The Grand Tournament Read online

  THE GRAND TOURNAMENT

  TOWER OF POWER SERIES

  BY IVAN KAL

  Copyright © 2019 by Ivan Kal

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  A great roar echoed in the mountains and Voralla Ohm winced at the power of it. The source was a towering monster made out of black ice, with a single glowing orb in the middle of its chest that served as its eye. Its body was filled with cracks, and a watery substance was leaking from dozens of wounds. Pieces of its body had been chipped off and one of the three spikes that it had in place of a head was cut halfway up—but still the monster refused to die. The Dread Golem of Despair swung in a circle, its two massive arms that resembled clubs swiping at its attackers. Her companions jumped back, getting out of its range. The monster saw this and unleashed one of its abilities as it stomped on the ground. A rolling wave of earth spread from it, sending the front-line fighters flying back.

  But one of them managed to keep his footing—the man’s skill Perfect Balance helping him jump over and catch himself. Voralla remembered the teasing she and the others gave him when he got the skill, as it was an unorthodox choice for a Warrior such as him. Now it did not seem funny at all as she saw the human Warrior charge forward. His class was common, and he alone out of their group hadn’t had his class evolve during their long climb. Instead, he had become the true embodiment of a Warrior. He was not a master of any style, but he knew them all; his skill did not match the others who were more specialized, but he had a far greater range of abilities for any situation.

  Now she saw him activate one of his favorite abilities, Relentless Charge. His armor, his sword and shield glowed with gray light as he accelerated. Garvok, the human Warrior, charged into the monster’s side, his shield striking against the cold black ice. The Dread Golem was staggered, pushed back, and Garvok pressed the advantage alone. The others were recovering from the monster’s previous attack and could provide no help.

  Voralla raised her arm and fired Lightning Bolt at the monster, giving Garvok a small opening. The Warrior took advantage, his sword stabbing forward at the monster, glowing with gray light. The monster was too slow to react and Garvok stabbed his sword in its side, penetrating nearly all the way to the hilt. The Dread Golem roared in pain and a wave of despair left him, hitting the rest of their group. It struck against Voralla, making her stagger and fall to her knees. The mental assault made her sick, her stomach twisting as she struggled to get back to her feet, and she only managed to raise her eyes and watch as Garvok kept his grip on his sword and managed to stay standing—but she could see that even he was being affected.

  The monster’s arm smashed down, breaking Garvok’s hold on his sword and snapping it inside of his body, leaving a shard peeking out before it then turned on Garvok himself. The Warrior stood tall, looking at the monster, but Voralla could see that its mental assault had affected him. The Dread Golem swiped its arm at him and Voralla saw it connect with the tall man, crashing against the shield that the human Warrior managed to bring up just barely in time. The sound of the nearly unbreakable ice striking the scarletite shield echoed in the mountains surrounding them, before Garvok flew across the plateau and into the mountain side. The resounding crash as Garvok struck the rock shook the ground, his body falling down to rest there.

  Voralla didn’t even have the time to glance at him and see if he was still alive, her focus completely on the boss monster in front of her. With a surge of will she stood and raised her hands to the sky, then channeled power. Using one of her most powerful abilities, she focused and unleashed it: Greater Lightning Barrage crashed down on top of the monster, staggering it and forcing it to catch itself on one of its arms as it was driven to the ground. Voralla felt her enchanted rings, accessories that increased her power, shatter, and a sharp pain spread through her fingers—a piece of her rings must’ve flown off and struck her face, because she felt the wetness of flowing blood, but she didn’t give the pain any attention.

  She looked at the monster. Seeing the cracks in its body widen from her onslaught, she raised her arm to cast again, but then her strength left her and she tumbled to the ground. She realized immediately that she had burned through the last of her energy with that last attack. That, along with the injuries she had sustained, had sapped the last of her strength. She had nothing else to give. She was helpless, lying on the cold ground looking at the monster as it righted itself and its single red eye focused on her. She didn’t even have the strength to call out.

  Then a ball of fire exploded against the monster’s side, and her companions descended on the monster. A massive hammer smashed against its side, pushing Garvok’s blade deeper into its body. Cracks spread from the impact, and as the monster swiped its arms in retaliation Owen, the Orc Berserker, ducked beneath, bringing his hammer down on one of the Golem’s legs. She saw Rainor use his ability, the Crescent Strike, sending two arcs from his two lithe curved blades. The two crescents, the color of moonlight, reached the Golem and struck at its right arm. She saw the attack cut into the Golem’s body—it was already damaged, and Rainor’s attack managed to do more damage this time. The two crescents cut the arm clean off the monster’s body.

