Alaric felt his irritation rising. He'd managed to contain his anger back at the plaza, but now, as he saw Rail'ak bring an entire army of demihumans up to the Pantheon, he couldn't help but feel his anger building up again.

It didn't occur to him where he found the confidence to even be angry at a Steel Rank, but that's how he felt at the moment. The strong bullied the weak. Such was the law of the jungle, but this was no jungle, and the prince was trampling all over that fact like some spoiled child.

Through his vines, he watched as Rail'ak's followers climbed up the incline leading up to the Pantheon, thrashing chairs placed gently outside the homes of innocent demihumans, smashing windows, crashing potted plants and cutting clothlines. They were a rowdy bunch of delinquents, fueled by the boisterous aura of their leader.

Alia and the others stopped sparring when the ground began to shake and rumble, announcing the distant arrival of the mob. Lucy, who had been practising Healing Magic with Rail'ak, stopped mid-chant to look out as well. The alchemists all looked up from their places beneath the tent, "What's happening?"

Alaric scowled for the first time in a very long time, irritated beyond measure. He could feel the aether around him reacting, but he didn't care about that. He stood and walked past Alia and the others to the edge of the courtyard, where he stood, waiting.

It wasn't long before a mob of marching demihumans, all from the younger generation, came spilling out of the streets and onto the sacred grounds of the Pantheon, carrying weapons and snickering amongst themselves as they beheld the humans they loathed so much.

At the head of the crowd, a man with blue hair walked with a regal air about him. Surrounding him were a few others with hair dyed every colour but gold and white, all of Steel Rank, with their menacing auras threatening to crush the shoulders of Alaric and his friends.

Alaric's eyes lit a gentle green, and with it, the menacing auras were forced away from the Pantheon's grounds in an instant. Rail'ak's smirk faltered, but only for a second. He spoke, his voice carrying over the sacred grounds with gusto, "Dear citizens of the demiplane. I called you all here for a reason that I'm sure you've all heard of by now. My exile." There was a cold, tense air of silence as he spoke, "I'd like you to all take a long, hard look at the one who caused it. This is what happens when we let humans share what's ours."

A chorus of protests and angry shouts came spilling out of the demihumans. Insults rained on the dark-haired boy, but he didn't seem to mind them.

Instead, a chuckle escaped him. Alaric smirked, "Yes, Rail'ak. You are to endure exile for misconduct and the attempted murder of my friend, and a few demihumans, if I'm not mistaken."

"You are," Rail'ak roared.

"Oh, let's not sweat the gory details," Alaric answered, his voice also carrying far and wide. He didn't let it show yet, but the outright denial of nearly killing his own kin rubbed him the wrong way, "Did you all know that your prince was allowed to take three of you with him into exile? I don't know how any of you would feel about that, but it sounds like an honour to serve time with your leader. Out there, where the Dark Ones lurk in every corner. Let me see by a show of hands how many of you are willing to go out with him."

There were murmurs going through the demihumans as they thought this over. It was clear from their looks of confusion that they hadn't heard about this specific part of his time in exile. Alaric had a feeling that this was the case. His clone had been observing through the vines placed throughout the town, and that information subconsciously made it into his mind.

[ What are you doing, Alaric? ] Alia's voice filtered into his mind.

[ Having fun. ]

Dismissing his guardian's warning, he continued, "No one's forcing any of you to go with him, but a good leader, in my opinion, is one worth dying for, right? I'm sure Rail'ak will protect the people he takes with him. He'd die for you, wouldn't he?"

The last part had been said with a lot of mischief, seeing as Rail'ak wasn't the type to do such a thing.

"I invoke the Duel of Wind," Rail'ak burst out, "I challenge you, false Emperor."

Gasps rippled through the crowd while murmurs brewed amongst the demihumans. Alaric was of the Wood Rank and basically crippled with the kind of aether churning through his meridians. Even at peak form, a Wood Rank simply didn't stand a chance against a Steel Rank. This much Alaric had experienced in Melbourne.

And yet, he didn't seem the least bit bothered, "I fight with my guardian."

"Bullsh*t!"

"She's as much a part of me as I am a part of her," Alaric waved him off as he turned around, "I accept your challenge. Just don't expect my guardian and me to go easy on you."

"The arena," the prince yelled out, "In one hour."

…………………

Alia, along with Alaric's friends, caught up to him inside the Pantheon. The prince's mob had turned to head straight back to the amphitheatre, making enough noise to disturb the silence of the evening. By the time they made it there, the entire demiplane would know what was going on.

