Finals day was perfect. Clouds intercepted enough of the sun's rays that Leander wouldn't have to squint, no matter where he was around the Arena. It would be a difficult final bout, his opponent was focused and wily, and she had held back in her earlier fights. Leander wasn't worried. His body and spirit were both rested and ready for what would come. And he had already beaten Rex, which was the real prize.

Everyone had shown up for the last fight. All the masters were up with Laurel, looking bored but exuding that same thing his own sectmaster did sometimes, where she was all of a sudden more impressive without changing anything about her body language. Even Oro and the clan leaders were up there, along with Madam Sabrina to represent the Guild. Not real masters but still important enough to get a spot. He sniffed. One day, they would have such strong cultivators that no one would dare challenge them. He would be one of those masters.

His whole sect was in attendance. Even Mr. Mercer and Esther were in the stands, despite rarely spending their free time with the sect.

Leander angled his head to see the crowd. Thousands of people he didn't recognize, and a few he did. The king was sitting in a special area. At least he thought it was the king. There were a lot of guards blocking the view so he couldn't say for sure.

Anticipation was so thick on the air he could almost taste it. He shifted his weight a bit. Air wasn't the showiest element. At least not until he could toss a storm around like Laurel. If there was a spectacle here today, it would be in his outstanding skill.

Finally, he returned his attention to his opponent. She was ten years older than him, or thereabouts, hair pulled back in a severe braid, and wearing the most normal clothes he had ever seen on a cultivator. He kept focusing to try and pinpoint something to remember, and his attention kept being drawn elsewhere.

He shivered and cycled his mana, dispelling the effect. Impressive. Very impressive, if the mutterings he had overheard at dinner were anything to go by. A shadow effect that made her harder to notice. Which didn't make sense, in his opinion. But that was magic. Maybe her whole focus was going unnoticed.

Wrapped up in his strategizing, he almost missed the moment when the Arena began to change. So smoothly he only noticed as his view shifted, Leander sank down. No, the whole floor was sinking. In under a minute, he was standing in a ravine, his opponent hidden from sight. Laurel was going overboard for the finale.

He took a deep breath, centering himself and cycling his mana. Then he waited for the gong to sound. And waited. Had he missed it? No, it always sounded like it was right behind him, and Laurel had been clear about the signal.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I must apologize and announce we will be delaying the final battle. Members of the Eternal Archive will help facilitate an orderly exit. More announcements to come."

The floor remained a maze of tunnels and jagged edges, forcing him to climb up the walls to figure out what was happenign. That hadn't been Laurel canceling his moment of glory, had it? When he could see again, he turned towards the stage. There was one person on it, a clan leader from the eastern steppes. The rest of the masters were gone.

Beyond the highest row of seats, Leander watched as a golden dome rose to enclose the City. The one he had only seen in beast waves. The one that was too expensive to use unless they were under attack.

*********

Laurel slammed into Vulurus, wreathed in a mantle of lightning and rage. Attack her City? While she was there, while her allies were there? The traitors in the Order had already been slated to die. The timeline had just jumped forward.

Vulurus had taken the hit on crossed arms and flew backwards, carving a smoking trench in the earth when he crashed to the ground. Beside her the others caught up and faced off with their own opponents. Martin was eyeing Dariella on her left. Jade and Devon flanked her right side, Oro in his dragon form flapping up behind them.

Across from her allies stood the Order of Decorra. Or most of it. Laurel recognized all of them, from previous acquaintance or reputation. Eight against four. And a half. Even young dragons counted for something.

Darielle opened her mouth to speak. It snapped closed again when she summoned a shield to block a blade of razor-sharp air.

There was no need for discussion here.

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Laurel let the rest of the battle fade to the back of her mind as she focused on finishing what she started. Standing in the crater his impact had formed, Vulurus had been busy.

A small horde of golems, made from dirt and rock, faced her. Even a few seawater blobs were coalescing at the nearby beach. That was fine. Laurel had faced armies before.

She shot forward. The golems charged. Minion as an aspect was rather revolting, in her opinion, but it made things simple. Cut off the head and the rest of the monster would die. She was going to kill Vulurus, it didn't matter how many of the little fuckers he summoned.

The first few ranks were obliterated before she could blink, the sheer force of the mana she commanded reducing them to dust. Their friends took that as motivation to fight back. Laurel formed a blade of lightning and air, so much easier than it had ever come before, and sent it forward. Another few dozen of the golems were destroyed or cut into pieces. That did nothing to dampen the fervor of the constructs. Where they could, the golems reformed. Where they couldn't, they crawled towards her anyway. Laurel was, for the first time in a while, too angry to relish the prospect of a decent fight.

She rose into the air. Clouds swirled above as her mana took hold. A barrage of lightning flattened the area in front of her, carving a path to Vulurus, where he was hiding behind earthen giants.

