236. Mage Impact

“He’s gonna lose,” someone whispered in the dimly lit room.

So far Dallion had gone through four items in total: a corroded silver goblet, a rusty knife, a nearly shattered crystal earring, and a wooden jewelry box full of woodworms. Each of these items seemed deceptively easy to fix. However, in each case, the effort involved became greater and greater. In the case of the jewelry box, Dallion had had to fight with the actual creatures in the mending labyrinth itself. That was an unexpected turn of events, though not one he wasn’t prepared for. In many aspects, it was almost like fighting guardians with one major distinction: defeating the worms made the box “spit them out” in the real world. In the end, when the box was completely repaired, it was brand new, while a small pile of woodworms surrounded it on all sides. The creatures were quickly brushed away by the fury, leaving the table spotless.

For the observers, less than five minutes had passed, but Dallion was starting to feel the pressure. Back in the inn, he had mended more items per shift, but in each of those cases, the damage was minimal—less than a few percent here and there. In some cases, he had managed to get the item flawless in a matter of true time minutes. Here, each of the items had taken him hours, at the very least.

“The real challenge begins now, dear clients,” the fury said loudly. “Half of the colors are done. Four more remain, but does our challenger have enough strength? For those of you who are awakened, you know how difficult it is to repair an item in this state, and it will only get more difficult from here on.”

The large chest was closed with a band. Two rather strong men took it away. In its place, a new one was brought. It was less than a quarter of the size of the previous one.

“It’s no longer about repairing common items. Now it’s time to repair artifacts!”

The room exploded in cheers. Apparently, this was all it took to get the crowd excited. Bets poured in, with more and more people betting against Dallion than for. Three quarters of the piles of money had a black marker on them, indicating they their owners were betting on Dallion losing.

“Does anyone want to be the one to select the next item?” the fury invited again. Up to now, there hadn’t been any volunteers. The woman had just opened the chest when a hand shot up.

“Yes,” someone said.

He was older than most of the crowd, possibly as old as Adzorg. A long white beard covered his chin and neck, making him almost look distinguishable along with his expensive fur clothes.

“So, we do have a volunteer,” the fury smiled. “Please, come here, valued client. After you give the necessary amount.”

The man tossed a pouch of coins to the nearest waiter, then walked up to the table, not even pausing to look back. Judging by the waiter’s reaction, there was more than enough in the pouch to let him have his fun.

“Do you want me to remind you of the rules?” the fury asked.

“No.” The man reached into the small chest and almost instantly took out his hand. There was a small metal broach in his hand, one that didn’t have any gem whatsoever.

Total silence filled the room. According to the rules, when an item didn’t have a color, it was understood that the color was black—after all, the Star didn’t deserve any distinguishing markers.

“This is quite a surprise,” the fury said. Even she was slightly taken aback. “Already black. This is quite the unusual challenge. Seems none got their bet tripled. Would you like to make an additional bet, dear client? As our volunteer, the Drum extend you this cour—”

“No,” the old man cut her short. “I’ll keep my bet for the end. Much more exciting this way.”

Something in his voice didn’t feel right. Both the fury and Dallion felt it, but neither could do anything about it. To ruin such a high stakes bet mid-way would create chaos. Even if the Drum agreed to pay back everyone, their potential gains—which was a lot of money—word of this “disgrace” would spread, costing the Drum a lot of its reputation.

Giving Dallion a quick glance, the fury placed the brooch on the black section of the table, then turned the hourglass around.

“You have one minute to get ready,” she told Dallion. It was made to look like part of the game, but he understood what she was saying.

Tell Lux and Nox to get ready, Dallion said. I want them there when I get in.

There was no reply, as Dallion knew there wouldn’t be. He waited for a few seconds, then slowly took hold of the item. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, other than the fact that it was covered by a layer of soot or tar.

It was possible to call the person out, or even claim that the item wasn’t broken, but doing so would ruin the betting streak and could cause just as much discontent for everyone.

“Fine, I’ll play your game,” Dallion whispered so that only nearby awakened would hear.

For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw the old man smile.

SPHERE ITEM AWAKENING

The realm Dallion found himself in was completely black. The floor, walls, and even ceiling were so dark that they merged with one another. In the past, that would have been fatal for Dallion, but not anymore. His music skills showed him that there was someone else in the room, and soon the blue flames coming from Lux let him see the opponent even better.

COMBAT INITIATED

This was definitely not part of the trial. It would have been a world of difference if Dallion had his armadil shield and harpsisword. Without them, he had to rely on other skills.

Without hesitation, Dallion split into three instances. In two, he rushed forward, aiming to attack, or at least to identify his opponent. In the last, he pulled back to safety.

