"Nicolas?" Xerxes questioned, observing the Nicolas who was wrapped with bandages head to toe, but still gathering the will to walk towards Xerxes, albeit quite slowly, with the crutches he had to use.
Instead of looking at Xerxes though, his gaze was fixed on the ground with something akin to shame. It was blatantly unrecognisable from the Nicolas Xerxes was used to.
However, from his previous actions, Xerxes wasn't willing to brace himself for any insults or provocative jests he had to give, "if you want to say anything, hurl some insults or whatever you typically do, Nicolas, then I'm not in the mood right now, I need to sort something ou-"
"I'm sorry, god damnit!" The words burst from Nicolas like a dam breaking, raw and unrestrained. "I'm sorry, Xerxes."
Xerxes fell silent, watching as Nicolas fought to stand straighter despite his wounds. Every movement clearly pained him, yet, for some odd reason, he persisted.
"All those comments...the insults..." Nicolas' voice wavered. "It's all I've ever known." His bandaged hand rose weakly to his chest, "I'll admit, my pride..ego it was broken. First, Tristan was the talk of the town, I couldn't bare him either, but knowing he came from the Godfreys made it easier, he was actually something."
Pointing a finger at Xerxes, "But you, I refused to accept that some nobody could be such a young guild member of Layne, I refused to accept that you had a kick-ass nickname, 'The executioner', let alone actually killing the final Orc."
His voice cracked, with a bitter laugh escaping "But me, I've had everything, I've been blessed with the privilege of heritage, a Golden Order Blade, every single advantage, yet I have no accolades to speak of, nothing that actually makes me somewhat cool and my chance at backing up my talk was taken."
Unbeknownst to Xerxes, that wasn't even the real issue, as his confession had fallen upon him, "You never even looked at me, you just looked passed me... just like my father had done, just like everyone I looked up to."
Nicolas's shoulders slumped further, "Truth is...I'm just a bastard. The Shmire family's dirty secret. My brother - my full blooded brother - he's everything I'm not, and I'm reminded of that. He won the Eclipse tournament a decade or so ago, and he's even become an instructor at Indonyia. While I..." He gestured to his broken body.
"I've had it all but couldn't do shit, my brother, he was like you, he was unassuming, he tried to do everything by himself, and just seeing that resemblance I don't know!?" He threw his arms in the air and finally admitted it.
"It made me feel inferior or something, and I hated it, so I had to pick on you, I had to talk bad about you because it made me feel better about myself."
Xerxes tried to speak again, but Nicolas put a hand to him, "I ain't finished your chivalrous cunt."
Nicolas' eyes slightly shimmered, "But today, when you were fighting with me, when you truly focused on me and fought me like an equal, you know...it felt good, I felt good about doing that."
He swallowed hard, "For the first time, I felt acknowledged. And you know what? That fire I saw in you today made me realise you deserved it, you have an unshakable will, one that craves victory, and that's something gold or status can not acquire. So..I'm sorry, Xerxes and I respect you."
Nicolas then gave Xerxes a bow, signifying the respect he had and the new relationship he wanted to forge with Xerxes.
Xerxes smiled. "Out with the old, in with the new. I'm glad to see it, Nicolas. You fought well—and who cares what others think? If you want something, fight for it. Today's battle ended, but tomorrow's still coming."
Nicolas grinned and extended a fist. Xerxes laughed, bumping it with his own.
"I appreciate the apology. And I'll apologise too, not for trying to understand you. But who knows? Maybe I'll get another chance to kick your ass again." Xerxes chuckled as Nicolas flipped him off, though the gesture lacked malice.
Wiping tears of laughter, Xerxes sobered. "I don't mean to pry, but if you want to truly pay me back, then I need intel. I need to know what sort of people I could be up against. Most importantly, I need information on Tristan."
Nicolas slumped onto the bed, exhaustion weighing his movements. "Where to even begin? This is my first tournament, so I'm clueless about most. But Tristan… I'll tell you what I know."
Xerxes sat opposite, leaning forward, eager to hear what someone like Nicolas thought of Tristan.
Nicolas' gaze turned distant. "Tristan Godfrey. An emotionless fighting freak. His father was a Tier 1 mage, a lunatic in the eyes of most, who rejected becoming an Aspect to chase something 'greater.' He died before he found it. But before that, he hauled an artifact from Amento's caverns, where dungeons spawn like crazy, that artifact is now in Tristan's hands. No one knows what it does except Daryul, his magic eyes see deeper."
'So his pink glowing eyes do have a strange power to them,' Xerxes confirmed mentally.
Xerxes stiffened. The pendant. He remembered Tristan at the Hollow Veil guild—the unnatural cold, the restrained inferno pulsing at his throat.
"That pendant amplifies his fire. But not normally. The stronger he burns, the colder everything gets. As for his fighting style? It seems like he's got endless firepower. But here's the twist: when it feels hottest, that's when he's tiring. The problem is, wearing him down is near impossible. He's got Tier 4 mana, borderline Tier 3. His mana capacity's monstrous as well. That's to be expected from a tier 4 mage."
Nicolas spoke of a saying he had once heard, "Ever heard of the saying '10 to 6', it's said in between tier 6, tier 5, 4, 3, 2 and finally 1 that a mage is almost 10 times stronger the previous tier and if your just at tier 5 Xerxes, it means that Tristan is almost 10, well it could probably be more now because of his depth into tier 4, but he is at least 10 times stronger than you."
Xerxes nearly cursed. "How in the Six Kingdoms is he near Tier 3? That puts him on par with veteran adventurers!"
Nicolas shrugged. "In Baratheon, we call him the 'Prodigious Mage.' The genius mage. His real weapon? His real skill? Speed. I wouldn't exactly say his strength is on another level, you can withstand it, but his speed is definitely on another level."
Sighing, he continued, " If you want me to be honest, I can react to you and your speed, but your incantationless mana might throw him off, just like you did to me. Another piece of advice: watch his heels. He's mastered using mana points there to channel spells and draw out his mana."
Xerxes' hand flew to his chin. Aemon's lessons echoed, 'Aemon did say something about that, certain mana points lace the body - at the feet, the sternum, brain and palms, I've not once thought about utilising the other parts of my body, but he has.'
Xerxes stressed the lesson he was given, it was something so obvious, but he didn't ever do it. Those points in themselves were points of mana release, but he had only been relying on his hands.
Although he could remember where he had used the other points subconsciously.
The first instance was when he first battled a mana beast from the fallen Kingdom. It was in that moment when it was swinging the branch, he had released fire from his heels, from his hands and even from his sternum, and it withstood the blow. Barely.
He did it all to protect Aya, but besides that, he tried to search in his memories for another time, but he couldn't recall any.
Nicolas yawned. "That's all I've got for you, Xerxes. Final tip, watch Tristan's opening move, if you're able to react and see it, I think things will become a lot easier for you, after all, if you get past the first hit, you're already fifty percent there because most people lose upon his first kick."
Xerxes stood, nodding. "Thanks, Nicolas. I know what to do now. I know how I can win." With that, Xerxes began to walk, leaving the tent.
As he turned to leave, he raised a hand. "You're a good man, Nicolas. Hope we meet again soon."
Nicolas flashed a thumbs-up. "Anytime, Xerxes, and next time we meet I'll be kicking your ass."