Alistair stared at his opponents solemnly.
The storm above was slowly dissipating, its fury dying, replaced by pockets of clear azure as the heavens returned to normal. Beams of sunlight pierced through the dark clouds, casting areas into light and shadow, respectively.
The hum of magic still lingered in the air, a sign that the ground had just recently been reconstructed. The previous clash must have been quite a fight - unfortunately, Alistair and his team had missed it, busy preparing for their upcoming bout in the changing room.
By the time the Tournament steward had come to escort them, the previous combatants had already been ushered away.
It was a shame. That said, the Guildmaster knew he would find out the details soon enough.
First, however, he had to fight.
Standing there, shrouded in a pocket of shadowy darkness, three forms quivered in and out of his perception, like a flickering candle. The gloom concealed their figures, embracing them like a dark mantle, as if they had become one with it.
Alistair remained calm, channeling a small stream of mana to his eyes.
From the outside, it looked like small embers had sparked to life in his eyes.
Augmenting his sight, the Expert mage discovered that his opponents possessed lithe frames, their postures and stance indicating they favoured smaller weapons - most likely daggers - over long and larger blades. Strangely, they did not wear metal armour, instead opting for leather, with what seemed to be numerous folds fitted into them.
Skull earrings dangled from their earlobes.
Alistair's gaze narrowed.
'The Silent Slaughter Guild?'
There was not much information available about them.
All that was known was that the Silent Slaughter Guild were extremely dark and chillingly lethal, evidenced by their name. They had risen to prominence over the past five years, in the time between the last tournament.
This was to say that, unlike other Guilds Alistair had fought before, he did not have much of an understanding of their capabilities, at all. All he had were baseless rumours that he couldn't verify until after the bout had finished.
The Guildmaster softly clicked his tongue.
Beside him, Elara and Nara mentally prepared themselves to fight. They stretched and lightly hopped, loosening their muscles more out of habit than nerves. Alistair had already done all his warming up in the changing room, though, he supposed more stretching could never hurt.
His mind spun, trying to formulate a last-minute strategy.
Yet, the lack of information still hindered him.
In the corner of his perception, he could sense the murmuring of the crowd slowly die down, the audience readying themselves to watch the newest clash unfold. He smiled, the last droplets of rain falling on his helm.
He looked down at his spiked, golden gauntlets and clenched his fists.
He was not nervous. He had done this too many times now to feel that.
But, he was uneasy. And if there was anything Alistair had learned from his life, it was to always trust his instincts. After all, he had spent a long time honing them.
…He would be a fool to waste all that effort.
Pensive, Alistair almost missed the deep wail that announced the start of the clash.
Instantly, he tensed, all unnecessary thoughts purged from his mind. He snapped an armoured finger, fire exploding outward from him in a vast ring. With little effort, the Guildmaster wrested control of the flames, using them to banish the pockets of darkness his opponents seemed to thrive in.
He had already briefed his wife and lieutenant about their strategy, irrespective of the opponent. He would take charge, acting as the vanguard alongside Nara, while Elara would serve as the rear, a half-step behind, ready to heal and support.
Sinking effortlessly into the familiar embrace of battle clarity, Alistair shot off, bursts of orange flame spraying from his feet. He gripped his trusty sledgehammer and leapt towards the Silent Slaughter Guild, eager to be rid of the restless premonition assaulting his mind.
As soon as he neared his ominous foes, the Guildmaster swung his weapon, flames spraying out in a wide arc. However, just then, one of the forms of the enemy combatants rippled, appearing like a dark mirror.
To Alistair's vexation and mild surprise, they swallowed the light in the arena like a dark vortex - his flames included -, robbing the surroundings of any illumination.
The Expert mage remained calm, flames sparking to life in his eyes, enhancing his sight.
Fire also flickered on his golden armour, brightening his immediate vicinity.
Just from this brief snippet, Alistair understood the Silent Slaughter Guild excelled at stealth. He mentally reevaluated his strategy to account for that. At the same time, the enemy moved, blending in with the darkness and disappearing completely from his perception.
Alistair's gaze turned grim.
Pivoting on his feet, he locked backs with Elara and Nara, appreciating their silent coordination. In less than a second, the three of them had formed an air-tight, almost impenetrable defense.
Or at least, so they thought.
Truthfully, Alistair knew that nothing was impenetrable in this world, so long as magic existed. The next moment proved exactly why he was right.
Manifesting like eerie spectres in the dark night, each of the Silent Slaughter Guild reached into a strange fold in their armour and crushed something, a pill perhaps. Then, they quickly digested the resulting powder.
Immediately, their bodies began to release a cloud which made the hair on the Guildmaster's arm bristle. Urging his flames to shine brighter, Alistair discovered the cloud had a sickly purple sheen to it.
The air around it seemed to sizzle as it approached.
Alistair immediately recognised its corrosive effects.
His unease returned, stronger this time.
…And that was when it clicked.
The Silent Slaughter Guild weren't just a group of extremely skilled warriors, adept at cloaking their presence.
They were a bunch of assassins.
Alistair gritted his teeth, internally wondering why a Guild which specialised in assassination was participating in such a public and high-profile Tournament.
However, a second later, there was no more time to think.
The assassins were on the move.