The situation was less than ideal, and yet Alaric didn't seem to mind.

LionHeart snapped the tense silence first, "What are you thinking?" The boy didn't answer. "You're the one who said we weren't to touch any of the demihumans or they'd find a way to kick us out of the demiplane."

"I know what I said, LionHeart," Alaric responded, his voice low but shivering. He made a fist and stared his friend in the eyes with his piercing, neon eyes. Alaric's heart thundered like war drums in his chest, and it hurt. "He challenged me to a duel, not the other way around."

"You could have turned him down," Grun'am spoke from behind, "Rail'ak never plays fair during duels. It's why no one dares to challenge him."

"I've seen him play Featherbowl," Alaric answered, "I wouldn't put petty tricks past him."

"And yet you'll still face him," Grun'am rushed forward so he could look Alaric in the eyes while they climbed the stairs, "You gain nothing from this battle. You can't use your aether, and he knows that. Even then, you're Wood Rank, two whole ranks below him. This is suicide."

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"I'll remind you, Grun'am, that I'll also be fighting," Alia's voice cut through them, "His rank won't matter."

"Be that as it may, he's probably planned for that as well," Grun'am answered, "If he wins, his time in exile will mean nothing to his zealots. He'll return a hero of war."

Alaric stopped walking, took a deep breath and stared Grun'am in the eyes, "I hear you loud and clear, Grun'am. Fighting Rail'ak is a bad idea, and after everything I told Scarlett, it's clear that I was against this outcome."

"Then why?"

Thunder struck, and the chains holding the Storm Pagoda shook as the aether in the demiplane swirled, "If there is one thing Rail'ak has achieved in his life, it's provoking my wrath. Tonight, I will break that prince to pieces."

"Anger?!" Grun'am looked befuddled, "That's your reason."

"I'm not angry," Alaric whispered, "I'm livid."

Alaric was absolutely seething. He could barely think in this state. His fury boiled and shook the demiplane. It took everything in him to keep from unleashing his most powerful spell upon the amphitheatre and end all of this.

Grun'am took a step back, noticing the rage radiating off the boy. Not even the battle of Melbourne had provoked this much emotion from him. Yes, Rail'ak was a fool, but he was also Steel Rank. "What happens when you lose because of this… rage you're relying on to make decisions?"

"Don't worry. The only way I lose is if he somehow manages to kill me," Alaric shrugged and walked right past Grun'am. No one, except for Alia, followed him after this, all of them stunned by what they'd just heard.

Scarlett shivered but caught herself. Lucy sat on the stairs and rubbed her arms, the shivers shaking her whole body as goosebumps sprouted beneath the fabric. LionHeart could feel the sweat on his brow, and he had to catch Troy from falling. Only Kair'ak and her brother shook off the effects of the boy's aura. They took some time to recollect themselves.

………………

Alia stared at the boy as he climbed the stairs to his room and quietly got changed into a white set of armour, the same set he'd been given by the Tower of Seekers. It was light enough for him to move in, although it was a High-tier Two-Star armament, the equivalent of a High-level Wood Temper Rank.

Against a Steel Rank, he might as well be wearing beach clothes. He would need to layer his Spiritual Vessel to withstand the Stormrunner's attacks. If the Stormrunner layered his Spiritual Vessel, though, then even that would prove useless.

Staring into the large mirror in his room, he beheld his glowing eyes.

"Why are they glowing?" he whispered.

"Because you're drawing on your Authority, and a great deal of your Will. One of your own was caught up in this, so it's in your Authority to act," she responded matter-of-factly.

'Damn right,' Alaric thought to himself, wiping a stray tear off the side of his face. He was still shaking, thinking of ways to make the demihuman hurt, but none of the things in his mind could come close to giving him satisfaction.

He got down on his knees and stared at his hands. They were capable of so much carnage, and yet no amount of carnage would be enough to sate this kind of rage. "How does violence end any of this?"

The guardian sat cross-legged next to him with a sigh. She'd seen him angry before, but never this angry. He'd been angry when Bryon took Lucy, so much that he nearly ripped space open, holding back the spell of a Teleportation rune stone. Perhaps if he'd been this angry that time, he could have ripped a hole in space.

Alia couldn't afford to reciprocate such negative emotions.

"Most times, violence doesn't end anything. It just starts a long chain of vengeance that can ripple through time for centuries until there's nothing left. Sometimes, though, it can solve problems. You're fighting a Duel of Wind. It's a battle intended to resolve conflict. You will let your fists do the talking in this duel. And hopefully, by the time it ends, you will have resolved."

