GLADIATOR SCHOOL

Book 1: Bloodier Sports

A Crunchy LitRPG Fantasy

by Andrew Karevik

Gladiator School (Book 1)

Copyright © 2024 LitRPG Freaks

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Chapter 1

O’Brian woke up. Tightness around his wrists, he did not understand where he was. All he could feel was a sharp pain in his wrists…his legs, he could not feel.

Death has come for me, O’Brian thought as he gazed upwards. The tautness was nothing compared to the tension within his stomach. Legs are gone, he mused. His blue eyes, the eyes that many told him were like the sky, swept downwards to discover his legs were there.

“A pole,” the man said as he tried to crane his neck. There was a rope around his throat as well, but this was no hanging rope. It was meant to keep him tied to a long wooden pole, something known to him as the Pole of Sacrifice.

Why did he know that? Something was wrong.

As if they had appeared just before he looked up, thousands of people were now occupying the…coliseum…

“Words?” O’Brian asked. His memories were different. Foggy, impossible to access. He knew his name, he knew he was a human but…many in the crowd were creatures he had never seen before.

The crowd began to chant and cheer. They were moved by something and were now throwing up hands, clapping and demanding to see a show.

It was then that O’Brian realized the truth of the situation. The Gladiators had gotten him.

There were many legends about those who were within the Meerschaum Coliseum. They were known only in myth and legend. These were not tales to keep kids in bed; they were stories so that adults knew why some people just vanished.

Death has come for me, O’Brian thought again.

These gladiators were hidden from the problems of… Wait.

Where did I live? he asked himself. Hanging from this pole, a sacrificial offering to these…these creatures. O’Brian knew he was still alive. For now.

The memories felt as if they had been hidden. He could vaguely remember his past. And now, now he was aware of the stories of the Meerschaum 7. Seven people vanished one day. Everyone from his…village? His city?

The memories were too foggy. Something mattered but what? Seven vanishing was a normal week in his homeland. Everyone knew what happened when an adult disappeared. Children were safe to wander out into the woods to hunt or chase game. But an adult after sundown? If they never came back, everyone would simply say the Gladiators took their Dues.

Human sacrifice, he concluded, lowering his head. His eyes like the sky could see an eternal blue above him. Did these people come from the heavens? Why did they have a great coliseum, a theater that circled around him? Were any of these questions ever going to be answered?

Behind him, to where he could not turn his neck to see, there came a loud blaring of a horn. The klaxon gave O’Brian a start.

“The season of a new game is upon us!” a man declared. His voice was amplified, reaching O’Brian’s ears without fail. It was as if this man was beside him, shouting into his ears. This made sense, for this coliseum was gigantic.

The circular theater was entirely carved from white stone. Stone that was available in the Bugbear Mountains had been used to carefully create an intricate circus ring. He was in the middle of a great circle and on all sides, strangers, pale and ghastly, began to appear.

If this is death, what is the afterlife? O’Brian mused.

He had always assumed that the Gladiators consumed the dead, bones and all. Had he done some crime? Some secret sin the gods saw? Funnily enough, O’Brian’s memory informed him that he was just some guy. A random person without any real baggage. The perfect target, however, for he had been in the woods well after dark. And so, he had been captured by the Gladiators.

The crowd was still cheering, rowdy and excited. The Announcer said so many words, but O’Brian’s thoughts clouded his understanding. People were teleporting, he realized. Appearing as shades and phantasms first, then becoming…flesh and blood?

The spectral spectators gazed upon him with expectation. Was he a sacrifice to give them pleasure? Or was there some other purpose? There were tales, tall tales and yarns, about those who did come back from the Meerschaum Coliseum… They told strange accounts of circus and pageantry, of stance and lethality. And these men and women, they left their homelands entirely after coming back. Some say that they were now heroes but O’Brian had no opinion on all this. He was told as a child he’d never come back, but as an adult, a drunkard told him a strange story. The words were jumbled but the man had grabbed him by the collar and screamed “Just win it! Just win the game. It’s all a game to them but you will die. Unless you win.”

Now those words were echoing in O’Brian’s head. Bouncing endlessly as he pondered how anyone could win this way. Tied to a pole, hangs bound above him, legs below and a tight rope around his neck to keep him facing forward. He was not chosen, he was simply taken, and now he was merely there to provide these dark gods a sick sense of joy. A perverse pleasure that came only with those who worshiped violence.

“Where are your fighters?” a voice bellowed.

O’Brian’s blue eyes gazed ahead and he suddenly noticed a lanky warrior, strolling forward. The man wore no armor, but instead was wearing tattered robes, a faded orange that had become browner by now. At his side was a long sword, curved a bit…the scabbard was curved too.

The man was a Ronin. The word was foreign to his mind but he could understand one thing. This Ronin was here to fight. And he’ll kill me, he thought. He will end my life to start whatever sick game is coming.

O’Brian’s eyes like the sky gazed upwards at the heavens. An endless procession of stars was above him. One could not see the stars in his home, but now, he saw vast seas of them and suns, all moving faster than he thought any celestial body could go. As patterns appeared in the air, a tower, a goat, a bear with two heads… so did people in the stadium, acting as if they were ready to watch.

The Ronin walked 40 paces forward, hand on the hilt of his sword. The belt hung well, securing the sword and also the dagger at his other side.

Katana. That was the kind of sword O’Brian was seeing. The name meant more but O’Brian had no memory of learning anything about combat.

“Where are my warriors?” the Ronin bellowed, turning his back to the captive and towards one section of the grand stadium.  “I was told this place had only the best!”

“Step forth and inaugurate this land with blood!” a voice demanded. It sounded different from the Announcer. Regal and strong. Demanding. A king of this dark sport.

“I shall, when I see your Gladiators!” the Ronin replied, talking past O’Brian. The man was only 30 paces away now.

“Take the blood!” the king demanded

“Bring me hotbloods!” the Ronin replied back. He placed his right hand atop the sword’s grip once more.

Silence in the arena. No one spoke. There was a dread building all around O’Brian, a sense that he truly was nothing more than a sacrifice for a new season of bloodletting. These creatures looked human but they were there to watch an innocent man die. Who would ever care for this kind of entertainment?

“Take his life,” the king said slowly, voice booming with great authority.

“Make me,” the Ronin replied.

“You will not break our rules,” the king said. There was a hint of…agitation in his voice. He was unhappy with the great show already.

For sole reply, the Ronin drew his dagger. It was short and pointed, a dagger meant to cut clean into the body.

The people in the stadiums watched with breathless anticipation, to see what would happen. A target was singled out. A man sitting in full plate mail armor. Plate Mail. Armor. O’Brian knew a dagger had no chance around steel armor. Though how he knew it was steel was a mystery to him still. Memories of home were gone and new memories were teaching him things. But how could he remember something he did not know?

“It seems we must start one at a time,” the Ronin said.

The knight in the stands had a protected head. He was wearing a Great Helm, which concealed all flesh except for a small hole in his visor. The knight had lifted the metal visor to have better vision.

The Ronin said nothing. He merely flicked his dagger towards the target…and then the knight was slumped over, unmoving. It happened like lightning. O’Brian could see the start and the finish but it took him a few blinks to process the attack. One moment the knight was leaning forward to watch the show and the next, a dagger was in between his eyes.

Kill Streak! appeared above the Ronin. The words were red for a moment. A tally appeared, a floating set of words that meant something. The blood had been shed.

A klaxon went out once more. The softer Announcer spoke. “And with a surprise attack, the Ronin has decided to be ejected from this season.”

A loud grinding noise from the south of the pole accompanied this speech. O’Brian’s blue eyes could spot it first. One of the Great Walls was opening. The grinding mechanism was slow but O’Brian could see the Ronin turn to face the Southern Stadium.

The people above this secret door were cheering already. Some men were there, offering foodstuffs for sale, wandering between the aisles and seats, giving trinkets and comfort foods…treats and even drinks.

Other folks were trading paper around. Some were filling out cards. They were impossibly far but, for some reason, O’Brian could see as if he were right in front of them.

“You are not a participant!” the king bellowed. “You will be ejected by force.”

“Send me your favorites,” the Ronin declared. “And then you will see how easily I shall leave this place.”

The answer was not words but men. Six fat ones who approached, their bellies large and their armor nonexistent. They carried weapons too; one had a longsword, one had a flail and one carried a spear. The others were holding ropes as if meant to hogtie this Ronin.

The stranger paid no mind to O’Brian or even the enemy forces. These gladiators were huge…sword cuts would bounce off that much fat. A knife to the stomach would mean even littler. So much mass in these men, each an Elephant Guardian unto his own.

“They run out of formation,” the Ronin muttered. “Now,” he hissed after a few more paces. The enemy was in range of his attacks. And then, without warning, he was rushing towards these professional fighters.

His hand was on his katana as he charged. He screamed something.

“Banzai!” the man shouted as he ran in between these wide ranks of Guardians. As soon as he said these words, spells perhaps, his blade was outside of the scabbard. He dashed through the group, taking one man’s head off before he spun around to throw a dagger into one of the spearmen. In less than a second, two bodies hit the floor.

And yet they persisted, for they were here to end this false fight. One of the larger ones rushed the Ronin, swinging his flail around.

This flail was fascinating. It was a long stick with a chain attached to the top. Affixed to the end of the chain was a spiked ball of iron. A strange weapon but the Gladiator was a professional.

As the Ronin slashed at another, the Elephant Guardian seized his weapon with the chain itself. The man did not have a good swing but it was meant to simply delay the Ronin.

The chain wrapped around the blade and pulled.

“You will not win this,” the Ronin taunted. At the last moment, he wrenched the entire blade to the right while twisting in a martial maneuver. The flail man was caught off-guard by the sudden shift. Though the Ronin’s blade was restricted, the men were connected now and the Ronin knew how to seize control of his weapon back.

The spearman went to thrust into the Ronin’s back. At the same moment, the Ronin had the flail man close enough to kill two birds with one stone. Right as the spearman struck, the fat flailer was in the way. There was precision in this methodology, a use of momentum and strength to roll the big guy over his own back.

The man squealed like a pig as the spear punched into his heart.

The Ronin tossed the now corpse forward, dropping his blade at once. Three were dead and the others were now stranded. He stood in the middle of the three. The first one to advance died so fast that O’Brian missed how the Ronin got his blade back.

A dagger to the eye, a sprint towards the one with the flat blade and a final shout of Banzai and…the Elephant Gladiators were no more.

Chapter 2

The crowd roared for more. But no gates opened just yet. “You will not win against our best,” the king said. “Leave at once.”

“Come down here and escort me out,” the Ronin replied. He had put his weapons back into their scabbards and was now standing with one foot atop the enormous belly of the Elephants.

“Very well. Release the Royal Gladiators!” the king demanded.

Another door began to grind open. The people above this stadium were sparse. Most of them were old, cradling bottles of alcohol and sitting alone. Despite how few this stadium held, the men who emerged were representatives of the king.

There were 14 of them. Proud men wearing Brass Plate Cuirasses that could perhaps defend against a dagger. They wore half helms, long pompadours atop. Red little tassels were at the end of their sleeves. All of them carried the same weapon: Halberds.

These polearms were flexible. They had a great axe on one side, a hook to pull horsemen down and a fine point at the end. They could Hack, Cut and Stab with the same weapon. They had armor that gave them protection but their ranks were marching in lockstep.

They were a Unit, O’Brian concluded. And they were in a Formation. His height advantage allowed him to see that these Halberdiers were in a triangular state. The leader marched, weapons held upwards as they followed him.

“They’re a triangle!” O’Brian shouted to the Ronin. “Don’t charge!”

“Shall the offering speak more?” the Ronin replied, he was standing still, a foot atop the corpse of his now cold foe. His hand was at his katana, still resting in its scabbard.

The men marched. Tension rose as all fell silent. The crowd seemed to be enthralled, for even the men exchanging bags and papers had stopped their trades.

The Ronin got into position once the unit was within range. And then, he was running. “Banzaiii!” he screamed. His sword hand moved to his dagger and, as he sped up, he flicked the blade straight into the eye of the leader, who fell immediately.

Before the Halberdiers could Set their weapons for a charge, they were leaderless. One man was fast enough to start angling his polearm for a charge but it didn’t matter. Both lines were spread apart. The man in the middle was there to Signal when to prepare for the charge. That man was now dead and the Ronin was in between both ranks, the gap wide enough for him to kill 6 Halberdiers on the right.

The momentum of his Technique was staggering. The Ronin’s strength lied within this charge technique and it was like watching a wave of blood and steel moving through the group. One half was deleted instantly and then, the Ronin continued to run until he was safe.

Six opponents had survived. They were out of formation, however, and decided to throw their weapons down.

No Leader, no chance, O’Brian thought to himself. The Ronin did not act with grace but he was merciful in how quickly he dispatched a Broken Unit.

“How now?” the Ronin shouted, turning around in a circle to the roaring crowd. “I had been told that this was where one tests their mettle. And this is what I find? Truly, I must have gone to the wrong arena.”

“You will be destroyed,” the king declared.

Men and women alike were dropping down from the walls of the stadium into the Arena Grounds. They landed, bows and arrows in hand.

“I thought this fight was only for the best,” the Ronin said. He approached the man hanging from the pole. “Perhaps I will make an example out of you.”

Three slashes and O’Brian was on the ground. His legs had feeling come back but he was in agony. The ropes had held him for what was hours. And his stomach was empty too, though he felt no hunger yet. Just a sense that he would die soon.

Two more gates opened, Crossbowmen from one area and Bowists from the other.

“Shall I die from your arrows?” the Ronin asked.

The Crossbadiers aimed their Light Crossbows towards the challenger.

In an instant, O’Brian was being grabbed. The Ronin had seized this man and was now using him as a human shield.

“Oh,” O’Brian muttered. This man was never on his side to begin with.

“There are many who say that death comes quickly. But I have fought death long enough to not fear the end,” the Ronin said.

“Release the prisoner at once!” the king cried. “He is the sacrifice of the Season.”

“Then let me inaugurate this fool,” the Ronin said. And just like that, a blade had stuck itself hard into O’Brian’s torso. It was the Katana. The Ronin had somehow speared O’Brian from the front and…

“You!” O’Brian was able to say before it happened.

The blade was a surprise, sinking into O’Brian’s flesh… but the angle was meant not to kill O’Brian but to breach the heart of the one holding him.

All sound ceased. O’Brian felt something change within him.

You are gaining System Awareness! Golden words said as they floated within O’Brian’s vision. Ronin’s Spirit has been merged to your sword. Pick up blade to continue.

All of a sudden, the Ronin was gone. One moment, he was offing himself, and the next the blade lay on the ground.

“Take not the blade, sacrifice!” the king demanded. “For those who die are blessed with eternal life and joy.”

“Then perhaps…” O’Brian said, trying to get the words out as he bent to touch the weapon. “Perhaps I will kill you now.”

Chapter 3

As soon as O’Brian picked up the blade, something spoke.

“I see wisdom is not your strong suite,” the voice said. It was…it was the voice of the Ronin. The man who had saved O’Brian. “For you should have let them end your life.”

“What happens after I die?”

“You just come back here. As one of us,” the Ronin said. “I am a spirit of war. The Banzai is the strength of my land and the Kamikaze is the strength of my gods.”

Things were changing suddenly. The weapons were lowered and all whispered. As they all considered what to do to a sacrificial slave, the Ronin’s spirit spoke again. “You must grip the blade to show your strength,” he said.

O’Brian lifted the katana and noticed it had wraps around the tsuka. Those wraps had a name too… ito. Silk bound around the handle for grip. He squeezed the tsuka tightly and at once, words began to explain things he somehow knew.

You have become an Arena Fighter! You have 1 Life.

Loss of Life means you are out of the Eternal Hunt and your spirit shall simply go to your gods, homes or friends. You are a Mortal Fighter. Death is ejection from this Arena.

The king was speaking now and things were changing faster and faster. All gladiators and arena fighters were slowly leaving the area.

You have learned…the Banzai Technique.

Please select your Path:

Path of the Samurai

Description: “Those who walk in darkness learn to cut through the light…”

The Samurai serve as proud warriors and protectors of their Damyio’s needs. They serve their master with precision, power and of course, Honor. Restraint is the key to being a good showman and the Samurai Path glorifies those who wish to make an impression.

O’Brian vaguely understood what was happening. The Ronin had not died; he had decided to sponsor a dark horse. He had chosen to give O’Brian life and like any choice, there were multiple paths. What made the Samurai worthy of choosing?

Stats

Style

Pageantry: 3

Flair: 5

Actions

Form: 3

Technique: 3

Substance

HP: 12

TP: 2

Popularity: 0

Lethality: Red Rank

Skills

Swiftness: 25%

Endurance: 50%

Physique: 80%

Willpower: 50%

Style, Action, Substance and Skills. These words were powerful to O’Brian. And as he focused, he could learn more about them and what they did in this strange game of terror and murder.

Style: The Crowd wishes to see Style in their combatants. Those who kill quickly deny the audience a good show. One must remember that you are Spectacle to Spectators.

Pageantry: How you dress, what you wield and how you carry yourself adds or takes away from the show.

Flair: The way you kill and fight is judged on the basis of how enjoyable it was for the Elite Spectators. Judges also weigh in based on their Preference.

Interesting. This appeared to be more than a quick bloodbath. The Ronin had sinned by refusing to make sport of O’Brian’s life. He had redeemed this man’s life, long enough to tell him not to take up the blade.

O’Brian did not know if he regretted his choice yet. For it seemed a short battle disappointed these audiences.

Actions: Every Combatant has Action Points. Spending an Action Point allows you to move a number of paces while using an Ability. Actions are automatically successful and the action points are refreshed each Combat Round.

Form: A Combatant has a Form. This allows them to use various Abilities. Forms aren’t Stances or Techniques. Regardless of which Forms are learned, a Combatant may only use one Form at a time, though they are free to change any time they wish.

Technique: A Technique is a special ability that grants immense supernatural powers based on the available Techniques a Combatant has. Techniques require a Form but allow the Combatant to fight better based on the opposing or even matching Techniques. (Techniques require Technique Points. You may not use Techniques without spending points.)

So, Style meant little without Actions. And Actions were dependent on Rounds. They always refreshed. This meant that taking Action changed the outcome of the round. Technique Points did not regenerate until End of Combat. O’Brian guessed that Techniques were stronger and therefore should be used…carefully?

He kept reading.

Substance

HP: 12

TP: 2

Popularity: 0

Lethality: Silver Rank

Substance: Every Combatant has limitations. That which keeps them alive is also that which may kill them. All Combatants have Substance but many prefer style.

HP: Hit Points represent how long the Combatant can live. Weapons deal damage directly to HP. Wounds are gained every time you take more than 2 damage. Wounds are randomly inflicted Status that are rolled for each time a Combatant takes damage. HP can rarely be regenerated without Magic Techniques.

Technique Points: These are spent each Match and refresh at the End of Match. Some Judges and Spectators enjoy seeing those who fight without relying upon powerful abilities.

Popularity: The Great Arena wishes to see many kinds of combat. Every Gladiator School has a Section and a Stand, where the fans are able to enjoy their favorite kind. Popularity resets to 0 at the start of a new fight. Popularity generates Bucks, and Combatants may spend these Bucks before entering a fight.

Lethality: Every Combatant has a Lethality Rank based on 7 Colors. Lethality increases or decreases based on your Arena Match. Gladiator Schools wish to minimize unfair competition and to also preserve their Ranks. When a Gladiator dies, they lose all Class Progress as well as all Techniques. Gear is also lost, taken by the Victors.

Red

Orange

Yellow

Green

Blue

Indigo

Violet

These Ranks do not indicate status or ability. They are merely ways to allow fair matches.

These were not fights to the death, O’Brian realized. Some were but…this seemed like they were truly sporting here. This was sport that involved bile and blood. A bloodsport eternal for those who wish to enjoy a fight…were they gods? Visitors from the Heavens? Perhaps it mattered nothing to them to die but O’Brian…he had 1 life. He had picked up the blade. And now he had options.

Starter Feats

Cosmopolitan: You gain +2 Pageantry and start with a Blue Mantle.

Dualist: If fighting one on one, your Lethality changes to Blue.

Speed Fighter: During a Banzai Charge, you gain one TP for downing or killing a Combatant.

Feats…yes, Path Features. These came for free and already changed how a Samurai would fight. They had Banzai too, but it appeared the Samurai was a heavy hitter from the start. The Honor required perhaps would change based on how he fought his foes.

Below were the Stances and Skills that allowed the Samurai to fight actively.

Stances: All Combatants have Stances. A Stance grants Attacks and Defenses as well as Stance Abilities. These abilities can only be used with their Stance. You may Change Stance as 1 Free Action each Combat Round.

Stroll Stance

Description: Some take long walks with their blades. The Stroll Stance is meant to simply walk up to a target and demonstrate your superior combat abilities.

Stance Type: Aggressive

Attacks:

Slash: Deal Slashing Damage to a Target.  

Cut: Severs something with expert precision.

Clash: If you are Parried, you gain a Free Attack while in this Stance.

Defense Profile:

Dodge 10%

Deflect 60%

Parry 50%

Defense…Profiles? As if sensing his question, the System Words changed.

Defense Profile: Every Stance has Defensive Properties through Skills. These Roll a Defense Die when you are attacked and opt to take a Reaction. It costs Action Points to use these Skills.

Dice Resolution: Spending Action Points do not require any kind of Die Roll. Spending an Action Point guarantees movement and an Ability working as intended. If Attacking a Target, they may use AP to Defend.

The Percentage of each Defense determines how well the Defense will work. When Defending, you may choose how you defend. Dodge avoids the attack entirely, leaving the Combatant safe. Deflect is how well you can stop projectiles with your Weapon, and Parry allows you to use your weapon to block an attack.

Each Defense Profile has a Percentage Value attached. You may always choose to Defend when targeted. This costs AP and requires a Skill Check.

Skill Checks: A Skill Check requires a d100. In order for a Skill to be used, the Combatant rolls a percentage Dice. To successfully use your Skill, you must roll a d100. This is a Percentile Die and the rules are as follows: When rolling a d100, you must roll the Target Number or lower. As long as the die roll in your favor, your Skill will succeed.

Note: Percentiles can change rapidly in a fight. Attacks always hit unless Defending and that requires rolling. Every time a Skill is used, it costs AP or TP.

These rules seemed flexible. A Skill changed how the fight went, based on a single random factor. The d100 would decide in this strange world. And it seemed that there was no way out other than winning whatever this season of war had declared.

O’Brian was beginning to see the logic in this world. Madness it was but senseless? Perhaps not. He gazed then at the Effects of the Stance.

Effects:

Outpacing: When using the Stroll Stance, your Target cannot outpace you. As long as you have a target, they cannot escape your approach.

Saunterer: Your Katana can reach up to 5 paces as long as you are in Stroll Stance.

Unmarked Dagger: You gain one Free Attack with a Banzai Dagger when you Stroll at least 3 paces.

Base Techniques

Sprint:

Cost: 1

Effect: Move up to 10 Paces. You gain a Charge Attack at the end of your sprint.

Whirlwind Slash:

For every Technique Point spent, you may Attack any number of targets within 5 paces. These Attacks still need to hit.

And there it was. This was a Path. But the Ronin was different. Now that he understood these rules, he gazed with a keener eye to see where the differences lay.

Path of the Ronin

Stats

Style

Pageantry: 1

Flair: 5

Actions

Form: 2

Technique: 3

Substance

HP: 6

TP: 4

Popularity: 0

Lethality: Red Rank

Skills

Swiftness: 80%

Endurance: 80%

Physique: 30%

Willpower: 90%

O’Brian blinked at the Skills section. He had been so caught up in Stance Skills that he failed to see there were 4 General Skills. Sensing his thoughts, the System Words began to speak.

General Skills: A General Skill can always be used. These require AP to use.

Swiftness: When attempting to Maneuver or Move, Swiftness allows one to change locations without being struck by an Opportunist Attack. OA’s allow Combatants to attack those who are trying to Reposition.

Endurance: You may Resist an Injury or gain free Action Points to push past your limitations.

Physique: If Grappled, a non-grappler may use Physique to win the exchange.

Willpower: If magic or theatrics have distracted you, Willpower allows you to stop all forms of mental and magical attacks.

Grappled? Seems that one’s strength made a big difference in a ground match.

Having grasped the rudimentaries of a Path, O’Brian quickly settled on the Ronin, as this man had given everything just to ensure a fair fight.

Stances:

Grasshopper Stance

Description: Banzai like the grasshopper, leap over and change the angles of attack.

Stance Type: Aggressive

Attacks:

Hurtle: Leap 2 paces over one Target, Attack the Target and then leap back to your old position.

Dashing Leap: Move 5 Paces and Leap up to 5 paces.

Backspring: After you successfully Strike or Attack a target, you move 3 paces backwards.

