*Date: 33,480 Second Quarter - Chalice Theocracy*
It's been a day since Aris and the gang witnessed the assault on the Covenant by Lex De Souza. All of Chalice now lay under harsh lockdowns. The streets beyond the academy walls were empty, patrolled by armed templars in gleaming armor. The air itself felt heavier, oppressive.
Lyra reported that the good thing was everything was provided in the academy. Outside was hell, even for locals. High Priestess Aeloria had started taking her anger out on her citizens.
"I can't even imagine any player getting caught. They will tear them to shreds. Lay low for a while, Aris. I copied these books from the restricted zone. Take them. I may not come down here for a while." Lyra handed him a stack of leather-bound volumes. Her wolfkin disguise looked more worn, her movements more cautious.
Aris stacked the books on the table, weeded out molded herbs, took his stamina and agility potions, and went upstairs. This was the first day students' ranking duels would start. The hallways buzzed with nervous energy. Students clustered in groups, whispering strategies.
Aris had to prove himself to his classmates. But most importantly, to himself that he could survive in this world and get out. There were so many powerful players. It was a game after all. There had to be a way.
When he reached the banquet hall, the tables had been taken down. Circles were drawn in white chalk on the stone floor. Most students were gathered. Even some upperclassmen stood at inside balconies to witness the spectacle. The air smelled of chalk dust and sweat.
Headmaster Kerapha Vale appeared at the center. The bearded halfling wore pristine Chalice robes, white with gold trim. He walked with a staff that clicked against the floor. When he spoke, his voice was clearly enhanced so everyone could hear.
"Students of Ivory Gate Academy," his voice boomed. "Today marks the beginning of your climb within the Chalice. These trials, these rankings, are not mere competitions. They are tests of your mettle, your faith, and your dedication to our cause."
He paced the circle slowly, his eyes scanning the crowd.
"Our dungeon trials have been harsh, yet they teach what books cannot. Pain. Sacrifice. The reality of divine service. These duels and rankings will continue that education. If you wish to create your team, this is the moment. With ninety-two students remaining, you will fight ninety-one times. Two to three matches every other day. Each win grants you three points. Each draw grants you one point. The top thirty will choose their dungeon partners. Partners can complement your strengths and cover your weaknesses."
His expression grew stern.
"If, by any chance, you cannot attend your scheduled duel, you are considered to have lost. And this is critical." He paused for emphasis. "If anyone should kill their duel partner, whether intentional or accidental, they will be expelled immediately. So remember that well."
Teachers started pulling students outside the designated areas. Names were called to different circles. Aris and Orric stood side by side.
"You nervous? You seem nervous," Orric said.
Aris downed his potions in quick succession. The stamina elixir was warm and sweet. The agility potion tasted like mint. "I am nervous. I want to enter the top thirty. I want to show the world I can make it."
"Wow, you sure you want to finish your reserves on that?" Orric's ears twitched.
"I am crafting many more. I'm surprised no other student is coming to brew some."
"Clank!" "Clink!"
Sliver, the duck-featured student, disarmed her opponent's training sword and sent a huge wave of fire breath, forcing her opponent, a seafolk kid, out of the circle. She became the first winner. Her feathers ruffled with satisfaction.
Right after that, Kaelan, the former dormmate human kid, pushed his opponent out with a shield bash. "Kaelan won!" a chaperone called.
"Sliver Stone won!" another announced. She winked at Aris while getting out of her circle and started walking toward them.
"I heard your boy band got rid of you. Watch your back from now on," Sliver said.
"What did I do to you?" Aris asked.
"You humiliated me and my friends. You should have known your place."
"And took the beating?"
"Exactly."
"Come on, Aris, stop answering her," Orric said.
"Your villager friend knows not to mess with us."
Aris's eyes were burning with fire, but there was nothing he could do. When his name was called for dueling, he didn't even notice it. Orric touched his arm. "It's your turn."
Aris came to his senses. He walked up to the ring and picked up a training shield. He didn't get a weapon. He wanted to keep his hands open for casting his only attacking spell.
His opponent was one of the human kids, Kirk. Kirk wasn't the best at the academy. He was average in every way. Even his racism and noble-class talk were all average. But Aris knew he had no chance against even the average Chalice student. They were all at least level twenty, Aris thought.
And Kirk had powerful wind blasts learned in his hometown.
The chaperone signaled the start.
Kirk started blasting winds immediately. Gusts that roared like storms compressed into fists. Aris imbued his shield with elemental protection, channeling his magic through the wood. But his shield level was no match for a kid who'd studied wind blasts all his life.
