Ashborn Primordial

Chapter Ashborn 323: The Fighters Banquet (Two)

As Vir stepped into the ballroom, he thanked the gods for his prior experience escorting Tia in Avi. It hadn’t been much, but it was enough to make himself not look like a total fool.

Even, slow strides, to allow Tara—wearing high heels—to maintain her rhythm in those precarious shoes.

The situation was worsened, because unlike himself, Tara looked absolutely at home in this setting. He could scarcely believe it, considering she’d been crushing his bones earlier in the day. Right now, she looked like an ordinary, delicate girl—though one who still exuded an aura of confidence.

“Announcing the arrival of Vaak—of the Ash, and Tara, of Panav,” the greeter called out.

A few heads turned at Tara’s mention, but their entrance mostly went ignored. Vir guided Tara into the large hall, his eyes taking in the spectacle.

In the center was a large open space where a few couples were dancing, but the night was still early, and it was mostly empty. Instead, most of the demons gathered around tall tables, mingling and laughing.

Unsurprisingly, a large group had formed around Cirayus, and unlike nearly all the other guests, Cirayus paid such things as decorum no mind. Vir could hear the giant’s roars of laughter even from here. He decided to steer well clear of that throng.

All along the left wall was a vast assortment of dishes, and many were helping themselves to appetizers.

“I’d… appreciate that,” Vir said, surprised at her graciousness.

“What? I’m not going to strangle you, you know?” Tara said with a snicker. “I may be a badass warrior, but I’m also a girl. I know how to act the part.”

Vir wondered why Tara would have to ‘act’ if she genuinely was as effeminate as she claimed, but wisely chose to keep that thought to himself. She certainly looked the part.

Her backless dress showed off her intricate silver Panav tattoos for all the world to see—a common theme among the other demons. While the males wore clothing similar to Vir’s, the women did all they could to show off their skin, and thus their power.

Vir felt that was a bit foolish. Announcing their abilities like that only benefited their opponents. Then again, most of the combatants had fought before, and all of their abilities would already be known. Vir also supposed this was an opportunity for them to forge connections and show their status. Tattoos here were a bit like clothing and jewelry in the Human Realm. Those existed here as well, of course, though they took second place to the display of physical power.

Tara applied some pressure to Vir’s arm, guiding him to a group of chatting Bairans. “You’ve already met Thaman, the Raja of Baira,” Tara said, gesturing with her chin to the giant who stood a full head and a half higher than his peers.

“But the one next to him—the clean-shaven red four?”

Red four? Though he hadn’t heard that shorthand before, it was clear she was talking about the four-armed red demon beside Thaman. It was a nice naming system, though one Vir hadn’t heard in Chitran lands. Was it a Panav thing? Or Bairan?

“That’s Roshan,” Tara continued. “His son. He’s never won the competition, but he was hoping to prove his mettle this year. That was, until the Ravager showed up. He doesn’t have a chance against Cirayus, but he’s one to look out for. He has surprisingly good mastery of the Bairan regular bloodline tattoos, despite his young age, and his gigantic poleaxe makes it hard to attack him. Don’t underestimate him.”

“Thanks,” Vir said. “That’s genuinely useful. You say he’s young. Younger than you?” Vir ventured.

His question had been driven both out of curiosity and a desire to gain a leg up on the battlefield. Older demons had more combat experience, better Bloodline Art mastery, and had opened more Chakras. It was that last one that bothered him the most.

While Vir thought his question had been subtle, Tara’s tight smile said otherwise. When she drove her heel onto his foot, he knew for certain.

Point taken, Vir thought. The stiletto heel would’ve sent most humans doubling over with pain, but with his prana-engorged body, Vir scarcely noticed it.

“What are you even made of?” Tara muttered, making Vir grin.

“I suppose you’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?”

Tara rolled her eyes and gestured to a group of Chitran kothis who were talking amongst themselves, making no motion to speak with outsiders.

“That’s Annas and his cadre,” Tara said. “Annas is a veteran of the Tournament. Been competing for almost a century now. He’s not especially talented, but you don’t need much talent when you have that much time to practice. If there’s one thing about him, it’s that he’s dedicated.”

“What’s his fighting style like?” Vir asked, half guessing the answer.

“Fast and agile. He fights with dual katars—something you don’t usually see. Effective, though. It works well with his physique. Not only is he fast, he also packs quite a punch. And of course, he’s got all the regular Chitran Bloodline Arts.”

