A/N: So, this is a bit of something I always wanted to do. Plus, the last chapter was a bit slow and lacking in content imo so I thought it'd be a perfect opportunity to write it.
In any case, this is a collection of a bunch of side stories that take place after the tournament.
I'm not sure if I'll be doing another one of these in the future, but since there's a chance I might, I gave this collection a title.
Ripples are supposed to be the resulting ripples from a disturbance in the lake and that's what these side stories are supposed to represent. The resulting changes in Asher's existence. Anyways, that's enough rambling from me. Do tell me what you think of this sort of thing.
Happy reading :D
The First Ripple, Tyrannosaurus Diaperpoop
It's Tyrelliuriarise Dieritirdutiropiaion IV!!
Is what Tyrelliuriarise Dieritirdutiropiaion IV would've said if he could hear this narration, but as an extra made for the sole purpose of filling in a tournament slot, he had no such powers.
What he did have, however, was shattered noble pride.
After getting smashed into the wall before he could even finish chanting his spell, he began to wonder what exactly his life was about.
Yes, this 14 year old assfart— er, noble was currently having a serious introspection as he sat on a recliner on his veranda, getting a tan. (For some reason, his pubescent mind thought that he would become a new person if he got himself a tan)
Regardless of his current outer appearance, the boy was actually giving this serious thought. What was his noble pride worth? He thought because he was born into a noble house and was afforded all the luxuries and goods in the world, as well as being graced with talent in magic, his life would be easy.
However, after being knocked out of the tournament he'd expected to win in, he began to seriously contemplate what exactly went wrong.
"...Is it perhaps... arrogance? But I'm not arrogant... I'm just acting as per my status allows... but... that's a subjective view... am I... arrogant from an objective view?"
He muttered as his servants flipped him over to tan his backside.
"...Hey, servant."
Suddenly, he decided to ask one of his poor attendants.
"Y-yes, sir."
"Am I arrogant?"
"..."
The servant stared opened mouth for a second as he was suddenly pushed into a predicament.
What was he supposed to say? No? But that'd be a lie, and servants couldn't lie. But should he say yes? No. That'd be a one way ticket to the chopping block.
"...I believe you are perfect the way you are, young master."
In the end, he just gave a factory response.
"...But I don't think so."
The once prideful young master began to seriously contemplate what kind of person he was.
**
The Second Ripple, Alistair
"Hehe."
Doradrea was currently on her bed, drooling over a book.
It was a new novel that had been released by her favorite author, Riarch Tirstil. It was about a group of brave warriors who left their home on a quest to kill a long time family enemy. However, rather than reading the novel, she had been staring at one of the illustrations for the past half an hour. It was a good novel with an incredible story, but it, unfortunately, met the wrong reader.
"Uhehe..."
The dwarfish girl, who, after returning from the competition, had locked herself in her room, had pretty much become an otaku.
She spent all her time hiding away in her room, reading romance and erotic novels while drooling over the illustrations some of them had.
In truth, however, she was scared. Scared to feel that feeling of certain death. Even weeks after the tournament's end, she still woke up in cold sweat, remembering that blur of light, that light of death. So, to escape from it, she decided to spend her days away reading novels like this one.
"...Ehew."
But Doradrea was Doradrea. Even she couldn't handle her pathetic self for much longer.
The flame of passion for her desired future still burned strong. She still wanted that lavish life and that hedonistic (though she never called it that) lifestyle.
She quietly put the book away and stared at the ceiling.
The memory of death coming mere millimeters from her face unconsciously bubbled up. The image in her mind was vivid. She couldn't forget it. It was as though the scene was seared into her mind.
However, as much as she was afraid and worldly... she was also a warrior.
She began doing image training. Before that scene, to the moment when the fight started. What if, instead of hiding away, she had fought.
Like this, she had fantasies of what could've been.
Little did she know, merely fantasizing (truly fantasizing where she fought as herself, not with godlike powers) about fighting a boundless tower like Asher Aureus, whose final fight she had witnessed with widened and horrified eyes, would be a pillar of support that facilitated her growth as a warrior.