Alaric chuckled humourlessly, "When has Rail'ak ever wanted a resolution? It's not in his nature."

A flurry of wings interrupted them, announcing a visitor who entered through his window. Landing in a shower of gold, the old Master of the demiplane emerged, his face pale with worry, "What were you thinking?"

"That I could avenge Troy for nearly getting killed," Alaric answered.

"That's it?!" The man's lips quivered.

Alaric shook his head. The High Sentinel furrowed his brows, and the boy added, "That, and his challenge, were just the spark setting fire to a mountain of wood that the prince has been stacking up for over a decade. Besides, you weren't there. Had I not stepped in, Troy would be among the dead."

Ungv'ak opened his mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. Alaric could see the look in his eyes as his words sank in. It wasn't just Troy who had gotten caught in that explosion. Rail'ak's helpers had tried to evacuate the demihumans within range, but it hadn't been enough.

"How many?" the man asked gravely.

"I don't follow." Alaric looked away.

"How many did you save from that explosion?" the man added.

"Thirteen."

The High Sentinel drew a sharp breath, then turned back to the window, "Come… I'll take you to the arena."

…………………

Noise filled the amphitheatre, rising above anything the rowdy battle maniacs had managed in a long time. This was more than a mere duel among their kind, and it required them to be at their absolute loudest.

The streets of the demiplane ran dry, and thunder boomed across the stormy sky, the light of the sun waning as night approached. The chains of the Storm pagoda rattled in the chaos that shook the demiplane.

From a gate on one side of the arena, a blue-haired demihuman shot out, his white and golden wings carrying him across the amphitheatre and above his fans while he sounded a loud battle cry. His fans roared in return, calling on the man he was going to fight.

The obstacle course had been shut down and everything removed, leaving the sandy arena at the centre. However, there had been one modification to the arena. Surrounding it was a large golden cage, summoned to keep the duellists inside of it all through the Duel of Wind.

Mighty wingbeats filled the sky as a large eagle appeared high above the arena, accompanied by several others, all present to watch the Duel. Tonight, it would not just be Rail'ak's supporters and battle enthusiasts, but citizens of the whole demiplane, civilians alike.

The leader of the demiplane shared brief eye-contact with his son before the prince went back to basking in the glory of his supporters. The two had spoken minutes before the battle, with Ungv'ak asking his son to withdraw. The result of this conversation was obvious. It did, however, mean the High Sentinel could claim to have warned his son if he lost.

The crowd's noise went even higher when a singular figure clad in white armour emerged from a gate opposite the one Rail'ak had emerged from. Rail'ak turned to witness the boy.

His eyes still glowed neon green, and he walked with the grace and prowess of a gladiator ready to rip out the throats of his enemies. His handsome face was calm, but his rage was unmistakable. It was all in the eyes. They didn't quiver or dart, ignoring all distractions as rage consumed the entirety of his being.

'I'm going to enjoy crushing that boy,' the demihuman grinned.

……

Alaric crossed the bridge to the golden cage, his mind clear and silent. The air around him shimmered, and everything went silent except for the mindless fans screaming at the top of their lungs as their leader shot past them.

Rail'ak had seen him and decided to make one last trip around the arena, whirling through his fans before descending into the large cage, landing with a thud, his golden wings glowing against his tan skin. They locked eyes before the High Sentinel's voice echoed through the amphitheatre, "Today, we'll hold the Duel of Wind between Prince Rail'ak and the Great Protector. As the challenger, Rail'ak gets to choose the terms of victory."

"Incapacitation," Rail'ak quickly spoke, a gasp rippling through the crowd.

Alaric couldn't agree more. He'd take nothing less than an arrogant prick beaten half to death for the crime of attempted murder.

"Pick your weapons," the High Sentinel announced.

Alaric approached the rack to the right, where various weapons had been placed. There was much to choose from. Swords, maces, chains, spears, bowstaffs and many more.

Alaric picked up a spear with a foot-long blade and spun it in his hands, shifting it from one hand to the other as it sang through the air with a deadly melody. A small smile bloomed on his face. It was not light, yet not too heavy that he couldn't use it. If anything, its weight was balanced in a way that made spinning the instrument easy rather than simply adding to its weight.

He tried a sword next and found the weapon equally eager to draw blood. The criteria for winning this duel were incapacitation, which meant the deadlier the better. All of that filtered through Alaric's mind, and yet he thought even further ahead.

He settled on a bowstaff equipped with blades coming out of either side. The weapon was almost taller than him, but sturdier than anything he'd ever held.

'This will do.'

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