Which meant he had Warlord’s Domain and Battlecry, and Coercion.

Both of the Warlord abilities could be nasty—striking fear into Vir and slowing him down—but as Vir had witnessed, Chitran abilities shone only on the battlefield. In a one-on-one duel, Vir had some faith he could counter the demon. Especially with Prana Armor protecting him.

Vir continued to circle around the area with Tara when some strangers approached them. It was an Iksana couple, and Vir instinctively focused on his new tattoo. It had been running continuously while he’d been in Camar Gadin, but he double-checked to make sure.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Well, well,” the ghael said. “You again? Do you never learn?”

Tara narrowed her eyes. “Nor. A pleasure as always.”

Nor? Zarak’Nor? It was the same Iksana he’d run into with Cirayus on the way into Samar Patag. The one who’d been angry about Cirayus stealing his kill when the Shrikes attacked.

“Do yourself a favor. Don’t waste a slot. Those are precious. Give it to someone who stands a chance of winning.”

“Funny,” Tara said icily. “I don’t recall you ever winning before the Ravager left. Tough talk from this year’s loser.”

Nor growled. “Watch yourself, Tara. And pray that we do not fight.”

Tara rolled her eyes as Nor’s gaze slid over to Vir.

“Hmm. Have I seen you before?”

“He’s my partner,” Tara said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Vir said, bowing his head slightly.

Nor, apparently finding Vir uninteresting, grunted.

“I’ll see you on the stage, Tara,” Nor said, guiding his partner away. “Just make sure you don’t lose before we fight.”

Tara stared daggers into the Iksana’s back as she watched him walk off.

“He’s the worst,” she hissed. “He’s decent in combat, but he’s mastered Dance of the Shadow Demon beyond any Iksana I’ve ever seen. He’s sly, vicious, and deadly.”

Vir knew firsthand just how lethal Dance of the Shadow Demon could be. Especially in this realm where strong shadows abounded.

Maybe I can learn something by watching him, Vir thought, resolving himself to not miss Nor’s matches.

Tara turned to Vir and looked him in the eyes. “If you fight him before I do, make sure you beat him into a pulp.”

“Back at you. But… What gives you so much confidence that I’ll win?” Vir asked, guiding Tara over to the array of appetizers that had been laid out. Even if he might not enjoy the food as much in this formal environment, that didn’t mean he wasn’t at least going to try some.

“You mean other than having the Ravager’s glowing endorsement?” Tara asked, giving Vir a pointed look. “It’s the way you fight. Your confidence. Your moves. It’s almost like they’re made for monsters. I’ve fought others who fight that way.”

“That right?” Vir asked, doing his best to maintain a detached expression as he eyed the food.

“It is. And you know what all those Warriors had in common?”

“I bet you’re about to tell me,” Vir quipped. He really didn’t want Tara poking into his identity, but the demon didn’t seem like she’d let him change the topic easily.

“They had all spent decades of their lives in the Ash. You also claim that title. Yet you’re far too young to have amassed enough experience to fight that way.”

“Well, I’ve always been a fast learner,” Vir said, feeling very done with this topic.

“Nuh, uh. I’m not buying it,” Tara said.

They had just arrived at the array of food, and Vir was reaching out to grab one when he felt a strong tug on his arm.

Were his body not attuned to prana, he might’ve lost his balance. Instead, he deftly moved after Tara, following her lead.

“Unbelievable. The first thing you do is get food?”

“Er, is that considered impolite?”

“At least grant me a dance, first!”

Vir decided discretion was the best course of action here, even as his precious food became more and more distant.

Tara reminded him of Tia in more than a few ways. A bit of brutish, but also refined and elegant. Tara’s bloodlust was on another level to Tia’s, however, and where Tia was reckless and immature, Tara seemed to have an awareness about her that only years of experience could bring.

Vir truly wondered at her age. It was almost impossible to tell with demons. She could’ve been eighteen or fifty.

More dancers had fleshed out the floor now, allowing Vir to feel less self-conscious about the act.

Dusting the cobwebs off a skill he hadn’t used in years, Vir fell into the moderately paced dance, allowing Tara to lead. She seemed more than comfortable in that role, which suited Vir just fine. The last thing he wanted was to put his ineptitude on full display.

“So,” Tara said with a devilish look in her eyes. “Back to you. You’re young. I can tell. And yet, you fight like veterans with decades in the Ash. Plus, you’ve got the Ravager’s backing. Your instincts are razor-sharp, and you don’t waste any motions. No ego to your style. Just ruthless and brutally efficient. How?”