The first blast cracked his shield. The second bent it. After the third hit, Aris's shield broke completely, splinters flying. He fell on the floor, landing hard on his rear. Kirk lunged with his fists while Aris was on the ground. He landed a heavy blow to Aris's jaw.
"Kirk won!" Maezana called.
Aris, his mouth full of blood, got up from the floor. He spat red. "I didn't quit yet."
Maezana's expression softened. "You have ninety matches. Keep your vitality for those."
Rathvoss barked, "If you don't want to be kicked off from the ring, tell your teacher you won't quit beforehand. Now leave."
Aris cast himself a healing cure. Warm light spread through his bruised jaw. The pain dulled but didn't vanish entirely. He walked up to the watching area, keeping his head down.
Orric had taken another ring and was fighting his bearkin friend, Gumo. Gumo was maybe the strongest in raw strength, but Orric was more agile. He could cast attack spells from distance to agitate Gumo. In the end, when Gumo attacked really angry and wild, Orric jumped on him and pushed him outside of the ring.
After the fight, they came laughing together toward Aris.
"If it was anyone else, I'd be pissed. But you? Your moves are so elegant," Gumo said.
"Thanks," Orric replied.
"Since you're frowning, I assume you lost." Gumo looked at Aris.
"Yeah."
"To Kirk? Man, you are inconsistent. How did you kill that spider but get beaten by Kirk?" Orric asked.
The rest of the day, they all had one more duel. Aris got beaten by another halfling student who used holy light offensively, burning rather than healing. Orric and Gumo won their matches against human students.
"Six points, baby!" Orric cheered.
"Guys, I am going to the basement. See you tomorrow," Aris said.
When Aris left the hall, Fox joined in. "So you lost. Big whoop. Remember, you are here to learn to survive, acquire skills. Not win the best zealot student award."
"Sure." But it didn't cheer Aris. He was in deep thought, replaying each mistake.
When he reached the alchemy table in the basement, he felt too angry to go pick out herbs. The failures stung more than the bruises. So he lit all three cauldrons, their flames casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. He dumped small batches of herbs for force potions into each one.
"Stupid low-grade potions. Useless." When he was angrily adding ingredients, he slit his hand on a cracked cauldron's steel rim. A drop of blood rolled down into the tonic.
"Splendid. One ruined already." But the cauldron sizzled for a second. The color turned a little pink, but the odor and color didn't become foul like failed batches usually did.
He continued to stir, curious now. When he finished, the bloody one and a normal one seemed like successes. The third had turned murky and was clearly ruined.
Aris squinted his eyes at the two successful potions. One was the normal amber color. The other had a slight pink tinge, almost like diluted wine.
"What did I just make?"
Fox padded over, sniffing. "That one smells different. Sharper."
Aris carefully poured the pink potion into a vial. He corked it and held it up to the candlelight. The liquid shimmered oddly, as if it contained tiny flecks of something metallic.
His hand still bled from the cut. He wrapped it quickly with a clean rag from the shelf. But his mind was racing. Blood in potions wasn't standard. It wasn't in any recipe he'd read. But he had the Blood Initiate title. Could blood be an ingredient for him?
The idea was terrifying and exhilarating at once.
"Don't even think about it," Fox warned.
"Think about what?"
"Experimenting on yourself with mystery blood potions."
"How else will I know what it does?"
"By not dying, preferably."
But Aris was already planning. Tomorrow, he had two more duels. If he lost both, he'd be at zero points. Bottom of the rankings. The thought made his stomach turn.
He needed an edge. Any edge.
He stared at the pink vial for a long time. Then he carefully packed it into his satchel along with his normal potions. He'd decide tomorrow whether to risk it.
The candles burned low as he cleaned the cauldrons and organized his herb stores. His mind wouldn't stop turning over possibilities. Blood Initiate let him sacrifice vitality for spell power. Could it also enhance potions? Was that even how the title worked?
He thought back to Lyra's copied books. Maybe there was something in them about blood magic or alchemical variations. He grabbed the top book from the stack she'd given him and began to read by candlelight.
Hours passed. Fox fell asleep on the shelf. The alchemy room grew cold as the night deepened. But Aris kept reading, kept searching for answers. For any hint that what he'd stumbled upon wasn't just luck. That it could be replicated. That it could be the difference between bottom rank and survival.
Tomorrow would be another test. Another chance to prove he belonged here. Or another painful reminder that he was hopelessly outclassed.
But tonight, at least, he had a mystery to solve. And a drop of blood-tinted hope.