**
The Third Ripple, Determined Stars
It was beautiful outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and Curtis was sprawled out on the ground, sweaty and tired from training.
It had been all too apparent that he had been wrong. Wrong to believe that someone else could beat Asher Aureus.
'If no one else can do it... I'll do it myself, dammit!'
Like that, he spent the last few weeks doing nothing but training.
Feeling that he had rested long enough, he shot back up and began swinging his sword even harder. He recalled the glorious fight between him and Claire Bladeheart. The scarlet pillar of flames still burned into his memory, the sublime battle that made him acknowledge Asher despite the grief the boy had given him.
Spurred on by his wrath, Curtis kept swinging, dreaming of the day when he'd be able to smack that arrogant(?) smile off Asher's face.
In truth, however, he used to dislike practice.
Of course, it wasn't hate or anything like that. He liked getting stronger. He was just simply lazy. He'd prefer not to do sword training and read a story or laze about if given the option. It was the same way with his education.
But now... now, he had a goal, a target.
He stared at the sandbag he had been practicing his sword on. Stuck on to it was a lousy sketch Curtis made of Asher's face from what he could remember.
"...aaARGHH!"
With a spirited shout, the young prince swore that he'd be able to take down that white haired prick as he brought down his sword in a great cleave.
*
Meanwhile, Kathlyn was sipping on tea, enjoying a rare moment alone with her mother.
"...So Kathlyn."
The princess perked up.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Kathlyn stared for a moment.
The imagery of Asher's final fight with Claire was still vivid in her mind, just as it was with Curtis. However, unlike the hot headed prince, Kathlyn merely remembered it as a beautiful spectacle.
"...I want to be able to make a pillar."
"A... pillar?"
Priscilla looked at her daughter with visible confusion. I mean, who wanted to grow up and make a pillar?
"Yes. Like from the tournament."
"Tourn— ah, I see. You want to be a mage!"
Kathlyn flinched from having the true meaning behind her words pointed out so quickly.
Her face reddened, something that made her mother smile even deeper since Kathlyn rarely ever made such expressions, and she turned away.
She muttered in a quiet voice.
"...Yes."
Priscilla smiled, joyous that her daughter had found a path for herself.
"Then, why don't I help you out when you grow older?"
"R-really?"
Kathlyn perked up again, making Priscilla almost laugh at how cute it was. Fortunately, the queen managed to hold herself.
"Mhm."
Kathlyn's face brightened but quickly darkened.
"...But what about father?"
Blaine was infamous in the household for trying his best to keep Priscilla to himself. However, the queen, who saw a beautiful expression on her emotionless daughter for the first time in a long time, became enraged at the man who dared to darken it.
Kathlyn, who was looking down, felt a strange chill coming from in front of her. She looked up and almost let out a terrified "eep."
"I'll make your father give me the time."
Priscilla's mana was raging about her, as she promised on her life to give time to help Kathlyn with her training in the future.
*
At around the same time, Blaine, who was completely unaware of the happenings in the castle, sneezed out of the blue.
"Sire, are you alright?"
His attendant spoke to him with concern.
"... I'm fine."
'What was that? Must be my age getting to me...'
The poor and foolish man dismissed it and carried on with his inspection of the Larnimchester domain.
**
The Fourth Ripple, Diane Whitehall
(A/N: This is what I wanted to write since the day I decided to add Diane to the story)
Diane stood before the door of her family's home and breathed in and out deeply.
This was it.
A confrontation with the demons of her past, her tragic history.
A hand touched her faintly trembling shoulder.
"It'll be alright. Just do what you want to do."
Diane turned her head and was met with the warm face of Cynthia Goodsky and felt a surge of confidence rise within her.
[Around 2 and a half weeks earlier]
"I am the director of Xyrus Academy."
The woman's smile deepened.
"Cynthia Goodsky."
Diane stared with a slack jaw.
"Ah, do you perhaps not know me?"
"E-eh? N-no! No! I do!"
Of course, she did. Who didn't know the director of the prestigious Xyrus Academy? Even someone like her from a sticks town knew who she was.
"Oh? That's good then. Would now be a good time?"
"O-oh um... y-yes?"
