owlsbooks Chapter 250 – Final Showdown
Chapter 250 – Final Showdown
Chapter 250 – Final Showdown
The crowd is silent after the unexpected interruption. It’s not a surprise. I feel like today will set a record of sudden twists for them. It is as if the very universe doesn’t want to keep it simple and easy. If I didn’t know the deity watching over this world this intimately, I would suspect her having it out for this particular Dwarf clan.
But, no, this is just on an everyday basis in such families.
“Not to mention skipping half of the contest just like that!” The irritated man continues to ramble towards the audience.
“It was not something I expected, but I will gladly display my entries for the rest of the categories even if my rivals have already signed out of the show,” Sirgia replies, making her way down the marked aisle and reaching the scene, figuratively and literally.
“That’s not the problem!” He spins to face her. “I bet the result would have remained the same thanks to your treacherous ways of poisoning our traditions.”
“Are you suggesting that we accepted bribes to lower our performance in the Showdown?!” the female contestant booms loudly with a red face, letting the mic pick up her shout.
The others in the group mirror her insulted expression.
“That will all come out under the investigation that I’m going to conduct after the events of this pitiful challenge!” The Elder glares at them before turning back to my unperturbed mate. “Besides, even if she didn’t, it’s clear she knew about the categories way before and made her preparations ahead of time!”
“You are half-right.” Sirgia rubs her eyes gently, capturing everyone’s attention. “No, I didn’t know about the categories before, receiving them at the same time as the other contestants. In the first place, they could only be drawn in the last three days as that’s when I invoked the right of the challenge with the Patriarch. Yes, all these artefacts come from the last full year of my efforts back in the Human Kingdom, where the majority of my Journeyman Pilgrimage took place. And my late return was dictated by the difficulties I faced after finding myself there.”
“I knew it!” The man points a finger at her accusingly. “She’s in cahoots with Humans! They sent her here to destroy us from the inside! This is not the level of prowess a student of the craft can display after just a year of self-practice! Nor is the cost of materials and workplace equipment!”
Some murmurs travel around as he does touch upon one or two fairly valid points. This is something Sirgia’s parents have worried about too, in the end. Considering the merciless world these people live in, it’s not unthinkable for them to come to such assumptions.
“Again, you are only partially correct.” My lover sighs delicately. “I’m not in cahoots with anyone. Everything I’ve done since the day I was born has been for the clan. Until the very moment that I was captured and tortured at the hands of Humans, where my focus switched to my own survival. And the chance to succeed at that and even thrive came from the lucky encounter with my considerate sponsor.”
I lean closer to Niel. “Come on. We’ve stayed out of this for far too long already. It’s not about the contest anymore and she’ll need our support.”
The nervous girl offers me an uncertain glance but squeezes my hand to convey that she’s ready to do anything it takes to help her childhood friend. I get up and we push through the rows of seats to reach the bottom edge of the bleachers. Niel’s eyes widen slightly as she peers down the tall wall, but I wink at her reassuringly and snatch her light body into my arms.
“So you admit to selling yourself and our secrets to those abominable savages!” The Elder keeps hanging on her words again and again. “Becoming nothing more than a tool!”
“I don’t think she had that much to offer,” I say, finding one of these transmitters inside my own spatial storage, and descending to the ground through a quickly borrowed Wind Magic. “When I bought her straight from the executioner’s unjust death row.”
My reveal catches attention instantly, many observers figuring out the heart of the matter in no time. The gazes are all on me when I let Niel down and put her by my side, unhurriedly approaching the centre.
“You!” He snarls my way. “You are the mastermind then! Did you really think this foolish scheme of yours would have flown by without anyone noticing? Even for a Human, you are impressively brainless.”
Sirgia’s fingers tighten into fists as her face contorts in a threatening manner. “Keep your half-witted insults off my husband...”
“Husband?!” The male Dwarf squawks indignantly. “You would give into the desires of your filthy owner?!”
“Master broke the contract and freed me on the same day he saved me from falling victim to a grave set-up.” She takes a heavy step towards him, making the man involuntarily retreat a step too. “He showed me kindness and understanding far greater than any of my kin has ever thought of considering.”
“And yet you still call that thing your master!” the Elder points out, a bit less bold now that he’s almost facing her from up close, especially with that insane armour still on.
