Rise of the Living Forge

Olive’s heart pounded in her ears as she took her position on the Proving Grounds arena. Her skin felt clammy and sweat slicked her palm against her sword. She transferred it to the wooden replacement and wiped her hand off against her pants before reclaiming her sword.

“Nervous?” Elias asked from beside her. He was clad in plain silver armor devoid of any extravagant adornments or fancy parts. The armor was entirely focused on utility. There was only a single design upon its face — the same one that was on Maeve’s and Olive’s armor.

Arwin’s maker’s mark.

He’d put it in the very center of every chest piece, darkening the metal somehow to ensure that absolutely nobody could mistake who had made their armor.

“A little,” Olive admitted. That was definitely an understatement. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears over the roar of the crowd above them.

There was something distinctly different about fighting in a tournament than there was fighting monsters. The atmosphere. The crowd. The opponents. Everything. This wasn’t just about survival. It was about putting on a show.

Arwin was depending on her to demonstrate the abilities of the Menagerie. They needed to keep expanding if he wanted to accomplish his goals of taking down the Adventurer’s Guild for the crimes they’d committed.

He’s helped me so much. Now it’s my turn. I can’t let him down. It can’t be like last time. I can’t fail my team again.

“This might not be the most useful advice, but you need to relax,” Elias said. “We’ve practiced. You’re a very capable swordswoman, and that’s not even counting the extra bits Arwin put in for us. Feeding your fears will only weaken you. Listen to your emotions, but do not let them rule you. They are yours.”

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with it.”

“I’ve been fighting in tournaments my entire life,” Elias said, and the bandages covering his face creased as he smiled beneath them. “That was what Norman made our guild to be. Phoenix Circle is a tournament guild. We specialized in stuff like this. In a nutshell: Performative arts. It’s just fancy theatre if you think about it.”

That’s one way to look at it. Theatre, huh? I guess fighting for a tournament would follow different rules than when you’re trying to survive. They must have focused on playing the crowd and making as exciting of a fight as possible more than simply winning.

Olive’s jaw clenched and her hand tightened around her sword.

I can’t imagine how it would feel to go from one of the best teams to the literal worst. They’ve got just as much to prove as I do — and they need their Guild Leader back. I won’t fail them either.

Maeve nudged Olive in the shoulder.

“Team game,” Elias said. “I see that look in your eyes. You aren’t the only one fighting, Olive. Stop thinking like that. You aren’t taking the weight of this whole fight on your shoulders. We all are. That’s why we’re a team. Don’t forget it.”

Olive blinked. Then she smiled. To her surprise, Elias’ words had actually worked. The welling panic in her chest had faltered. The stress was still there, of course. It wasn’t like she could magically just become calm — but she wasn’t alone. Elias was right.

She didn’t have to shoulder everything herself. Not now. Not ever again.

“I hope you’re all ready for the next melee round!” Kraven boomed from above them. His words echoed through the arena like rolling thunder. The crowd cheered in response. They’d long since been pulled under his spell.

“Here we go. We’ll cover your back,” Elias said. “Just like we practiced. You take the lead, Olive. We’ve done enough of these to adapt to any pace. Just think of them like monsters in a dungeon.”

Monsters, huh?

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“No,” Olive said. “Not monsters. I’m not trying to kill them. They’re just other people in our way.”

“That works too,” Elias said.

“Get to it!” Kraven roared. “Let’s see some blood!”

That’s just gratuitous.

The arena exploded into motion, and almost instantly, Olive was struck by another stark difference between delving dungeons and fighting in the arena.

It was the sound.

A dozen different fights started all at once. Magic roared in every direction, flashing lights and shrieking metal splitting through the air as groups clashed. Out of the corner of an eye, Olive saw one man strike a woman with a hammer so hard that her armor crumpled and she was launched from the arena like a kicked pebble.