Defense Profile:

Dodge 50%

Deflect 20%

Parry 10%

Effects:

Easy Dodge: You may spend a Technique Point to Succeed at a Dodge roll.

Leg Strength: When in this stance, you cannot be Wounded in your Legs.

Downward Drop: If you have moved 10 Paces, you may Leap on a target and deal Critical Damage.

Base Techniques

Swift Cleave:

Cost: 1

Effect: After killing a Target with any Banzai attack, you may immediately move 3 Paces and Free Attack one Target.

Ghost Blade:

Cost:1

Effect: If you drop a Banzai weapon, there is a 10% chance the Ronin Spirit will animate it and fight alongside you.

The blade whispered to him as he focused on selecting his Path. Things changed instantly. His mind became aware and his blade suddenly had information. As he gazed at the weapon, he considered what was himself and what was this strange Ronin with a bone to pick?

2 Weapons Unlocked!

Legacy Katana

Technique Type: Banzai

Weapon Type: Melee, Magic

Rarity: Legendary

Damage: 5 HP

Strike Bonus: +2

Parry Bonus: +1

Dodge Bonus: +3

Attacks:

Short-Cut

Cost: 1 TP

Effect: Hit a Target who is Grappling or in Close Distance. If you deal damage, they lose their action.

High Slash

Cost: 1 TP

Effect: If you have Jumped, you may hit one Target as a Free Action.

Banzai Charge

Cost: 2 TP

Effect: You charge towards a Target. If you move at least 5 Paces during the Round, you may declare your Move to be a Banzai charge. Banzai hits ignore all armor and cannot be dodged. If a target has Set their polearms, the Banzai fails and you take full damage.

Banzai Spirit

Cost: 1 TP

Effect: If struck by a Status, ignore the Status for the Round.

Defenses:

Retreat

Cost: 1 TP

Effect: Immediately move 10 paces away from all Threats. This ignores all Skills and no one may target you while moving.

Parry Blade

Cost: 1 TP

Effect: Add +20% to your Parry Skill.

Arrow Shield

Cost: 2 TP

Effect: For one Round, you gain +50% to Deflect Projectiles.

The weapons! O’Brian could not help but grin as he gazed at the sword in his scabbard. The weapons changed things too. New skills, abilities…this was one big sandbox. Though it seemed many were here to kick his sandcastle…

His blue eyes gazed upon the second weapon.

Stock Dagger

Technique Type: Any

Weapon Type: Melee, Thrown

Rarity: Common

Damage: 2 HP

Strike Bonus: +8%

Thrown Bonus: +10%

Attacks:

Shank

Cost: 1 TP

Effect: If a Target is within 3 paces of you, you may Kill them with a Strike Roll.

Banzai Throw

Cost: 2 TP

Effect: You may throw this dagger up to 10 paces away. It automatically Hits a Weak Spot on the target, dealing Critical Damage.

Gut Stab

Cost: 1 TP

Effect: If a Target is within 3 paces of you, Strike them 3 times.

And that was it. The words informed him and he made choices. How would he keep track of any of this though? So much data…

Before he could finish his thought, the System popped up with a neat recap of everything he had just seen.

Character Sheet has been attuned!

Name: O’Brian

Nickname: Eyes Like the Sky

Path: Ronin

Profession: NA

Class: NA

Level: 0

XP: 0/2000

HP: 6

TP: 7

Popularity: 0

Lethality: Red Rank

From his Stats and Skills to his Stance and Base Techniques, or even the equipment in his possession, it was all there, laid out in a clear and concise manner. His Character Sheet. Focusing on the dagger, for example, brought up every detail about it. He had worried that his memory would fail him and now, he merely had to think in order to see changes.

He put his hands on the tattered rags he was wearing. Burlap. “Well…” O’Brian said aloud, “I won’t fight looking like this.”

The crowd cheered…no, two Stands were cheering wildly and the rest were all groaning. O’Brian saw pieces of paper slowly moving from one stand to another. “Gambling…” O’Brian concluded. Those who thought he didn’t stand a chance had lost some wager. And behind him, one of the great Section Gates began to lift, revealing infinite blackness.

With a shrug, the man with eyes like the sky entered into the unknown.

Chapter 4

The grand door slammed shut. O’Brian squinted and saw…nothing. This vast area was empty entirely, save for a man lying on the ground.

He was wearing red, a long robe from the looks of it. His beard was just as long and scraggly, and he was singing.

“They take your bones and give you loans, the bankers got the till…” the man said. His cheeks were redder than his robes and the stink of cheap gin was in the air.

“Uhhhh, how may I introduce myself?” O’Brian said.

“It’s simple, you just go back out and die horribly,” the man replied, hiccupping every other word.

“And are you my mentor?” O’Brian asked.

“Yes! Your first real quest, truly the only real quest is to find me better booze.”

“That seems more like a chore than a quest,” he replied.

“Well, fuck you and fuck your family and I hope you die in a fire,” the man mumbled. “Maybe I’ll start that fire…”

“Did…” O’Brian hesitated. “Did you take a wrong turn? Why are you in here?”

A thunderous voice, like a hundred head of cattle charging, spoke. “Because I just arrived.”

O’Brian turned to face a great mountain of a man. A huge fellow, towering at almost seven feet tall (or perhaps it just felt that way). His chest was bare, save for a single tattoo emblazoned above his heart. It was a target symbol, the bull’s-eye was his heart.

“If you think that tattoo will help you win,” O’Brian said, “you really just gave the archers the perfect way to hit your heart.”

“Tis magic that infuses this tattoo,” the warrior said. Atop his head was a great bear, not really as a hat but more of a hood. And what the warrior wore below his belt was simply a jock-strap and nothing more. “I am Finch.”

“O’Brian,” the survivor replied. “And uh…why are you here? What is all this?”

“My people live in a faraway land,” Finch calmy explained. “And I was sent to represent a certain Artemis who wishes to somehow turn my vacation into a work trip.”

“You’re on vacation? This is far from relaxing,” O’Brian said.

“You’re just not drinking enough to enjoy being stabbed by four teenagers with knives,” the drunk interjected. “Your new quest is to find yourself the best booze! And then give it to me.”

“Do you know him?” O’Brian asked.

The proud Finch shrugged. “His kind tend to…just be where you don’t want them to be. He is a Wizard and an Illusionist of the highest skill.”

“Yes, because my real dream was to be a magician who also can’t cast spells without a delicious drink…and maybe a three course meal too…”

“Name?” O’Brian demanded.

“Alamander! I also go by Alan Mander when traveling, because that guy wears the same color robes as me and that means I can pin all of my crimes on a peaceful wizard in a world far away.”

“Alamander?” Finch said. “I have been instructed to avoid you.”

“Well just get me good and drunk, tie me to a pole and we’ll call it a day,” the wizard replied as he took out his flask. “They say never drink lying down or on the job but…I mean who really says that anymore?”

As if reality was making a point, he began choking immediately after taking a swig from his flask. The silver of the bottle caught O’Brian’s eyes and he saw the words Property of Artemis Enterprises written on it.

Finch walked past the two and approached an area that had not been there before. As if by magic (or mostly because of magic) hammocks appeared. Twenty of them.

Barracks Unlocked! You may Rest, Store Combatants or Advance Time.

Finch hopped into one of the hammocks and yawned. “This trip was not easy for me. Unlike wizards, I am careful before I move into a new world.”

“Is my…my world new?” O’Brian asked.

“No. But there are those who can travel between Planes of Reality. You are a Native of your world. These games always offer the crowd two choices: mercy or curses. For if you had been slain, you would become a victim of these cruel Gladiators. But they too are Natives. Those who cut between threads of space and time must learn to avoid certain…patterns.”

“You’re quite elegant for someone who probably fights anything,” O’Brian said. “And you seem annoyed.”

“That annoyance is purely because his fine Finchman nose can smell all the booze on my breath,” Alamander said, still lying on his back. “And because we are mortal enemies. Wizards and Barbarians can never get along.”

“No, Alamander,” Finch slowly replied. “You can’t get along with anyone.”

“And that’s why the gods made me!” the wizard declared.

Words appeared over Finch as he began to sleep.

Finch

Class: Fighter

Level: 7

Exhaustion: 100%

Rest Conditions: Perfect

O’Brian blinked a few times. This man was in a barracks and automatically, the System told him what this man was about. He was a Fighter and he was tired. Though his heartiness meant he could rest perfectly in the hammock. How long would it take for him to be rested enough for a fight?

“You’re probably wondering stuff and I gotta say, you’re on a madcap ride to your own death. And when you come back, you’ll just be a ghost and nothing is different,” the wizard said, slowly sitting up. He crossed his legs and grabbed at the ground to stop it from moving.

“My only question is how do I get back out to fight?” O’Brian said.

“Why do you want to? You could just wait here. Matches are arranged and like any good arranged marriage, it ends in everyone dying or killing themselves.”

“I am not convinced you have any power other than to be bitchy about everything,” O’Brian starkly said, standing over the mage.

“Look, if you think I want to be here, you’re right! Charles Marles himself sent me to…let’s say restructure these arena games. His land is without war and he sits as a Judge of his own world. He also says I can’t drink, so I tricked him into giving me Coach status and now I’m just going to coach you on how to skim by, skim off the top and then also drink.”

“I would prefer Finch be the coach.”

“Charles knows not this Finch. But he’ll be the easy way for our burgeoning team to grow.”

Team…yes that made sense. Those gladiators came out in teams. All united to fight…other teams.

“Death does not stop you?” O’Brian asked.

“I died once and it was annoying at best,” Alamander said. “Wizards usually realize all things are just a matter of how much lightning you can apply to a subject before their eyes pop out of their skull.”

“I think I want to become a Wizard,” O’Brian replied. “Can you teach me—”

As if being ever accommodating as a coach, Alamander cast a spell. It was as simple as him pointing a finger and shouting in a language O’Brian could not understand. And then, midsentence, O’Brian was violently electrocuted.

“I…what did you do?” O'Brian gasped, convulsing on the ground.

“Illusions can trick senses. A lot of people think visual illusions are the way to go but I create Delusions into people and even though I was doing no damage, you thought you were dying,” Alamander said.

O’Brian realized the event was hard to recall. He was fine and he could remember no pain.

“Delusions can be defeated by the will but illusionists always have ways to destroy entire nations just in case.”

“I feel like you are and were a joke in your home,” O’Brian said as he sat in one of the hammocks.

“Everyone likes a joke, but only I get the punchline!” Alamander said. “The only goal as a wizard is to outlive everyone so you can dance on their graves. Spirits hate that.”

The words made little sense as O’Brian drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 5

The grinding woke him up. The sleep O’Brian had received was deep and dreamless. Yet, he could see figures towering over him in these dreams. Their presence seemed to indicate something soothing and though he could barely remember his dreams, he understood something important. The walls were lifting for a fight.

“You!” Alamander shouted, not having moved from his position for the length of O’Brian’s rest. “Go out and die already. Amateurs…”

“I will not die,” O’Brian replied as he slipped from the hammock and stretched.

The Lottery Round has begun. All Gladiators are chosen at random. You have Won the Lottery. You have been selected from your School and you must fight to represent. House Gladiators are exempt from the Lottery Round.

Factors of Fighting:

Judges Panel:

Judge Lawless

Description: Laws are just words to Judge Lawless. He enjoys quick rounds with severe wounds or Kills.

Likes: Execution, 2 Round Fights

Dislikes: 3 Round Fights, Nonlethal Damage, Mercy

Favored Technique: Roughneck

Judge Jerem

Description: Jerem comes from a world of stars and sausages. He yearns for home and wishes to see Gladiators who represent his glory days.

Likes: Taunting, 5 Round Fights, Eating while Fighting

Dislikes: Executions

Favored Technique: Banshee Style

Judge Eric

Description: Always eager to win a private wager, Judge Eric’s opinions change based on Popularity and Pageantry. Is he breaking the laws? Lawless says no.

Likes: Popular Combatants, High Pageantry, Honor in a Fight

Dislikes: Cheap Shots, Hotheads and those who sully their finery

Favored Technique: Artemis Stance

“If I am reading these words right, it would seem that these Judges aren’t here to moderate the fight as much as…well, I suppose to see what they want to see.”

“A Judge is just a name. If you want equity under the law, maybe don’t be kidnapped by psycho gladiators,” Alamander replied. “Now, I took care of the arrangements. I bet 20 Bucks on you.”

“Okay,” O’Brian said. He was unsure what to reply with.

“A Buck is the standard of trade for those who hunt,” the wizard explained, still lying on his back. “Your Popularity only lasts until you’re done with the Fight. You can spend your Popularity immediately when in your School.”

“Why am I in a School?”

“Because, Finch and I hate each other by nature and you’re just some jackhole who got in the way of a killer season. All because you had some crazy idea that you didn’t deserve to be tied to a pole and sacrificed to our hunting gods and such.”

O’Brian did not want to question further on most of what the wizard said. “So how do we get Bucks?”

“You shoot, stab, magic and whatever else your enemies. And then you wager your Pay.”

“Pay?” O’Brian repeated.

“Hey man, you may have been kidnapped to die by werewolf, but you are paid every fight. Popularity lets you ride the waves…endorsements come quickly. There is a…how would I explain it?” Alamander sat up for a minute. “Ah! Of course. You get free bucks for surviving. And your popularity is based on flair and pageantry to some, lethality and such to others. These judges are not here to be neutral. They are all gods of hunts in their own way. And they come not from your podunk, tiny world where you guys haven’t even figured out spelling yet.”

“Yes, because the guy who could read vanished,” O’Brian replied. “It wasn’t like we didn’t have schools but…words tend to vanish people.”

“That’s called magic where I’m from. Scream, drink and turn them into a goat.”

“So you wagered.”

“As a coach,” Alamander explained. “I get 200 Bucks every round you fight. And then I graciously give half to Finch and a fourth to you and then a fifth back to me, and then more fourths and such until I still have all my money.”

“And my guess is, you can buy booze with all of this pay…that is really just you using shady math to get loaded.”

“Damn it, I’m a wizard, mathematics is funny to someone like me.”

“Well, why don’t you go out and fight?”

“If that’s what it’ll take to get some corn whiskey into me,” the wizard replied. “Then I’d just kill the entire audience with a single spell.”

“Sure,” O’Brian said, no longer interested in this man’s words. He just learned there was pay to be had. But his popularity was in the negatives.

“Does negative popularity hurt me?”

“No, but uh…no one wants to fight the naked guy,” Alamander replied. “Even this bare-assed barbarian knows to not drop trou in a battle.”

“Fair enough,” O’Brian replied as he walked to the great blinding light ahead of him. Daylight was curtailed from entering this dark school. It was like walking into a bright sun and to a new world.

Combatant! Ready for the Lottery Round!

Popularity: -10(Poorly Dressed)

Demand: 100% (Everyone wants to see the new guy fight)

Bucks: 0 (200 per round, half to Coach and half to all Combatants)

Petty Cash: 0 (All Schools may donate their money into a Commissary for use by any who needs it—except for Alamander who is barred from Petty Cash)

O’Brian had only his wits, his steel and the Path of the Ronin to guide him. There was a sharp hum in his head as he walked through the curtain of light, into a warm arena where the grounds were infinitely large.

“It’s all changing,” O’Brian mused as he walked on the hot ground. This was sand he was stepping upon but not the kind that one sinks into. Could he grab a clump and throw it at his enemies? Perhaps sand in a pouch, pocket sand, he could call it, would easily foil the most honorable warrior… The Ronin’s path was not honorable and yet, it was the Ronin who died to keep O’Brian alive.

No longer bound to a pole, O’Brian could see that the stands were better organized today. Each Section and Stand was above a particular gladiator school and there were long guard rails between each Stand. Sections were composed of different kinds of spectators. As he gazed, the System Awareness fed him data.

Stand: The Pedantics

Sections:

Traders: 5%

Wordaholics: 80% (Wordaholics are those who love etymology and thus support Verbosity, Banter and Aural Spells.)

Gamblers: 10%

Commissioners: 5%

School: The School of Magic and Lies

This School focuses on Mysticism and Misdirection. Many magicians pretend to have magic but the Pedantics argue that everything is magic after a point.

The data only came when O’Brian was gazing up at the crowd. And it seemed that there was only one active Stand. The rest of the Stands were composed of faces and trades, but there was no data…

“I am fighting a wizard,” O’Brian concluded. He stopped walking and placed his hand on his sword. The Banzai technique would win a charge but…wizards were tricky. Alamander seemed either a total fraud or so powerful that he’d prefer to be known as a fraud. A con magician.

The crowd roared and cheered as O’Brian went into his stance. It was so natural he almost missed the words. Grasshopper Stance chosen.

“You all saw what happened in yesterday’s match!” the Announcer shouted. His voice was smooth and silky, never rough or coarse. He did not scream, magic simply carried his message as he spoke. “No one could have seen such a rough season starter but we’re rough and tumble here in the Arena so please, relax and enjoy a Lottery Match! One random wizard against a wild warrior.”

The crowd began to cheer and chant. “Fe-Lix! Fe-Lix!” they all cried.

“Someone must have leaked the results of the fight, folks,” the Announcer said. “Because it seems they all know who’s coming to kick ass and delete names!”

The crowd roared. Meters appeared in O’Brian’s vision. His eyes like the sky scanned them quickly to get an understanding.

Popularity

Combatant: O’Brian. -10

VS

Combatant: Felix the Master Magician. +30

Lethality

Combatant: O’Brian. Red Rank.

VS

Combatant: Felix. Red Rank

Crowd’s Favor

Executions

Grapples

Spell Failure

Judges’ Favorite

Judge Lawless: O’Brian

Judge Eric: Felix

Judge Jerem: Felix

This seemed self-explanatory. These people weren’t all the same. Some had preferences, others wanted to see a spectacle. Some wished for a single round fight and others were ready to buy popped corn and beers for up to 5 Rounds.

As the crowd cheered his name, the Great Gate to the School of Magic and Lies began to slide open. Darkness within until a man emerged. The crowd lost their minds at the sight of him.

Combatant Profile! appeared in front of O’Brian. The crowd’s cheers invited the stranger to wave at his fans and slowly approach his foe. This gave O’Brian all the time he needed to learn about his foe.

Combatant Profile

Name: Felix

Nickname: The 9Cat

School: Magic and Lies

Path: The Starpath

Class: Wizard

Level: 3

Rank: Red

Habits: ???

Talents:

Revive: If slain, 9Cat returns to his School without loss of popularity and life.

Basic information. A wizard, a Starpath and a Rank. The Revive talent seemed to be why the man’s nickname was Ninecat; this meant he probably had 9 lives to spend. Interesting.

“He once took his master’s robe to the cleaners and then cleaned out all of the curses before taking his master out too!” the Announcer shouted. “Now Felix has nine lives to live and he’s giving every last one to this phenomenon know as Mutual Combat!”

The crowd cheered harder at this.

“And his opponent…well, let’s just say that his eyes will be missing from his head soon enough!” the Announcer said.

“Thanks for the flattery,” O’Brian mumbled to himself.

“Will the combatants approach within range?” a Judge demanded. The Judgment Box was easy to see and it was higher than any other Stadium Stand. Three folks, tiny dots to O’Brian, were monitoring the entire fight. And maybe O’Brian didn’t have to win. 1 Round or 5…the Judges wanted this kind of chaos.

O’Brian chose to stay still. The wizard approached as far as he wanted to be.

Combatants in Range! the System informed. Round One is ready!

“Three…two…one….one and one tiny half…” the Announcer cried. And then a flag fell in between them, Red like their ranks. “Annnnnnnnnnnnnd fight!”

Combat Round has begun! Coin Flip…Felix wins! Felix takes the first Action!

And with that, the System vanished from their eyes. Felix was grinning. He wore a long golden robe with all manner of writings on the sleeves.

“Seems we found ourselves in a pickle,” Felix said, electricity crackling between his hands. “For I won the first Action. You will die, please hold still.”

Target has prepared an Offensive Action.

Choose Reaction:

Dodge: 50%

Deflect: 20%

Banzai Charge: 1 AP, 1 TP, Hit Target before the Spell is Cast

This was interesting. Time seemed to move in a way that as the wizard prepared his spell…O’Brian had a chance to spend his AP to react. Dodge was…risky. 50/50. It may as well be a coin toss to see if O’Brian lived or died.

The Banzai seemed to know this and his fingers on the katana gripped. O’Brian made the choice. Banzai Charge because it let him strike first. The wizard had spells and words but what if steel was inside of his own mouth?

Banzai Charge! 1 AP, 1 TP spent

Remaining Total: AP 1, TP 3

Felix was cool and collected. His spell took time and in that time…well, O’Brian was charging his target. A strange defense, to simply remove the head from this wizard, but it was a race. The man was 10 paces away. The charge was fast enough to close the distance.

“Ha!!!!” O’Brian shouted as he dashed towards his target. The wizard stumbled immediately.

“You’re a fast one!” he shouted as he threw himself to the side to avoid the charge.

Target’s Action Lost!  Target is now Scrambled.

As O’Brian turned to face the wizard, words above him told him what this attack meant.

Popularity: 20

Judge’s Favor: 1 Favor

A good opening to the show, O’Brian thought as he took a moment to refocus.

You have 1 Action! The System informed. The wizard was close but was slowly picking himself up. Time slowed down as O’Brian checked his moves and decided on how to end this in one round. Judge Lawless would like that and he had his favor already…

5 Paces…that’s how close the wizard was. O’Brian didn’t need to use his full arsenal of abilities. Not when his Stock Knife had words to say.

Banzai Throw

Cost: 2 TP

Effect: You may throw this dagger up to 10 paces away. It automatically Hits a Weak Spot on the target, dealing Critical Damage.

Action and Reaction. If the wizard tried to survive, the Round would end. But did this Wizard cast any useful spells? Only one way to find out.

Sheathing his katana in one swift motion, he drew out the dagger with his other hand. “I cast Kidney Puncture!” the non-wizard said as he activated his Weapon Ability.

The target was not fast enough to make a choice. The great Felix found a knife in his side. Blood splurted everywhere as the words Critical Hit! appeared above the Target.

The crowd cheered and his numbers changed.

Round End! The words said. That meant the Wizard had tried to protect himself in the exchange. Both had spent their AP but round 2 was coming.

“It is a mere matter of…” the wizard said as he slumped onto the ground, clutching his side.

“And the Judge’s scores have been tallied!” the Announcer shouted. “This fight is over in one Round!”

Two sections of the stands began to cheer so loud, it was as if a thunderstorm was summoned in the rafters.

Scores appeared above the downed Wizard.

Judge Lawless: 0

Judge Jerem: 0

Judge Eric: 0

Score Tally…0! You have Won the Round, the Fight and the Crowd’s favor!

“Mercy! Mercy!” one group chanted.

“Take his head!” a lot more people were screaming.

The wizard was downed, with no spells to heal him.

Jerem didn’t like executions but the other two would be pleased with the results. Perhaps a trade could be arranged…

The lone Ronin approached the downed Felix.

“Welp, guess I’m 8 lives today,” the wizard mumbled. “Make sure you get the brainstem with the slash.”

“Your robe,” O’Brian said. “Give it and you will get mercy.”

The wizard blinked for a moment. “I can just use the Trade Function back at the school…”

“Crowd wants a show,” O’Brian replied. “Strip.”

“In these situations, you call the refs…” Felix replied. “But I don’t think you want me nude as much as you want better threads.”

“It will be strange to exchange clothes,” O’Brian said.

“Ten bucks say someone put money on this part happening,” Felix replied as he carefully took off his outer robe. Beneath was a much thicker tunic, Red and hiding the blood stains.

O’Brian took off his robe and tossed it to the wizard. The wizard gave him a ball of other clothing.

The crowd was dead silent for a moment. And then, that gnomish bastard began laughing as he collected many, many bags of coin.

“Now as an Announcer, I should say please don’t trade clothes on the battlefield but frankly, this is real entertainment.”

A Yellow Mark appeared next to the clothes as O’Brian slipped on the outer garment. You now have: Regal Mage Robes.

“No reason to read the stats,” O’Brian whispered.

“Annnnnd the Judges have agreed that this is Mercy! Now, let’s see what our Judges think about O’Brian’s knife throwing abilities!”

Round Judgments:

Judge Lawless: 5/10

Judge Jerem: 1/10

Judge Eric: 10/10

As these words appeared, so did the crowd’s awareness. Large boards were used to show the numbers to the masses.

“There you have it folks! O’Brian’s keen eye caught Eric’s attention. And trading finery? Truly what gentlemen do!” the Announcer said. “This brings the Score up to 16 Points against Felix’s 0.”

Lottery won! You have gained the following:

Popularity: +100

Prestige: +16

Pageantry Bonus: +5 Bucks to Coach

Style Bonus: 200 XP

These numbers explained a lot about the fights. Popularity soared and that could be spent. Favor seemed to be the exact number the Judges collectively gave him. Pageantry was just extra money to the School. But style?