“Because he is my Master,” my brave wife responds, the last word sounding a tad different, and I realise it’s coming from an ancient Dwarvish dialect, which has a very special meaning. “He has taught me many things that I’ve been lacking in my life, and continues to guide me through my journey as an artificer without demanding anything other than my betterment in return. If not for his bright and creative mind, none of these artefacts would have ever seen the sketching phase, not to mention the light of day.”
“That’s absurd!” He snorts to the side. “There is no way a Human can ever come up with something this advanced! They would have given in to their barbaric urges long ago and conquered the entire world again already, leaving us no chance to rise back this time!”
A faint smile sneaking onto her lips, Sirgia glances up at me warmly. “He’s just that special.”
Smiling back at her, I nod appreciatively.
“This is crazy!” The Elder waves his arms furiously. “I’ve had enough! Patriarch! Why are you even still humouring this farce?! We should capture the Human and this traitor before they manage to escape, informing their allies about the failure they have suffered today!”
This guy’s imagination is the crazy thing instead.
As for the Patriarch, the one-eyed leader of the family takes a moment to think about his response and starts reaching out for the microphone. Sirgia is faster, though, as she pulls out another one and flicks a switchable gem on the side which I can now see from up close, tossing the bonus mic at the chief. It begins hovering by his face on its own, already active.
Sparing it only a glance, I swear the rough man shows the tiniest smirk on his heavy lips. “And what if you are wrong, Elder?”
It’s like a physical slap lands on the previously furious guy’s face. “E-Excuse me?!”
“If your accusations prove to be misdirected for any possible reason, intentional or not, what do you think is going to happen?” The Patriarch speaks slowly and deliberately, his words meant for everyone. “We would be destroying whatever ties we might have with not just one but two unparalleled geniuses that could elevate our clan into heights previously viewed unreachable.”
“You can’t seriously think—”
“Did you know I picked these categories from amongst the entries on Contestant Sirgia’s list of worst-performing training exercises during her education before the journey?” the Clan Head asks.
Some people gasp and whisper, and the challengers look noticeably stricken. I don’t blame them. Though, I’m not exactly sure which part is the one that hits them the worst. The one where a much younger girl has just beaten them in what’s possibly her Achilles’ Heel, or the fact that their Patriarch has just admitted to rigging the Heir Showdown against her favour.
And she still was about to win by a landslide.
No matter what, bringing this to the public when so many important people are present in the audience will cause some headaches for him.
“Do you think anyone in the clan would have been able to make such a glaring leap in talent and expertise in just a single, most likely not even full year? Even with the funding of the richest and most ancient lineages amidst all the races spread over the entirety of Naharren?” the Patriarch adds, staring right at the audacious Elder. “Would you?”
The last question seems to trigger something in the depths of the Dwarf’s heart. He’s been growing meek with each second, perhaps having second doubts after hearing his superior’s tone, but the mention of his own prowess ignites something in him.
“Of course!” The aide recovers his bravado. “My line has been leading this family’s research for decades! If we had access to unlimited funds and supplies, the sky would have been the limit!”
The one-eyed man displays a truly shark-like grin. “Then, if conditions were to be nearly equal, you have no doubt you would be able to easily best young Sirgia and her... Human mate?”
He suspiciously emphasises the last part, but so far, the Patriarch hasn’t shown any signs of wishing us misfortune, right from our first meeting, so I decide to put my trust in his conniving designs.
“With one hand tied around my back while hanging upside down!” The Elder scoffs our way. “What even is that question...”
“Perfect!” The chief clasps his hands strong enough to cause more interference through the microphones. “Since we are all already gathered here for the Heir Showdown, which was cut short for unplanned reasons, let’s solve this in the most appropriate way that our clan can. A clean artificing duel!”
Silence fills the arena for a moment as his voice echoes throughout it, just to be shattered by the immense roar of the spectators. The very foundations of this dwarven coliseum shake as the audience expresses their elation. Judging by the intensity, this isn’t something that happens often. Especially including individuals of such high standing.
I bring my mouth to Niel’s ear since she’s closer. “What’s that?”
She mirrors the motion, her soft cheek brushing against mine. “A very serious bet where two masters solve their dispute through pure ability. The referee provides a schematic and the participants have to craft the best version of the item that they can within the same amount of time. It’s held in a public place, like these testing grounds, so that the numerous pairs of eyes can verify that there is no cheating involved. It’s hard to play tricks when everyone is deeply focused on your every movement.”