The elderly woman smiled and began walking away, beckoning Diane to follow.
"The reason why I wanted to talk with you is simple."
After some time, when they reached a park, Cynthia began speaking.
"I want you to become my student."
A cloud moved, allowing the orange light of dusk to reilluminate their surroundings.
"What?"
Diane doubted her ears.
"S-student?"
Cynthia affirmed.
"Indeed. Not a student at my academy, but my apprentice. You see, not everyone has the courage to stand in front of certain death and then even defy it."
Diane blinked a couple times, trying to process what had just happened.
'Student...? Me? Talented? Me??'
"...Ah, perhaps you already have a teacher?"
"N-no! I don't! I'd, I'd be honored!"
She bowed several times quickly, her eyes still widened like pie plates.
Seeing Diane's nervous wreck, Cynthia chuckled, finding it rather cute, and extended her hand.
"Well then, to our future."
Diane stared at the hand and nervously reached out to shake it.
"...Hm."
Hearing the nasally sound, the poor girl ended up getting self conscious. Did she do something wrong again?
"Well, I suppose it isn't the first time. Perhaps it's a sign?"
"Sorry?"
"Hm? Ah, it's nothing. You needn't worry. Anyways, we should inform your parents about your new position, no?"
Diane flinched slightly, but Cynthia was a shrewd woman.
"...There seem to be circumstances."
"Ah... um... n-no. I'll tell them myself."
Diane faked a smile.
"...Diane, at my age, there are few things in this world I detest. However, one of those few things is being lied to."
"..."
"It's fine to open up about issues, you know?"
"..."
"You said you'd be my student, and being my student means that your burdens become my burdens and in the same, mine, yours."
Tears began to well up in Diane's eyes.
"I-I..."
She became a sputtering mess.
The elderly woman took pity on the poor girl and patted her back gently.
"Let's take it one step at a time. Time is a luxury that the both of us were graced with."
Diane broke into wailing sobs as Cynthia lightly stroked her sobbing back.
[Back to the present]
After crying everything out, Diane told the director about everything. About her father and how she and the rest of her family had to suffer under him every day.
[...My child, that's nothing to be ashamed of. Instead, it's something that you should fight. You can do that now, can't you?]
Cynthia's words magnified the feeling that Diane had before and evolved it beyond just a thought, a thought that she could change her life, to a resolve, a resolve that she would change her life.
With that resolution, she nodded and knocked on the door.
It was silent, but eventually, the door creaked open, revealing the face of a cautious little boy.
"...Sister!"
The suspicious expression was wiped off and replaced with a happy one.
"Hey, Tyri."
Diane smiled as she stepped into the house.
"How's—"
Before Diane could finish her sentence, the sound of something breaking and a blood curdling scream could be heard.
"Dad's going crazy! I think he might actually—"
Diane couldn't hear the rest of the sentence as she had already bolted to the source of the sound. She burst into her parent's bedroom and saw exactly what she was expecting.
Her angry old man, his face reddened to the point it looked like a tomato, his eyes droopy yet alight with ferocious anger. He held a metal rod in his hands, and judging from the state of the room, it seemed he had been swinging it around.
But Diane's eyes left the figure of her father quickly. She zeroed in on her mother, who was lying down on the ground on her side. It was evident from the massive bruise on her shin that her leg was broken.
Diane darted to her mother's side and quickly looked over her for any other injuries. Fortunately, she seemed to have just passed out from the pain of her leg breaking.
"You, you!"
Diane was filled with rage, and with her previous restraints broken, her complete and unbridled wrath began to spill out as mana began to move to her wand.
But her father, who might as well have been blackout drunk with the amount he drank, didn't see this or didn't care. To him, Diane was just his stupid little daughter. In his drunken stupor, he yelled out against his daughter.
"You! It's your fault! If you didn't exist, I wouldn't have gotten that money! Then I wouldn't have to—!"
He could barely formulate words anymore and began yelling incomprehensible sounds. He was no different from an animal, but he would've been better off as one at this point.