Experience Points…these were connected to the Class System. O’Brian had no classes. The wizard was experienced to be level 3…though that counted for little when a madman was running him down.

Chapter 6

Time stood still when O’Brian was focusing on System Data. The fight ended, the door to his School opened up and he was inside in the blink of an eye. The numbers greeted him again, this time more refined.

“Now there’s a real man! And he’s not bare-assed!” Alamander said. There were four Alamanders now, slow clapping for O’Brian.

“Please tell me you don’t reproduce,” O’Brian muttered.

“Bah! Good job out there. Check your Fight Results sheet,” the unhelpful wizard replied.

Fight Results!

Round Type: Lottery

Fight Length: 1 Round

Coach Cash: 200 Bucks

Your Cut: 10 Bucks

Petty Cash: None

Popularity Points: +50 Bucks

XP Gained: 350

Your Coach has decided to grant you Management Privileges. Unlocking Stations, Shops and Services…

Instantly, a catalogue of words appeared before O’Brian. He had survived his first real fight...and had he chosen wrongly, he may have died. Yet, he had forgotten to use his Techniques to freely dodge. Too many data points in the moment made every decision singular and perhaps even final. He read through the various options, time still as it needed to be, for Alamander was silent as he looked.

Management Options

As Active Manager of the Outsiders School, you may spend all available resources when you wish. Popularity allows you to do quite a bit. You may only use your funds and Petty cash. The Manager is not the Recruiter.

Total Cash:  260 Bucks

Build Stations (Stations are Areas within the School that provide different functions. Stations allow for more Recruits, Training and of course, Relaxation):

Gymnasium

Description: Here is where your Combatants will train. These are large areas meant to allow Practice, Training and of course, Posing.

Cost: 100 Bucks

Effect: The Gymnasium is used by all Combatants while they are not fighting. They may train through Practicing or Training. Posing is important for Combatants as it allows them to stretch, become flexible and increases their Flair.

Sparring Room

Description: Combatants can safely Spar and Practice without chance of Injuries or Exhaustion.

Cost: 200 Bucks

Effect: You may Pair your Combatants for Sparring. Sparring is safe and allows both parties to gain XP at a steady rate.

Kitchen

Description: Allows for the Cooking of Potions and Meals.

Cost: 50 Bucks

Effect: A Cook or Potioneer may craft Ingredients into Potions or Meals. A Meal provides bonuses based on the quality. Meals also reduce Exhaustion. Potions are used in Fights and take 1 Action to Quaff or 2 Actions to Chug.

Bakery

Description: Provides Bread and Baked Goods every day.

Cost: 100 Bucks

Effect: Bread reduces exhaustion by half. Baked Goods provide Morale Bonuses that improve the fight – before or during.

These Stations made sense. There were many more options below, all locked due to something called Prestige.

Outsider’s Prestige

Prestige: 23/100

Level: 0

Rank: Harmless

“Prestige…” O’Brian muttered. “Like leveling for the entire group…” His eyes went down to shops next. There were many options but only enough cash for one or two things. Best know it all before making the decision in the moment.

Build Shops (Shops require Bucks or Popularity Points to use. They are invited with a flat fee and their prices adjust based on your Fame and Fortune status. Fame represents how the crowd responds to a Combatant, while Fortune indicates how wealthy you are. Expect prices to rise and fall based on the Shop’s opinion of your Team):

Art’s Stand

Description: A mogul from another world has decided to get even richer by bringing his Boutique Weapons and Preferred Potions to the market. He stocks only his favorites.

Cost: Free

Inventory:

Boutique Weapons

Preferred Potions

Oils and Salves

Special: Prices remain the same regardless of your Fame and Fortune.

This one…it was a gift? No, O’Brian realized. This was the weapon maker that was friends with Finch. Well, free was free. He just hoped the quality of the items were worth their sure to be extravagant prices. He read on.

Bloody Sportsmen

Description: Fast fights and gruesome injuries are promised (though not guaranteed) with these excellent Stock Weapons.

Cost: 500 Bucks

Inventory:

Stock Weapons

Stock Ammunition

Special: They are willing to Wager the next battle privately.

Odd Botanists

Description: These sultry Sylphs and Fable Fairies are ready to contribute to the sport with Potions, Tonics and Scrolls.

Cost: 20 Bucks

Inventory:

Stock Potions

Stock Meals

Stock Scrolls

Special: They only work with Schools that focus on Pageantry and Presentation over results and efficiency.

The Ram’s Bow

Description: Ranged Weapons have advantages but like any weapon, it’s only as good as the Rarity paid.

Cost: 350 Bucks

Inventory:

Stock Ranged Weapons

Munitions

Stock Traps

Special: Only available if you drew first blood in the previous match.

Alright, O’Brian thought. I’ve seen a lot. But before I buy, I need to be absolutely sure of my funds. In other words, don’t buy until you read it. Hard to know when there were large brass buttons in front of him, urging the immediate purchase of whatever thought he had settled on.

He turned his eyes to the Staff and Services section.

The last part of this great menu of options.

Recruit Staff and Services

Service Stations are required before you hire any Staff. A Stafford shall arrive after your first purchase to monitor and manage the Stations. You must provide Lodging to the Staff and they will not rest with the other Combatants. The Stafford will manage these groups but he has a direct line to you on the System.

Staff Members automatically tend to their own needs and offer the Services you have purchased. Staff are not paid in Bucks but they are allowed to Wager Within.

One phrase O’Brian noticed was Wager Within. Gold greeted him and as he thought, so too did the words explain themselves.

Wager Within

Description: A Wager Within is an informal bet between parties in the same School. Wagers are always Posted before the fight and therefore, the Combatant will be aware of the Stakes from all Active Wagers.

Service Station: Bath House

Description: Combatants do not have time to groom without a team. As long as the Combatants aren’t shy and keep things professional, Scrub Maids and Butlers are there to ensure your Combatants are squeaky clean, free of offensive odor and, of course, cutting hair and trimming beards.

Cost: 100 Bucks

Offerings:

Splash and a Dash: Instantly clean a Combatant before or after combat.

Short Scrub: Grants +5 Popularity before entering the Arena.

Long Bath: Your popularity from the last Fight remains the same.

Deluxe Bath: Every inch clean, every conversation very professional.

Available Staff:

Beth’Di: A Scrub maid with a passion for making the wash rough and painful for the staff.

Hire Price: 25 Bucks

Bonuses:

Wounds are Cleaned efficiently. A Wounded Combatant who receives her services will become Healed after a Short Scrub or greater.

Adorning: This Scrub Maid will occasionally give a Trinket to a Combatant.

Lily Landsand: Clothes are optional in her homeland and if you don’t mind, she doesn’t mind the crooks and cracks of the broken body.

Hire Price: 25 Bucks

Bonuses:

Fast Wash: A Combatant may take a Long Bath right before the Fight begins.

Bubbly: She has a special potion that makes the bubbles slick enough to grant a Grease Condition. Grapplers will not enjoy the upcoming battle.

Mon’Sieur: A Butler who prefers to do all the work ahead of time and simply stand by while the Combatant bathes. Quite professional.

Hire Price: 50 Bucks

Bonuses:

Draw Bath: All baths prepared by this Butler are automatically Deluxe.

Hot or Cold: If a Combatant has a Strain Injury, they will lose that Status during the Washing.

Sir’s Pipe: If you enjoy fine Tobbaconium, he shall provide a Packed Pipe.

Staff Hired: 0/2

Luxury and Leisure, O’Brian thought. Not nearly as vain as it seemed…

Baker’s Square

Description: Though many have a kitchen, few have a Baker’s Dozen of options. These meals appear automatically with various bonuses. Some Judges even like to see a survival type, munching as he ends the lives of all around. And yes, they can turn stone into a soup.

Cost: 2,000 Bucks

Offerings:

Feasting Portions: Allows a Team to Feast during Off-Time. Feasts provide a high Morale Bonus to the Team.

Dozens: Every Baked Good created by the Kitchen yields 12.

Eternal Pot: A Stew is always available to all Champions. Consuming Stew removes all Sickness and Disease.

Staff:

Babblebakers: Bakers rarely speak any language other than their own, and many of these folks are from different worlds and cultures. They speak only in baking terms and seem interchangeable, as the staff constantly quits and then begs to come back.

Hire Price: 10 Bucks

Bonuses:

Shouting: Babblebakers do not speak any language the Team can hear. They cannot Switch Sides once hired and they handle their own staff size. The Master Baker often cleans house and hires them again from his own pocket.

Baker’s Dozen: Relevant Baked Goods exist for every Combatant before and after a Fight.

Staff Hired: 0/12

Gin Mill

Description: These tend to be bought first.

Cost: 25 Bucks

Offerings:

Production: Produces Gin and Tonics for consumption during Battle. Makes 1 Gin or 1 Tonic per Week.

Still: You may make Vats of Gin if you have at least 5 Millers.

Staff:

Millers: As long as no questions are asked, a Miller arranges for the purchase of ‘lost’ property while also producing the one valuable thing to any culture: hard alcohol.

Hire Cost: 200 Bucks

Bonuses:

Fencing: If you lose something or want something lost, simply check their donation based return service.

Fencers: Millers can Train Combatants in the art of Rapier Battles.

Evaluation: Millers can Sum Up a Combatant and provide Weak Spots…for a few bucks, of course.

Dayshiner: They make Hard Potions and Hard Poisons.

Hire Cost: 50 Bucks

Bonuses:

Dayshine Maker: As long as the Gin Mill is here, they generate 2 Bottles of Gin and 2 Poisons per Fight.

Mogulshine: Generates a Luxury Bottle after every Fight the Team has. Can be traded to Friendly Schools and Rival Schools.

Colaman: Produces Soft drinks that provide no bonuses other than Pageantry.

Hire Cost: 1,000 Bucks

Bonuses:

Promoter: Unlocks the Drinks Sponsorship Deals.

Soft Drink Special: A Potion may be mixed with a Soft Drink before the Fight but can only be consumed during the Fight.

Staff Hired: 0/3

General Trainer Station

Description: Training is a lot of effort and it does cause Exhaustion in Combatants to fight. General Trainers improve a Skill of any kind permanently. Each Session with a General Trainer requires 2 Slots worth of training. A Combatant in Training must reduce all Exhaustion before they can be deployed.

Cost: Free

Offerings:

Training Yard: Allows Training

Rest Yard: Grants 10 Trainer Slots

Staff:

General Trainers: Unlocks the Training Option. Combatants may be assigned if they are not fighting. These General Trainers are here to test their own theories and some may even opt to fight, though they represent only your Team.

Cost: 15 Bucks      

Training Types:

Melee

Ranged

Pomp

Pageantry

Class Training

Staff Hired: 0/10

The Hype House

Description: The Announcer only reacts to what he sees and his voice is heard by all. With a Printing Press, the Hype House is focused entirely on the public’s perception of the team.

Cost: 300

Offerings:

Tracts: Pamphlets are distributed to generate Buzz before a fight.

Previews: Creates Posters that generate Buzz.

Highlights: Creates a Highlighter Novelette that replays a good fight, generating Prestige.

Staff:

Pressman: Those who can print Tracts and Propaganda often have a lot of workers, and few care to even check what they are writing.

Hire Cost: 10 Bucks

Bonuses:

Hot Presses: The Announcer always knows what to talk about during the Opening of the Fight.

Typist: The typist is fast and capable of creating Titles and Records of a Fight

Hire Cost: 25 Bucks

Bonuses:

Free Titles: You may edit or create new Titles for Champions on your Roster.                        

Liar: A good liar never lies for free. These fellows are able to generate Temporary Buzz about a Match.

Hire Cost: 15 Bucks  

Bonuses:

Buzzy Night: You gain +1 Buzz for every Liar employed.

Snake-Oil Salesman: Sells Branded Goods during Off-Time.

Hire Cost: 80 Bucks

Bonuses:

Profits: If your Team is not participating in a Match, you gain 10 Bucks.

Staff Hired: 0/25

This is a litany of data, O’Brian thought to himself. A veritable litany. With so little cash to spend, there wasn’t much point in mulling over the decisions, however. A single thought could easily bring this menu back and any word could be analyzed to provide more data.

What was important? They were a new team, The Outsiders, a ragtag group of ragamuffins with an alcoholic asshole as a coach and now O’Brian was doing the job of fighting to keep his own life and management. This was his team. And yet, in a steep irony, he was not an Outsider at all. A mere most mortal, contending with what may as well be gods…perhaps this was a sign from the outer gods, or the universe at large that he could make himself something even more than he had ever dreamed off…perhaps his family…maybe he could move them to a luxury box to enjoy every finery that could be had. If he did have a family, that is…

The first choices were easy enough because they were free. First, O’Brian selected Artemis’ Boutique Shop. Instantly a new panel appeared with a list of everything his Team had access to. Easy way to keep track.

The next free one was the Trainer Station, though it would cost to have trainers. No reason to invest if it was just him and this Finch fellow fighting. Rather, it would be better to focus on…what? Hmmm.

The Odd Botanists Shop was cheap, and potions could easily change the tide of battle. At 20 bucks, it was a steal! Not a bad idea to see what was on the potion market. He paid the cost and watched as his Wallet immediately decreased from 260 to 240. The Popularity Bonus was deducted first.

Well, if popularity was useful for spending then maybe it would behoove The Outsiders to invest in the profits from each fight. The Bath House had plenty of opportunities for increasing the amount of Popularity each Champion could generate and the price was excellent. Most everything else would take saving but Popularity Points faded at the start of every new fight. At 100 Bucks, it was worth the purchase.

Bath House Unlocked!

Hire Staff?

Available Staff:

Beth’Di: A Scrub maid with a passion for making the wash rough and painful for the staff.

Hire Price: 25 Bucks

Bonuses:

Wounds are Cleaned efficiently. A Wounded Combatant who receives her services will become Healed after a Short Scrub or greater.

Adorning: This Scrub Maid will occasionally give a Trinket to a Combatant.

Lily Landsand: Clothes are optional in her homeland and if you don’t mind, she doesn’t mind the crooks and cracks of the broken body.

Hire Price: 25 Bucks

Bonuses:

Fast Wash: A Combatant may take a Long Bath right before the Fight begins.

Bubbly: She has a special potion that makes the bubbles slick enough to grant a Grease Condition. Grapplers will not enjoy the upcoming battle.

Mon’Sieur: A Butler who prefers to do all the work ahead of time and simply stand by while the Combatant bathes. Quite professional.

Hire Price: 50 Bucks

Bonuses:

Draw Bath: All baths prepared by this Butler are automatically Deluxe.

Hot or Cold: If a Combatant has a Strain Injury, they will lose that Status during the Washing.

Sir’s Pipe: If you enjoy fine Tobbaconium, he shall provide a Packed Pipe.

A hundred for the base and then Lily Landsand and Mon’Sieur to a tidy sum of 175, leaving the team with only cash in their account. Best hold onto it for now. The panel updated to show his purchases and as if by, well, with magic, the shadowy landscape that made up the corners of the Coach Section began to unfold into a large, luxurious bathroom. Marble appeared upon the floor, tiles of white and black spread out like grass growing in fast motion. Large luxurious drapes of red materialized in circles around various bathtubs that looked to have a different function each.

One tub was just a large wooden, barrel-like circle filled to the brim with steaming hot water. Another bathtub was clawed, standing above the rest with a loud white body and an elegance that indicated it was for longer soaks. There were two of the wooden baths and two of the luxury ones.

Standing beside the elegant tub was a tall fellow, paler than the moon and with a nose pointed straight up. He wore a fine black suit, with a black bowtie and a white button up shirt. White gloves upon his hands, he held his hands back, prim and proper. Mon’Sieur, no doubt, the man who made every bath deluxe.

Another staff member appeared and she was the polar opposite of the butler. While he dressed well, she didn’t dress…well, at all.

O’Brian blinked a few times to see this beautiful woman. She was in her thirties, with dark skin from a sun-scorched land, burnt olive, perhaps. Her breasts were small and full, with pert nipples that were pink as pastel. Her stomach was a bit rounded, with stretch marks on the side, a sign of childbearing and down below, there was nothing to hide her modesty other than a bright bush of curly blond hair. Freckles peppered her whole body and she merrily spun around to show off her derriere as she bent over to begin testing the water of the tubs.  It was then that he saw her heart in all its glory and he instinctively looked to the side, where the butler was standing.

“Sir,” Mon’Sieur said, bowing. “If one is done gawking, perhaps a bath is in order?”

“Hot enough for ya,” Lily said, raising one leg as she bent over deeper to run her whole hand into the tub. O’Brian closed one eye. Clothes were optional in her homeland, is what the description had said, but this was a bit much.

“Er, I suppose?” O’Brian said to the butler.

“Awww, he’s as red as a pepper in the sun,” Lily chuckled as she turned around. She pressed her breasts together for a moment. “I hope you aren’t repelled by my lovelies.”

“More like trying to remember if I’m married,” the wannabe champion replied. “Sort of hoping I’m not.”

“Hey, don’t get any ideas, I’m not like the Soap Girls, so let’s try and keep our hands off the merchandise,” she spat back, turning around and smacking her petite ass.

The butler unfolded a long towel and stepped between them, stopping her teasing instantly. “Please, be kind to Master O’Brian, he has come from a long way home. The memories will return, rest assured, after a long soak. Perhaps a few to remember sir’s manners?”

“Right, sure.” O’Brian said. When was the next fight? The System sensed this question with a rapid fire roster.

Outsiders Team Schedule:

Season of Surprises: 16 Weeks

Week 1:

Day 1: Lottery Fight

Day 2: O’Brian vs The Amoses

Day 3: Finch vs Beast

Day 4: Free-For-All

Day 5: Off-Time

Day 6: Off-Time

Day 7: Exhibition Match (Select Champion)

The Amoses? Was that a culture? A religion? If they had a Miller, O’Brian could know what was facing him. The Gin Mill was only 25, so it was worth the purchase but they’d get a Miller next. Besides, that would sate Alamander’s cruel streak for several hours a day after he got blind and sleepy drunk.

“No time for deluxes, I’m afraid,” O’Brian said to the butler. “But nothing wrong with a Fast Wash.” Lily was going to come in quite handy.

“Great, this way,” she said, giggling as she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the basin. “First we dunk!” His head crashed into the warm water against his will and he felt her fingers dig into his hair, ripping through knots that he knew not, the hot water compounded by soap she was pouring on his skull. The pain was noticeable and excruciating.

“Dang, all this oil they put in your nogging really tangles you up, of course what else would a blood sacrifice have but mangly hair?” she cheerily said in between ripping his head out of the water then smashing it back in.

In a split second, he was tossed into the tub and violently dunked up and down, and then came the scrubbing. Hard sponge pressed against his neck, ears and throat, peeling grime from his body. It was rough but felt good…a memory began to reform in his head.

“We keep our scents repulsive, for even the softest scent can waft up the mountain. As long as we smell as the beast, they cannot seize us…” A hard voice. The Village leader? No…no, it was his father.

His back was scrubbed by a hard brush that hurt more than the sponge but it dug lower for enough time to rake his rear from end to front and back again.

Water poured down his head and neck, causing the bath to overflow. “All this dirt means you ain’t seen a lady in a long time,” Lily chittered. “Or maybe you like getting down in the mud.”

No memories of intimacy came to him, just a soft sensation in the back of his mind. A mother? She had died before his father but…nothing more would come.

“Easy,” he gasped as she raked his chest and groin. The pain was excruciating.

“Hey, fast and easy do not go hand in hand when you’re decontaminating a dirt worm,” she replied, merrily dunking his head back in the water.

It had been less than two minutes of time, but the pain made it feel much longer. The sensation of warm water on skin, soap and suds…these were not things he knew. The village chose to smell wretched to avoid becoming an offering.

Flowers. He could smell sunflowers as she began to rub his head with oil. “And a bit of sunflower oil, to top off my top man!” Lily said. She proudly stood back, her wet skin glistening in the ethereal light that came from above. Her breasts were slink and shiny, accentuating every part of her, and her gown below was soaked too. How he would have liked to touch her then, not as a prize but merely to explore her…

“Ah yes!” Lily said as he rose up before her, right before he stood. “Better make sure we get all of that whistle shiny. Maybe after the fight though, eh?”

Chapter 7

The light greeted O’Brian as he entered the Great Arena. The crowd was cheering violently and he saw another section had loaded in.

Stand: The Gungeoneers

A madcap crew of hunters, engineers and gunsmiths who are here to see pistols, powder and even an explosion or two.

Sections:

Gunners: 25%

Gamblers: 25%

Commissioners: 25%

Hunters: 10%

Fighters: 15%

School: The Musket Men

Sword, Pistol and Muskets make up the three elements of life to the Musket Men. Many Gunners and Hunters prefer the older models to show off their skill, though some come from lands where faster fire is savored over flair.

Interesting mix. No culture names though. Amoses…who were they? O’Brian strolled to his square in the arena.

“He comes from a land without fire, for fear of being seen!” the Announcer cried. “They say he has Eyes like the Sky, the bluest of the blue orbs you ever did see! Did we take him for his eyes or is he just the hunter’s prize? It’s Ooooooo-Brian!”

Oh! The Announcer was talking about him. This was decidedly better than his last introduction. His clean clothes, washed body and proud stance had ensured he remained at a Popularity of 50, meaning that if he could impress the crowd, there’d be even more money in the bank. Money that built better teams…

“Don’t call them friends but do call them brothers, the Amoses are three of the roughest musketeers out there. The only thing deadlier than their aim is their wit, and the only thing stronger than their desire to win is their competition—between each other!”

Three men emerged from the Gates, wearing identical uniforms. Blue coats, ironed and fresh as the day, adorned with nine buttons each in the shape of a wagon wheel greeted O’Brian and the anxious crowd. The cheering began wildly from the Gungeoneers stands. The Pedantics hadn’t even bothered to show up, save for the gamblers.

I suppose the majority of folks only show up when they are interested in the fight. It would be boring for a wizard watcher to see lesser folk use guns, O’Brian thought as he absorbed the sheer Pageantry of these men.

They had mustaches curled upwards, full and each of the same black hair as the brothers. Pauldrons with golden tassels lined their shoulders and at their sides, long pistols with rounded barrels that fanned outwards in a funnel shape. On the other sides were rapiers, long thin blades with golden handles that accented the gold on the pauldrons.

The Amoses were brothers! Of course, that meant they’d fight harder than anyone else, to keep their family alive and to get bragging rights. But 3 on 1? That seemed a little unfair.

O’Brian glanced up at the match rules to see what was going to be popular today.

3 vs 1 Match! Best of 5 Rounds. No Executions.

Factors of Fighting:

Judges Panel:

Judge Burnham

Description: A hardened prisoner who killed his own executioner. He enjoys seeing the underdog get the upper hand.

Likes: Upsets, Short Fights and Grappling

Dislikes: Ranged Combat, Sniping, Long Fights

Favored Technique: Wrestling

Judge Thunder

Description: Thunder comes from a world of eternal lightning. His powers of arcing electricity raised him to the heavens themselves – and beyond!

Likes: Magic, Charges and Sniping

Dislikes: Taunting, Dodging

Favored Technique: Sharpshooting

Judge Arcson

Description: The son of a powerful metallurgist, this man cares only about the quality of the gear used and the skill of a swordsman!

Likes: Sword Combat, Uncommon or Higher Weapons and Disarming

Dislikes: Magic, Non-Metallic Weapons and Potions

Favored Technique: Knife Fighting

Popularity:

Combatant: O’Brian. +50

VS

Combatant: The Amoses: 30

Lethality:

Combatant: O’Brian. Red Rank.

VS

Combatant: The Amoses. Red Rank

Crowd’s Favor:

Gunning

Sword Fights

Downing

Judges’ Favorite:

Judge Burnham: O’Brian

Judge Thunder: O’Brian

Judge Arcson: Amoses

The slowdown of time was enough for O’Brian to get his bearings. This match was unfair but it seemed that Downing a Champion counted as winning. No executions today. Still, anything could happen in a fight. Make the wrong move and he could be killed by three gunshots.

The three brothers marched into formation, standing side by side, their steps rehearsed no doubt a thousand times. They turned as one, a line of macho gunfighters.

“Brothers! Pistols!” the leader, Tally Amos declared. He was in the center. Data on these fighters was unavailable. It seemed they were a newer…wait, if this was a new season, then perhaps they simply didn’t have the ranks yet. They were climbing the same ladder as O’Brian and thus it made sense why they had a red rank, despite being three.

In one motion, the brothers drew their hand cannons, flintlock pistols, each in the left hand. “Brothers! Swords!” They drew their longswords out. Rapiers? No, sabers, for they were much fatter on one end, though the blades were thin and flexible. Perhaps this was custom gear. Already, a judge would be pleased to see them fight.

“Three men with iron in their veins against a lone man with the power of Banzai, let’s see who wins the coin toss…and it goes to O’Brian! Let’s get this fight going!!!!” the Announcer bellowed while the crowd began to cheer.

