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During Foley and Saimallah’s matches, Noah dealt with Reiss’s corpse. He laid the body on the ground and pulled out two magical tools, each with a different enchantment. All the time spent runecrafting was for situations just like this. He stabbed the body with the first tool, the hollow rib of a powerful aquatic monster, prompting blue runes to glow along the side, and then water began to shoot out like a straw. It was water magic, draining all of the moisture from Reiss’s body and causing him to shrivel up like dried fruit.

His wings were aching and threatening to snap, but he forced himself to his feet and returned to the sky. He took after Ingram, once again attacking him from behind. The two of them crashed atop the edge of the arena, overlooking the crowds. It was little more than a cement lip encircling the arena, offering some protection from the sun and the weather. The two got to their feet, both bruised and exhausted, with the spectators cheering as they spotted the combatants overhead.

Noah continued punching the bag in her place. “Since when has it ever been fair? When I was in Handent, I fought a Profane who forced me to fake my death in order to escape, and another captured me like a fly in a web. In Welindar, the battle was lost because I failed to kill Kaisen before he could transform. This is the struggle of fighting against the Profane, the struggle of being outclassed and overpowered. In this war, surviving with just a bruised ego is victory enough. You stood up to that monster, you fought, you survived.