From the other, a mage unleashed a huge torrent of lightning into a slender man wearing light leather armor. The lightning ripped through him and the man crumpled to the ground in a smoking heap.

Healers raced through the arena, grabbing the people that had fallen and dragging them to safety to begin the healing process — and all of that had happened within no more than a second or two.

The hammer-wielding man’s eyes landed on Olive. A grin split his lips beneath his helm and he shifted his stance, charging straight at them. Two women darted in alongside him, both wielding nothing but a heavy shield.

“Shieldwall,” Elias observed. “The big guy will focus completely on attacking. His allies will get in your way and act as his figurative and literal shield. Weak to mages.”

“We don’t need a mage,” Olive said. Her wooden arm pulsed as she wrapped it around the hilt of her sword, switching to a two-handed grip. “Take one of the shield-ladies. Make sure we don’t get jumped on by another team.”

And then the large man was upon them.

His hammer whistled through the air — but Olive wasn’t standing in its path anymore. She’d shifted to the side, letting the blow pass by her harmlessly. Her sword whipped up for a counterattack at the man’s exposed side. He hadn’t even bothered to wear anything tougher than leather armor. Evidently, he was confident his allies would keep him protected.

One of the women arrived before Olive in a flash. Her shield raised to meet the path of her sword, but it never finished its path. Elias slammed into her and they both tumbled to the side.

Olive’s strike continued — but the man’s second ally managed to arrive directly in her path within moments, shield readied.

They’re fast. That’s actually pretty impressive.

If I was trying to out-speed them, maybe I’d lose.

But I’m not.

Olive’s grip tightened around her sword as she activated [Hundredfold Blade]. Immense resistance drove into the weapon, but her cursed arm worked with her normal one and drove through it.

Her sword slammed into the shield. A loud screech echoed out as the metal bent around Olive’s weapon. The other woman’s eyes only had an instant to widen in surprise before Olive’s swing continued through, driving both itself and the warped shield into her stomach.

Olive’s blow lifted the woman off her feet and sent her rocketing straight off the arena platform, where she hit the ground in a tumble of limbs.

A delicate, chiming note rang through the air. Olive felt her senses home in as Maeve’s magic wrapped around her. She leaned back, avoiding another hammer strike from the man. He was roaring something, but Olive didn’t pay it any mind.

Her sword blurred again. The man twisted his axe to catch the blow on its hilt.

[Hundredfold Blade] cut right through it. Disbelief burned in his features, but that did nothing to stop the blade carving deep into his chest.

It was a mortal wound. Olive knew it, and he did too. She could have severed him clean in two if she’d been aiming to — but there were limits to what healers were capable of fixing, and this blow had already nicked his heart, along with just about every other internal organ in its path.

He staggered back, the two halves of his axe slipping from his fingers, and healers rushed to kidnap him away from the arena.

“Well done,” Elias said, rising from where he’d dispatched the last of the large man’s party. Many of the other groups had already fallen. There weren’t many people left on the arena anymore. Just a few seconds had been enough for nearly all of them to wipe each other out. “Who’s next?”

Olive’s eyes caught on a team at the far end of the arena.

If Elias said something else, she didn’t hear it.

Her heart thumped in her ears and she took a step back, the sword nearly slipping from her hands as she stared in the same disbelief that had just been present on her last opponent’s features.

No. That can’t be possible.

But possible it was.

Standing over a group of adventurers being extracted by the Secret Eye healers was Jason. And it wasn’t just him. Damien and Bea were there as well. They were clad in expensive armor and bore shimmering weapons that screamed magic, but there was no mistaking it. Their faces had all been burned into her mind ever since the day she’d failed them all.

The day she’d lost her arm. Panic and confusion welled within Olive. Her focus faltered and Maeve’s spell lost its grip on her as she took an involuntary step back. The back of her head thumped.

“Olive?” Elias asked. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

Olive couldn’t bring herself to respond. The only thing she could do was stare.

Why is my old team here?