O’Brian’s first move? They were 30 paces away. A charge was the best option and a good opener for the judges. Predictable though. He’d be running straight into them and they may be able to shoot back as an ability. Still…Dashing Leap would get him over the attack. But it would be 2 AP to get within range…the bonus move would be enough to get in melee range, but then it would flip over to them… Hmm, hard call.

Instead of charging, O’Brian decided to draw his Katana and advance 10 paces. He readied his weapon and passed on his turn, allowing the round to continue.

“And the Ronin holds firm, let’s see how the boys of bullets do it!” the Announcer cried. The crowd was hushed and O’Brian’s Popularity dropped 10 points.

He didn’t let the loss distract him. This was going to be one hell of a fight and yielding would finish the battle free of any death on his end. A loss was survivable. Those guns? Maybe not.

“March!” the eldest shouted. The three Musketeers spent an Action to advance 10 paces. They moved with their guns aimed at chest level, preventing O’Brian from taking a Reaction to their movement. He still had 1 AP and could have used it but their Stance ability prevented it.

“Line up shot!” Tally declared. All three adjusted their aims in unison, turning their bodies to the side, guns aiming at the Ronin. They extended each gun arm as far as it would go. Tension built in the air as the arena became dead silent.

O’Brian gripped his sword with both arms and held them at chest level. Each gun arm slowly turned inward, towards center mass. It was a triangle of concentrated fire. Sweat dripped down the side of the Ronin’s head. The heat of the day was not the source of his sweating, that was for sure.

“Fire!” Tally shouted and; like that, three fingers twitched. Bullets flew towards O’Brian. Time slowed for a reaction, if any. They had used both AP and were out for the round. That 1 Action Point was precious.

Dodge or Deflect? The Grasshopper stance gave O’Brian the ability to dodge for 1 TP, in addition to his AP, but that would not please one of the judges. Yet Deflect was 50%, another coin toss.

At the last moment, O’Brian made a snap decision. He leapt to the left and dodged the attack, spending his AP and TP for the round. The hailstorm of bullets flew beside him, as black smoke rose from their muskets.

“Oh and a swift dodge from the Ronin! That is the end of the round and the start of Round 2!” the Announcer shouted. The audience cheered at the spectacle and O’Brian’s Popularity rose back to 50.

20 Paces was much closer than 30. O’Brian took another Action moving to 10 paces away, their weapons still smoking from the gunshots. They were exposed for a charge.

Drawing in the hot air from the arena, as much as he could, O’Brian activated his Katana’s Banzai Charge Ability. “Banzaiiii!” he cried out and he rushed 10 paces into the men who had scarcely been able to keep their aim on him, now that he was coming from a different angle. The outer wing was exposed, Millard Amos was the target.

“Fend with Blade!” Tally demanded. The three turned in unison to face the angle of attack and raised their weapons at the same time, creating a deflection attempt.

Deflection Used as Reaction. 25% to Deflect the Charge! Rolling…29! Failure!

Their blades were not enough to stop the sheer strength of the Banzai charge, for their formation made them a unit, one incapable of easily defending. If they had time to reload, they could have gunned him down but they attacked first. The dodge had been worth losing favor from the one judge. Charges equally impressed two judges and that was enough for O’Brian.

Their blades tried to cross into a fending position but O’Brian completed his charge, dashing through their defenses and burying his blade deep into the stomach of Millard.

“I yield!” Millard gasped as he fell to the ground, dropping both weapons.

Unit Broken! appeared over the head of the other two.

“Every man for themselves!” Theo Amos shouted, hopping a half step away from his brother.

So they were fighting as a unit. Not anymore.

The turn went over to Tally. They had spent their AP as a group but now they had only 1 Action each and in melee range. “And just like that, this is a melee, let’s buckle in folks, this could be a bumpy carriage ride!” the Announcer cried out.

Tally skipped backwards 8 paces, faster than O’Brian could react. A bonus move for sure. He then began to reload his pistol. “Choose your poison, fool!” he bellowed at O’Brian, his chest still high. The other brother was also reloading, scampering back as well.

Round 2 Ended! Round 3 Begins!

Beset on both sides from men within melee range. But they could react to shoot him from both sides. O’Brian glanced at his TP. 5 Points left. Enough to take full advantage of his Banzai Technique.

Dashing Leap came in handy. He sprinted towards Tally, the boaster and leader. Instantly, both guns went off, as they used their AP to Shoot as a Reaction. He moved 5 paces and leapt, easily clearing both gunshots that whizzed below him.

O’Brian landed before the leader and raised his sword to slash downwards. “Oh no you don’t, you rapscallion!” Tally shouted, swinging his sword to parry.

Parry Roll! 80%...87! Failed Parry!

O’Brian’s downward slash easily slid down the side of the blade that was thinner, batting the weapon aside with sheer momentum. Five points of damage sank into the back of the opposing target and Tally, the braggadocious fellow, yielded instantly upon seeing red upon his blue coat.

“Damnations, we don’t have a Launder yet!” he grumbled after dropping both blades and kneeling.

“Two down, one to go!” the Announcer shouted. “What’s his call?”

Millard reloaded as he scampered backwards.

“That’s the round!” the Announcer bellowed and the crowd cheered.

16 paces was enough to close the gap but this man could shoot in reaction to the charge. A single bullet may be placed well enough to outright kill O’Brian. But the bloodlust was within him and he disregarded such possibilities. Luck was on his side now.

Spinning around, O’Brian raised his Katana once more. Charge, Easy Dodge and then, slash. That would be easy enough…but that Judge Thunder didn’t like dodging.

“Let’s test that sword arm of yours,” O’Brian challenged. “Your brothers couldn’t keep their guard up. Shall we give the crowd a show?”

The man, Millard, paused to rub his forehead, wiping away the sweat and then recurling one mustachio. “No charges?”

“Blade meets blade!” O’Brian said.

“Then bring it!” the man replied, tossing his gun away. The crowd thundered. “Blade Meets Blade! Blade Meets Blade!”

“And it seems the third is tossing his gun, that’s a lost bet for half of the Gungeoneers but you know what they say, when someone loses, someone wins!” the Announcer said. “Now let’s see if the last standing Amos knows how to sword fight!”

O’Brian moved 10 paces and held his Action. The other did the same. They met solemnly, moving one after the other, their pacing so perfect that it appeared as if they were on a mere stroll. Giving up his Grasshopper technique was a dangerous decision, but this was going to be a square fight. 1 Action point gone from each side meant that it was decided by Reaction.

O’Brian slashed with all his might. The other parried instantly, his sword flicking out to push the blade down into the sand.

Parry Roll! 80%…. 29! Parry successful!

In an instant, the katana was shoved into the ground, knocked aside by the weight of the opponent’s swing. The round didn’t end, however, as the Sword and Pistol Stance allowed for free Parries, it seemed.

“Now we see who is left standing with honor!” the remaining Amos shouted as he went in for his own slash. He raised his weapon high and swung it straight towards O’Brian’s sword arm.

Unable to React, O’Brian felt the weapon in his hand suddenly knocked away. The angle of the swing struck his wrist with the flat of the blade, tossing his katana to the ground.

“Yield now?” Amos demanded.

“Round’s over but not the fight!” O’Brian replied, placing his hand on his dagger.

Round 5! Final Round!

“Ooooh, in an instant, we see a single change! O’Brian’s got no sword but he can draw his dagger. Trouble is, can he plunge it before he’s run through?” the Announcer asked. The crowd grew silent once more and it felt as if great heads from above, giant beings were looming over O’Brian’s shoulder.

O’Brian took a deep breath and focused. No charging, but that didn’t mean no leaping. Hurtle would work. Behind the target meant a Backstab unless he reacted…for free with his own Stance. Damn…did turning take a Reaction? It was movement…right?

Only way was to try. The Ronin made a false start towards Millard, who kept his guard up. The feint did nothing but add flair as O’Brian deftly leapt over Millard, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder to steady himself as he flipped. He landed behind the Target and thrust the dagger he had drawn while in flight.

Backstab! No Reactions Allowed! Appeared above his head as he struck true. The Stock Dagger may not be flashy but the Gut Stab ability worked in both directions and he stabbed three times, dealing 2 damage each hit.

“Yield!” the man breathlessly screamed as he fell onto both knees, causing the entire crowd to go wild.

“And there it is! You had your doubts but I think I found my favorite today! A man with agility and class, easily able to stab the heart but going a tad lower to keep the brothers together!” The Announcer cheered. Everyone clapped and the Gungeoneers and General Section stood in unison, clapping wildly.

O’Brian merely sheathed his dagger and stared up at the numbers. They had been a meaningless distraction in the heat of battle but now, his heart swelled with pride as he read the final challenge. It seemed that angle mattered little until it was in Close Quarters.

Day 2 Match a Victory for The Outsiders!

3vs1 has been Won by O’Brian!

Judge Rulings:

Burnham: 5

Thunder: 8

Arcson: 10

Total Favor: 23! The Outsiders Gain 23 Prestige!

You have gained the following:

Popularity: 75/100

Pageantry Bonus: +50 Bucks

Red Rank Bonus: 200 Bucks

Match Experience Bonus: 600 XP

The crowd was sated, the people cheering and screaming for more, but the three brothers merely gathered themselves and their discarded weapons before squabbling the entire way back to their quarters…

Chapter 8

O’Brian staggered into the Barracks where Finch was doing pushups. “So tired,” he groaned as he tossed himself into a hammock. His Exhaustion was 100%. Sleep would be the only thing to fix the problem but the adrenaline from the fight, the exhilaration on taking such a gamble with Hurtle…he couldn’t quite pass out just yet.

“You fought bravely and with cleverness. They cannot fault you for outmaneuvering them in a sword fight,” Finch said, not losing breath or pace with his pushups. “Today you will rest. Tomorrow only begins after you sleep. And I believe that I am next, against a random Beast of the Arena. I should hope to bring this Team the same glory you have brought it.”

Those words filled O’Brian like a warm drink, spreading from his chest to his entire body. Praise? From this great barbarian hunter? He could scarcely believe it.

“You aren’t Alamander in disguise, meant to lure me into humiliation?” he asked.

Finch chuckled. “That man has been forcibly relegated to the lower depths of his consciousness with the bottle of Fortiwine that we received from the other Team.”

“They sent us a gift?”

“Why wouldn’t they? The Amoses are gentlemen, through and through. That stock dagger isn’t for show. You could have killed him outright. But you chose to merely wet their clothes and further their arguments about who ‘won’ at losing,” the big man grunted.

The muscular form of the great man was fascinating to watch. Even the man’s exposed buttocks were hard muscled, tight and capable of no doubt shrugging off arrows from his sheer toughness.

O’Brian hung his head over the hammock. “Seems there are good sports in this game.”

“So you see it as a game now?”

“Memories are coming back slowly…it seemed that for the most part, my people were doing everything possible to hide from this place. Is it truly living if you are so afraid of death that you can’t learn to read, or paint, or smell well?”

“Perhaps you were chosen because you volunteered?”

“No…” O’Brian mused. He could smell sunflowers again. A memory, hazy, began to form within his head.

“You will not gain her affections,” his father had muttered. “Until you pluck a single sunflower from the Woewoods. You must show her you are brave, otherwise she will have many suitors.”

“But the smell of the flower, it will attract them!” O’Brian had gasped. His memories were getting clearer in this scene. He was the same age in the memory as he was now. The search for a woman’s graces had gotten him here? That sounded about right, for he knew that most men would do anything to get a worthy woman to even look their way.

I guess that flower got me into this hell, he mused to himself. Or was this heaven in disguise?

“Perhaps…perhaps I did choose this, in a way,” he muttered.

“Love?”

“Indeed. Or maybe seeking a lover…”

“I put a bull’s-eye on my chest so that I can go to my husband sooner rather than later,” Finch replied. “He’s a meek man but a tender lover and sensitive soul. The stress of his jobs, ever increasing, almost killed him. Until I merely flexed before his employer to improve his job position to retired permanently with three pensions.”

“If you flexed too close you might take one of his eyes out,” O’Brian chuckled. He felt the urge to sleep grow greater and he was soon taken into a deep slumber where he dreamed of flowers and arguments about paperwork with a ghost.

The next morning came slow. A deep sleep can feel like forever one night and can be instantaneous transportation to the future the next.

Day 3 has begun! Finch is Scheduled to Fight! You have Off-Time. The system informed as he slow blinked, wiping his eyes. His Exhaustion level was down to 68%. Not as restorative of a sleep as he first thought.

Oh well, there were many things to handle internally. O’Brian walked into the main hall to see that Finch was already gone.

“He’s fighting now?”

“Nope, he is simply checking the shops,” Alamander groaned from his place on the same spot that O’Brian had first found him. The wizard pointed to the right, where a large boutique store had opened.

“Those prices started with 10,000,” O’Brian said. “I haven’t even bothered to go in.”

“He has some coupons or something,” the wizard mumbled. “But you’re the acting Manager and Coach so that means you choose when to send him out.”

“I’m the Coach now?” O’Brian asked. “I thought I was just the Manager.”

“Yup and now you’re both. So you know, you get all the blame if Finch dies but I get all the credit if he wins,” Alamander explained, drunkenly raising a hand. “I invented this idea, it’s called being a scam artist!”

“You do make artistry out of assholery,” O’Brian replied as he walked over the man towards the posted Schedule.

Day 3 Schedule:

Finch: 1 vs Beast

O’Brian: Off-Time

“Off-time lets me…” O’Brian asked, trailing off.

“You get 3 Off-time Actions. Train, Bathe, Kill Yourself, all viable options that just take a time slot,” Alamander explained. “You also assign your Champions on their off days. It’s all very easy when you’re able to see straight. And not in triplicates.”

“I see.”

“Coaching is really just sending someone to fight and then also managing them, so really it seems like both titles are the same. Other than all these options that I have but can’t use until we get enough Prestige to Rank Up.”

“I’m sure your hands are tied greatly,” O’Brian mused. He ran a hand against the board. Papers appeared in front as the System connected.

Off-Time Actions:

Bathe

Rest

Train

Teach

Recruit

Spar

Plenty to do aside from pulse-pounding combat. The first order of business was the business of spending their Bucks earned from the last fight. Lily’s cleaning had not depleted his Popularity Points, giving them an extra 75 on top of the Round Bonus of 200.

He glanced at their cash to see something that made his eyes go wide.

“We have…2,000 Bucks?” O’Brian stammered.

“I made a small wager last fight,” Alamander said. “Everything we had and you as a manslave to any team who’d take the action. Those Amos assholes sent us a basket with my earnings and a few choice gifts. All devoured and consumed, in that order of course. Barring the bucks.”

“You…wagered everything?” O’Brian shouted, turning to face the wizard. “Are you crazy?”

“Worse! I figured you would win this fight using the power of guessing and hope, I guess,” the wizard muttered. “But you gotta remember, each week gets harder. Those Artemis doohickies are what we need. You have a legendary katana but a useless dagger. Stock is for chumps. Plus you should probably get armor and stuff. If you died, well, I would have given up on this venture so I figured, go big or go home.”

“Thanks for not telling me, I really didn’t need that kind of pressure on my back,” O’Brian gasped. Had he known this ’tiny’ little fact, he would have probably choked.

“Hey, you didn’t check the wager board after you left, which was when I made the deal. Image spells are great for basically cheating at gambling,” Alamander said.

The fury in O’Brian’s heart was only matched by the excitement to spend, spend, spend. This was a huge windfall. Plus he was getting closer to his first Level. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so angry at this wizard for his ambition.

“Nothing like that again, promise?”

“I gave you coach power to stop me from doing something as reckless,” Alamander said. “And really, if we’re going to blame anyone, it would be the Gin Mill that gave out free samples that come with demanding entire vats of the stuff.”

O’Brian barely heard this as he quickly began to buy the Stations they needed. This was becoming almost as exhilarating as a fight. Everything was up to him, a complete stranger to this wizard. Was the jackassery merely an act? Was this some powerful angelic being guiding him to his glory? Did O’Brian really inspire such brave acts or was this stranger completely out of his gourd? Either way, it was money in the bank.

First, there was the matter of the unmanned stations. These seemed to be starter options for any burgeoning team. Gymnasium, Sparring Room and Kitchen. That came out to a tidy sum of 350.

Before his eyes, the back end of the shadowy room unfolded. A large gym, with dozens of curious sections emerged, followed next by a fighting room with dummies, a fighting ring with ropes around them and a small gnome chewing on a cigar in the corner. The bakery appeared last, with the smell of fresh baked bread assaulting the entire area. A tall man with a white hat was furiously rolling out dough and the ovens were cooking already.

“I handle these,” a man said, appearing from nowhere.

“Gah!” O’Brian shouted, jumping back and instinctively reaching for his sword. It was gone, replaced instead with a small bell on his belt. It jingled softly at the reaction.

The stranger was tall and had grey, scraggly hair. His beard was cornered sharply, grey as a wolf’s fur, cut into a downward triangle. Beads with runes were present, bronze beads that tied his beard into two sections at once.

“I’m the Stafford,” the man said. “Some call me Grey Greg. You may call me your personal aid when it comes to running this entire operation. These three stations are managed by me and the rest are handled by the various staff members you hire. But everything happening with the people goes through me. Team Morale matters, because many staff members may quit on you if we start to feel like we can’t win this thing. Losing a Match is no big deal but too many and we may have the fair weather workers abscond without a word. And the more expensive a worker, the better chance they’ll join another side.”

“Good to meet you, Mr. Greg,” O’Brian replied, bowing to the man. This fellow seemed stable and understated. His eyes, twinkling like the night stars, seemed to indicate a great depth of knowledge and understanding. Those eyes seemed to tell stories O’Brian would listen to for ages.

“Please, Grey is fine,” he replied. “Mr. Greg was my father’s name.”

“Of course,” O’Brian replied.

The man wordlessly passed by, walking into the Gymnasium to check the two rings that were hanging from the center. “If you need a guide to work the equipment, you’ll need to hire a Trainer.”

“Right, right,” O’Brian said. He quickly hired Trainers at 15 Bucks a piece. Melee, Ranged, Grapple, Pomp and Pageantry. For 75 Bucks, he was able to fill the building with a few new faces, people in thick cloaks who spoke very little. They merely immigrated to each area, some in the Gymnasium, others in the Sparring Room.

“You’re halfway to Level 1,” Greg’s voice said, echoing around him. “Another thousand will allow you to begin Training yourself. Otherwise, you can just assign your other teammates to Train on their off-days. Don’t forget though, Training and Sparring cause Exhaustion. Bread can only go so far.”

“Right, right,” O’Brian said. There was still more money to spend. A warning appeared in front of him.

Your School has only 2 Rooms left!

Increase your Prestige to gain more Rooms and Unlock New Stations.

Ah, so that was the value of prestige, O’Brian thought. A bigger school would have more options.

“What is the deal with recruitment?” he asked the man remotely. Their voices passed back and forth as if they were standing together, while in reality the Staffording Agent was in the Sparring room, trying to settle an argument between two trainers.

“Recruiting is an Off-Time Action. You get 3 random Recruits who start at level 0. When your Prestige increases, you can hire equal to your Prestige Rank, so you’ll get better Recruits.”

“Are they worth it at zero?”

“Were you?”

A good answer to a hard question. Still, Recruits who weren’t on this week’s Matches would have four days ahead of the next week. Perhaps that would be enough to train them enough. Though he would have to supply them as well.

“Archers would be fancy,” he mused. But he would need to buy the Ram’s Bow, the weapon store. That was another 350.

“Do recruits cost?”

“100 Bucks per level, plus 350 for the hiring fee, no guarantees as they will be green. But they come from many worlds. Each with their own life experience to give them a fighting chance,” came the reply.

Mon’Sieur shuffled up to O’Brian. “Sir would perhaps like something to eat?” In his hands was a silver platter with a steaming loaf of bread. Just made.

O’Brian suddenly realized how hungry he felt upon seeing that bread. Before he could really say anything, he had it in his hands and was munching merrily.

“This is delish,” he said in between bites. His Exhaustion dropped to 34 points and his general shakiness faded.

“I would prescribe a Deluxe Bath, as it will allow me to elucidate you on a few rumors I’ve heard…” the butler replied. “And of course, a bit of the Gin we are now producing. It won’t do you any favors but it sure does make a long day of luxury all the longer.”

“Funny,” Alamander said as he turned over onto his face. “I use booze to speed through the days.”

“Let me work out a bit,” O’Brian replied to the butler. A long bath sounded nice but with two other slots to fill, it would make sense to get some training in. No reason to rest on his non-existent laurels.

The Gymnasium was the first place on his visit list. O’Brian shook the weariness of the exhaustion, knowing the luxury bath would clear it, along with more of that bread when it was ready. He had a few more purchases to make but was unsure of what to prioritize. Maybe some sweat would give him better insight into his own needs. Recruits would probably have to wait until he was able to Teach, an option locked until he had a class. Not that he was too far from leveling up. Two more fights and he might just be able to get on the board as a real threat during this season.

The large expansive gym was equipped with all manner of interesting equipment. The Staffording man, Grey Greg was next to him in an instant.

“Your head is jumbled,” the man said, swiftly placing both hands on the sides of O’Brian’s temples. He pressed his fingers in, not too hard but enough to hold O’Brian in place.

“Huh?”

“System Awareness is not the same as organization,” the Stafford replied. “Let me just see what your mind thinks it’s seeing…ah. You’re just seeing letters and data. You don’t know how to think like our kind.”

“Kind?”

“There are metaphysical laws that pervade all realities. In the ancient days of my homeland, sacrifices to the gods brought great power. Worship was dance and prayer was runic invocation. Truly a place I miss, but alas, when I walked for the last time, through the godspells, I became a celestial realm unto my own. Dying was as easy as slipping off a tight shoe and the freedom that came…it was a world of my making. Yet, worldshaping is boring when one cannot compare with other universes. I wandered from my dreams to here.

“System Awareness is what those who have been blessed by the gods or encountered great magics that create an understanding of the underlying laws of the worlds call it. Some say that there is only mathematical precision and with years of dedication, they are able to see what the wise man knew was there all along. Order and Chaos, in perfect balance.”

“Aren’t they opposites?” O’Brian asked.

“Not quite. Order is Power and Chaos is Creativity,” Grey Greg replied. “Now, your mind is simply out of sync because you took upon a weapon that speaks with a spirit. You were never meant to ascend this way. It is by the sheer strength of your will that you can see these things.”

“Come on now, I’m not that strong,” O’Brian mumbled. The tightness of the man’s fingers against his skull grew more pressing.

“Yet here you are, alive. Death will free you but…I sense something. A reason to return to your own home. Freedom can be won here, and yet…you are torn in two. Upper Spirit has woken up but your body still remembers who you were. I cannot restore your memories but I can help with understanding the System. Just ignore the flaring lights in your eyes for a moment.”

“Flaring what?” O’Brian asked, too late to evaluate the safety of this choice. A burning energy washed through his head and he heard some kind of strange laughter, followed by endless lights pulsing in his view. The light was painful but it was as if he had two sides, two heads. There was a great struggle as these two heads pressed against each other, the Staffording man guiding him with strength.

In an instant both heads merged and a flash of green and blue lights arrived as quickly as they left.

“There! Now, simply gaze upon thy own mind. Think of yourself. You are in someone’s story someday, we all are. Already, they mutter and whisper. Yet, the enlightened mind can see…” Greg advised as a new menu appeared in front of O’Brian. Everything he was came together in an instant and he could see himself as purely data.

Career & Advancement

Name: O’Brian | XP: 1150/2000
Profession: Ronin | Skill Points: 0
Starpath: NA | Bucks: 2000
School: Outsiders | Level: 0
Class: NA | Popularity: 75
Rank: Red | Fame: 0
Season: 1 | Next Rank: Orange

Status

Health Points | 6
Exhaustion Level | 38%
Action Points | 2
Technique Points | 7
Adrenaline | 0
Grit | 0
Heart | 0
Synapse | 0
Injuries | 0

General Skills

Swiftness

80%

Endurance
80%

Physique
30%

Willpower
90%

There it was! All of his information, summed up neatly and with order. And yet upon seeing this order, O’Brian at once began to create within his own mind. He could see everything that made him a champion in this place, everything that made him able to fight.

It was one thing to simply know or pull up data, but now he could organize his own thoughts about each decision he would make. The Grasshopper Stance held everything he could do in a fight, including his weapons of choice!

“This…I’m…me? I mean…” O’Brian muttered as he stared at the stance section. “Who are you again?”

Greg merely laughed. “Soak it all in. See who you are to this world. But do not forget where you came from.”

Stances

Current Stance
Grasshopper

Defense Profile

Block: 0
Parry: 20%

Dodge: 50%
Feint: 0

Deflect: 20%

Counter: 0

Stance Attacks

Hurtle | Leap 2 paces over one Target, Attack the Target and then leap back to your old position.
Dashing Leap | Move 5 Paces and Leap up to 5 paces, then Hit a Target
Backspring | After you successfully Attack a target, you move 3 paces backwards and hit a Target for Free.