  More spells fell on the Golem: balls of fire, ice spears, blades of air, each pushing the monster back, each doing more damage than any of their attacks had done previously. Voralla felt her heart beat faster as she watched the pieces of the Golem’s body flying off in every direction. Then Doranna, their leader and most powerful fighter, flew through the air. Her wings propelled her forward, and her large two-handed sword pointed forward in front of her as she flew directly at the Dread Golem. Rainor and Owen jumped in close to the Golem and each attacked a leg, Rainor’s blades and Owen’s hammer each striking at the same time. The sound of ice breaking filled Voralla’s ears, and then Doranna was there.

  The Dread Golem had only one arm left, and as it raised it to bl
ock her attack a vine exploded out of the ground, twirling around the limb and pulling it back. Off balance, and without any means to block, the Golem could only roar, but this time its mental attack didn’t even have the time to form. Doranna slammed into the Golem, her sword piercing right through the Golem’s large red eye with a grinding sound. For a moment everything was silent, and then the Golem toppled backward and crashed against the ground.

  Voralla watched, her eyes barely believing what she was seeing, Doranna stood on top of the Golem, leaning heavily onto her sword that was stabbed halfway through the Golem. The only sound on the plateau was the wind and the harsh breathing of the people on it. All of them held their weapons at the ready, not yet believing that the Golem was dead. Then Voralla’s sight was filled with notifications, and she slowly brought her attention to the first.

  CONGRATULATIONS! QUEST—THE DARK HEART OF THE BLACK MOUNTAINS RANGE—COMPLETE!

  By defeating the final boss of the Black Mountains Range floor, you have opened the path forward! Climb to the summit of the Thornreach Mountain to leave this floor!

  The rest were dozens of other notifications, from increases in her skill and ability levels, as well as exp rewards. The final one, however, made her heart skip. It was a notification that she hadn’t seen in a long while—two years at least. She had enough exp to level up, to reach level one hundred. It had been so long since she ascended that she had forgotten how it felt like. Her body was hurting from all the little injuries she had gained over the course of the last two years of their climb through the Tower—their last remaining healer, Fern, was good, probably the best healer in the world. But he was only one person; the others had all died over the years. He simply didn’t have the energy to heal everything that they had encountered, and they had to keep him safe, as they wouldn’t last for long without him.

  Voralla took a deep breath and entered her soul space, triggering the ascension.

  * * *

  Voralla walked slowly up the winding path that lead to the summit of the mountain. Her body was no longer aching from pains she had carried for so long. She realized now that she had forgotten what it felt like to be whole and safe. It had been a long time since she had last ascended. Now, she had reached level one hundred, and the rest of them who hadn’t reached it before the fight with the Golem had reached it now as well. It was an accomplishment of a lifetime, something that before they had entered the tower seemed like an impossible goal. There had been no one with a level greater than sixty-four at the time of them entering the Tower of Power, and she doubted that anyone had reached higher since. The high-level ascended who lived in this world were not keen on risking their lives, and after they’d leveled enough, their lives were extended to hundreds of years. Few wanted to risk death when they had such a long time to enjoy life. Voralla and her companions had been the few exceptions; still, they had accomplished something that no one else had.

  But the accomplishment was tainted by the price they had all paid.

  She looked around at her companions. There were just seven of them left now, with Garvok’s death at the hand of the Golem. She didn’t even have the time to properly grieve. The human man had been her friend—she remembered his attempts at keeping the group’s spirits high as they climbed through the Tower’s floors, and she wondered what they would do now without him. They had started the climb with forty-six people, a full Raid Group. Every one of them had been at least level thirty, but most in their forties and a few fifties. Thirty was the requirement for the first floor, but as the Tower of Power was filled with danger and challenges, people ascended often and quickly—if they survived. Levels weren’t everything, either, as a high-level ascended could die from a low-level mob just the same as they could from a high-level one. Levels weren’t everything, but they did help. The climb had started out great, they had pushed through the first floor quickly, with little issues. The second had been harder, but they finished it after three weeks.

  The third floor had been the highest that anyone had ever climbed, and it was where their group found its first real challenge. It was also where they had suffered their first death. But they had persisted, their desire to climb the Tower forcing them to climb, to step into the portal leading to the fourth floor—from which none had ever returned from.

