The Lone Wanderer

Chapter 626 – Disadvantaged

The registration room was decorated in the same style as the previous corridor – with wooden walls, potted plants, and a transparent floor through which Marador Prime was clearly visible in all its cosmic glory. It seemed like this was a recurring theme across the space station, though Percy didn’t blame the Maradorians for wanting to showcase their world – it truly looked like a beautiful place.

Due to his borrowed eyes having already feasted upon the exotic spectacle, he was more interested in the groups of aliens queueing up for registration. Some of these men and women were tall, others short; scaled, furred or bare, with all sorts of bizarre yet common traits that he had already encountered countless times in his adventures.

Rather than hyper-focusing on the racial features of his prospective rivals, Percy was curious about the composition of their teams. Each contained only a single deity – most likely the one responsible for escorting them safely to the space station – and, generally speaking, no more than forty mortals split between the Blue, Violet and White grades.

That alone wasn’t very surprising, since Lanthaniel had already explained that most member-factions of the Void Hand were allowed ten slots per year for each grade, with some regional champions saving their tickets for later.

However, the groups with fewer than five mortals did look a little out of place. Was it a coincidence that their factions had sent so few people this year?

Stranger still was the presence of a couple of duplicate groups – teams of the same species accompanied by different gods and standing separately in the queue. Tossing Lanthaniel a subtle, inquisitive glance, it didn’t take Percy long to hear the explanation whispered in his host’s ears.

“Every faction is obligated to send an official entourage that all the mortals without major backing are allowed to join. However, it’s not rare for some to be escorted here privately by their mentor or a god employed by their family – much like what we are doing.”

Percy nodded in understanding, though he realized that Kassorith was still the only one accompanied by a god from a different faction. Metatron had insisted that things like this tended to happen in the alliance, though it clearly wasn’t as common as the titan would have him believe.

Even worse, the species of Kassorith’s escort was far from his only peculiarity, so several pairs of eyes had scrutinized them closely ever since they entered the room.

‘What? Have you assholes never seen a red Thess’kalan before?’ Percy wanted to ask, not very happy about being the centre of everyone’s attention, yet he kept those thoughts to himself.

Kassorith and Lanthaniel stopped at the back of the queue, waiting for their turn like everyone else. The people in the other groups had clearly seen Thess’kalans before, so they spent several minutes examining Percy’s strange host with great interest, though most of them eventually grew bored.

Unfortunately, however, an entourage of about twenty of Kassorith’s kinsmen was standing about a dozen spots ahead of Percy’s small group, and they weren’t nearly as quick to drop the matter, for obvious reasons.

Whether or not they had recognized Kassorith specifically, the sight of one of their own having betrayed their world and practically stolen one of their limited tickets to hand to a rival faction clearly wasn’t appreciated.

That said, the cocktail of emotions marring their scaled faces contained more than anger or disgust. Percy didn’t miss the spark of greed present in their slit pupils as they probably wondered what Kassorith had done to his scales.

Either way, it was best to avoid unnecessary trouble, so Percy internally debated whether to ignore them or ask his host to apologize for his crimes – to hopefully diffuse tension.

In the end, Kassorith did neither, yet his kinsmen stopped looking at him of their own accord at some point. To their credit, they must have figured that putting the traitor in his place wasn’t worth getting kicked out of the prestigious competition before it even started.

Exhaling in relief, Percy went back to discreetly scanning the other groups, soon finding another team that stood out. He naturally didn’t recognize their species, but this was the only group with over a hundred members. Suffice to say, he was under no illusion that they had just happened to have hoarded so many tickets to use in a single year.

‘Are they…?’ he asked his host, getting a mental nod back.

‘Denytes. One of the founding factions. We’ll have to pay them more attention than everyone else, as I expect that we’ll have to beat at least a couple of these monsters to make the top eight,’ Kassorith said, having clearly noticed which group Percy was talking about.

The Denytes looked somewhat similar to humans, though their skin was fairer and their statures lither and more feminine, even though there had to be at least some males in the group. They were shorter than the average sapient too, though not quite as short as Cassiel’s people – the green-skinned species that lived in the Vault.

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More importantly, their hair was rather unique. Their manes were long, vibrant and bright, practically burning atop their scalps more like flames than mundane hair.

‘No… it’s not fire either,’

Percy realized, creasing his host’s brow. ‘Is that… concentrated mana?’Each Denyte’s head shone with a different hue, which Percy instantly connected to the mana types inside their cores. Most of their manes burned in the familiar colours of common and composite affinities, though there were more than a couple with rare mana types.

The magical hair flowed erratically, yet not a single mote appeared to leak away. It looked like the mana was contained within some invisible membrane that could freely bend, stretch and twist, but never break.