Stance Abilities

Easy Dodge | You may spend a Technique Point to Succeed at a Dodge roll.
Leg Strength | When in this stance, you cannot be Wounded in your Legs.
Downward Drop | If you have moved 10 Paces, you may Leap on a target and deal Critical Damage.

Available Techniques

Swift Cleave | Cost: 1 TP | After killing or Downing a Target with any Banzai attack, you may immediately move 3 Paces and Free Attack one Target.
Ghost Blade | Cost: 1 TP | If you drop a Banzai weapon, there is a 10% chance the Ronin Spirit will animate it and fight alongside you.

Weapon Techniques

Legacy Katana – Short Cut

(Attack)

Cost: 1 TP
Hit a Target who is Grappling or in Close Distance. If you deal damage, they lose their action.

Legacy Katana – High Slash

(Attack)

Cost: 1 TP
If you have Jumped, you may hit one Target as a Free Action.

Legacy Katana – Banzai Charge

(Attack)

Cost: 2 TP
You charge towards a Target. If you move at least 5 Paces during the Round, you may declare your Move to be a Banzai charge. Banzai hits ignore all armor and cannot be dodged. If a target has Set their polearms, the Banzai fails and you take full damage.

Legacy Katana – Banzai Spirit

(Defense)

Cost: 1 TP
If struck by a Status, ignore the Status for the Round.

Legacy Katana – Retreat

(Defense)

Cost: 1 TP
Immediately move 10 paces away from all Threats. This ignores all Skills and no one may target you while moving.

Legacy Katana – Parry Blade

(Defense)

Cost: 1 TP, Free Action
Adds +20% to your Parry Roll.

Legacy Katana – Arrow Shield

(Defense)

Cost: 2 TP
For one Round, you gain +50% to Deflect Arrows.

Stock Dagger – Shank

(Attack)

Cost: 1 TP
If a Target is within 3 paces of you, you may Kill them with a Strike Roll.

Stock Dagger – Banzai Throw

(Attack)

Cost: 2 TP
You may throw this dagger up to 10 paces away. Weak Spots struck take Critical Damage

Stock Dagger – Gut Stab

(Attack)

Cost: 1 TP
If a Target is within 3 paces of you, Strike them 3 times

Feats & Starpaths

Bloodied

“Red makes him see better, oddly enough…” – Fanzibar the Gambler
If you take damage, you can see Weak Spots on all Targets within Melee Range for the duration of the Round.

Unknown
“His name is well known but come on…who is he, really?”
Your Weak Spots cannot be detected.

Feller
“Now that guy’s a feller! Get it? Get it?” – Louis the Obnoxiously Loud
If you down or kill a Target during the first round, you gain +10 Popularity.

Starpaths
NA

Starpaths…what were those? Sensing the question, Stafford spoke. “There are many celestial powers gazing down. Constellations, gods, creators like myself who turn their mind outward so far that they can see from heavens away. When you level up, you may choose a single constellation that grants you greater strength than you have. And you can get a snazzy tattoo as well.”

O’Brian nodded and read on to the next section.

Style & Forms

Pageantry | 1
Flair | 5

Current Form
None

“My Form is empty,” O’Brian said. “And I don’t quite understand.”

“If only you had a mentor,” Greg laughed. “The Stance you wield determines your combat prowess and ability to fight with your weapons. To use only one stance is brave, yet a Ronin would be useless against Cavalry if he only relied upon Banzai. Each Trainer here can teach you new Stances, though I would caution against learning too many. They cost only time to learn, but you can change stance at a moment’s notice. And thus it would be useful to diversify.”

O’Brian nodded. “The Musketeers, they were a Unit. That was a Stance?”

“Unit Fighting is the term. And when they broke, they switched to Sword and Pistol. A Ranged Stance is what you should learn first. Flicking daggers is fine, but a sturdy steed and a hardened lancer will laugh as your daggers bounce off.”

Aha! That made the most sense to O’Brian. This explained why the Amoses were quite skilled with both Stances. “And forms are?”

“A Form takes your Pageantry and Style Points and gives you something to do. Pageantry simply generates more points for you in terms of Popularity and Judge Scores. The Crowd is wishy-washy and you should always try to impress the Stands with a little pizzaz,” Greg explained. “Forms are learnable as well. Posing in the Gym here will teach you a basic form for free, but you’ll need to hire Form Trainers to learn the others.

“Forms are not meant to enhance your abilities in battle. They are meant to please the crowd. Higher Popularity pays well, but it is not the only thing that matters. To be a real Meerschaum Gladiator, you must focus on building things like Buzz and Fame. Buzz generates more people in the Stands. You may notice your Popularity caps at 100, but that is per Stand present. Not everyone wants to see a match, but Buzz can attract more Stands, which increase how Popular you can become after a fight. But remember, you lose that Popularity after you lose a Match or between fights.

“As I said, the people here are wishy-washy, only remembering that which is memorable. Who you were before the fight is meaningless in bloodsport. Of course, a bit of presentation and proper dress can make you more interesting to the crowd.”

“I understand. There is far more to fighting in this place than I realized,” O’Brian said. “Does…does time stand still down there? In my homeland.”

“If you could tell me where time can be found, if you can produce me a single atom of this ‘time’ you speak of, then I could answer. There is only the here and now,” the Grey man replied. “Think little of your past life until you begin to remember. Perhaps you will be strong enough to simply break out.”

“I’m going to murder that king,” O’Brian murmured. “Perhaps with these flair things.”

“Ah, of course,” Greg said. “But Flair Moves are not meant to harm. Rather they provide a wide range of effects that change how the crowd sees you. Each Form requires a single Skill and unlike your Attacks, a Flair is free but requires a Skill Roll to ensure you can pull it off. Pageantry is automatically added to your Roll, but you will need other Skills from your class to perform such things.”

“So I’m a nobody until I can impress the crowd with being Level 1…” O’Brian mused.

This was an interesting discovery. With all of the data so easy to parse through, he was seeing greater potential. Namely, he could quickly access his weapon techniques to remember what his options were during a fight. Time did slow to a fraction of a second when glancing at System Data during a fight. But having information and remembering how best to use it were two separate things.

Skills

Clever
Crafty
Cunning

Sneak (Rank: NA)
Hide (Rank: NA)
Distract (Rank: NA)

Strike (Rank: NA)
Defend (Rank: NA)
Dodge (Rank: NA)

Grapple (Rank: NA)
Wrestling (Rank: NA)
Martial Arts (Rank: NA)

Acrobatics (Rank: NA)

Charge (Rank: NA)
Race (Rank: NA)

Trip (Rank: NA)
Disarm (Rank: NA)
Ensnare (Rank: NA)

Feint (Rank: NA)
Parry (Rank: NA)
Counter (Rank: NA)

Scramble (Rank: NA)
Slide (Rank: NA)
Skid (Rank: NA)

Throw (Rank: NA)
Meditate (Rank: NA)
Block (Rank: NA)

Weapon Skills

Short-range (Rank: NA) | Stance Bonus: NA
Long-range (Rank: NA) | Stance Bonus: NA
Light (Rank: NA) | Stance Bonus: NA
Heavy (Rank: NA) | Stance Bonus: NA
Exotic (Rank: NA) | Stance Bonus: NA
CQC (Rank: NA) | Stance Bonus: NA
Shield (Rank: NA) | Stance Bonus: NA

Damage Skills

Piercing (Rank: NA)
Stance Bonus: NA

Stabbing (Rank: NA)

Stance Bonus: NA

Bludgeoning (Rank: NA)
Stance Bonus: NA

Bashing (Rank: NA)
Stance Bonus: NA

He gazed at the Skills section. “There’s a lot to do.”

“General Skills are always handy, but Fighter, Wizard or Rogues have different kinds of skills. In my opinion, you would do best as a Fighter or a Rogue. Wizarding…has…” Greg lowered his voice. “A lot of power but no hit points. They bluster quite a bit but unless they get the first spell off, they’re as useless as the books they read.”

“I was thinking wizard but…if I turn out anywhere close to being like Alamander, I’d rather unlearn to read,” O’Brian agreed. Fighter sounded like a fine choice. O’Brian enjoyed being in the scraps, fighting with melee strength. Perhaps he should gain a ranged weapon when he leveled.

Speaking of weapons, his eyes turned down to his current load-out.

Armor & Clothing

Head
NA

Neck
NA

Cape
NA

Cloak
NA

Belt
NA

Torso

Yellow Robe: No effect on Noncasters.

Pants
NA

Weapons

Weapon 1 | Legacy Katana
Weapon 2 | Stock Dagger

Consumables

None

“I think I understand the last page of my profile enough,” O’Brian said. “It seems that gear wins fights. So many slots and yet I have nothing but my weapons and a robe that looks better than those rags I showed up in.”

“Armor is a real game changer. You are in a position to where a single projectile, such as a bullet or a spell could easily kill you in one hit. Your HP is 6 and a good lightning spell deals 15. Protections matter, more than you could think. Reliable armor is how you survive.”

“That Botany shop provides consumables. Potions and Poisons, I think,” O’Brian said. He grinned, thankful he hadn’t spent all of his capital on buildings. It was no folly to invest more in his own safety and combat prowess via better items.

“That Artemis fellow makes many powerful items. But don’t discount stock gear.”

“I didn’t see any Armorers or such available via the Shop list,” O’Brian replied as he stepped back, realizing that the Staffording man was still pressing against his head.

“No, you did not call such a thing to your mind. The choices are always going to be endless in a place like this. You merely need to focus,” Greg said.

Indeed, a new Shop appeared in O’Brian’s field of view.

Armor and More, Dwarf Owned and Operated (Local 312)

Cost: 500 Bucks

Offerings:

Stock Armor

Custom Armor

Gear

Explosive Consumables

“It’s a bit wordy for a storefront but…at 500, it’s affordable,” O’Brian said as he made the purchase. That was 1 room gone and 1 left.

“Does my Fame affect my Prestige?” he asked.

Greg shook his head. “Afraid not. Prestige is shared by all Champions on the Team Roster. The number can’t be negative but each Match should increase your Prestige. In fact, I can see your confusion swirling around. With a tad bit of energy…”

Another menu appeared instantly.

The Outsiders Team Roster

CHAMPION

STATUS
EXHAUSTION
PRESTIGE
PRESTIGE LEVEL

O’Brian
Fresh
38%
23
23/100

Finch
Fresh
0%
0

Empty

Empty

“Bench limits expand as our Prestige increases,” Greg explained before O’Brian could ask.

“Straightforward enough,” O’Brian replied. “Two more to add to this meatgrinder.”

“Now that sounds like a coach,” Greg chuckled. “I would suggest you go shopping and then, get to training. Plenty of time until the next Match.”

“Should I buy a ranged weapon?” O’Brian asked.

“Those take a lot of skill. You’ll be useless until you get your class.”

Chapter 9

The Dwarven Forge was unbearably huge. Steam and smoke struck him brutally as he entered the veritable pavilion. Great vats of molten liquid were pouring into huge machines that buzzed and grinded, producing bars of metals that came out of a conveyer belt. Faceless figures were everywhere, smashing, tinking, tinkering and grinding to their heart’s content.

“Whew!” a stout fellow said as he approached. “That heat, eh? Almost like the motherland!”

“You know of a place hotter?”

“They say some lands are so hot that they can burn your lungs with one inhalation,” the dwarf said, pulling off his goggles to reveal red eyes that sparkled like rubies. “And we are determined to get the homeland that hot. Don’t mind our mass of machinery, Rubric Dwarves tend to overdo the easiest of tasks. Now, what can I do for ya?”

“I had figured this place would be a shop or something,” O’Brian said, watching as three dwarves burst into flames at the same time. They ran in circles until vats of steaming water were emptied from the steel beams high above. With the flames gone, they resumed their various tasks of smithing things.

“Ah yeah, we work with everyone here, so you’re more in a nexus than a shop,” the dwarf replied. He took off one of his gloves to reveal an arm that was made out of stone, red streaks of magma seemed to pulse in his veins. “I’m Ladder. Don’t try to climb me, that’s my wife’s job!”

The entire room seemed to burst into laughter at the joke.

“O’Brian,” he replied, shaking the burning hot hand. He quickly checked his palm to ensure there were no burn marks. Nothing to worry about just yet.

“Great! Well, we really don’t focus on offering inventories. Instead, we just take a look at ya and show you the goods.”

“Stop trying to show that man your goods!” another dwarf shouted, causing laughter to ring out.

“You folks really seem to take a liking to innuendo,” O’Brian said.

“And we don’t even sexually reproduce!” Ladder said proudly. “It’s more like when a volcano inevitably kills a powerful wizard who doesn’t understand smoke heat, it releases a flurry of magma that we pop right out of!”

“Great, so armor?” O’ Brian said, wiping his head as the sweat poured down. These were certainly a curious people.

“Right. Let me just get my Ocularium out…” the dwarf muttered as he took out a monocular. It was a round copper cylinder with a lense on the end. Ladder placed it to his right eye and stared for a moment, and then the lense began to extend, three more little lenses popping out to give him a close up.

“Well, aren’t you a messed up fella?” Ladder said. “You weren’t ready for this world at all.”

“I’m actually a Native to this land,” O’Brian replied.

“Sounds like your parents did you a disservice by bringing you into a realm like this,” the dwarf said as he adjusted his Ocularium a bit more.

“I do not think they really worried about my death any more than they worried about their own,” O’Brian grumbled. Was that a jab at his parents or his village? Best not pick a fight with intelligent magma, he supposed.

“Ronin…not much in the way of your garb…I think I can do something about that. First and foremost, we gotta get your vitals protected. Legs are fine due to class feature, very nice…ah! A chest plate would hamper flexibility with your jumping, so we’ll need to get you a…tunic!”

“Tunic?” O’Brian repeated. “I’m mostly worried about ranged damage.”

“A thick enough tunic could easily slow down the speed of the projectile. You don’t need to avoid being hit, you just need the momentum to be killed. Tunic is Light Armor, no Drawbacks or Limitations and best of all, you can wear it over any Medium or Heavy Armor. But you’re a speed fighter from the looks of it…maybe some greaves to complete the look.”

The dwarf muttered a few more things and headed to a conveyor belt, scooping up leather bands, metal bars and who knows what else. “We can provide you Stock Gear or custom armor. Nothing in the Stocks is going to really give you anything more than a point or two of Armor, but I’m willing to bet you just need enough protection to stop your heart from being stopped involuntarily.”

He came back with various tools and materials, then began to assemble them rapidly. “We here at the Local 312 are proud of what we make. Your first purchase is on the house, and so, please accept this custom Leather Tunic.”

With a speed that rivaled magic, the dwarf spun an outfit right in front of O’Brian. It was a red tunic, with tassels in the chest area that allowed for tightening or loosening the shirt with ease. “Only thing you’ll need is a logo…but that requires an artist on your end. I’m sure your corpse will be fine but you can’t go on living without a good logo,” the dwarf advised.

With a shrug, O’Brian pulled the Tunic over his head and let it drop. The Leather was rigid in a way, though flexible enough to slip over his regular shirt. He fiddled with the tassels in the middle to adjust the tightness and within seconds, he felt at ease.

Leather Tunic Equipped!

Armor Points: 2

Arrows and Bullets have a 25% chance of being deflected if you are hit.

“Well, isn’t this nice?” O’Brian asked as he tugged on the Tunic a little. It felt nice against his body and there was a sense of security that fell over him. “But surely I can get more than just a Tunic here?”

“Of course, our extremely skilled team can deliver anything you want, from our catalogue. Piped straight into your Barracks Chest without having to ever see my sultry frame again.”

Hopefully the fairies would be more professional. Wait, were sylphs fairies? O’Brian was unsure.

The dwarf handed a large bound book to the man. “Here, it makes for easy reading in the off-hours. Shopping takes no time at all, so they say.”

Catalogue Received! Uploading to System Data now…

O’Brian left the hot room quickly, ushered by an explosion that seemed too close to comfort, though no one else flinched.

The cool air rushed over his body and he felt at ease. Stock Armor appeared in front of him as he ambled towards the Odd Botanists, gazing at his options.

Best Armor and Gear Choices for Level 0

All Stock Gear is priced at 200 Bucks per Purchase, no refunds. Purchasing armor does not guarantee armor working and by wearing our gear you are agreeing to our terms and conditions.

Head

Headgear provides protection against Targeted Shots. Their Armor only applies if struck in the Head.

Savior Helm
“Lucky angle or good gear?” – Notes from inspecting a corpse
Armor Points: 1
You have a 10% chance of deflecting a Targeted Shot from a projectile.

Bucket Helm

“It’s called that because old soldiers used them to catch rain…” – Judge Thunder
Armor Points: 3
No Effect.

Full Helm
“Who is that guy again?” – an elder of the sports.
Armor Points: 10
You count as Unaware to targets outside of your direct vision.

Neck

The Neck Area contributes to total Armor in Melee but is ignored by Ranged.

Bandana | It’s quite the look! | Armor Points: 0 | Gain +10 Pageantry
Coiff | “Over 100 throats saved!” – an old ad. | Armor Points: 2 | No Effect.
Spiked Collar | Spikes are in this season.” – Miss Coterie’s Guide to Seasonal Fashion | Armor Points: 0 | +5 Pageantry

Cape

A cape often comes imbued with Spell Damage Reduction or can even protect from Backstabs.

Flashy Cape | “Now that’s worth six seasons!” – Danny the Landsknecht | Armor Points: 0 | +10 Pageantry
Hardened Leather Cape | “Boiled leather isn’t boiled, it’s broiled!” – a Gnome trying to weasel out of a bad bet. | Armor Points: 2 | +5 Pageantry
Ward Cape | “Magic is limited only by what the spellstichers can predict.” | Armor Points: 4 Magic Reduction | Spells have a 10% chance of not damaging you

Belt

Belts offer little in ways of protection but they do add weapon slots as well as quick access to consumables of different types.

Potioneer’s Belt | “Sipping away the day…” Alamander | Armor Points: 0 | You can carry 4 Potions and it takes no Actions to draw them.
Scrollman’s Belt | “And just like that the lightning has fried their nervous system!” | Armor Points: 0 | You can carry 6 Scrolls and it takes no Actions to draw them.

Torso

Torso provides Armor Points to all attacks that aren’t Targeted.

Gambeson

“A tattered Gambeson earns little respect.”
Armor Points: 3
May be worn in addition to one more Torso Armor Piece.  +10 Pageantry

Chainmail
“And the arrow couldn’t be dodged but alas, it wasn’t lodged…” Sylpa the Poet.
Armor Points: 4
May be worn under a Tunic.

Dagger Bandoleer
“A bandoleer like that is sure to herald a flurry of shots!”
Armor Points: 0
Stores up to 5 Daggers and may be worn atop any armor.

Pants

Technically it should be called leg armor but quite a few warriors aim center mass in a fight, so most opt for Greaves or Fancy Pants to add to the occasion. Only covers Leg Shots.

Greaves

“No description needed, but maybe a better name than grieves?” – Nameson the Pedant’s Pedant.
Armor Points: 2
Adds +2 to Pageantry.

Quite the array of options. A single thought could purchase everything needed…and perhaps the potion store could wait. At 200 per item, he could just gather everything necessary to defend himself for the upcoming Free-for-all. Finch could take care of himself and recruits seemed further with so many things to spend his hard earned bucks on.

First, a Bucket Helm. Didn’t look great, but it appeared upon his head instantly as he made the purchase. Then, for the neck, a Coiff made sense. No capes, they didn’t seem useful enough for him and they might be easy for the enemy to grab in the heat of combat. For the Torso, he opted for the Dagger Bandoleer and the Gambeson. That was 800 gone in the blink of an eye.

The Potioneer’s belt was an easy buy too. That had him at 455 bucks left. Before he could make another purchase, there was an ethereal voice that boomed across the entire area. “Due to scheduling issues, today’s Match will begin in 10 minutes. All Coaches are invited to Spectate. This Match will not affect your Downtime as a new challenger has just joined and wishes for an Exhibition Match.”

“Spectate?” O’Brian asked aloud. He pondered it. This would be an excellent chance to see the man called Finch in action.

Chapter 10

Spectating the spectacle had not been in O’Brian’s agenda but apparently there had been a schedule change that put that Finch fellow into the action sooner than he expected. Watching the fight would be interesting, to say the least.

“This is our Stand,” Alamander said as they filed up the long series of stairs to a tiny section that had a red painted sign that warned: Outsiders only. No wagering or exchanging of information allowed.

“How can we see being so high above?” O’Brian asked as he sat in the Coach’s box, next to the wizard who was somehow too drunk to manage or coach but not too wasted to watch the carnage.

“That’s easy, we just focus on the area. Now, until we get to Prestige 3, we can’t do anything up here but it’s a good way to pass the time and not focus on the fact that a single arrow to your heart would end all hopes and dreams you have,” the wizard muttered.

“Libations?” a young woman asked as she fluttered across one of the stands. A leather strap was slung around her neck, allowing her to distribute the bottles that were all resting in a large tray.

This was a fairy! O’Brian realized as she hovered above the pair, eagerly pressing out the drinks against her chest. She wore a bright red tunic and a small news cap that had a plaid pattern of red and black checkers. Her wings were light and hard to see as they fluttered so fast that all he could feel was the wind generated from them.

“Are they free?” Alamander inquired.

“Why do you ask every time?” the fairy grumbled. “No. Top shelf drinks are never free.”

“Not with that attitude,” Alamander replied and he snagged a bottle. 100 Bucks extracted from your account! appeared in O’Brian’s vision.

“You have got to be kidding me,” the manager/coach grumbled. “That could have been a few potions or something.”

“When you want to live a life of luxury, you gotta pay for it!” the illusionist said. “Now, quiet down. It’s good for you to see from the crowd’s point of view.”

O’Brian glanced at the other stands. A few new sections were appearing, some with hardened hunters that wore fur skin clothes, some with bears or wolves atop their heads.

The Big Game Stand appeared above them as O’Brian glanced curiously. He could not see their wants or desires from this position. But they were certainly here to see a great warrior fight a beast.

A bit of nerves rose up in O’Brian’s stomach as he glanced down. A thin film of magical energy warped the view of the distant ground, like a corrective lens clarifying vision. There was a huge cage in the center of the arena and the Announcer began to speak.

“Now some of you think The Outsiders are just a flash in the pan, a spark in a dreary world that will fall into darkness almost instantly. But the reality is, and this is important, they are here to stay. I have on good authority that while that O’Brian jackass is green as the grass he fed on while living in fear below, there is a bona fide Champion from another world in his employ. In fact, here he is now!”

The gates to the Outsiders’ School opened up and Finch emerged. He was unchanged from his normal dress, his clothes scant and in his right hand was a great spear.

“Damn it! I told him to use his axe!” Alamander grumbled. “That numbskull is here to test his skills but he’s not a spearman!”

“Maybe he’s here to learn how to fight different ways,” O’Brian said, wrestling the bottle out of the feeble wizard’s hands. He took a sip. Fizzy, sweet alcohol filled his mouth and there was none of the sharpness of the mudwine that his people used to make.

Mudwine. The mere thought made O’Brian shiver. Slight memories of gagging down the stuff came rising back to his sub-consciousness. The Announcer’s booming voice tore through his thoughts.

“Ohooho! Looks like we’re all in for a treat! This man’s clearly a great hunter from a place not too far from here, provided you have a skilled magician who can send you to other worlds. Finch is his name and he’s everything we could expect for a Beast Match!”

The entire crowd began to chant at the same time. “Beast match! Beast match! Beast match!”

The cheers all faded after Finch stuck his spear into the hot ground, raising his hands to the crowd, indicating for them to fall silent.

“Artemis has given me much!” the big man bellowed. “And he is the one who brought me here. A powerful runesmith, he has many tools at his disposal. And yet, I asked him not to give me a weapon enchanted, just sturdy enough to withstand this entire battle. Let it be known! Finch despises the tricks of magic, the false allure of avoiding breaking a sweat has led many a mage to his own demise! I challenge any mage-fan here to bring about your greatest and send them to fight me! They shall not leave this arena with their heads intact!”

This caused the Hunter’s Stand to go wild, while the Pedantics across from The Outsiders’ box began to boo.

It was clear to see that Finch knew how to use his Form quite well. He spoke nothing of the challenge ahead of him. Would this even be a contest? What manner of animal could possibly stand against a man this mighty?

“That’s going to generate a lot of buzz!” Alamander said, ribbing O’Brian while taking the bottle back. “Mages hate being called incompetent. I can’t wait to see this man get electrocuted to death in a Grudge Match!”

O’Brian said nothing. He merely leaned forward. His breath was unsteady. This…this was something beyond a mere story or a tale. When he was down in the arena, he had no time to think of the entertainment value of such a battle. But now, up here? He could taste his own anticipation in the unsteadiness of his breathing and from the mild buzz he received from a single drink of that strange brew.

