Chương 69: Chapter 68 Edited

Cale The last couple of days were more party than school, with the whole of Arclight caught up in the festival that was the Tournament. There was certainly an energy after everyone watched the opening ceremonies. The whole show was something I had trouble comprehending. The demonstrations. The speeches. The talk of bloodlines, core development, and school philosophy. Such a strange tradition, the whole performance dressed up as martial discipline. And that was just the surface.

Tensions were high and pride was being paraded openly. The schools, the people, the media, really the attention of the Dominion, hell, probably the Upper Planes, anyone with access to the World Tree Lattice seemed to be interested in this thing. The invasion of people was to be expected. It was among the celebration and displays that I noticed them. That was almost immediate. People who were trying very hard to remain inconspicuous always stood out to me. Especially when they were bad at it.

Even worse when they relied on magic to do the work for them. Glamours, perception dampeners, subtle misdirection. Those tricks left fingerprints if you knew how to look. At first, I assumed it was someone from my old mercenary days. The Ghost of the Wastes had been seen here, and that would have gotten back to the world at large. That wasn't avoidable. So I thought it could be an enemy who hadn't forgotten. Or Aegis picking up where we left off. That one seemed unlikely. Their response would be much less measured.

For a brief, deeply unpleasant moment, I even wondered if it was her. I shut that thought down immediately. No. Not her. Anyone but her, and that was unlikely as well. She was even less measured than Aegis. I knew it was only a matter of time, though. Then I looked again and recognized them. It was the Yamato retainers trying desperately not to be noticed as Yamato retainers. Once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it. The spacing. The way they moved in loose coordination and never clustered.

The disciplined refusal to make eye contact while still tracking everything around them. They weren't amateurs exactly, and they weren't subtle in the way people from the Wastes were subtle. Martial schools had a tendency to overemphasize honor and propriety. Sneaking around wasn't exactly their forte. Their actions begged the question. They were tailing me? Why? It didn't make any sense. I was a nobody.

I did have that run-in with the Yamato heir and what could only be her young relative, most likely a sibling, and no harm had been done. So why follow me around? Unless they knew what I really was. I decided to wait. They weren't being overly threatening, and I didn't want to dispose of anyone at school. So I continued to observe and learn whatever I could, not just about the Yamato clan. I hadn't recognized the participating schools of the Tournament, which was to be expected.

I didn't grow up in the upper-tier education systems. I didn't study lineage techniques or institutional combat philosophy. In the Wastes, life was your teacher, and the lessons were simple: learn fast, adapt faster, or die. Schools that focused on polished core development, formal doctrine, or techniques with limited practical application just weren't something I'd had time for. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

I hadn't even planned on attending the matches. I'd gone to a few preliminary events with Gran and Ellara, mostly to keep them company. That was it. I wasn't really interested. Gran and Ellara were loving it, and the festival had spilled across the lower terraces like a living thing. Lanterns drifted overhead, suspended by gentle Arcanum currents, their light shifting through warm colors that bled into one another. Illusionary ribbons of sound and light arced between stalls.

Games lined the paths, tests of aim, balance, reaction. Most of them dressed up as entertainment, and all of them quietly reinforcing the same truth Arclight never forgot: even celebration was training. Ellara had dragged me into it. She was laughing, actually laughing, as she tried to coax a ring of floating sigils into alignment for one of the prize games. The vendor cheered her on far more enthusiastically than was warranted, which told me everything I needed to know about how obvious she was being.

⁂ Things changed when I saw him. The kid. The same ratty little bastard who had attacked me during the incident near the Ascendant Circle. He was ducking through the crowd, shoulders hunched, trying very hard to blend in. Which was an impressive endeavor, in a way, considering the vivid pink hair. I wasn't sure whether to be offended or amused. Pink hair doesn't disappear with a hat, young master. I didn't react. I kept walking. Let him follow. Let him think he was doing a better job than he was.

After a while, I was fairly certain he realized that I'd noticed him. After a while, he seemed to get bored or simply made a decision. That was when things changed. Instead of retreating or doubling down on stealth, he stopped trying to hide. He straightened, adjusted his posture, transforming the sneaking kid into something else, and walked toward me, the arrogance I'd seen from him that first day reattaching to his face.

I slowed my pace, already shifting my awareness outward, ready for whatever version of "conversation" he thought this was going to be. I stayed a step back, hands in my pockets, letting the noise roll past me. That was when he stepped into my path. He stopped directly in front of me and looked me up and down, eyes sharp, calculating.

"You," he said. Not loud. Not polite.

"You owe me a match." I tilted my head slightly.

"Do I?"

"You embarrassed me," he said flatly.

"That demands classification." I tried really hard not to laugh.

"Do you mean satisfaction?" Before he could respond, his gaze slid past me. It landed on Ellara. The shift was immediate. His posture softened without him meaning to. His eyes widened just a fraction. Color climbed his face so fast it was almost impressive. The arrogance didn't vanish, and it rearranged itself, suddenly unsure where to stand. Ellara raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure what had just happened. She glanced over, blinked once, then smiled politely in the way Gran had taught her.

The kind of smile that acknowledged someone without inviting them closer. The kid swallowed. He turned toward her, clearly forgetting I existed.

"I—" He cleared his throat.

"Hello. You—you are—" Ellara gave him a curious look, apparently amused.

"Hello. You don't have to be nervous. My brother is really nice." She then turned to me.

"Brother," she said lightly, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, "who is this?"

"I am of the Yamato clan," the boy rushed, words tangling over each other.

"I am the brother of the Heir, the second son—" He continued to stammer. What was his issue? One moment ago he was trying to challenge me to a duel. Now he was… what, exactly? Just then Gran arrived, carrying a candied fruit concoction and looking thoroughly amused.