He had woken up early in expectation of the coming official fight, and Throm spotted him. Now he sat in the meeting room, listening to his mentor expound on the finer points of sensing precognition rituals even as he multitasked and manipulated the lightning spell on his lap. Technically, the table hid his efforts from direct line-of-sight observation, but his instructor, of course, knew what he was doing. However, he was pretending not to notice. While learning the ritual was important, the centipede was wise enough to recognise that Tom advancing himself was also a priority; or, maybe, Throm thought the exercise was the only way Tom could keep himself awake.


    Critically, he examined the magic lines he had just created, and compared them to the pictures of the wire frame images he could see on the piece of paper lying on the table. It was a page from the lightning domain pack pinched from an isolation room. Corrine had used her internal spatial storage to bring it through to him, and, since he had access to it in the real world, he could use it here, unlike everyone else who only saw gibberish on the paper. She hadn’t been sure it would work, but, luckily, it did.


    Tom’s eyes narrowed as they flicked from his spell form to the wire frames. How had his version ended up with an entire extra foundational line? It made no sense. Then there was the question of how the fourth-dimensional component warped the three spatial vectors. The spell was proving far harder to master than he had expected it to be.


    It was almost as much of a mystery as the lecture he was listening to. It was possible he may have tuned out for a critical piece of current topic, because what he was hearing no longer made any sense.


    “Great. There’s no harm in interrupting, because he’s not paying attention.” Amkhael’s voice from the right behind him made Tom jump. He hadn’t heard the rock enter, and had thought they were alone.


    “Be kinder with your words, Amkhael - the child is doing well,” Throm chastised gently. “This subject matter is hardly the most enthralling one, and, if multitasking it keeps him awake, I’m all for that.”


    “I still need him. There’s only an hour to the first fight, and he needs to do the last step of the induction.”


    “The child has done enough duels.”


    “It’s tradition, and the other two haven’t.”


    Throm did his equivalent of nodding, which was the mouth making a funny shape. “I guess this is as good as a spot as any to stop. Tom, before our next session, I want you to create a new disk and incorporate the lessons you’ve learned.”


    He gulped at the order. It was easier said than done. The workmanship and success of his current version had been driven by fate.


    “You don’t need to use special resources.” Throm said mildly. “I’m not blind to your racial trait, and I prefer for you not to use it.”


    “What racial trait?” Amkhael asked suspiciously. “Is this the one that lets humans overperform their prowess?”


    Tom ignored him. In the pecking order, Amkhael was low, which was why he had been drafted to induct them. “That might mean it ends up unusable.” He told Throm.


    “Until they’re tier-two, none are usable. To my mind, it’s best not to use consumables in testing. For now, you should be investing them into more important things.”


    He nodded, and then followed Amkhael leaving the meeting room.


    But he had to admit that Throm’s observation worried him. Corrine hadn’t told anyone about that human trait, and nor, as far as she was aware, had any of her predecessors. But he guessed someone as old and wise as Throm was more than capable of unravelling the secret through observation. He shook his head to clear it. Whether he knew or not, that did not matter - these were all DEUS’s children; they were on the same side, and, even if they wanted to betray him, they lived so far away that humans were safe. Besides, of course, there was a GEAS supported by the GODs protecting them.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Whatever the other DEUS representatives guessed, learned, or were told, it would have no impact on humanity.


    In short order, he was in the common area, and it was the most crowded he had ever seen it. There must have been almost eighty people gathered.


    “Do we have to be here at the exact time for every fight?” Tom asked curiously.


    “No, you don’t,” Baptiste told him, his vines twirling together as he played with some purple light that, from his public information file, had to be arcane energy. After all, magic-wise, the pot plant only possessed nature and arcane energy, and that artificial light was not one of nature. “Time distortions magics are in place to make sure everything works.”


    “But being here is better.” Corrine informed him. “If we’re all here, it’s safer if something goes wrong.”


    “Can I have your attention, please?” Amkhael shouted suddenly. “We have three new inductees.” He then proceeded to introduce them similarly to how the presenter had done so. “As per tradition, they will duel amongst themselves, then challenge the volunteers until they reach ten victories or two losses.”


    A prompt came through, and, a moment later, Tom found himself facing Baptiste in a volcanic-themed area. It was sweltering-hot, there was scorched stone under his feet; only twenty metres away, a thin stream of lava flowed down the side of their contained arena. As far as battlegrounds went, this one was greatly in his favour, not that it mattered without fate being in play. He knew he was a dead man. While Baptiste’s plant magic had been neutered by the environment, he had many other skills that Tom did not have. That included a magic shield that would be a hard counter to his lightning and deadly melee abilities, which, with his attribute advantage, meant Tom would get trounced if he got too near. Finally, there was an arcane based shrink collar that would encircle a limb or neck and then squeeze until it split the body part in two. If that couldn’t kill him, the eventual close-in fighting would.


    The countdown ended.


    Time immediately slowed down for Tom. It was a two- and a-bit distortion, just like he expected it to be. The fight was coming to him, and he had to move. Stillness meant death. This wasn’t the kind of setting that would allow him to plan, so he charged forward.


    Something settled on his neck.


    Abruptly, he was out of the arena, looking down. The collar tightened, and Tom looked away before his avatar fell into two pieces.


    Shortly thereafter, he was back in the common area.


    “Sorry,” Baptiste said immediately. “I was trained to go for the kill as fast as possible.”


    “Yes, it’s the only way.” he agreed. The result had been as expected, but it was still a disappointment. He had been secretly hoping he would be able to make himself competitive somehow.


    A moment later, Baptiste and Gruh Mul disappeared to fight.


    All the audience was linked to the spectacle and Tom found himself looking down on the fight as though he was in an arena’s stands.


    They started the usual distance apart on what looked like the floor of a rainforest, through there were no tree trunks visible - only the shade of a canopy that must have been a kilometre above them. Instead, there was a scattering of vegetation, ferns and fungus, but nothing robust enough to restrict the contestant’s movements. The moment the countdown hit, zero Gruh Mul threw himself into battle. His magic nullified the collar that tried to form on his neck. Plants swarmed from everywhere to try and limit his mobility. They were mostly preexisting ones, but some, he noticed, were newly grown. They burst up from the ground or whipped across from outside to tangle up the big person’s feet, but then were torn apart under the power of each step. The fight descended into a furious melee, the two combatants moving so fast they were a blur of movement to his senses.


    Fifteen seconds after it started, Gruh Mul leapt backwards and roared at the sky in triumph. Baptiste had been torn apart and entirely separated from his roots.


    The two of them reappeared a moment later, completely healed.


    “That was terribly done,” Amkhael snapped while staring up at Gruh Mul. “What have I said about closing?”


    “Not to do it,” the big person answered sulkily.


    “Not to, unless your ranged options fail!” Amkhael corrected. “Or if the opponent’s ranged offence is too strong for your defences. Did either of those occur?”


    “No, they didn’t.”


    “Do better.” Amkhael ordered.


    A prompt appeared, and Tom accepted the duel.