After receiving the large sum of money from the guards for giving Diane up for the tournament, he blew it all on gambling for the last few weeks straight. However, a few days ago, he ended up betting more than he had and was forced to take out a loan to pay off his debt. Unfortunately, with his reputation, the only place that accepted his loan request was a shady business.
This shady business, not surprisingly, demanded their money back with a crazy interest rate, and Diane's father, having to have taken out a loan to pay back his original debt in the first place, had nothing to pay the business back.
Then, as one would expect, they demanded repayment, and for the underbelly of society, slavery was more than a good option.
As Diane's father, though a degenerate gambling drunk, was still in his early to mid thirties and physically able, he would be able to pay off his debt if he sold himself into slavery. But being the scum and trash he was, the father tried to sell his family members first, but the company's members were professionals. They may run a shady business, but they weren't about to take innocents and force them into slavery.
Regardless, due to his fate being set in stone as a slave, Diane's father, Lucas Bleeker, drank 5 people's worth of alcohol and returned home. After that, he flew into a rage and eventually arrived at the current situation.
Lucas Bleeker swung his metal rod as he approached Diane; its path was wobbly and looked nothing like the flawless arcs that Asher Aureus drew or the perfectly refined thrusts Claire Bladeheart gouged.
But Diane didn't fire her spell; she was frozen in place.
Trauma ran deep.
Though she herself was unaware of it until now, she had been unconsciously conditioned to not act out in front of her father; to not rebel. Years and years of having something done one way made it a habit, a habit that was almost impossible to break.
She wanted to do nothing more than fire the spell she had prepared, to fire it into her father's ugly mug with an overgrown stubble. To blast each and every one of his limbs into bits and pieces, to do everything he had done to her and her family unto him.
But her spell, for the quite literal life of her, wouldn't fire.
Like as though her body and mind refused to listen to her will, she could do nothing but stare at her father approaching her.
She closed her eyes to brace for impact.
But, in the inky darkness behind her eyelids, a certain person's words floated up.
—Well, catch ya later, yeah?
It was Asher's words.
Thinking of him reminded her of her "fight" with him.
She recalled the terrifying fear that gripped her very soul. The pressure that pushed down on her, the trepidation of being in front of certain death. But rather than cowering further, she felt a sense of peace. A strange feeling considering what she was remembering, but perhaps she felt comfort in the fact that there would never be anything more terrifying than that.
She opened her eyes and saw the rod beginning to swing towards her.
The fear in her heart was gone.
'This is nothing.'
With a faint blue glow in her eyes, Diane spoke.
"River Pike."
"!"
Lucas Bleeker screamed as he fell onto his bottom, the spear of water piercing his shoulder's rotary cuff. Any deeper and the spear would have completely severed the tendons.
"Y-you."
Was it perhaps his drunkenness? He managed to fight through the pain and spit out words laced with venom.
"Who do you think you are—"
"Diane."
The girl, no, the woman, stood as she conjured another spell, her eyes' glow growing brighter as she looked down at Lucas Bleeker.
"Diane Whitehall."
**
The Fifth Ripple, True Strength
(A/N: Here's the Claire side story.)
Claire stood in the lotus position, meditating, reflecting. She floated in her sea of memories as she recalled her fight with Asher.
It was... interesting. Throughout the latter half of the duel, she felt as though some kind of supply of mana continued to feed her reserves. In fact, she thought she could've kept going on if it wasn't for her body's exhaustion.
In any case, with the seemingly endless source of mana that continued to fuel her, filling her core constantly, she felt like she could've done anything. And she wasn't wrong.
The only reasons why she lost were because of a difference in experience and a fighting style she wasn't used to.
Breaking through to the next stage and becoming an elemental wasn't a part of her expectations at all, and all she did was fling her fire around, taking advantage of the still mysterious supply of mana.
Claire had asked her uncle Kaspian Bladeheart about it, but he stayed silent, saying he didn't know anything.
'...He definitely knows something.'
Kaspian was a great warrior as well as a politician. That was how he was able to climb his way up to the position of guild master even after denouncing his lineage. What he wasn't, however, was a person who could deal with kids.
His usual control over his expression would crack when he dealt with his nephews and nieces, especially with his favored niece Claire.
