Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (92/?) WiP 1

Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 92 I hope you guys enjoy! :D

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor’s Field. Local Time: 1100

Auris

Dread is the taint which masks the otherwise brilliant soul, a self-fulfilling prophecy which only fools fall prey to.

Hope is the fruit which nurtures the uncertain mind, a sweet and sumptuous escape, that serves only to weaken the spirit. 

Confidence is the fuel with which the noble soul thrives, and it is only through confidence that the darkness of dread is vanquished, and the foolishness of hope is tempered.

Confidence, leads to faith, and faith in what was righteous, was the strongest faculty a sapient being could ever develop.

Confidence, along with faith, are thus the cornerstones of nobility. 

And it was because of both of these tenets, that I had no doubt as to the results of this magical competition. 

Magic was, after all, the unassailable instrument of the noble and righteous.

Everything that the newrealmer wasn’t, and everything that the newrealmer lacked. 

The mana-deprived newrealmer was running purely off of the abilities granted by her muscle-bound survivalist society.

A society unfit, undeserving, and ultimately, ill-equipped to integrate with the demands of civilization.

The armor was an aesthetic diversion, a masterpiece of showmanship, meant to hide the savage beast lurking beneath it.

Savage, being the operative word in this instance.

Beastly, being the only descriptor capable of explaining away the impressive feats of strengths demonstrated by the newrealmer.

As without the ebb and flow of mana, owing to the offensive nature of her armor, only brute strength remained as an explanation for the newrealmer’s strange proclivities for athletics. 

Which meant that her actions were no better than the defiant posturing of an unruly beast.

And as with any beast, there were limits to the power that brute strength could offer. 

Limits that often began with the utilization of magic. 

Limits that had already started showing even as early as in the unaugmented strength challenge, and was once again manifesting now at the wall.

Limits that had left the beast stranded at the foot of the wall, unable to climb, and thus unable to proceed.

I stood atop of the wall for just a moment, at peace, and with a resurgence of confidence that flooded my very soul with a surge of utter delight.

I felt, in that moment, like I was on top of the world.

I felt euphoria, in every sense of the word.

I gazed out towards the sea of shambling bodies, towards the rapidly ascending Thalmin, Qiv, and Gumigo with a light-hearted delight. As even they were a welcome sight that proved a point which I had been making throughout this competition — that magic overcomes all obstacles in its path. 

Even if one of the aforementioned three won in my stead, my points would be vindicated.

Though I had little incentive to allow that to happen. Not when I still had a body to utilize, and my word to live up to. 

And so, with a grin and a chuckle, I began making my way forwards. 

My path, and the rest of my peers’ paths, immediately started becoming something of a challenge as the seemingly straightforward ‘rooftops’ we faced started shifting and contorting. 

Some of the platforms rose, whilst others fell, whilst others even began changing size, shape, and dimensions with each passing second.

The mythic encabulator seemed to be reacting to us, in the same way that the raising of the gates had increased in weight the higher and higher we raised it.

I could feel its latent eyes, its constant poking and prodding at the edges of my manafield. 

I could even feel it peering into my very soul at times.

“A worthy challenge, wouldn’t you say, my fellows?!” I turned back to the winded group, as I stood tall aloft one of the higher platforms in the rapidly growing sea of platforms. 

“A worthy challenge, indeed, Lord Ping!” Several voices responded, not from the aforementioned three of course, but from the rapidly growing crowd who seemed to relish in the newrealmer’s assured demise. 

A crowd that now followed me forward into the thick of things, trailing just behind my only three worthy competitors. 

My mind was now practically rid of the newrealmer, as my eyes were now poised towards the end of this vertical dungeon. 

Yet a gnawing feeling had me looking back, if only to placate the fears of my earlier experiences.

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The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor’s Field. Local Time: 1105

Qiv

Dark was the newrealmer’s presence in the manafield.

And darker were her aims if her intent was to be trusted.

She was difficult to miss, yet easy to forget, so as we surged forward I found her presence muted and gone.

Yet I knew that the newrealmer was not a typical beast.

I knew that despite the odds, a complete non sequitur may yet derail Lord Ping’s preemptive victory lap.

So whilst my stakes in this race were nonexistent, as either outcome would lead only to a desirable conclusion in the near to mid term, I still couldn’t help but to ponder on the newrealmer’s capabilities.

What exactly lay beneath the armor that allowed her to perform such great feats?

Was it her kind’s sheer physicality? 

Or was there something more?

Something that the Academy wished to hide beneath what truly was the most likely explanation.

I had no reason to doubt the words of the upper yearsmen or faculty. 

I had no reason to conceive of any other reason but brute physical strength as an explanation to the newrealmer’s proclivities for athletics.

Yet I couldn’t help but to notice the disparity in the newrealmer’s ability to deadlift the family of bears.

As even at their lightest, they were far, far heavier than the weights she seemingly withdrew from in the earlier competition.

So with that discrepancy, amidst so many more discrepancies, I am left to wonder…

Exactly what lies beneath the armor?

Or perhaps, more pertinently, did I care to find out?

And was it worth the risk of sticking my nose where it clearly was not wanted?

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The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor’s Field. Local Time: 1120

Auris

“Victory was never in doubt, Lord Ping!” Came one of the many voices of support as I reached the end of the vertical dungeon.