“Now that’s an entrance! Today’s beast is a creature from the depths of a place where the human population hides beneath the earth, cringing in terror at the great giants that walk the earth. Finch may want to draw blood, but can he get within range?” The Announcer said.

On cue, the great metal cage, dark within and hiding the creature, fell open. The entire crowd, O’Brian included, gasped. This creature was a massive lion-like creature with three long proboscises upon its head. These stalks moved up and down, in different directions.

The hide of the creature was thick and armor-like, with ridges that rivaled scale. The skin was red and matted, fur pressed close to its body.

“The Redlion Eater looks hungry!” the Announcer said as the beast let out a wild roar. Despite being so high up, the view spell upon the area created a close up that caused O’Brian to shudder. Fighting men was one thing, but this creature had no reasoning abilities. Just pure instinct, to hunt and to kill…would he ever have to face a creature like this?

The beast surveyed the area for only a moment before it began to charge forward on its powerful legs. The Redlion Eater had thick limbs, sturdy and clawed with three toes on each foot. The creature’s body was heavy and left thick prints in the ground as it began to pick up speed.

Finch remained still, his spear still in the ground.

“Oh man, this is over in ten seconds!” Alamander hooted. “I guess that Artemis chump should send a casket along with some apologies to us.”

“I wouldn’t judge so quickly,” O’Brian quietly remarked.

The beast skidded to a halt within ten paces of the big man. It roared, mouth containing hundreds of hungry teeth. The stalks upon its head were scanning up and down, and it lowered its entire body for a moment.

“Looks like this monster knows that there’s no such thing as a free meal!” the Announcer called. The crowd grew wild, cheering, jeering and shouting. O’Brian had no time to look up at the various Stands to see who was saying what. He remained transfixed upon the fight.

Finch roared at the creature and pounded his bare chest. “Come on!”

The Redlion Eater decided not to take the bait, instead it began to slowly walk in a circle, stalks remaining affixed on their target. The beast’s long sweeping tail, thin and wiry, flickered in anticipation as it began to circle Finch.

The warrior did not seize his weapon; he just turned to keep his eyes on the creature. Tension began to rise in the crowd as they settled down. It was anyone’s action. Did Beasts have Action Points? There was no data for O’Brian to see, so he just held his breath instead.

It happened in a split second. The beast went to turn and then, in an instant, was rushing straight into Finch. The big man was too slow to grab his spear. The crowd screamed in unison as the great Redlion Eater rammed him in the torso. Finch did not even flinch; he seized the beast’s jaws with his hands.

The creature wrestled violently, the massive barbarian wrenching its head to the side. With a roar, Finch threw the Redlion Eater aside, spinning it onto its back in the process. The beast rolled over in an instant, climbing back upon its haunches. The charge failed. Finch was still by his spear.

“That was one hell of a rush!” the Announcer said. “That spear might be useful for finishing a fight but at those speeds…well, I think our man Finch is learning before striking.”

“Shoulda just used a lightning spell,” Alamander muttered under his breath. “One chainshot could kill most of the arena and that Announcer.”

“Shut up,” O’Brian replied, gripping the rails in front of him. He scooted forward and held his breath.

Finch slowly reached a hand out and placed it upon the spear. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the weapon, still not pulling it free. This man was a patient hunter, able to withstand a full charge from the animal – well monster really – without breaking a sweat.

The Redlion Eater shook off the surprise and snarled. It charged again, clearing the distance but skidding to a halt before striking. Finch didn’t break, hand still on the spear. He was perfectly still, eyes forward.

“Kill him! Kill that barbarian bastard!” Alamander screamed. The bottle fairy flew up once more and he eagerly drained another hundred for a single shot poured into a glass. O’Brian tried not to pay attention to the sudden loss of funds.

Another false charge, a third, a fourth and finally on the fifth run, the creature broke into a wild sprint, leaping high in the air as its muscles in the back tensed up for only a second. Finch ripped the spear from the ground and angled it upwards.

The entire crowd screamed in shock and surprise as the beast landed straight atop Finch, its long body easily burying the man beneath the mass of red flesh.

Silence fell across the audience as the Redlion Eater’s eyes went wide. Its front legs were stretched out far and the back were inert. It moved once, twice and then, rolled over to the side.

Finch emerged from the heap, blood pouring down his chest. The entire crowd lost their mind, cheering and screaming. The spear was stuck in the torso of the monster; a single blow had killed it.

“Now that is how you do it! Some say the best kill is a quick one but I’ll be damned if that didn’t feel like forever!” the Announcer shouted. “Victory goes to The Outsiders, with the Finchster winning in a single blow. But let’s be honest folks, we were all regretting our bets each second of that pulse-pounding fight.”

Words appeared within O’Brian’s vision.

The Outsiders wins the Beast Match!

Your Team has earned the following:

+25 Prestige

+200 Bucks

Finch has become a Fan Favorite! Buzz has been set to 100 for his next fight!

“All…all that for 200 bucks?” O’Brian gasped as the various Stands began to fade from his vision. Darkness enveloped him for only a second and then, he was right back inside of the Outsider School.

“No wagering on those things, they’re more for the fans than anything else,” Alamander replied. “But it was worth the Buzz. That’s 200 more Popularity in our pocket and his Form was impeccable. Solo Fighting pleases the crowd but he knows the secrets to the Beast Hunter Form. That speech? Right off the cuff, but we may be invited to a Grudge Match because of it.”

“I’m guessing those Pedantics took plenty of notes on him and his weaknesses. Probably going to send a champion from the School of Magic and Lies.”

“There’s more than just that Stand, you know,” Alamander said, almost darkly. “Who knows what kind of Witchhunter types are out there. Some realms just hate magic and do what they can to suppress it. They may see Finch as a way to prove that magekillers have their own standards.”

As they spoke, Finch entered the pavilion, the blood still soaking his chest. The man did little to clean himself as he approached. “Was that good to watch? Or should I have kept the fight going?” he sincerely asked.

“You had me breathless the whole time,” O’Brian said, bowing a little before the great man. “That was one for the books, I would say.”

“Good. Nerves are nothing to me but I am here to represent my own tribe, my own people. To look a fool is one thing, but to disappoint the crowd is to prove it was a failure for Artemis to ever send me here,” the mighty warrior said.

O’Brian nodded at that. Strange to see the man concerned about his state when that may have been the highlight of the season. Then again, it was only Day 3.

Chapter 11

“To learn a Form, one must be capable of many things,” the Trainer, Elsee, said as he forced O’Brian to stretch his arms all the way out. “Flexibility, moving with grace, elegance above all else.”

O’Brian was standing before three mirrors, moving his arms wide in a sweeping gesture towards the crowd. Elsee was a tall man with pointed ears, wearing a green sparkly gown that had sequins upon sequins. The ethereal light of the Gymnasium caused him to shine like the stars and he was prim and proper. He had a small cane that he rested upon to his left, but was now jabbing O’Brian up in the jaw.

“Get that chin up! You aren’t sulking about a dance, trying to mumble your way into getting the courtesan’s daughter to dance with you!” Elsee hissed, jabbing O’Brian’s jaw. “Speak!”

“Hello?” O’Brian said.

“Ah yes, I remember when you were hired as a greeter at a hotel. Speak you bastard!” the man demanded.

“What is it that you demand of me today! Blood?” O’Brian shouted.

“There you go! Now, out with the chest, the air in your lungs press up through your throat and therefore you must, and this is important…project!” The last words of the Trainer echoed throughout the entire building.

“Hey, some of us are trying to sleep over here!” Alamander called back, equally as loud though far more shrill.

“There we go. Anything that will rouse that vagrant turned coach is good enough for a general audience,” Elsee said. He stepped back and placed both hands upon the cane. “The bad news, my boy, is that you are the sorriest fellow I have ever seen. The good news is that with a few more days of training, we should be able to get you to Solo Form. That’s as good as any. You’ll need to focus more on…hmmm, what is the best way to say this to someone of your station and stature? Ah yes, of course! You will need to ensure you survive to the next off-day before we really get into the how’s and why’s of facial stretching.”

O’Brian was unsure what that meant but became briefly worried that hooks may be involved. He unconsciously began to pat his lips and mouth, wondering if it was too small, perhaps?

Solo Form Training complete! You have 2 more Sessions before you can Impress the Crowds! his vision said.

“Thanks…” O’Brian tried to say as the elf turned about on his heels and strolled out, his ridiculously thick and tall shoes clanking on the gym floor with each step.

“Better get a bath in and then it’s lights out…” O’Brian said. “A Free-for-all…that can’t be an easy one to get through unscathed.”

“It’s not,” Finch said, appearing in the door of the gym. He was cleaner now, standing tall and proud with only a towel around him. The blood was gone and his scent was lavender with a hint of vanilla. “Such a fight, I come to bring you a bit of wisdom.”

“Oh?” O’Brian asked.

“A Free-for-all is a savage battle and within it, many will shed blood needlessly. You may say, perhaps I can kill two or three, but why? It is not a contest of kills, for everyone chooses who they ally with. A friend in one moment can stab your heart the next. Stay low in profile and merely protect yourself. Do not skirt, however, the melee for that is when the archer strikes. Rush into the fight but pass your action liberally.”

O’Brian nodded. “Are there executions?”

“No, nor is there mercy. If you feel you must, yield and down yourself,” Finch replied. “You live to see another day. A poem, if I may?”

“Sure.”

In the sun there were a dozen,

Arms raised high to fight,

I fled them there that noon,

And killed them all at night.

“A warrior-poet,” O’Brian mused, nodding in satisfaction at the brevity and point of the message. “Thank you, friend.”

With that, O’Brian made his way to the bathes where Mon’Sieur was waiting for him, a large bubble bath already prepared, along with a fine bottle of wine and an assortment of cheeses.

Unlike his other bath, this one was relaxing and deeply healing. As O’Brian sank into the waters, the butler beside him placed a few hunks of bread as well as a tiny fork to eat the cheeses.

“I prepared a special blend of sunflower and fizzwater,” the man explained. “That roughness of Lily is something that needs to be healed, so I added some salve. Worry not about scrubbing and such, you just need to soak and let the grime fade with the soapsalve.”

“I’m not worried about scrubbing much, not with the upcoming fight,” O’Brian replied as he sat backwards, resting his arms against the long porcelain tub. He sighed heavily, the hot water seemingly draining his stress away. The exhaustion level had reset itself to 0%, meaning that he could fight eagerly the next day.

“It’s more the frenzy of bloodshed that I’m worried about.”

“A new competitor has joined,” the butler mused. “Mayhaps the master wishes to know what the rabble are saying?”

“Do tell,” O’Brian said, closing his eyes. Would it count as sleep if he just passed out right now? The heat of the water, the sensation of fizz as the bubbles seemed to grow more and more excited…he could just sleep here and with a butler on guard, didn’t need to worry about drowning.

“Ah yes, well, it is said that a rogue has arrived. A curious participant who was skilled enough at stealth to simply hide in the ranks of the crowd until it was time for this fight. It was quite the upset, the schedulers had to initiate her into the battle system with a quick Exhibition Match. She wasn’t particularly skilled at Form but goodness, her dress is perfection.”

“She fights in a dress?”

“Nonsense, she wears all black, a hood over her head, bandana around her mouth, only a small slit for her eyes to be seen. Form-fitting attire and more than a few daggers on her belt. She carries a longsword akin to your own. Some are speculating that while the Ronin fellow freed you, she slipped in as well. An Upset to the season is sure to be curious…perhaps they were a pair?”

“Two new competitors?” O’Brian mused. “Unannounced and distracting…maybe they had some kind of grudge against this place. Hard to imagine what could have possibly incensed people from a land far away to come and fight.”

“Perhaps they were slighted by not being invited? Or maybe their world told them others were more worthy and they journeyed here to prove otherwise?” the Butler said. “Come now, drift off and relax. I took the liberty of procuring sir two healing potions with what funds we had left. They restore a single point of HP. At fifty a bottle, it was the best I could do. They are upon your belt already. I have pressed your tunic and your battle dress is ready for you to grab. The fight is first thing in the morning.”

“Should I try to manage Finch’s schedule?”

“I think the man has already prepared his own path. Be warned, friend. His tolerance of Alamander is low and come Week 3, scouts may try to steal him away.”

Chapter 12

A Free-for-all. Eight combatants would enter the arena and only one would leave. The others would be downed or killed.

O’Brian tugged on the leather bands keeping his tunic tight. His armor wasn’t too heavy but he was far from skilled with movement while encumbered even lightly. He moved carefully into the warm arena, listening to the Announcer.

“Why do we need to introduce these bastards one at a time?” the Announcer crooned. “Other than O’Brian and 9Lives, these fuckers are going to die before I can get a word out. But hey, I’m here and I have to justify my pay, so let’s take a quick tally of these dead men walking.”

Other combatants were emerging. The arena seemed smaller today. Or were the walls closer? 9Lives was strolling from the Pedantic Stands, head up high. He cheerily waved over at O’Brian.

“From the Musket Men comes Tally Amos, representing his people after a humiliating loss against O’Brian, then of course, we have Bearbait from the Hunter’s Lodge. The newcomer, Nameless Silk, has arrived from lands far off and is sure to be an interesting treat to those who were dead set on wagering ahead of time before the schedule was finalized”

The three walked into place. Tally wore a banded breastplate today, though it was painted with a fine blue rose upon it. Bearbait was like a lesser version of Finch, a tall and rotund man who wore a bearskin upon his back and a simple harness with spikes on it.

Nameless Silk looked exactly how Mon’Sieur had described her. A sleek figure that stood imposingly, blade against her back and thin daggers lining around her legs. Despite her slender frame, she dominated her side.

Beside Nameless was a wiry woman with mottled hair and long green ropes that hung from her wrists. Seaweed, it seemed to be, thicker than normal and with blackened sticks aiding in the bindings. “Thelga the Sea Witch drifts in from time to time and, of course, who could forget Harmpton the Elephanto!”

On cue, a great humanoid that looked to be a cross between an elephant and a very big human landed onto the arena, causing a gasp and cheer from all Stands. One last man, wearing a tricorner hat emerged from one of the Gates, to almost no acknowledgement from the crowd, as Harmpton was quite the spectacle to see. The Announcer mumbled the name “Vicker the Witchbreaker.” The man carried a longsword on one side and a hand crossbow in the other.

“Now let’s go over the rules, eight bastards standing, Judges are only here for one thing: one person standing!” the Announcer said. “Yield before you die and die before you’re dishonored. Everyone gets a number and let’s see the turn order, random every round!”

Participant Round Scramble!

Rolling for Turn Order!

Nameless Silk – 1st

9Lives – 2nd

Thelga – 3rd

O’Brian – 4th

Harmpton – 5th

Tally – 6th

Bearbait – 7th

Vicker the Witchbreaker – 8th

Round 1 Begins!

The crowd cheered as the Announcer revealed the results. Everyone’s AP filled up and O’Brian glanced at his stats.

Health Points | 6
Melee Armor Points | 7
Exhaustion Level | 0
Action Points | 2
Technique Points | 7

Plenty of armor and TP…this was going to be an interesting fight.

Nameless Silk moved first. She darted away from the witch and the elephant man, then simply vanished from sight, tossing a smoke bomb on the ground.

The turn moved to 9Lives. The man raised both hands in the air. “Let’s see you all live with a great storm!” he bellowed.

Fast Cast: Lightning Storm Attempt! 75% difficulty…42!

Fast Cast Succeeded, 2 AP and 3 TP spent!

Above the man’s outstretched hands were great arcs of electricity as his spell activated. Thunder rolled above and black clouds appeared, absorbing the lightning from the wizard’s hands.

“Bog and sea, belong to me!” Thelga the Sea Witch declared, taking a Reaction.

Counterspell Attempt! Counter skill 55%...85! Failed to Counter.

“Take this!” 9Lives bellowed, activating a Technique. A column of fire streamed from his hand towards Thelga, catching her on fire instantly.

“Looks like the sea witch’s water didn’t exactly fight fire, did it?” the Announcer asked as the woman was consumed by the flames, charred and blackened. “And that’s it for her, let’s hope she isn’t vengeful next season!”

The woman melted into water. But 9Lives’ turn wasn’t over just yet. That Technique cost him nothing, allowing him to cast a free spell at his target. Well, not free, he had lost TP. The wizard pointed towards the Witchbreaker and let out a command.

Lightning Storm Strike! appeared above Vicker.

However, the Witchbreaker was fast enough to draw out his holy icon, a curved sword with a moon above it. It gleamed. Reaction! Absorb Spell! 45%...50! Absorption Failure!

The lightning tore through the ward and struck the man right in the chest, his arms thrashing and pulsing as he dropped both weapons. He sank to one knee and threw up the sign for yielding, two fingers in a V form.

“Ohhh and the Witchbreaker breaks from a wizard who just killed a witch, folks this is why I come to the match!” the Announcer cried as the crowd went wild. “That and the huge paycheck I get.”

The wizard had one action left and decided to press his luck. He pointed a finger straight at O’Brian.

“Let’s see you stop the heavens from ending your life!” 9Lives taunted as a bolt of lightning came from the storm, zipping so fast that O’Brian barely had a chance to react. But that sliver of time, that teeny window of reflex was there.

Reaction Used! Easy Dodge! 1 TP Spent! appeared in his vision as he skipped backwards a half inch, the lightning striking the ground in front of him.

“Shit!” 9Lives shouted.

The round moved to the next participant…wait! O’Brian realized that Thelga had been taken out entirely. It was his move. That Thunderstorm seemed to show no signs of giving up. The caster in question had already taken out the two other magic users. High reward but equally high risk to be out of Actions in the first round…no, O’Brian felt good about his choice. The target was only 20 paces away. Time to use his Sword Techniques. Namely, Banzai Charge.

“Banzaiiii!” O’Brian shouted as he sprinted forward, sword raised high. 9Lives was frozen, out of Action Points and besides, the Banzai could not be dodged. It took an extra AP to run the distance but it was worth it. He ran his opponent down and slashed with all of his might, cutting the blade down the wizard’s right shoulder.

The force of the charge split the man in two, perhaps ending all other 7 lives in the process. O’Brian turned on a heel to face the other combatants. Tally was 10 paces away, so was Bearbait. The other, Harmpton, was at a good 30 paces, but a size that big meant he might come crashing just as fast as O’Brian did. Out of Action Points, there wasn’t much to do other than wait for the round to end.

Harmpton was first. He didn’t seem too interested in O’Brian, instead turning to face Bearbait. With a trumpet, he began to charge on both legs, thundering as the audience cheered and screamed in excitement. The great Champion pulled one of his tusks free and threw it in a surprise move, causing all to gasp and hush as the curved tusk whip, whip, whipped towards Bearbait.

“Bring it!” Bear said, not giving up his action to avoid the attack. He merely thrust his big belly out and the entire crowd cheered in unison as the tusk struck him in the stomach. Bearbait laughed while the momentum of the attack was killed by his physique, the fat easily absorbing the blow. Some blood dripped down but Harmpton was unfazed.

“Try this on for size!” the Elephantine man screamed as he pulled the other tusk free. O’Brian could see that the other side was growing a new tusk rapidly. Both would be back in the start of the new turn.

Bear raised a mighty hand to catch the weapon as the beastman entered into melee range. Harmpton thrust the blade down.

Reaction used! Catch Blade Technique 88%...54! Success!

Bearbait, despite being less impressive in stature than his target, caught the tusk in one hand. Before the crowd could cheer, there was another bit of data that appeared.

Harmpton’s Massive Ability forces a reroll! 88%...99! Failure!

“Damn your eyes,” Bear shouted as they struggled for a moment, the great elephant man continuing to force the blade down.

“I yield!” Bearbait shouted as he dropped to one knee, right as the tusk started to dig into the right side of his chest.

“Damn right you do,” Harmpton said, to the crowd’s delight.

“It’s like my mother used to say, size matters only when weight and physics are involved!” the Announcer shouted. “Bear fought well but in the end, he knew not to tangle with an elephanto from another realmo!”

Tally took his action. He scanned the area, pistol in hand. He glanced at the great elephant man and then back at the much smaller O’Brian.

“Seems we should clean up and have a go with our swords,” the Musket Man said, grinning fiendishly at O’Brian. “Can I trust you not to stab me in the back?”

“Fair enough, I like a good show,” O’Brian lied. The moment it was his turn, Tally was going to be charged down before he could reload. This was fair enough in any fight with only one winner.

“Just gotta get the head!” the musketeer said, dropping to one knee and aiming upwards with his pistol, both hands gripping the weapon. “Fire!” he yelled. The first shot struck the beast in the back of the skull, both of his reactions already used. The accuracy from that distance was quite impressive.

Harmpton rocked back and forth, but spun around, blood pouring down the side of his cranium. “I’m going to shove your skull into this dirt and twist until your spine breaks,” he threatened.

“Peasant’s reload!” Tally replied, shouting orders to himself, which seemed natural considering his unit fighting skills. The man tossed his weapon aside and drew a pistol from the other side of his belt.

“Fire!” Tally shouted, but before he could squeeze the trigger, a word appeared above him. Surprise Attack! Stealth 90%...73! Hit!

“Urk!” the Amos brother gagged as, suddenly, Nameless Silk was in front of him, her longsword, a katana much slimmer than O’Brian’s, was thrust into his belly. “I yiel…” he tried to say but the critical strike was too much. The gutstrike was precise and O’Brian could see the sword pull out clean as the man fell over.

The cheering drowned out the devastating silence from the Gungeoneer’s Stand. Tally was the leader and now he was cooling faster than they could process. A shame to see the men lose a brother, but didn’t the other champions just go back home? Best not worry about it, Tally knew the risks. Besides, that had been O’Brian’s exact plan anyway.

“Never take your eyes off someone who dresses in all-black,” the Announcer cooly said once the crowd simmered down. “Now you may have not seen her but rest assured, the discerning eye could see the elephant displacing ever so slightly. Looks like the Amoses are going to need glasses!”

Round 1 has ended! 3 Participants left! Shuffling …

O’Brian – 1st

Nameless Silk – 2nd

Harmpton – 3rd

Round 2 Begins!

O’Brian immediately passed on his turn. He was further than the other two and figured that Harmpton would make short work out of Silk.

The woman spun towards Harmpton and charged him, sword raised high. Charge Technique used! 1 AP and 2 TP spent! appeared above her as she rushed the great creature. He spent a Reaction to swing at her, to fend off the attack, but the words above her changed at the last second.

Rising Star Charge! 1 AP and 2 TP Spent! the words now said. She had the power to hide her Actions and had forced Harmpton to spend a point to stop a forward charge. He punched forward with his tusk spear, but by the time it struck her position, she was in the air, sailing high above.

She threw three of those black spine daggers, Kunais, O’Brian recognized. They dug into the shoulder of the beast but he didn’t even react. They became like spines in his shoulder, three lined up perfectly but unable to penetrate his thick hide.

A strange jealousy arose within O’Brian; the mighty beast should be felled by him but…at the same time, Finch had spoken of only striking when necessary. At 30 paces, they would have to use at least 2 AP to reach him. He passed his next action to allow Harmpton to do what was necessary. The longer they fought, the longer O’Brian would take to intervene.

“Ohoho, a surprise strike that may as well have been an overcoat to a hide that thick!” the Announcer cried as Nameless Silk landed behind the great beast. Her longsword still extended.

“Let’s start things simple,” Harmpton said as he kicked his massive trunk leg into the woman’s chest. She had no reaction time, having spent all of her moves to reach Harmpton in that charge. The foot caught her dead center and tossed her back ten paces. She did land on her feet, though her right arm betrayed her. The sword was dug into the ground, keeping her up.

“Not enough for ya?” the big beast said as he began to walk towards her. He tried to say something else but it came out garbled. “Harp…sto..gah…” he babbled, his steps suddenly becoming uneven. The walk became a stagger and then a fall.

“Looks like those needles weren’t meant to kill right away…a risky gamble to use poison but I guess even elephants can be tranquilized…or is he dead? Someone get that body out of here!”

Announcer’s Intervention! appeared above the great elephant and a spell lifted the body up, ferrying it into a gate instantly. “A beast that magnificent, we’re not letting him get out of here that easily!” the man said. “Today’s Intervention brought to you by the Fan Favorite Voting System. The people voted and they want to see him again!”

The fans voted to save Harmpton? What a kindness…though I suppose it made sense. No doubt there would be a fight between Finch and that magnificent warrior.

The round was not over just yet. Nearly 30 paces away, O’Brian was able to move twice. The fight would be down to the third round, or more, if Nameless Silk was able to keep him on his toes. But a stealth fighter wouldn’t have much of a chance against an outright warrior.

Round 2 Over! Silk’s Injury puts O’Brian first.

Round 3!

“Surviving a kick from an elephant is one thing, but keeping that arm up in a fight? Better hope she has some tricks up her sleeve,” the Announcer said.