"In any case..."
The young Bladeheart muttered as she stood up.
She grabbed her rapier, brought it close to her face, and closed her eyes.
For a moment, she doubted herself, but it was because of that very cause of doubt that she managed to solidify her conviction.
"The sword is my path and my path, the sword."
She recited a line that her uncle loved but sighed.
In the end, no matter how much she thought about it, there was simply no way for her to beat Asher as she was now.
"...Something wrong?"
Claire jolted at the sudden voice.
"...Uncle?"
She eyed the figure suspiciously.
"I thought you had work today?"
"How could I go to work when my niece is all depressed over her loss."
"I'm not!"
Kaspian leered at Claire, who glared right back.
"...Pft."
Eventually, the two broke into laughter.
"So, what's the problem?"
Kaspian returned to the main reason why he had even bothered to cancel his meetings and come to talk with his niece.
"Ah, well..."
Claire trailed off. She wasn't quite sure what way to put it.
"...Remember the tournament?"
"So, you are depressed over your loss."
Kaspian murmured.
"I heard that!"
Claire shouted while pointing an accusatory finger. Kaspian raised his hands and chuckled lightly.
"Go on."
Claire glared with a massive frown but eventually sighed and spoke.
"Well, I guess I kind of am. Sad, I mean. You see, I... don't think there's a way for me to win."
"?"
"Like I'm doing that image training you taught me."
"Shadow boxing?"
"Image training sounds better, but, yeah. No matter how much I envision the finals, I just can't think of a way to win."
Kaspian looked at his niece and sighed. He understood what his niece was feeling better than anyone. He, too, had met people who seemed to be topless mountains for him to climb, people who were incomparably greater to himself.
The guild master was silent for a moment, thinking of the best thing to say. In the end, he chose to be straightforward.
"Well... there isn't much you can do."
"...What?"
Kaspian sat down and pulled out a tea set from his dimensional ring.
He silently poured himself and Claire a cup. Though Claire was going to ask what this was about all of a sudden, seeing her uncle's solemn face, she decided to play along.
"You see, people... have limits. We aren't main characters; protagonists in a fantastic adventure who can grow indefinitely with limits as far as the unreachable horizon. We're ordinary people who just happen to be more talented than others."
Kaspian sipped on his tea.
"So... you're saying that there's no way for me to beat him?"
"From my experience... yes."
Claire gripped the grass.
"Leave the poor grass alone, niece."
The uncle sighed again.
"You see, I too have met people like that. People who I knew would be stronger than me no matter what I tried and did. People who were simply... how do you youngsters put it? On another level?"
"But—"
"But that didn't mean I stopped."
Claire closed her mouth.
"You see, even if there are gods out there who wield powers that we cannot even begin to comprehend, that doesn't take anything away from us."
The girl furrowed her brows.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
And it was a valid question. To her, she only saw what she did lose, and that was her dream of being the strongest.
"It means, regardless of people out there, we are, well, us. We're us, and they're them. We do our best and go home satisfied, fulfilled that we did all we could. The only thing in this world that you will truly ever regret will be not trying."
"..."
"So, try, Claire. Try. Some people say there is no try, but that merely means that you must do. So, do. Do, and you shall find."
"Find what?"
Kaspian sipped his tea and smiled.
"What you can truly do."
A/N: So, I'm sure a few of you guys would be curious as to the names of the side stories so, here's the meanings for your convenience:
Tyrannosaurus Diaperpoop — a joke about the guy's name.
Alistair — a name with Greek roots that means one who repels men.
Determined Stars — does not mean the stars are determined, no. Stars here refer to the prince and princesses (the king being the sun and the queen the moon) while determined means that they are, well determent, resolved. It's the prince and princess's resolve basically.
Diane Whitehall — self explanatory.
True Strength — the strength here refers to the strength of heart and spirit, rather than physical strength. I do hope that this little side story encouraged you all too, even if it's just a little.
Anyways, this was something that I actually planned to do so it was pretty cool watching it come to reality. Hope you enjoyed it! The next arc will start after the upcoming time skip.
Thanks for reading!
Rua