The counterattacks didn’t delay. In both attacking instances, the opponent used a skill Dallion hadn’t seen before. There were no strikes, no attacks ranged or other. Instead, there was an example of a skill Dallion had only heard of so far—magic.

For a single instant, multicolored markers appeared in the air. Similar to miniature athletic arrows, they created a formula composed of symbols in the air—a formula that the opponent followed with his fingers. Moments later, a ball of orange fire engulfed two of Dallion’s instances.

TERMINAL WOUND

Your health has decreased by 100%

PERMANENT EFFECT - BURN SCARS

Your body has been permanently covered with burn scars. Your perception and reaction will be decreased by 25% percent until the status is removed.

The status continues to be in effect in the real world.

Dallion quickly selected his escaping instance and split in three again. Whoever this was, he wasn’t joking around. To use magic causing external consequences made it clear he was targeting Dallion specifically. Why, though?

“Who are you?” Dallion asked, adding as much self-confidence as he could.

In all the superhero movies back on Earth, the villains always had the tendency of revealing at least part of their plans before the actual fight. In real life, such behavior was exceedingly unlikely… unless they got a slight nudge.

“The mirror pool won’t be happy if you ruin our little gamble,” Dallion continued. The sounds already synched with the vibration of his opponent. And after a second, a grain of confidence emerged in the other’s body. Even so, it didn’t prove to be enough.

Magic markers appeared once more, followed by a large sphere of fire. Immediately Dallion summoned his buckler shield, then quickly split into three new instances.

“Lux, get us out of here!” he ordered.

All three instances were taken in different directions. Normally that would be a bad thing, but right now it gave Dallion greater maneuverability. This time, only one of his instances was engulfed.

“Do you work for the Star?” Dallion persisted with his music skills. “Or are you linked to the copyette somehow?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” the opponent said. The voice was identical to that of the old man who had given the brooch.

An echo? Dallion thought.

It made sense. That also suggested that as long as Dallion could get one good hit, the battle was over. On the other hand, he had to be careful to evade the echo’s magic. So far, he had only seen one spell, but there was no guarantee that more wouldn’t follow.

“Nox, try to take care of him,” Dallion said. One good thing about the darkness was that the crackling felt at home here.

“It’s not your place to get involved,” the echo suddenly became chatty. The overconfidence that Dallion had put inside him was finally starting to have an effect. “Forget about the Star and the copyette. Return to Dherma and enjoy the rest of your life there.”

“Quite a tempting offer. But what if I don’t want to? There are a lot of things going on for me here. Maybe I’ll stay.”

“You’re meddling with things that are beyond you. This isn’t a League of Legends tournament. There’s a lot more involved.”

Dallion froze. That was more than a coincidental reference. The old man, whoever he was, wasn’t just some disgruntled mirror aristocrat, or a puppet of the Star, he was someone from Earth—the first person Dallion had found other than his grandfather.

“I don’t want to kill someone from Earth, but I will if you don’t back off. This game is too important for you to interfere. Maybe if you’d show up a few decades earlier things would be different, but not now.”

A large grouping of magic symbols appeared in the darkness. Like a wild programmer, the echo slid his fingers along all of them, completing the magic formula. Dallion had no idea what the effects would be, but he knew they weren’t going to be good. Focusing as hard as he could, he split in five instances in an attempt to stop the echo from completing it. Lux thrust him forward at almost instant speed, just in time for one instance to pass over the layer of markers.

What followed was enough to freeze the will of any person. A wall of flame, as large as half the realm, appeared and moved forward like a curtain. Four instances of Dallion were burned to cinders as the merciless flames went on, crashing into the wall.

Already the echo had started to create another spell, when a red rectangle appeared.

HAND SEVERED

Enemy will no longer be able to make use of his right hand.

Nox, Dallion thought.

As expected of the crackling, it had bided its time, finding the perfect moment to act, then slashed what he perceived to be the echo’s greatest weapon—his hands.

The wall of multicolored markers disappeared. The echo looked at his arm in disbelief, then poofed out of existence—far slower than a normal echo should. Possibly, the remnants of the magic spell had kept its form until the spell itself had ended. That was a whole different field, Dallion knew nothing about.

As tempted as he was to exit the realm right now and continue his conversation with the old man, Dallion had enough reason to know that was not an option. After all, he was still in the Drum, and the bet was ongoing; and while the brooch wasn’t among the items that needed repairing, he had to mend it nonetheless.

“Thanks, Nox,” Dallion said as the crackling meowed, licking its paw. “You too, Lux. You both did good.”

No doubt about it, the familiars had saved him yet again from a nasty situation. The question remained, though, why would someone from Earth want to stop him, especially with everyone else going on in Nerosal?