Vir sighed. “Yes, I admit I’ve trained extensively in the Ash. I’ve been deep inside it. Surely, you know what that means?”

Tara’s eyebrow raised slightly. “You’ve been deep enough that the time flow aids you. To where the Ash Beasts are strong. I see. So that’s where you picked up your wolf friend.”

Vir had to use every acting skill he had to hide the surprise from his face. “What makes you think he’s an Ash Wolf?” Vir asked.

Tara grinned. “Sure, I imagine most would mistake him for an especially large Prana Wolf, but again. It’s the way he moves. Like nothing is a threat, and like he owns the place. He’s comfortable being solitary, while most wolves are pack animals. It’s the details.”

“And what about yourself?” Vir asked, attempting to divert the scrutiny back to Tara. “I assume not ever Panav is blessed with Yuma’s Embrace. Who are you, really?”

Tara gave Vir a sly grin, but before he had a chance to press her, Raja Thaman appeared on the balcony that overlooked the ballroom, ending the dance and hushing the crowd.

Vir was glad of it. Both because it allowed him to get away from Tara’s prying, and because any longer, and he’d have stepped on her toes, ruining their dance.

The Bairan Raja cleared his throat, which sounded through the whole hall. No doubt due to a voice amplification tablet of some sort.

“Warriors! Well met,” he said, opening his arms and nodding in approval at the gathered crowd.

His greeting was returned by hoots and battlecries as the audience forgot their refined demeanor for a moment.

“This year’s bout promises to be one of the best yet, pitting a fresh batch of promising hopefuls against some of the toughest Warriors of the Realm. And even the return of some living legends!”

Thaman gestured to Cirayus, who stood at the center of a crowd composed mostly of ladies, Vir noticed.

The crowd went wild, and Cirayus waved to acknowledge everyone.

“Yet just because the Ravager has returned,” Thaman shouted over the cheers, “does not mean the crown has been taken! He has been gone. Perhaps the old man is rusty, eh?”

That prompted a round of laughs, and even Thaman chuckled.

“Now, as for the rules, we have decided to change it up this year. Single elimination to surrender, incapacitation, or eviction from the ring. Chakras are allowed, but use them at your own peril. As always, killing an opponent results in disqualification, lifetime ban from the Tournament, and the possibility of criminal charges.”

“Do people die often in these?” Vir asked Tara.

Tara shrugged. “Sometimes we’ll go several tournaments without a single death. Sometimes we get two in one. You never know. Depends on who’s competing.”

It sounded far more brutal than anything Vir would have expected, but this again was a reflection of Demonic culture. When it came to battle, they never held back.

“This year, we will host a group trial to whittle down the potentials to the final sixteen. Fear not—those of you who don’t make the cut may still participate in the side duels. We have plenty of stages for everyone.”

This time, the applause was more muted. Vir could practically feel the combatants' determination.

Forget Cirayus, making it to the finals would not be easy. Not with a group this motivated, capable, and experienced.

“Well, as you all know, I have never been one for long speeches,” Thaman continued. “Fight well. Fight with honor. And may the best demon win.”

Thaman pumped a fist into the air, and was echoed by the crowd, who shouted hoots and battlecries.

“This is going to be amazing,” Tara said, her eyes full of expectation. “I gotta admit, I’m looking forward to all the fights. So you better not lose before we duel, yeah?”

“And the same to you,” Vir replied, though he didn’t mean it. He realized then that he actually didn’t want to fight her, if possible. Tara might’ve been a battle junkie, but she seemed nice. He didn’t want any bitter feelings between them. Perhaps it was callous of him, but he hoped she’d lose to someone else.

Tara separated from Vir after Thaman’s speech, mentioning she had a few acquaintances she wished to speak to.

This left Vir free to make his way to the food, but before he made it even halfway, he ran into Raja Thaman, coming down from the balcony.

“Ah, a new face!” Thaman said, pretending not to know who he was.

“Raja Thaman,” Vir replied, bowing his head respectfully. “It’s an honor.”

“Is it, now?” Thaman said softly with a small grin. “I expect great things from you, young Vaak. I shall watch your performance intently.”

“Then I hope you watch carefully,” Vir said, locking eyes with Thaman. “Because I’m going to win.”

Thaman’s smile grew. “Good. Now, will you humor me a moment? I have something I wish to discuss. In private.”