O’Brian sized his target up. She was leaning hard on her katana, her left arm hanging at the side. But he could see it right there. Her left hand gently touching the top of a kunai. One arm was busted but the woman was planning a strike.

“Come then,” O’Brian said, still 20 paces away. “Poison me as well.”

He passed his actions and waited, sword raised up high. He had deflection abilities in case things went wrong. But he’d be damned if a single nick from a blade took him down.

The crowd grew silent again. “O’Brian holds his position. Seems he senses a trap…” the Announcer whispered, building the anticipation.

Nameless Silk groaned a little as she shoved her weight off the blade. She staggered 5 paces forward and then dropped to the ground.

“An antelope past her prime, come on O’Brian, grow a spine and put her out of her misery!” the Announcer demanded. “She surely isn’t going to lure you into a false sense of security.”

Damn…O’Brian thought. Throwing a dagger at a prone, injured woman was one way to lose the admiration of the crowd. But this was a trap.

Overcoming his hesitation, he decided to go for the killing blow. He ran and activated his leaping abilities, jumping high like the grasshopper as he speared his sword down towards her.

Kunai Counter Activated! appeared above Silk’s head as she raised her left arm up, throwing two blades straight at him. Counter 30%...69! Counter Failed! Failure Roll Tech used immediately, -1 AP and 1 TP.

“Fuck!” O’Brian shouted as the blades zipped past his exposed eyes – he had been inches away from a headshot but she failed her roll. While her counter skills left something to be desired, though, she had a way to survive the attack. A terrestrial roll just in time to avoid his katana from burying itself into her chest.

The blade stuck into the ground only for a second as O’Brian pulled it out and spun to face her. She was scrambling to get on her feet, using her blade for leverage. Unsporting to strike her…so he held his position, forgoing his other action.

“This is why we come for these kinds of matches, O’Brian is always a class act, she had a shot and she missed, now he’s going to give her a fighting chance with her blade. Let’s see her go down with honor, eh?” the Announcer cried. “O…Bri…An!”

His popularity reached 100, the max level as he gripped his katana. Round 4 began and O’Brian allowed her to act first. He would take her down unless she yielded.

Nameless Silk tossed her sword to her other hand and turned most of her body to fend off a charge. “Your…eyes!” she whispered, glancing at him. “They’re blue as the sky!”

Charm effect detected! appeared above O’Brian’s vision. He couldn’t help but gaze at the cold, green eyes in the slits of her hood and mask. They sparkled for a moment. Willpower Testing! 90%...100! You are charmed! You can take no Attack actions towards Nameless Silk.

“Your eyes aren’t so bad yourself,” O’Brian said, a strange sense of guilt rising up within himself.

She approached slowly. Maybe she needed help? Her arm was in bad sorts…

“Fool!” the ghost of the Ronin bellowed. The blade hummed softly, purple energy coursing around it. “Use the spirit of Banzai to show you cannot be broken by soft eyes and charming magics!””

Banzai Spirit! It was a Free Action to use. In an instant, O’Brian spent the 1 Technique Point required to break out of the Status. Too late, however, she was in too close.

“Hah!” She shouted and she slashed at him, aiming straight at his head. O’Brian regained his wherewithal immediately, raising his blade to block the attack.

Parry Blade Weapon Tech activated! +20% Parry added! Reaction used! Parry 30%...49! Failed.

“Shit!” O’Brian gasped while the katana coming at him was just too fast. He brought his sword to the left, to flick the weapon aside but did not succeed. The blade struck the side of his Bucket Helm and the force bounced off.

Armor held! You took no damage! appeared in his vision as he was now within close quarters range of the woman. Before he could swing down to cut through her, she threw a smoke bomb on the ground and in an instant, was gone.

“Oooh, all sizzle and no steak!” the Announcer cheered. “She used her Path of the Shinobi ability to escape the battle altogether. No one likes a quitter but we all appreciate a good show. Let’s give O’Brian the credit he deserves!”

The entire arena burst into thunderous applause as the fight was called.

You were the Last Champ Standing! The System informed him and he looked around, breaking into a smile as the reality dawned on him. She could have left at any time, her path clearly skilled at hiding and escaping. But in a straight fight, his helmet had saved his life with ease. A note to take down about stealth types for sure.

You have gained the following:

Popularity: 100/100

Pageantry Bonus: +100 Bucks

Red Rank Bonus: 200 Bucks

Match Experience Bonus: 1,200 XP!

The thundering applause, the heat of battle, the corpses being pulled away by healers and morticians to see if any could be brought back or if they even deserved it…they all became an intoxicating vapor that O’Brian breathed in deeply. Four rounds of frenzy and now, because he waited carefully to strike, he was quickly becoming a name in everyone’s mouth.

Chapter 13

O’Brian stared at the words greeting him as he entered the general pavilion of The Outsiders School. You have gained enough experience points to level up to 1! This is no small accomplishment. Step outside and gaze at the stars to find your path to greatness!

Finch and a dozen Alamanders were clapping for him and hooting. A few of the worker dwarves who were on break rushed him and shoved pipes and tobacco pouches into his hand. Mon’Sieur had a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread beside him in an instant.

“Easy, easy everyone!” O’Brian said, turning to face the glowing blue exit. His right hand curled around the bottle of wine as he wrenched free from his adoring allies. “I just leveled up and I’m getting that Fighter class!”

Everyone cheered and Finch seized the winner to hoist him above the crowd of dwarves. The entire group lifted O’Brian up and down, carrying him to the door where he was quickly tossed through.

“Now that was a reception!” O’Brian said, uncorking the bottle with reckless abandon.

The entire arena was dead silent. Above was a great moon, so big that it may as well be inches from O’Brian’s face. A cool breeze blew by as he stared up at the stars. No one was out, not a single soul.

The enormity of the Meerschaum Coliseum had returned to its default state, with stands looming miles above him.

As he drank the fizzwine, he stared upwards in awe of the sights.

The Stars gaze down upon you in favor!

Ally yourself with a Starpath and gain powers untold!

Starpaths

The Huntress

Description: The bow in her hands seems to be aiming straight for your heart.

Effect: You may Force a Reroll of one Dodge or Deflect Attempt once per Match.

The Hangman

Description: Justice and Passion are two separate things.

Effect: If you deal at least 10 Points of Damage to a Target, gain a Free Execution.

The Nightblade

Description: Some folks can just outwait trouble…

Effect: You gain +10 Ranks with Vanish Type Magic.

The Potioneer

Description: Not the Poisoner.

Effect: Your Potions heal you +2 Points.

The Poisoner

Description: Not the Potioneer.

Effect: You gain 1 Random Poison each Match.

The Sorcerer’s Star

Description: True magic can create a world of its own.

Effect: You gain +25 Ranks in any Magic Skill of your choosing. You gain 1 Mana.

The Magician

Description: Presto!

Effect: Learn one Magic Spell of your choice. Once per Round, you may cast the spell without paying or testing your skill ranks.

The Patrician

Description: Some men just pay their way into our hearts…

Effect: You gain +500 Bucks every Victory, Loss or Tie.

Each of these great Starpaths consisted in a constellation, nebulae or just a series of stars that were separate from the others. The Huntress was a great archer, her bow perfectly aimed with seven stars. A ranged weapon would have solved O’Brian’s last fight easily, as the Shinobi woman had no chance against a well-placed arrow and a forced reroll may be just what would give him the edge in circumstances like that. The rest were interesting but…the Huntress spoke to him. There was elegance in Archery, that was for certain.

As O’Brian selected the Huntress path, he heard a whisper of approval. “When I was in my village, they took me because I was the best hunter. My bow long and my aim without end,” the Ronin’s spirit uttered, “I took many prizes. But I, like you, became a prize to the man they wished to call emperor. They fell before I could do anything of value and my name became a curse in many mouths, for my homeland was burned. Razed by the new so-called emperor.”

“You think I was chosen because I was a prize?” O’Brian asked. “My whole life, I was taught every way to hide and escape the strangers in the mountains. But now…now, I don’t think I was really living down there.”

“Your pride swells like your chest, but it just makes you all the easier to hit. Sink low, friend. Do not grow confident beyond your skills…” the voice softly warned before it faded.

O’Brian nodded in thought, downing some more wine. Perhaps he was becoming too drunk on his own success. But now it was the time to choose who he was meant to be.

Three pedestals rose up from the ground, in the center of the great arena. Three weapons were floating above each. A longsword, a book of magic and a dagger. Words floated above each.

“You have selected the Path of the Huntress,” a voice purred from above. It was a soft whisper on the wind, sending shivers down his spine. “And I am pleased. The Lorne Path is for many who rely upon me, seeking ranged strength. Some would call the longshot a coward’s choice…but those who open their mouths to scoff now lay dead in fields.”

Select your Class by taking the symbol!

Fighter

Wizard

Rogue

Perhaps a rogue could rely upon the element of surprise with a ranged weapon, but O’Brian was here to fight for maximum damage with each strike. The longbow and the longsword shone brightly, as if begging him to select them, but his heart was dead set on more martial strength. He was a Ronin, and would be just as mighty as the great man who had freed him of the burden of sacrifice.

The longsword spun around faster as he reached out to touch it.

Class Chosen! You have become a Warrior!

Summary: Those who wish to become a good Fighter must first follow the Class of the Warrior. Skilled at Martial Combat and flexible in any fight, Warriors are the basis of Teamwork because they are capable of interfering with Wizards, though they are often targeted quickly by Rogues.

Base Stats

HP per Level: +3

Adrenaline: 2

Grit: 4

Heart: 5

Synapse: 1

Combat Skills: The Warrior gains 2 Damage Skills. When wielding a Weapon with a matching Damage Type, you gain a bonus to your Weapon Skill Check. A Warrior may select from the following:

Piercing: +20%

Slashing: +20%

Bludgeoning: +20%

Bashing: +20%

Warrior eh? Well that was classier-sounding than a mere Fighter. O’Brian looked at the Damage Skills. These mattered most when an enemy Countered, as the lower roll would win the exchange, though one could still fail the roll on either side. Piercing made sense for thrusts and also for using ranged weapons, and slashing for his Katana.

His eyes scanned the next section. Skills! Of all kinds…

Class Skills: The Warrior may choose 4 out of 9 Warrior Skills.

Shoot: +30%

Hit a Target with a Ranged Weapon.

Shield: +30%

Your Shield is added to your Block Score.

Disarm: +30%

You are able to roll to Disarm a Target, forcing them to spend 1 Action to retrieve their weapon.

Trip: +30%

Allows for you to knock a Target Prone.

Grapple: +30%

You can Grapple a Target. They must use Grapple to Escape.

Throw: +30%

Throw a Weapon or Object up to 10 Paces.

Block: +30%

Outright stop an attack from hitting you or an Ally.

Counter: +30%

Hit an Opponent before they can hit you.

Meditation: +30%

Clears a Mental or Magic Status when used.

These skills were useful in different scenarios. The Banzai Spirit allowed O’Brian to ignore the need for Meditation, though…on one hand it did seem to have value in shaking off magical effects. Still, a Ward Cape could do that.

Shoot was a must, as was Counter and Block. Parry was not O’Brian’s strong suit, though he could always dodge for a TP. Trouble was Dodging may cause other Techniques to activate and he was positive that the Shinobi fighter would have some dirty trick up her sleeve. Her katana didn’t even do more than 3 damage.

The last skill to choose was…Trip. A prone target was one who couldn’t easily get away and charges could be thwarted with such an ability. Perhaps he should have taken Meditation but the rank was fairly low anyway.

He turned his eyes to the 2 Feats that he could now choose.

Level 1 Feats! Please Select 2.

Barrage Block

Description: The Warrior can strike an arrow fired towards him.

Effect: All arrows shot at you are automatically Deflected. This Feat must Refresh before it is used again.

Down You Go!

Description: If the Warrior speaks, he may cut you down with more than his voice.

Effect: After you Down or Kill a Gladiator, you may immediately deal Weapon Damage to a target within 10 Paces of you.

Shield Arm

Description: Shields make ample tools in a fight.

Effect: Gain +10% to your Shield Skill or gain the Shield Skill at 25%.

Grappler

Description: Wrestling is more than just throwing people around. Gouging is popular with the crowd…

Effect: When Grappled you gain +50% to your Grapple Skill.

Misdirection

Description: A quick Feint will confuse even the hardiest of Gladiators.

Effect: Once per Round, move one Target 10 paces in any direction.

These were powerful feats on their own. The choices were many but Barrage Block was a literal lifesaver when dealing with multiple shots from a unit or a well-coordinated archery team. Misdirection was also useful as it repositioned a target, allowing for even easier charge.

Warriors gain 2 Level 1 Abilities when the class is chosen.

You may purchase any Ability each level.

Abilities

Charge

Cost: 1 AP, 1 TP

Skill: Piercing

Effect: Move 30 paces and Hit a Target within Weapon Range.

Rally Forth

Cost: 1 Heart

Skill: NA

Effect: All Teammates in the Fight move to your position. This can Reform a Unit.

Break Guard

Cost: 1 Adrenaline

Skill: NA

Effect: If a Target attempts to Defend against your Attack, they must spend 2 Action Points.

Magekiller

Cost: 1 Synapse

Skill: NA

Effect: If you are Targeted by a Spell, you may test any Defense Skill to Interrupt their Spell.

Call Target

Cost: 1 Heart

Skill: Teamwork

Effect: All of your Teammates receive +10% to Strike the Target that you designate. You may change the Target or end the effect, but it costs 1 Heart each time you use this ability.

Magekiller seemed perfect for an Ability, powerful and able to shrug off even the most potent spell. His speed at dispatching casters was noted already, so to improve his Banzai technique, he picked the Charge ability as well. Those two paired well and perhaps the next level he would take Break Guard.

O’Brian took note of the immediate changes to his character sheet and nodded in approval. He then took a look at his skills

He had 6 skill points from leveling up. Perhaps it would be useful to spend them on Counter and Shoot. A few more points, 3 each, would give him all the more of a chance in a fight.

“Still no weapon skills though,” O’Brian mused. They weren’t necessary for hitting with his sword but something told him that the higher ranks would have much better countering attacks. Maybe he could learn a Bow from one of the Ranged Trainers. He had the time for it.

There was going to be a lot to do. Two days of Off-Time meant there was plenty of time to train and prepare for the Exhibition Match. He polished off the bottle and then trudged back to the door he came from.

Chapter 14

O’Brian felt restless as he lay in his hammock. Sleep had come in fits and flurries, images of the fight coursing through his mind. There was real joy in those moments; terror had faded once he embraced his life as a warrior. Never in all of his greatest dreams had he ever been like this. Did he even have dreams of greatness? As far as he knew, he was just trying to get a flower to impress a woman. Hardly the stuff of legends.

Eventually the morning came and O’Brian’s exhaustion dropped down to half. Fresh bread in the morning was resting out for him on the table that had been dragged into the Common, as most were referring the main pavilion.

As he munched on the soft bread, O’Brian reviewed the day’s activities. He needed that Solo Form to begin making a name for himself, so that was 2 Slots for today. And then he could finish it off with a Ranged Weapon Training Session, to learn how to use a bow.

With a meager 400 bucks left, he decided to purchase a simple Longbow from the Ram’s Bow shack. This shop was more of a tiny fortress than anything else. The shopkeeper wore a green bandana around his face and was buried behind dozens of metal bars and steel crates that prevented anything form of browsing.

“Bow, eh?” the unnamed shop keep had said, sensing it before O’Brian could even introduce himself. “I got one, Longbow seems more your speed. Just don’t tell anyone it was me who sold it.”

Strange temperament aside, O’Brian was pleased with the speed of the shopping experience. For 300 Bucks, he could buy a bow, a quiver and 10 arrows. The quiver could hold up to 20 ammo but it seemed like overkill to buy that many.

With the purchase of a backstrap for 100 Bucks, O’Brian was out of money but high in ambitions. He could keep his dagger at his side with the backstrap, allowing the bow and quiver to hang freely.

Before training, he decided it best to take a fast wash. Cleaning after such a fight seemed natural and O’Brian’s aching bones were asking for some kind of release from the tension of so much adrenaline.

Speaking of adrenaline, what were these new stats? Heart, Adrenaline, Grit and Synapse? They seemed important for classes. Were they only used for abilities like technique points?

Sensing the information, the System quickly updated O’Brian on what each of these did.

Adrenaline: These may be used for extra Actions each fight. You may not use Adrenaline to React. These are only recovered after the Match is over.

Heart: You may use Heart Points to forgo an Ally Yielding or eliminate a Mental Status. This is no action.

Grit: You may spend Grit to reduce incoming Damage after you are hit.

Synapse: You may use this in replacement of Mana when Casting Spells or Scrolls.

Aha! So these would turn the man into a veritable powerhouse. Extra actions could make a big difference in the fight, as did the ability to shrug off damage.

O’Brian glanced towards the bathes but sighed. He would wash off after learning the secrets to Archery and the Solo Form. All he had to do was head straight to the gym.

Finch was working out in the sparring room next door, fighting against a dummy with multiple wooden arms. When he struck one arm, the other side would spin just as fast as he hit, forcing him to block, bare handed. Sometimes he was only fast enough to stop the attack with his forearm, which couldn’t feel good.

Above, he had a Training bubble, showing that he was working on getting his Physique up to 94%. The bubble was low but each block and strike raised it.

Elsee was waiting for O’Brian by the mirrors and once again began his lessons. Four hours of long winded speeches, pokes and prods, yielded one finished time slot, though his exhaustion increased to 70%. The next slot took roughly the same amount of time, leaving O’Brian’s arms, chest and throat numb from the amount of times he bellowed and flexed.

“There we go!” Elsee said, tapping his cane on the floor. Golden words appeared above O’Brian. You have learned the Solo Form! A litany of data came along with it.

Solo Form

Skill Required
Melee or Ranged

Passive 1

Impressive: Crowd Begins the Fight Neutral.

Passive 2
Faster: Gain 1 Extra Action Point each Round.

Pageantry
+25

Popularity
+25

Buzz
+ 10 Buzz per Round

Fame
+ 100 Fame per Victory

Flair Moves

Tactical Retreat
Cost | 1 SP
Roll Type | Defensive
Effect | Popularity does not change when moving to Safety.

Surprise Finish
Cost | 1 SP
Roll Type | Strike
Effect | Downing a Target triggers an Execution that will Impress the Crowd and Judges.

Lure
Cost | 1 SP
Roll Type | Strike
Effect | Interrupting a Target’s Action generates +25 Buzz.

A Flair was something that required using Style Points and a Skill Roll in order to impress the crowd. Failure was sure to cause them to mock, but these actions would allow him to build his own Fame.

He couldn’t help but notice that there was a Passive to the Solo Form that gave him an edge in combat. An extra action each round…that was a decided upgrade. Every Form probably had some value to it, and fighting alone was an art unto itself. Between that and the Adrenaline Points, O’Brian wouldn’t be hurting for actions.

The man staggered towards the bathes, unable to continue training any further. Bread only worked once per day, so he’d have to use his time to get clean. Mon’Sieur had not been summoned and thus was playing dice in the Commons with a few dwarves who were starting to decorate the place. Banners were being draped above each room, with words meant to illuminate which area belonged to whom.

“There he is!” Lily Landsand said, appearing in front of O’Brian. He felt his heart jump at once at the sight of her burnt skin and cheery disposition. “You sure as hell gave it your all yesterday. I watched in the stands, peeping from in between my fingers, because I was sure you’d be going down hard.”

O’Brian smiled. He felt a bit of pride swell up within him as she quickly began to pour various oils into one of the wooden basins. “Come, come, no brutality, I promise,” she said as she giggled to herself, her butt waving towards O’Brian as she bent over to test the warmth of the water. “A champ like you needs a delicate touch.”

O’Brian stripped down and climbed into the water, too weary to really worry about hiding himself.

The bubbles and sunflower oil mixed together, making the large wooden tub fill to the brim with soap.

Lily took a hard sponge against his back and began to scrub. The layers of grime came off and the light scratching of the sponge felt good. Memories of the fight seemed to surface as he relived his glory over and over, each action having dozens of thoughts about them.

Something pressed against his back suddenly, two soft orbs. “There we go,” Lily said, her arms slipping around him and up to his chest. Her breasts! He realized the softness of her body was against him and he could feel her nipples scraping lightly against him. They were hard and tickled him ever so slightly. A shudder ran through his whole body and he felt a heat rise within him.

“Out there, fighting to survive, and the way you didn’t just brutalize that lady? You have real class,” she giggled, the tub sloshing as she climbed in. O’Brian didn’t fight the attention, for Lily was breathing on his neck as she washed his chest, then moved up to his throat.

“So manly and strong,” she whispered in his right ear before gently, oh so gently tapping it with her tongue. The bat caused him to swell greatly below and he stiffened upwards. “But I fear that I wasn’t right with you last bath. I promised to clean you like a whistle, but forgot all about your whistle.”

With that, a soapy hand seized his member, furthering it on its advance forward. “Ah!” O’Brian gasped, unsure of what to do.

“Easy, soldier,” the woman purred, biting his ear. “Just gotta make sure we get it nice and soapy…”

The hand slid up and down, slicking his erection with oils and gliding with a firmness that suggested cleaning was her only interest.

“A man’s gotta be clean inside and out,” she continued. “Feel that strength! You must be so pent up…”

“Are…is this…” O’Brian gasped, thrashing his head back a little.

“Let’s just say that Lily here likes what she saw last time and now, she just wants to be very thorough,” the scrubmaid said as she jerked him slowly with both hands. The pleasure was immense, the hot water, the splashing of the soaps, he could feel a pressure build rapidly within him. This was…it was heavenly.

Her thumb circled around the tip of his cock, riding the ridge at the top before slipping beneath, eliciting little jumps from him. “What a warrior, eh? You’re not so bad either,” Lily giggled.

“Going to…I…” O’Brian muttered as she suddenly released his member entirely.

“Now, I’m not one of those soapgirls, so don’t be thinking that it’s all free release,” she said, rotating around in the tub, sliding in front of him. Her breasts were soaked from the water and the suds were sliding down her belly. “But I thought that maybe you and I could have a little fun?”

O’Brian nodded at that as she reached forward to seize him again. His penis flashed out of the water, firm and proud. The heat had rapidly reduced but now, with her attentions, it was warming back up again. The pleasure was immense and he couldn’t hold back.

He thrust his crotch up, into her hands, and she giggled. “There it is! Come on you stallion, let it out, it’s good for a man to release his tension every now and then.” Her hands reached the shaft and then slid back up, jerking him harder, and at the end of the line, O’Brian gasped.

He released deeply, feeling the pleasure from his cock emanate through his entire body at once, like a bolt of lightning rushing through him. He stiffened, his lower half into Lily’s hands, and he grunted a few times as he spasmed in pleasure.

“A few more for good luck,” she giggled, pumping him up and down. O’Brian fell back into the tub, his eyes staring upwards as he lolled his head against the basin rim.

“That was…you’re…incredible,” he muttered.

“You don’t mind returning the favor?” she asked, saddling beside him. She grabbed his right hand and guided it below the water. “Now, soaps can irritate some ladies but my blend is perfect for a little…”

His finger touched something soft and warm, very warm. With Lily’s guidance, he found her cavern and within seconds, he was thrusting a single finger inside. “Ooooh,” she groaned, rubbing her head against his. “There’s the spot. Now just curl it, sweetie.”

“What makes you think I’ve never done this before?” O’Brian teased as he did as she said, his finger curling inwards and outwards a little. The woman’s heat was strong and she squeezed on it.

“Mhmmm, yeah, now you just slide it and I’ll win the prize,” Lily replied, ignoring his question as she lowered her other hand into the water. Her face was flushed and he found himself attracted greatly to her mouth. The pouty look on her face, the way she was in her own ecstasy, it drove him wild and in a second, they were kissing.

“Yeah, just like that,” she said, her tongue batting against his own. For a moment, their mouths were conjoined and the next, she was flexing backwards, arcing upwards with her breasts coming out of the water. “Wiggle it up a bit more, come on…”

O’Brian complied with his lady’s demands and she groaned deeply, achieving a release of her own. She pulled away and sat against the other side of the tub, putting her feet up on his shoulders. “Whew, that was good!” she gasped. “I’m not going to lie, the moment I saw you, I wanted a taste.”

“I can’t say it was easy to pretend not to look at you,” O’Brian replied, kissing the side of her foot. His strength had rapidly regained. Should he press his luck?

“I see the heart of a conqueror in you,” she giggled. “You be nice to me back there, but…” With that, she turned around and got on her hands, pressing her backside up out of the water. Her butt was small and rounded, with her heart easy to see. O’Brian swallowed hard as he climbed up too.

“Easy, honey bunch,” Lily said. “Just slide it in. Don’t worry about anything else. You’ll get it all in the saddle.”

