“You remember the strategy, yes?” Art asked, leaning heavily on his crutch as his eyes darted around the teams surrounding them on the stone arena. “Relax, Art,” Vix said. “You’ve already gone over it half a dozen times. I think we’ll be fine. Besides, you said there wasn’t anyone to worry about in the melee, right? You checked all the teams, did you not?” “I did,” Art admitted. He shifted his weight and rifled through the deck of cards in his hands again, fingers moving so fast that they were practically a blur. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have missed something. My powers are not absolute.” “Good thing, that,” Kien said. His voice was partially muffled by the mask covering his face, but if there was one word that Art could have used to describe the former hero, it would have been bored. It wasn’t exactly disinterest that radiated from him as much as it was the feeling that he’d done this so many times that he simply didn’t care anymore. “Why is that a good thing?” Vix asked. “Because I don’t fancy all my secrets getting plucked from my heads like tasty little grapes,” Kien replied. “All power has limits. If someone could just know everything about someone else through magic alone, it would be terribly unfair. Information is the greatest weapon.” “I’d say a massive fireball is probably the greatest weapon,” Art muttered. “Only if you know where to throw the fireball,” Kien replied. He brushed at the ground with his broom, pushing some dust and debris away. “Relax, boy. This is your first time fighting in front of such a big crowd, isn’t it?” Art blinked. “Yes. Am I that obvious?” A huge barbarian charged across the arena floor, plowing right into one of the teams that had been running toward Art. The three warriors it had been composed of scattered like a herd of startled cats. There we go. Left themselves wide open. Idiots. “I’ll make sure nobody gets too close to you,” Vix promised as she shimmered and faded from view. She was still there — the sunlight was far too bright and there were no shadows for her to hide in, but making her camouflaged form out in the middle of a chaotic fight was going to be next to impossible for most people. “You won’t have to worry about that,” Kien said. “They won’t.” The first of the groups arrived at him. It was two warriors, both of which were clad in heavy armor, and a female ice mage. The mage skidded to a stop as his allies rushed Kien as one, taking aim with the staff she held at her side. Kien exploded into motion. His broom snapped out, somehow finding its way in between the first warrior’s legs. He stumbled over the broom and Kien whipped it up, sweeping the man’s feet out from under him. The second man lunged with his sword and let out a roar as he brought it down for Kien’s shoulder. Kien slipped to the side, extracting his broom from the fallen man. He kept the remaining warrior between himself and the frost mage, much to her growing annoyance. And then the second group was upon them. A single, slender warrior that bore two swords and two casters. They were the bigger of the two threats in Art’s eyes — and they’d timed their approach well. By showing up right as Art’s team and the other group were caught in the middle of a fight, the newcomers had a massive advantage. Art’s hand tightened on the handle of his crutch. Both of the newly arrived casters called on their magic while the thin man raced right for Art. He’d identified the weak link of the team handily. It wasn’t exactly a difficult conjecture to make. Kien needs to finish the first team off so he can back us up. Vix can’t hold two casters off at once, and I don’t want to reveal too much of what we’re capable of— A body sailed through the air. Art’s eyes widened as the second warrior that Kien had been fighting slammed right into the two casters with a loud crunch. The three of them all tumbled off the edge of the arena in a bundle of flailing limbs. By the time Art had turned back to Kien, the former hero had moved to intercept the sleek, dual-wielding man from the second team. Kien brought his broom up and caught both of the swords on its handle with a ringing clang. The warrior staggered back, his eyes going wide. “What is that broom made out of?” “Wood,” Kien replied. He whipped the broom in a blur. Its hilt slammed into the warrior’s head with a resounding thunk and the man dropped on the spot. The attack had been so fast that he hadn’t even had a chance to dodge. Kien’s gaze turned to the lone frost mage, the only surviving member of the two teams. She finally had nothing left to block her shot. Her lips pulled back in a desperate snarl and she thrust her staff forward with a cry. The air crackled as ice materialized before the head of her staff, forming into a pointed blade and leaping free. Kien stepped into the path of the attack. His broom moved almost lazily as he flicked it up, brushing the attack away like it was a speck of dirt on the ground. Then he flowed forward and closed the distance between himself and the mage before even Art had realized what was going on. The mage’s eyes went wide in surprise. She tried to move — either to run or to attack again. She didn’t get the chance to do either. Kien’s palm slammed into her chin and her head snapped back. Two teams had been wiped out in the span of seconds — and Art wasn’t certain Kien had even used any magic in the process. He’d literally just used sheer strength to plow through them. “Holy shit,” Art said.