Drawing back, we graze each other again and she takes note of how close we were in both cases, her charming visage blossoming with a slight rosy flush. I catch Sirgia’s gaze over her shoulder and find my cheeky wife grinning in pure satisfaction. Squinting at her, I rise before Niel catches us and gets uncomfortable and shy.
“Silence!” The Patriarch finally tames down the chaos with a mighty shout. “So, what says you, Elder? Are you confident enough in your skills and equipment?”
Well, when you put it like that...
“I accept!” The poor bastard has no real choice on the matter.
His reputation would end up in shambles if he didn’t.
Not like it won’t crumble into dust either way.
There is no fucking way...
“May I?” I step closer and reach for the artefact.
He nods and makes some space for me to stand next to him, which forces me to slouch quite a bit. Still, I look through the lenses... and can’t help but laugh quietly. No wonder the description sounded familiar. This fucking thing zoomed right into the structure of the very paper, a tiny piece of a single black letter consuming the whole image.
“Here. Like this.” I offer while guiding his hand to the slider.
The moment the man’s fingers find it and he drags it towards himself, his single eye shoots wide and he visibly winces.
“What in the Goddess’ name...” he whispers.
It takes him a moment to find the correct speed of his movements but he gets the hang out of the zoom and manages to fit the sheet in his view.
“Next!” the Patriarch calls since his hands are busy, ordering the servant to start flipping. “Next! Next! Next! This is unimaginable! Next! Next! Next! How far can this thing go?! Next! I said next you doofus!”
“But sire!” the assistant yells back. “There’s no more!”
The Clan Head jolts in shock and pulls his gaze away from the lens. Truly, the last page remains on the wooden wall. The font placed on it is so tiny you would need multiple magnifying glasses to discern. Yet, I spot the slider about halfway through its track.
Oops.
We might have accidentally overdone it.
The Patriarch’s arms drop to his sides. “How did you do that?”
Sirgia glances at me, but I gesture at her to explain, not wanting to steal her thunder.
“Your designs were truly remarkable, Patriarch, but they... kept themselves limited to the same approach,” she answers hesitantly. “Instead of enhancing a single lens, we utilised a batch of varying sizes, relying on physics rather than magic. Their position and angle dictate the picture you can see, that’s why this tube is so long. It allows them to move per user’s wish. A few simple circuits are woven between each of them to further raise the efficiency of the magnification, but they don’t invoke any specific spells. A single gem fuels them and it’s easily replaceable.”
His brain lags behind a little bit as he attempts to process her words but ultimately shakes his head. “That’s... it, then. This arena is too small to fully measure the capabilities of this artefact... The win goes to Challenger Sirgia and her husband.”
“What?!” The Elder squawks on the side. “There is no way!”
This idiot marches up to the Patriarch vehemently, but the other man is wise enough not to hand the makeshift telescope away in case of any foul play. Pinning the guy with a glare, he allows him to peer through the eyepiece, fiddling with the slider. The aide pales and his cheeks puff out like he is about to hurl, jumping away to regather himself from the sudden bout of sickness.
“I... I object!” He scowls at us, still a bit greenish. “Their tools and materials were far superior! This was not a reliable comparison!”
Sighing tiredly, his superior rolls his eyes and turns to Sirgia, who reads his intentions without the need for words and politely raises a hand.
“May I take a look at Elder’s workshop?” she requests.
Receiving explicit permission, she trots to the other station and peeks into every available container or storage, mentally noting everything the man used in his attempt. In just a moment, she saunters back to my side.
“I would need approximately sixty to ninety minutes more to construct an about twenty percent weaker version of our artefact,” my lover reveals. “But it wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Preposterous!” The Elder glowers at her like she’s personally shoved his grandma under a carriage.
Fortunately, he doesn’t get to whine any longer as the Patriarch takes over. “The duel is adjourned! Guards! Take this man away before he shames the clan even further! He is to be restricted to his quarters until further notice!”
The sentries have been ready for a while already and they capture the troublemaker right away. He continues to throw expletives around but the conversations filling the arena muffle those out. The audience is clearly shaken by everything that led up to this point.