‘The mana is of the same grade as their cores, but there’s twice as much of it in their hair,’ Percy concluded after studying them carefully for a few minutes.

‘Indeed,’ Kassorith confirmed. ‘This is the result of one of their most famous Decrees. Luckily, this secondary mana storage only affects their capacity – not their regeneration – but starting each fight with three times the reserves of their opponents is still nothing to scoff at.’

‘Interesting…’ Percy said. ‘Can we also get this Decree from the tournament?’

Having glowing hair would admittedly look ridiculous, but Percy wasn’t going to miss out on such a powerful ability just because of its appearance. Sadly, his host was quick to burst his bubble.

‘I’m afraid not. It’s one of those Decrees that target all the newborns of their species. They couldn’t pass it to outsiders even if they wanted to – and I’m pretty sure they don’t. The founding factions all have at least one powerful Decree that is unique to them. It’s one of the secrets behind their success,’ Kassorith explained.

Percy sighed, having expected this. This was probably common among the peak factions. In fact, the Moirais’ Decree was pretty much the same thing, though the Void Hand had managed to recreate a version of it to grant to their members on top of their existing power. He and Kassorith would have to overcome these unfair advantages if they wanted to climb high enough to earn a few new Decrees of their own.

Studying the Denytes a little longer, he noticed yet another unsettling peculiarity. There were thirteen mortals who had two separate flames on their scalps, flaring in opposite directions. Each sported a different colour, though it wasn’t any smaller than those of their kinsmen that only possessed one.

‘Dual affinities? Don’t tell me there’s so many who already have the Void Decree as well?!’

Scanning their abdomens, it didn’t take Percy long to confirm his suspicions. Some of their second cores were still a grade or two lower than those in their sternums, but almost half had already caught up.

There were two Denytes with twin Blue cores that he and Kassorith would have to compete against, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the other founding factions had just as many mages at that level, or even more.

‘Shit!’ he thought, failing to suppress a curse.

All of a sudden, the goal of climbing to the top eight seemed even more daunting, though Percy should have probably seen that coming. People were allowed to compete in the tournament multiple times, and the Void Decree was offered to the winners every single year. It only made sense that a big chunk of the participants would have already earned it during a previous competition.

Still, this was horrible news for him and Kassorith.

To qualify for the Void Decree in the first place, one would have to reach the top eight with a single core. This meant that every two-cored mage in the tournament was a monster capable of defeating other monsters even under a severe handicap. And once they joined the ranks of their two-cored peers, the gulf separating these monsters from those less talented only widened.

Percy had previously thought that the Void Hand was somewhat generous for offering the Decree to dozens of new mortals every single year, but he might have greatly overestimated how often the supreme spell reached new hands.

For all he knew, it was entirely possible that the same group of participants tended to occupy the top spots in the competition for decades or even centuries at a time. For anyone new to break through and claim the Decree for themselves, they would either have to be even more talented, or they would have to wait for their seniors to move on to the next category – or skip a tournament.

‘Well… that sure sucks,’ Micky said. ‘Usually, we’re the ones who have more cores than our opponents.’

Alas, there was nothing they could do but grit their gums and hope for the best.

With their mood completely soured, Percy and his companions patiently waited for their turn. More groups arrived at the space station, joining the queue behind them. Most flashed them the same curious gazes as the people from earlier, though it never took long for the newcomers to move on.

Eventually, Kassorith and Lanthaniel reached a counter that wasn’t manned by a person. There was just a flat, glowing crystal that reminded Percy of the screens from the Vault. It contained a simple questionnaire for his host to fill in.

It asked for information such as a broad overview of his abilities, the method by which he had acquired his ticket to the tournament, and his relationship to the god currently escorting him.

Sneaking a glance at the towering deity, Percy assumed that Lanthaniel had to answer a similar set of questions. He had no idea whether there was magic like Nesha’s Truthseeker bloodline in place to verify the truth of their answers, though the questions were thankfully vague enough that Kassorith didn’t have to outright lie to get through them.

As soon as they were done, they had to scan their ticket once more, probably to link it to their responses. Percy guessed that this was a necessary step for turning the objects into proper identification badges to use during their stay on the space station and Marador Prime.

The original tickets could freely be traded, so they weren’t linked to any specific person prior to this point. If Percy and Kassorith wanted to access their accommodations and rewards later, they would need something more official than a blank ticket that anyone could use.

With that out of the way, they were allowed into the next room – which might not be the right term for what this place was. It was more of a giant shopping centre, with hundreds of people – both mortals and gods – strolling around leisurely. It was full of luxurious restaurants and expensive-looking stores, the sight causing Kassorith’s eyes to widen once more.

“We’ve got a couple of days to kill before we have to part ways,” Lanthaniel said, having clearly noticed their interest. “Do you want to check this place out?”