Until it wasn't. Laurel felt it when the lightning was torn from her grip. Her flight jerked one direction then another, as she tried and failed to dodge the air that shood have been under her command. Looking up, she saw the lightning form into an impossible creature, mixing with air and some wisps of cloud to form a storm golem.

If before her rage was a bonfire, now it was a sun, burning at the center of her being. Sword in hand, she flew forward. More of the air golems reached out, amorphous limbs attempting to impede her. But there was another aspect to her mana. With her willpower blazing, she shredded anything that came close. Earth or lightning or water or sand, it all vaporized in the morass of blade mana she manifested in front of her.

It bought her a moment. She considered sending a flock of swords towards her opponent. The thought of fighting a golem made of her own blades prevented her from following through on the plan. The battles around her nearly overwhelmed her senses, but she took the reprieve to ensure they were holding. Outnumbered and outplayed, there was one thing they had on their side and that was pure, overwhelming force. There was a reason these cowards had intended to recruit Laurel and her friends.

She dove back into the fray. The longer Vulurus had to work, the stronger his position would be. And she had to kill him and one more to pull her weight in this fight.

Sword leading, she crashed through another few golems, dragging the wind behind her. At her command, it began to spin. With a flick of her will, it became sharp. Then charged. Then Laurel set it loose. This time, she kept an iron grip around the mana. His willpower scrabbled like a feral dog to take control of her storm, but she denied his attempts.

Contact. An arm went one way while the rest of Vulurus's body went another. It wouldn't kill him, the bastard could attach almost any material, and eventually transmute it into flesh. But it would hurt like nothing else, and he fucking deserved it.

**********

"Can't run away this time, can you? Not if you want to keep those pathetic cultivators you call a sect from being eradicated." Dariella hovered above the ground while she taunted, using some sort of construct Martin spied belted at her waist. It was too bad she wasn't stupid enough to fight him on his own home ground.

"Run away? I'm just glad you showed up to your own execution. Saves me the time of hunting you down." Martin was barely paying attention, sending his spiritual senses out through the already raging battle. Banter was for amateurs.

"Funny –"

There. With a surge of mana that could be felt even above Laurel's workings, the earth heaved. This was his home; Dariella would regret invading. His spirit swelled, his cultivation singing with how perfect the moment was.

The ground shook. Not that any of them flinched at the tremor. Master cultivators were difficult to disrupt and harder to kill.

Behind him he felt the working take hold. Stone he had buried for just such an occasion rose up. Towers bristling with enchantments and infused with the City's mana. The wall was far from finished, but that didn't mean he hadn't started work.

Dariella's beam of light was already searing towards him. He let it come, then he dropped below the earth. Rock and dirt flowed like water. Through the earth he watched Dariella spin and duck to the side, expecting him to appear behind her.

Martin did enjoy defying expectations. He pushed the earth behind him until he was flying forward, tackling Darielle onto the ground.

He got a deep burn across his ribs for it, but his target was the construct. As he was flung away, a chunk of the metal sheared off in his hands. Dariella plummeted. Not all the way to the ground, but she wouldn't be escaping him so easily.

Martin strode forward. Then paused. He hadn't moved. Looking down, his legs were locked in manacles of darkness, slithering out of his own shadow. Clever.

They were near the beach. It was a challenging distance for major workings, but just close enough for the second part of his plan to come into play. At his command, a section of earth crumbled. The shallow trench in front of his fledgling wall flooded with water, his fortifications gaining a temporary moat.

Then the wall opened fire. Boulders and javelins and sprays of smaller rocks all angled towards Dariella. Smaller pieces honed to a wicked edge joined the assault. Shards of granite flung with pinpoint accuracy. Shale designed to explode on contact.

For just a heartbeat, the sky was blotted out above them with the attack.

Dariella – poor, misguided, stupid Dariella – was a master cultivator in her own right. But not one that excelled in defense. Blasts of light outright vaporized some of the smaller pieces, droplets of glass raining down on the field below.

Martin had erred on the side of quality and quantity. The rest of his bombardment landed in a grouping that would be the envy of any artillery unit in the Meristan army.

He saw a few gashes open on the bitch's face before his view was blocked by a cloud of dust. Mana wavered, and his legs were free. Martin wasted no time to get close. That hit wouldn't have killed her.

A bronze blade flashed as it sank deep into his shoulder, the chain attached going taut as he began to bleed. Martin grabbed the chain with the opposite arm and yanked. The blade ripped free and dangled from his hand, while mana forced down the chain in an attempt to recall it. More and more energy vibrated within his fist as the enchantments on the weapon went up against his own might.

The acrid scent of searing flesh rose to greet him as the dust settled, Dariella staring at him from five meters away, both hands holding the other end of the chain. Her teeth were clenched, feet set. Bleeding and angry, she had plenty of fight left.

A foolish mistake on her part. The second volley landed.

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