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Down below, he heard a knock on the front door, and Shannon answered. The brief moment of distraction snapped his clone back as if it had been yanked with a tether. Once again, he was left gasping for air and dripping sweat. He deactivated his magic and ripped off his headband, immediately sighing in relief. That sensation alone was worth the stress of training, as if slipping into a hot bath.

“You may be a knight, but that’s not going to stop me from collecting that bounty. The Wandering Spirit is mine, and if you know what’s good for—”

The rest of the fourth round continued without issue. Foley held his own in a fight against a woman armed with two quarter staffs, relying on his tried-and-true method of putting up his defenses and waiting for his enemy to tire. For several minutes, she beat on his shields like she was playing the drums, but when she realized she couldn’t break through, she surrendered, able to walk out of the arena with some of her dignity intact. Not long after, Saimallah claimed victory in another one-sided beatdown against a church agent, never even touching his opponent. The round ended with Seraph narrowly defeating an axe wielder, due much in part to luck. The man was mighty and skilled with his weapon, but the fact remained that if Seraph still had his magic, he wouldn’t have even been a challenge. All of the prince’s victories were won by the skin of his teeth.