The Inner Odyssey
Chapter 136 - 136: Different Delegations

Medics quickly rushed onto the field.

They made sure the warriors were just unconscious before giving the Storm Sentinels a trickle of mana to stave off the worst of their Mana Deprivation. Then, they enveloped the Holy Knights in a cool, magic sphere, judging their condition to be more critical.

The sphere contained similar energy to the one which the dark-armoured warriors displayed, slowly mending the worst of their injuries. With a wave from a Medic, the three spent Storm Sentinels slowly floated in the air, hovering behind the Holy Knights and the rest of the medics.

The crowd applauded, mostly in the direction of the top-ranked guild as the group of people exited the arena. A few boos and jeers still resounded, but the predominant emotion was one of anxious relief, glad that no one had died. After all, the Guilds did contribute to the never ending war against the Defiled.

It would be a big loss if one of the Experts fell here.

In the past, Drakon would not have bat an eyelid at such a thing.

After all, his Clan had access to a veritable sea of Experts.

What was one dead warrior mage in the face of that?

More recently, before the invasion, he would have been green with envy at the sight of the clashing Experts, wondering why he could not overcome his former bottleneck. As such, he couldn't truly appreciate the splendour on display.

The Ember Heir was different now, though.

Drakon couldn't quite put it into words, but he felt like he had become a lot more compassionate. Not to mention able to enjoy a thrilling fight like this, calmly following the cadence of battle, and peering intently to see if he could learn a thing or two.

Overall, it was like a weight had lifted from his shoulders.

…One he didn't know existed.

Now, Drakon no longer cared as much about vying for his father's attention.

Sure, his inner child still remained, resenting the Patriarch for neglecting him after his mother's death. However, the Ember Heir could now look past it and focus on more important things, something he had previously been unable to do.

In any case, Drakon had enjoyed the fight.

It would be a little difficult for the two Guilds to progress further in the Tournament now that they had drawn, but it was not impossible. After all, they just had to ensure they won their next two matches, and they would qualify for the knockout rounds.

The Guild Tournament was set up in such a way that the first three bouts were preliminary rounds, designed to eliminate those who were not capable enough to progress. The Guilds with three wins would receive favourable draws, while those who had lost or drawn one, would find themselves disadvantaged.

That said, Drakon wasn't worried.

He had full confidence the Storm Sentinels and the Holy Knights would make it through. Although, he did find it a little odd that this year so many highly-ranked Guilds were facing each other right at the start.

'Probably because of the random draw.'

Naturally, Drakon wanted the Guilds from his Territory to win.

Whether that be the Rage Knights, the SunBrawler's, or even the Flame Vipers. The Ember Heir hoped all of them would make it deep into the competition, and thus making him, his Clan, and the Houses of Flame proud.

His gaze roved naturally through the private viewing chamber, taking note of those present and their reactions to the gripping bout.

The delegation of Stone - led by the Stonewardens, and composed of the Dustforger's, the Greystone's and House Petralis - did not seem to display much of one. In fact, their expressions had not changed. All of them wore the signature look of the Territory of Stone, an appearance as hard as rock.

They were also dressed in robes and garments of a drab, earthy colour, which matched with the Dustforger's dusty skin, the grey flesh of the Greystone's similar in texture to a golem, and the Petralis's who possessed a gaze which could turn one to stone. Drakon made sure not to look the latter in the eye, unwilling to turn himself into a gargoyle.

Meanwhile, the delegation of Wind wore carefully veiled frowns, mostly from the Zephyr Clan, who were doubtless annoyed by the treatment of their star Guild.

The Ember Heir couldn't blame them. Even he felt it was a bit much.

The Galeheart's, however, seemed animated, merry from the blood spilled. Next to them, the Aerithale's just quietly brooded, while House Skyreach paid more attention to their avian familiars than the thrilling bout.

Lastly, there was the delegation of Frost.

Drakon lingered on one specific individual. She was dressed in light-blue robes, with fair skin, icy-blue hair and similar eyes. She had a button nose that the Ember Heir found remarkably cute, and an aloofness which physically pained him.

Why?

…Because he was the one responsible for her detachment.

Him and his stupid former self.

She was Eira, the Frost Heir, and his former childhood friend.

Those around her registered his gaze and sent him disdainful looks, as if asking, "What is a mere [Apprentice] like you doing, looking at our Eira?". Those who were knowledgeable on the matter - mostly Frost Clan Elders - simply spared him a brief look of pity, before proceeding to ignore him.

No doubt, they had better things to do than involve themselves in the matters of youth.

Drakon gritted his teeth.

He was on the cusp of becoming an [Adept] very soon. He reckoned he only had a couple of battles remaining before he would rank up.

That wasn't what annoyed him, though. It was Eira's utter disregard of his existence that really drove him insane. Sure, she had every right to treat him the way she did - Drakon would have probably done the same. He absolutely deserved to be ignored.

…Or at least, his former self did.

However, Drakon had become someone else now.

He had changed, and he really wanted Eira to see that.

Unfortunately, she was not giving him the time of day. Frustrated, Drakon muttered a fiery curse.

He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to relax. There was nothing he could do about it now. He would do his best to keep trying, and just hope for the best.

Down below, the next set of combatants entered the arena.

A polychromatic spark suddenly ignited in Drakon's eyes.

…It was time for his role model to fight.