closer and jabbed with his dangerous hands. He was the viscous surface of water, reacting up ultimately reducing all outside force to dispersed ripples.

His ability to connect energy is quite impressive. Randidly mused. And more than that, what he appreciated about this match was that the nature of Li Hong’s methods meant that he didn’t need to use extra Nether to neutralize Allowaen’s wild attacks. Sure, the stage suffered, but that was the extent of the damages. He simply allowed the match to continue to its inevitable conclusion, with the Chimera woman collapsing with exhaustion before she even conceded or Li Hong landed a direct blow.

The second to last match of the Round of 16 was Kayle versus Drake. Randidly straightened as the two fighters walked onto the stage because Nether swirled in a way he hadn’t expected: the momentum of Nether indicated that Drake would win.

Randidly refrained from checking their images with Grim Intuition; he wanted to experience the match for himself.

Kayle stood on the balls of his feet with two long knives in his hands. A dozen more were strapped to his chest and sides. He was a glittering figure of leather and steel, ready for any threat. His image was direct and potent; from what Randidly could tell, Kayle had recently begun receiving some pointers from the Patron of Blades. His eyes released a gaze that was sharp enough to cut.

Drake, at first, seemed a much more mundane competitor. He walked out in jeans and a t-shirt, a bastard sword slung across his back. However, when he drew that sword, his whole visage changed.

Another presence settled on his shoulder; his elemental, a strange little mahogany hedgehog, raised its head and released a squeal. Shadows congealed around his body, condensing into heavy slabs of bone across his torso, shoulders, and arms. Those shadows flow down, covering his legs and creating a massive knight of bone that stood in the middle of the arena. A heavy and dark helmet covered his eyes, revealing only two glowing red coals. Smoke wafted out from beneath his feet

Drake in his Death Knight form cracked his knuckles and tightened his grip on his bastard sword. In response, an ominous pulse spread out through the Nether in the surrounding area. Randidly’s eyebrows went sharply upward. He spent quite a while within his coma, there is no way he could catch up in Levels or Stats. But in terms of emotional affect…

Kayle nodded solemnly in recognition of his opponent. The match began with both men advancing with bared blades.

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