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“I’m sorry, King Zelsh, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Bowing slightly again, Jarrit stood up. “Rhyner knows more than I, and I was told that you could write him any questions your heart desires regarding Oliver.”

“So no, you won’t tell me more?”

“I don’t know if the little knowledge I have about Oliver would have any merit.”

Shaking his head but keeping his grin, Zelsh asked, “Then let me ask you this, how did Rhyner come into contact with Oliver?”

“It was through one of our institute tournaments,” answered Jarrit. “Oliver did some work for a noble family and that family agreed to sponsor him in the tournament. Then, Oliver proceeded to win despite facing some terrible match-ups, such as a noble, young master with wind and light essence.”

“That’s it?”

.....

“That’s it.”

“...”

“You think there’s more to it?” Jarrit asked.

Chuckling, Zelsh responded, “I know there’s more to it. With Rhyner involved, there’s always more to it...”

“Would you mind if I retire for the night? That should give you time to ponder what questions you have for Rhyner, and I’ll deliver your letter or even a summons myself.”

“I guess that could work... Thanks for staying and paying me a visit.”

“I can never turn down Bore City’s finest food.” Jarrit laughed and turned to leave, following a servant to a room of his own.

Now alone, Zelsh had his wine refilled before leaving the dining hall with a goblet in hand. He walked toward his throne room but kept going past that largest main hall. Nearing the palace’s teleportation formation, the king stopped outside a door. It was the smallest and simplest of the entire palace. Many would suspect it lead to the servant’s quarters, but many people would be wrong. Zelsh then retrieved a key and unlocked the door, turning the knob slowly and entering the new area. He promptly closed and locked the door, looking back to see a room a space as large as the throne room but filled with books, scrolls, treasures, and cushions. Formations littered the floor and bookshelves.

Out of reflex, Zelsh created a silencing barrier with the formation to the side of the door. And finally, Zelsh dropped his smile.

Alone, he could ease up and relax, letting his mind drift and stumble through new thoughts and theories on anything, from cultivation to matters of the region. But there was only one thing on Zelsh’s mind right now.

The king plopped onto his favorite cushion and placed his hands together, twiddling his fingers slowing while his mind grinded its gears.

“You shouldn’t look into anything you’re unable to handle.”

Slowly, Zelsh opened his eyes and noticed the man now standing before him. As calm as ever, Zelsh glanced at the door, noting that it was untouched along with the silencing formation.

“I’ve never had the pleasure. What can I call you?”

“You don’t need to ask Rhyner or Jarrit about Oliver,” replied the man, adorning a hood stitched form shadows that covered his face.

Blinking, Zelsh asked, “Because... you’ll tell me about him?”

“I can. But first I’ll tell you some bad news.”

“That being?”

“Oli won’t be allowed to fight tomorrow.”

Expressing confusion for the first time, Zelsh tilted his head but remained sitting. “Why not?”

“Because you won’t let him,” answered the man. “You’ll take him with you, but you won’t let him fight.”

“And why won’t I let him?”

“Because I won’t permit you to allow him to fight.”

“... That would complicate things... But how should I go about explaining that to the prefecture lord? I don’t think you’ll–”

“You don’t need to.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll be asked about it. It’s not like I can do anything I want for something this important.”

Chuckling, the man shrugged, “Tomorrow’s not important. It’s all for show and stealing an early look at the competition. That’s why you’ll take Oli but won’t let him fight.”

“And the prefecture lord? Where does she fit into all this? I can’t–”

“You’re smart and known for being outspoken. If anything, you’re the person who just might get away with it.”

Zelsh took in a deep breath for a moment. “That doesn’t mean I won’t be punished for such actions. Yet here you are, an anonymous cultivator who dares to claim such things without introducing yourself or giving me a convincing reason.”

“Am I really not that convincing?”

“Well... we can find out...”

Silence... it hung in the air for a moment as Zelsh tilted his head in an attempt to look under the visitor’s hood. When that made no difference, Zelsh took one more deep breath. Then he attacked.

Jumping at the man, yellow and black essence layered over Zelsh’s fists. At the same time, the man didn’t move or flinch in the slightest.

The fist crashed into the man’s face, landing squarely on his chin. Yet the man’s head remained still. Only the shadowy hood moved, catching the breeze following Zelsh’s mighty leap and punch.

“Do you need more convincing?”

“Yes!”

Unashamed, Zelsh’s entire body was suddenly enveloped in a dense black aura. It was misty yet thick to the touch. Beneath the dark, mirky essence werre jagged earthen spikes, piling together to form armor. All while Zelsh threw a second punch into the man’s other cheek. Then a third jab into the man’s side. Then a fourth... and a fifth... More than ten punches, kicks, or attacks were thrown onto the man’s unmoving body, each time failing to even leave a scratch.

“How’s that? Or do you wish to continue using me for stress relief?” asked hte man, whose voice was unperturbed by the violent attacks being thrown at him.

“If you’ll allow it!”

Another flurry of blow crashed into the hooded man’s body, none of which had any real affect. But Zelsh’s determination was insurmountable and unyielding. His attacks continued without pause or any sign of fear, despite the clear difference in strength.