“Now, I think I can officially congratulate you.” The Patriarch’s words silence the spectators in a blink. “It’s my pleasure to witness your talent, young lady. As of tomorrow, you’ll join the ranks of Masters of our family’s craft. Honour of such—”
“No,” Sirgia cuts him off, shocking literally everyone. “I don’t think I will.”
We all blink at her like idiots.
“After today’s display, that’s no longer my objective,” she continues, unfazed. “If I’m going to help our family develop and prosper, I need to prevent malicious individuals like that Elder from interfering with me. To achieve that, I will require a much higher rank than that of a Master.”
From the gathered crowd to the very participants down in the arena, no one can believe the audacity of this girl.
“Therefore, I request the position of Subsidiary Lineage Counselor,” my dear wife presents her demands.
After a delay of about three seconds, complete chaos ensues.
It’s impossible to understand what the audience is shouting as the spectators are engaged in lively discussions. But, I catch bits and pieces exchanged between the remaining Elders and the Showdown contenders. It sounds like such a position is second only to the Patriarch himself and no one has really occupied it in ages. Previously, a family ancestor remained by the Patriarch’s side to guide future generations. For someone this young to covet such a thing is borderline insolent.
And yet, the Clan Head regards the impudent brat with a cold and calculative gaze. Giving himself about a minute to think, he snaps his fingers to restore order. With silence returning, he moves to his relocated throne, plops down, and rests his chin atop his joined palms.
“Bring it out,” he orders.
I wonder what exactly it is, but the arena’s operators seem to understand their leader perfectly. The range shifts once more as the wooden wall with the posters descends into its depths. Afterwards, something else replaces it. Something bulky, sizable, and vaguely person-shaped.
At first sight, it screams power armour. Tall like about one-and-a-half adult Human and wide for two, a hazelnut metal figure stands atop a stone platform. It consists of thick plates resembling steel that cover its limbs and torso. They are smooth and rounded over the shoulders and joints. If I didn’t know any better, I would accuse the creator of infringing on a certain space soldier franchise where the wearers of such gear spread destruction in the name of their holy emperor.
“What the hell is that...” I involuntarily whisper.
“A War Golem prototype,” the Patriarch replies. “Far from an operable state, and I won’t divulge any sensitive details, but it’s the toughest thing we have ever created. It’s the fruit of effort from multiple generations. Don’t worry, this project isn’t a classified secret. Many clans try their hands at advancing Golems into capable protectors and everyone knows that. This will be a good opportunity to remind you that, while you are undoubtedly a once-in-a-century prodigy, you still are far beyond the wisdom and experience of those who can be considered our ancestors. The very heroes whose position you are craving.”
He keeps his steely gaze on Sirgia, directing the speech solely at her.
“Archer,” the man commands.
The Elf still holding onto Sirgia’s bow launches an arrow at the armour. With a familiar thwip, the projectile crosses the distance faster than most people can perceive and pings off the chestplate without leaving a mark, a golden sheen travelling down the metal.
Gesturing with one hand towards the Golem, the Patriarch raises a challenging brow. “This will be your final test. If you manage to leave a scratch on this armour, I’ll acknowledge you. But, if you fail to—”
He doesn’t get to finish as Sirgia spins around and takes a few steps forward to put herself in line with the target. She tilts her head adorably, then holds her palm out, fingers facing upwards. With a small flash, an opaque toxic red orb the size of a tennis ball appears in her hand. It looks like rubber or foam toys for your dog.
Bouncing it a few times off the ground, she gives it a squeeze and hurls it ahead like a professional pitcher.
The ball glides through the air slowly in an arc before smacking into the left pauldron. A funny plap echoes through the arena as it deforms briefly and sticks to its surface, regaining its springy shape. Deafening silence descends upon the stadium as everyone watches the weird object with tense anticipation.
POP.
A sound like the noise of someone unplugging the neck of a glass bottle with their thumb softly travels through the air and... half of the Golem is gone.
If someone blinked at that moment, they completely missed it. But even if they didn’t, it was so sudden you could barely register it.
In one second, the armour was whole. In the next second, it was missing a big chunk in the shape of a sphere’s edge, the metal cut so cleanly it appeared intentionally made that way.
Sirgia turns around and raises her own brow in response.
The Patriarch starts sweating buckets.
Oh, boy.