  After months of living and fighting on the fourth floor, they had reached the end and found out why no one had ever returned. The first three floors all had two portals at the end of the floor, one leading to the next floor and one leading back outside of the Tower. The fourth had no such portal, only the one leading to the next. They hadn’t worried much then, Voralla remembered. They had assumed that the portal to the outside would be on the next, or even the one after, but they had all underestimated just how much knowing that there was an exit at the end of a floor meant to all of them. Leaving the Tower from any floor would mean that they would need to fight back through the ones they had completed should they decide to return to climb, so they had always known that they would not be using them. Just the possibility of an exit had been comfort, however, one that they had all taken for granted, because there had been no more portals leading back outside the Tower. And no matter their losses, the horrors and difficulties they had survived, they knew that there was no way out but forward.

  Now, the seven survivors walked slowly up the mountain in silence, each of them silently hoping that there would be two portals at its summit.

  Voralla’s elven ears caught someone approaching her. Long before the man stepped next to her, she turned to look at him and gave Rainor a weak smile. He returned it and put his arm around her. Voralla looked at her partner, her mate, the man she had decided to spend the rest of her life with. He looked haggard, worn, the same as every other survivor of their group. He had gotten to level one hundred before her, a few months ago, but the exp from the Golem hadn’t been enough to push him to the next level. Unlike Voralla, he only had Fern to rely on. Fern could heal most wounds, but he could do nothing for the tiredness. They walked onward, supporting one another.

  She turned her eyes to the side, looking over the ledge on one side of the twisting path that led up to the summit. The skies were gray, filled with clouds and unchanging since the moment they had arrived to this floor. The mountaintops filled the distance, endlessly stretching in all directions. The entirety of this floor were mountains, and the always gray sky. She had grown tired of it, it was perhaps even worse than the eight floor, which had been a labyrinth of caves and tunnels. They had spent a long time underground without ever seeing the sun on that floor, with only the small glowing growths on the rock walls as the source of light. Somehow this floor was even worse, at times she could almost feel the sun behind those clouds, she could just never see it.

  “What do you think they are doing now?” Rainor asked. There was no need to clarify who he meant.

  “I… I don’t know,” Voralla said. She had tried not to think about their children, she felt as if she had no right. The two of them had abandoned them, against their wishes perhaps, and fully intending to return, but it had still been a long time. She didn’t even know for how long they had been inside the Tower. Every floor was different, like this one which was in a state of perpetual grayness, there were no days to count. She thought that it had to have been at least ten years, but she couldn’t be certain as they had lost track a long time ago.

  “I hope that they are happy,” Rainor said.

  “I’m sure that they are,” Voralla said, but she was only trying to convince herself. For all she knew, her children could’ve been long dead. They had left them in care of an entire village, gave them enough gold to take care of them for life, but she had no way of knowing what had happened. It was a cruel thing that they had done to their children, especially since the two of them were so different. Their home had been a backwater human village, as far away from the real world as possible. They had gone there to hide from their oath and promises, hoping that they would be overlooked, fo
rgotten—but their choices had come to collect, and they had no choice but to leave. She didn’t really hate those who had forced her to abandon her children, as both she and Rainor knew what the price had been for the help they had gotten. The truth was that she hated herself more for her choices hurting her children. She wondered what they’d had to go through there, especially since they were half-elven.

  “Perhaps we will see them soon,” Rainor whispered.

  Voralla didn’t answer. For her part, she had abandoned hope that they would ever get out of the Tower.

  Their group finally reached the summit, and there in clear view of everyone was the portal.

  “Only one,” Rainor said dejectedly.

  Voralla grabbed his hand and squeezed. They gathered before the portal, but didn’t walk through. Stepping in would take them to the next floor, and new dangers.

  “Are we going forth?” Owen asked, his usually loud voice now soft and subdued.

  Doranna looked at the portal, her wings twitching. She was an elf, and she had gained wings when she had reached level eighty, when her class evolved into Sky Master. She turned from the portal and looked around the rest of them. The seven of them who remained had come this far, and Voralla could see that Doranna knew that they were willing to go to the end—until they reached the last floor or they died. A few of the others over the years had decided not to keep climbing, instead staying on different floors to make lives for themselves. Each floor was an entire world, one filled with people, and it would be almost too easy to stay and make a new life.

  But Voralla was not like those who had abandoned the climb. She wanted to see her children again. Vestella and Vallsorim were older now, were probably all grown up, and she wanted to apologize to them, to try and make things right.

  Seeing their resolve, she nodded her head, and turned to the portal.