O’Brian put both hands on her hips and shuddered a little as a hand reached up to grab his member. He was harder than before, he realized, but as he stood on one foot and knelt on the other leg, she guided him to her soft spot. There was little resistance, the water and the oils from the soap had done an excellent job of lubricating, and as he slid in, he felt her entire heat envelop his cock.

“Oooohooo!” Lily moaned, lowering her head as she arched her back a little more. O’Brian rose up and began to thrust, his partner pushing her rear towards him in rhythm. The contractions were strong and regular, her body squeezing him tightly as he pounded away.

“Lily…” O’Brian tried to say, holding his eyes shut for a moment. The sensation was otherworldly and, without warning, his war came to a finish. The pleasure was greater than before and for a moment, everything just went blank. O’Brian found a place of true emptiness within himself and then, he was done.

He fell back into the water onto his ass, the warm bath splashing aside as he wilted. “There we go!” Lily cheered, spinning around to kiss him on the mouth. They made out for a few minutes, his hand freely caressing her breasts.

“You’re gonna have to train up that stamina a bit more, but I don’t think the Trainers can help in that area,” Lily giggled as she slumped against O’Brian’s chest. “Maybe we can make a regular thing of this?”

“It sure beats the fast clean,” O’Brian replied, curling her hair around his finger. Together, they closed their eyes and fell asleep for a brief time. He didn’t remember how he got into his hammock but rest assured, his exhaustion level dropped quite a bit.

Chapter 15

O’Brian woke up from his sleep, feeling better than ever before. Lily had marked him from the beginning as a greenhorn in the way of love, but that didn’t stop her from giving him a taste of her affections. Was it too soon to bathe again? He didn’t see her anywhere on his way to breakfast, grabbing some bread to drop his exhaustion down even more.

He entered the Gymnasium, where it was easy to call upon the Ranged Trainer. A tall woman appeared from behind, strolling past him. “There you are,” she said, pointing towards a large target. “Grey Greg mentioned your interest in ranged combat. I was only waiting for you to begin wasting my time.”

The woman wore a long dress made of fine silk. Her ears were like an elf’s, though the points on top formed little strands of flesh that looked like tiny stalks. They moved up and down, independent of her ears, and he could smell strange odors emanating from her. She walked on bare feet and a small crystal made of purple floated beside her.

“This is your first Skill Training session, correct?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” O’Brian said, nodding to her nervously. She was similar to Elsee in some ways but different in others. The vague expression of annoyance upon her face kept him from asking questions.

“Very well, then you’re going to learn the hard way. First, my fee. It costs XP to train and if you want to increase past the first stage of training, you will have to pay me 200 Bucks per session. However, getting you to a point where you could shoot at all seems pointless to me unless you had something of value. And as a Ronin, I sense an affinity for Long-Ranged Combat. So, consider your first lesson to be free. But it will cost you 100 XP to gain a Combat Skill at all.”

“And Combat Skills…” O’Brian asked, trailing off for a moment.

“Combat Skills are what enhance your abilities to hit a target that doesn’t want to be hit. You have a bow that has a simple shot, but can you even use it? A class provides a few things but skill with a specific weapon has certain values. For one, you can try to do a Targeted Shot. That allows you to strike an area that is least defended. Aiming can prevent a Target from Dodging entirely, though this requires a successful use of your skill,” the trainer replied. She pointed at a target set up a few feet away.

“Now, take your bow and show me how you use it,” she said. “Let’s see if that body of yours still retains its memory…”

“I’ve never used one before, Miss…” O’Brian trailed off as he drew his Bow. The words Unproficient! appeared in his vision.

“You may call me Sevena,” the woman replied. “Seven of my kin were killed and so, I carry this name to remember my failures. And you are sure to be one of them. Square your shoulders back, bow firmly in the left hand and the other hand on the string. Draw back, come on, further than that!”

O’Brian complied with the trainer, raising his bow towards the target and stretching the string back. It was tight and harder to pull than he would have thought, then again it was meant to puncture through armor and flesh just as easily.

“Hmmmm, your Class seems to have given you the muscle memory, most newbies snap the line,” she replied, walking around him in a circle before tapping his shoulder. “This one higher than the other. Stabilize your shot. Ranged Weapons are almost always dodged or deflected. To stop that from happening, you may use your Shoot Skill to get the shot off before they can react. It takes more than swiftness. It takes good aim. And Aim is the first part of anything…”

O’Brian listened to Sevena, working hard as she instructed him on how to nock the arrow. His first shot went wild, but she did not chide him. She merely spoke with a mechanical level of instruction, narrating every action he took. By the end of the first Training Slot, he was feeling good about it. But it would take more time. One more slot before he was finally considered proficient.

“There!” O’Brian said proudly as he fired the arrow straight into the target. Not a bull’s-eye but close enough to count.

“Wonderful shot,” the woman dryly replied as she watched him with disinterest. “Now, a hundred more times and you’ll get some points. Keep it up until your arms get tired. Then keep going.”

With that, his trainer walked off to yell at the gnome who had wandered to this part of the training facilities to peer at what they were doing. O’Brian glanced at a bubble above his own head. Training Long Range Combat 50%!

With a sigh, he picked up arrows from the ground and began to shoot, again and again…and again. It cost 100 XP to become Proficient in Long-Ranged Weapons. But once he was finished training, a curt word from his trainer had given O’Brian access to his new Stock Longbow’s Techniques.

Stock Longbow

Techniques:

Attacks
Long Shot | Cost: 2 TP | Hit a Target up to 40 Paces Away with your Bow.
Aimed Shot | Cost: 1 TP | Test your Combat Skills in Long Range. Hit a Targeted Location.

Two abilities and that was it. He glanced at his Long Ranged Combat Skill which came out only to 10%. With the Piercing Weapons bonus, he had a 20% chance to hit a Dodging or Countering Target. Not amazing but still, it would take a Reaction to avoid being hit, so it wasn’t a bad way to keep a distant enemy on their toes. And the range was far better than a pistol.

“Alright, you bastard!” Alamander said as he appeared beside O’Brian while the man was still picking up arrows. “Listen up! Exhibition match is tomorrow and we have all agreed it should be you.”

“What’s the point of this kind of fight?” O’Brian asked.

“Simple enough, really. There’s a Satisfaction Meter that the Judges provide,” the wizard explained. “The fight isn’t meant to be lethal, it’s meant to get the Judges to give you the better score. Unlimited Rounds. Whoever can reach the Satisfaction Level of one Judge the fastest can call for a ruling. You need to have 2 Judges on your side before you do so, at the end of each round. Now, don’t think this is going to be easy. Exhibition Matches are all about getting the Judges to approve and some fellas can go dangerous just to beat an opponent who is getting all the love. You gotta be careful.”

O’Brian nodded. “Spectacle but still dangerous.”

“If a spectacle isn’t dangerous, no one shows up!” Alamander hooted. “Now, your opponent is that Elephanto. Harmpton was a crowd pleaser and they wanna see you go up against him.”

“That guy could crush me with one hand,” O’Brian groaned.

“But in an exhibition match, he’ll only break one limb at a time, to really drag out your pain,” Alamander replied. “Now then, we got the Judge Sheet early. You’ve got one Downtime Action left, I suggest rest. Gets you back to zero exhaustion and thus you can participate. Otherwise you’re giving the slot to Finch and then you’ll have to survive his opinion on such things.”

“You don’t have to twist my arm on resting,” O’Brian said. “Training all day is draining.”

“Yup. But this is the end of the week. Day 7 is almost always good times monkeyshines, so don’t stress about the battle as much as you should stress about looking good. Prestige is doubled on these things, so you might be able to rank us up.”

“Here’s hoping,” O’Brian said as he staggered off towards the hammocks. Finch was sitting at the banquet table, watching as the exhausted warrior made his way to sleep.

“No time for a drink?” the big man asked, pointing to a bottle of wine on the table. “Slumberwine is good as any for getting you back on your feet the next morning.”

O’Brian wasn’t that tired. He sat on the chair beside the hulking barbarian and took the bottle, pouring half into a mug. “I’ve got that big elephant man to square off against,” O’Brian said. “A lot of pressure on me.”

A paper appeared before him. An illusionary projection, showing the Judges. All were new additions to the roster. As he drank and ate, O’Brian read the upcoming panel.

Judges Panel:

Judge Arseon

Description: A long shot, a burning cigarette and a thrown torch. Arseon enjoys seeing the flames and fury of combat.

Likes: Shooting, Fire Damage, Deflected Shots

Dislikes: Spells, Sword Combat, Instant Hits

Favored Technique: Ranger Style

Judge Luvin

Description: Luvin comes from a land of jousting and tournaments. Her heart yearns to see real pageantry amongst the spectacle of combat.

Likes: Flairs, Targeted Shots, Knockdowns

Dislikes: Bloodstains, Helmets, Disarms

Favored Technique: Jousting Style

Judge Hobs

Description: A ground fighter from days long past, Hobs enjoys the spectacle of wrestling and grappling.

Likes: Grappling, Trips, Fist Fighting

Dislikes: Ranged, Sword Fights, Pistols

Favored Technique: Wrestling

The first two judges seemed good enough to O’Brian to form a strategy.  With two who didn’t like sword fighting, a Ranged series of attacks would be impressive. Hobs’ desire to see up close and personal combat was absolutely not going to be happening, as Harmpton was massive and easily able to fight with his bare hands.

“Are you expecting to come out on top?” O’Brian asked as he munched on more bread. “As a winner?”

“In this season?” Finch asked. “Nay, I have seen some of the strongest competitors last time I was here and unfortunately, it is a mere matter of understanding one’s odds. I may look impressive but if I were to face against a rogue who caught me by surprise…” The man grew silent for a moment and shook his head. “I didn’t place last time nor the time before. I’m usually out by week three.”

“And you don’t actually die?” O’Brian inquired in between sips of the slumberberry wine.

“Not any more than you would, I suppose,” Finch said. “Though your soul will be bound to this place for all eternity. Those guards your rescuer slew? They were once like you. Sacrifices. To the king of this place, it is a glory to be bound to serve as a gladiator eternal.”

“Who even is this man who runs these things?” O’Brian muttered, putting down the empty mug. His head was growing woozy and his tongue prone to speak. “And what makes him so great?”

“You take umbrage with a nameless king?” Finch asked.

“It’s one thing to volunteer to fight like this, but I had two choices. Death by sacrifice or death at my own choices,” O’Brian replied. “Even if I had gotten myself captured, it wasn’t weakness or cowardice of my own. No doubt these gladiators, home grown, were all like myself at one time. Just people trying to eke out a safe existence.”

Finch held his tongue for a moment but O’Brian saw it. “Come, out with it,” he spat. “Don’t hide your words from me.

“Fair enough. The king here proclaimed himself the ruler of this arena. He comes from this realm too, a place with little magic save for a spell here or there. Some say that he was a miner who worked in a quarry within these mountains, while others speak about his penchant for adventuring. Whoever he was, the result is the same. He gained some kind of otherworldly power and used it to form these mountains into that which pleased him.”

“Something wrong with a mere statue of himself?” O’Brian said, reaching for another bottle.

Finch seized the drink and wrenched it away from O’Brian. “You could say that his desire was for more than mild self-glorification. It was to see only death everlasting, from his box high away from all others. He sits in silence most times, but it is known that he indeed watches every battle. No fighter too uninteresting, no battle unnoticed. Yet…”

The big man paused for a moment as Mon’Sieur shuffled past. He lowered his voice. “Some say that he laughs with glee at the torment of those executed. That he only comes alive when he sees blood dripping. And…that his favorite part of each season is the opening.”

“I suppose I was the fly in his pudding then,” O’Brian mused. “That bastard…what does he even want from someone like me? Like my people?”

“As one who was quite low in the social world and limited experience in other civilizations, I can say that there is a single type of man who would do these kinds of things,” Finch replied. “A man who thinks himself a god or unaccountable to any such power.”

“What’s to stop me from going up to his box and killing him? Leaping up with the Ronin’s strength in order to end these games for good?”

“Though the man is weak in heart and because of his cruelty…they do say he is akin to a god in his own power. One Season, the one I happened to miss because of something called ‘options speculating’, whatever that means, he descended onto the battlefield. A knight refused to leave and claimed the desire for the ultimate fight. That season, the entire coliseum was graced with a glimpse of the king.

“He was a dark figure, antlers atop his blackened helm. He drew a great sword that was half the length of the arena, as some tell. That knight had not a single moment to react before he was cleaved in half. And then…all manner of portals opened.”

O’Brian’s eyes rose up to meet Finch’s. The man was simply retelling a tale but even then he could see a look of concern upon the man’s face. “It was a trap. Powerful gods from other realms had taken notice of these deaths. These innocents being slain for a perpetual game…and they sought to fight.”

“Gods?” O’Brian gasped. “You mean real deities?”

“That is what they say. But the end result was all the same. The king himself had no fears or worries. He merrily slew them one by one, until all that was left was a single goddess of the hunt. She fled into the heavens and some say that she is the single force of light that beacons others to come here.”

“Surely no one is invincible,” O’Brian said. “Perhaps I could surprise him…”

“It would seem to me, my friend, that you already have,” Finch replied. “For you are still breathing. Still fighting. You have a strength within you, as you have chosen to go all-in on this experience. A lesser man would shrink away or escape.”

“But where would I go?” O’Brian asked. “To return home would be like becoming an ant once more. Up here, I have power.”

“And down there?”

“I was simply afraid of this happening.”

Chapter 16

“You all know what time it is!” the Announcer cheered as the hot daylight struck O’Brian in the face. He walked across the arena, to his starting position. Harmpton was already there, standing nearly 30 paces away from O’Brian. “The end of a week means the start of something even better than a brutal bloodletting! It’s time for an Exhibition Match! Let’s put some hands together for the Satisfaction Meter!”

The crowd, composed of many familiar and new stands, began to clap and scream. A blood red meter appeared above the arena. Satisfaction: 0%.

“Now for those of you who are new, let’s go over the ground rules lickety split,” the Announcer continued. “Our three Judges are going to make a ruling over every Action and Reaction. If they like it, the Satisfaction Meter goes up. If they don’t? It goes down. Both participants want to impress the Judges individually but a ruling can only be given after it hits 100%. Death or Yielding disqualifies the combatant, giving a Technical Victory to the other party.”

O’Brian felt the ache in his shoulders as he remembered firing at that target almost all day. This elephant man was much bigger than a small archery target. Hitting wouldn’t be a problem.

“O’Brian’s looking fresh and clean as a whistle, if I may say so myself,” the Announcer continued. “He’s been on a long journey and today is what we’ve been waiting for. A chance to see if he can carry on the Outsiders’ Victory Streak. Will he be able to push the prestige of his team over the edge, or will he leave us wanting more flash and flair?”

A few stands began to cheer for O’Brian, including the Gungeoneers and Hunters. They had taken a liking to him and the sight of the bow on his back earned him quite the ovation.

“And of course, my personal favorite, and frankly, everyone who has fine taste…Harmpton! He took a hard loss the other day but that’s okay! It was deemed by the finest apothecarians out there that his immense constitution meant those poison needles gave him a heavy nap at best. Frankly, even the head injury was negligible.”

The Judges appeared in their booths, overlooking the entire fight in a great glass cage that hung off the side of one of the empty Stands. Their immense height was dizzying, but O’Brian knew that a pinch of magic allowed them to watch every little detail. Best make this a fight worth remembering.

“And now for the coin toss…O’Brian wins going second!” the Announcer said. “The big guy’s turn is first!”

Exhibition Round!

Damage adds Satisfaction! Flair Moves also increase Satisfaction with each success. Multiple Flairs can multiply your score!

Round 1…Fight!

Immediately, Harmpton trumpeted with his long trunk, let out a roar that was quite intimidating as it was thrilling to the crowd. And then, he thundered towards O’Brian, charging as fast as he could.

O’Brian kept his cool, hand on his sword just in case. The great monster of a man ran straight up to him but O’Brian was quick to activate Easy Dodge, leaping to the side of the charge. His TP dropped to 6 but now the target was open.

O’Brian activated his newest ability, the Misdirection Feat. He feinted a charge of his own, forcing the elephant to continue running further. 10 paces away now, O’Brian decided to spice things up by drawing his bow and shooting.

1 AP used to Shoot! appeared in his vision as he drew back the bow. Target cannot react due to turned back! The arrow whistled through the air and it struck the left arm of the great creature. Harmpton let out a blare from his trunk but otherwise seemed unfazed.

2 Damage ignored! + 7% Satisfaction rose above the beast. O’Brian grinned and fired again. Another hit, with the damage ignored once more. But the satisfaction rose to 14. With one Action left, O’Brian decided to target this time.

“Come on…” he muttered, trying to aim for the creature’s head. There was still a bandage wrapped around Harmpton’s skull. Perhaps striking the wounded area was unsporting, so he aimed instead for the other side.

1 AP used to Aim! Testing Short Range Combat Skill! 10%...54! Failed.

Too late, O’Brian realized that his range was too short for his Long Ranged ability to apply. The arrow zipped past Harmpton’s head and the Round ended.

“Three shots? O’Brian’s faster than a burning match!” the Announcer said. “Maybe he should have spent some time backing up instead of trying to show off!”

Round 2 Begins!

O’Brian grimaced as the great elephanto turned around and drew out a long ranged weapon of his own. A long whip. “I admire the courage to shoot an elephant,” the big man said as he thundered a few paces towards O’Brian’s position. He cracked the whip against the ground and then, swung it towards the Ronin.

Instantly, O’Brian spent a Reaction to Block the attack, his Dodge greyed out. The whip was flexible enough to catch any kind of dodger, so it was best to drop the bow and grab his sword…

There wasn’t enough time. The Reaction was lost as O’Brian was not using a melee weapon to Block and so the whip struck him hard against the chest.

7 Damage! Armor Absorbs 5! 2 Damage taken! appeared in O’Brian’s vision as he grunted hard from the pain of the whip crashing into his chest.

He staggered backwards a little but saw no blood. The damage was there for sure, but it was mostly blunt force from the size of the weapon. His HP dropped to 7.

The crowd cheered and the Satisfaction level quickly rose up to 30%. O’Brian waited for another strike and sure enough, the great elephant whipped him again. The blow was just as hard, dropping him down to 5 HP. The armor was holding well against most of the damage but O’Brian could feel a severe pain in his chest as the crowd applauded.

O’Brian had two actions now. He was tempted to drop the Bow but decided against it. Instead, he activated his Flair Move to scramble out of the way while looking good. Flair Test! Shoot Skill Test! 33%...58, failure!

O’Brian tried to back up gracefully, hoping to impress the crowd with his speed, but he merely stumbled backwards as the great elephant swung a fist at him.

“And O’Brian tries to show some flair and finesse, seems he should focus on winning the fight instead…” the Announcer said and the crowd laughed.

Flair moves cost Style to try but the action had been more or less free. The red hot embarrassment struck him as he used a Move Action to distance himself further from his target. Now at 20 paces away, he had an opportunity to shoot.

He fired his bow and the arrow struck into the torso of the great beast. Harmpton laughed off the attack, though the Satisfaction rose up to 38%.

Round 2 has ended! Round 3 begins!

“You’re determined to earn favor,” Harmpton said. “The judges are enjoying what you are doing. Perhaps it would be better to simply end your life now.”

“Heard of trying too hard?” O’Brian replied as Harmpton took his first action. The great elephanto dropped down onto all fours and charged forward, thundering so hard that the entire arena seemed to shake.

O’Brian was out of Actions, so he could just wait for the creature’s attack to hit. The tusks of the great being jabbed him hard in the stomach and in an instant, O’Brian was lodged between both horns. For his second Action, Harmpton raised his head up high and then brought it back down, smashing O’Brian into the hard ground.

You are Grappled! appeared in O’Brian’s vision while he crashed into the earth. 3 damage! hovered in his sight. He was down to 2 points left.

“And just like that, Harmpton takes control of his target! You gotta give credit to O’Brian, he came in wanting to shoot and by god shoot he did! Right in his own foot!” the Announcer cheered.

Satisfaction rose up to 50% as O’Brian felt his entire insides groan with pain. In between the tusks, the fourth round began.

You are grappled! Use a Skill Test to escape! The system informed him. Physique Test! 30%...18! You have escaped!

O’Brian regained his wherewithal and quickly wrenched himself free of the tusks, slipping to the ground. Harmpton was surprised by this dexterity and didn’t have much time to react.

O’Brian drew his dagger and immediately struck with his Gut Stab Technique. For 1 point, he began to shank over and over, his dagger puncturing the torso of the great beast repeatedly. Blood gushed from the creature’s chest, soaking the elephant man’s outer vest. He wore a simple buttoned up military coat but it was now sullied. The crowd roared with excitement as O’Brian did the action one more time, spending another TP.

Reaction Spent! appeared above the great elephant and he went to catch the knife. Block Test! 75%...32! Success!

The beast caught the dagger in O’Brian’s hand and shoved him back a few paces, negligible at best. At this range, O’Brian thought it wise to pass on his last action.

Satisfaction rose to 74%, thanks to the multiple hits and the unlikely escape. The turn moved over to Harmpton, who quickly ripped one of his tusks out to spear at O’Brian. There was one shot at this…a Counter. O’Brian could dodge successfully with his Easy Dodge, but there would still be another attack. The block had decided the fight, but O’Brian knew he could turn it around if he just…

Reaction Spent! Counter Test! 33%...54! Failed!

The tusk was like a blunt club at this range and O’Brian heard something crack in his torso as he was tossed back almost ten paces. He hit the ground with a thud and gasped. “I yield,” he hoarsely said, his health dropping down to 0.

You are without HP! Next hit will be Lethal! appeared in his vision as he laid out on the ground, beneath the open sky.

“Oooh, a slip out, a few stabs but it’s ultimately lights out for O’Brian! A shame he wasted his time shooting when that longsword could have done something! Let’s see what the judges have to say about the fight…” the Announcer said.

Harmpton placed one foot atop O’Brian’s chest and posed, stretching his trunk out long as he trumpeted in victory.

Exhibition Match Over! Satisfaction Rating: 80%!

Judges Scoring:

Judge Arseon:

O’Brian: 8/10

Harmpton: 2/10

Judge Luvin:

O’Brian: 1/10

Harmpton: 0/10

Judge Hobs:

O’Brian: 0/10

Harmpton: 10/10

Final Score:

O’Brian: 9

Harmpton: 12

Harmpton Wins the Exhibition Match!

Everything faded around O’Brian and he found himself waking up in his hammock. Lily was by his side, gently cleaning his chest with a sponge. She was naked as ever but he felt ashamed to even talk to her.

“Damn it all,” he wheezed. “Why didn’t I use my sword?”

“Hey, you took a world class beating,” the sweet woman said, kissing him on the cheek and pushing him back down. “Harmpton was one hell of a fighter. You did good, all things considered.”

O’Brian shut his eyes as he felt the pain in his torso grow worse. “I think I’m injured,” he muttered.

“It’s just muscle strain,” Lily advised. “You’ll be fine in a few hours. Mon’Sieur will make an ice bath for you. I fear our style of cleaning is a little much at the moment, but don’t worry about yourself. You survived the first week and that’s all that counts.”

“Hell no it doesn’t, you naked trollop!” Alamander said as he stormed into the Barracks. He was red-nosed and furious. “You tried to wow the crowd? Why not wow them without taking risks. Why the hell are you using your skills when they’re so low?”

“Just wanted to…” O’Brian wheezed.

“Hey, back off!” Lily thundered as she walked in front of Alamander, cutting him off from lording over O’Brian. “He’s not a prize fighter, just a gladiator for now! He wanted to try some things out. It’s not like Harmpton was going to kill him on purpose anyhow.”

“You better be thankful that I’m barred from killing in this world, else I’d kill you and then him, bring him back to life and then also you, then make you kill each other!” Alamander screamed as he stormed out, throwing his red hat on the ground. The hat remained still for a moment before growing a pair of spider legs and skittering out.

“Thanks,” O’Brian said and he put a hand on his burning chest. The bandages were keeping everything together but the pain was something else. “I can’t recall seeing him that angry before. Normally he’s just an ass.”

Lily gently rocked the hammock back and forth. “Get some rest. Don’t worry about that cranky old bastard. I’m sure he’ll die of gut rot anytime soon.”

“Maybe that would be ideal…” O’Brian muttered and darkness took him back once more, the sleep far less painful now.

Chapter 17

O’Brian woke up as the commotion outside grew noisier. “It’s posted! New week is posted!” a nameless elven woman shouted into his room, stirring him.

O’Brian sat up and felt considerably better. The pain was gone and the bandages had been taken off his chest. A small divot rested below his right pectoral. It was a kind of scar, from the impact wound. The area wasn’t sore to touch but he considered the mark as a record of his failures. He should have drawn his blade and made short work of that great Harmpton…though in doing so he would fail to impress the judges.

He clambered out of bed and wandered towards where everyone was gathered. The board by the arena exit and entrance was fresh. Seven days were posted, as well as the results from the last week.

Week 1 of The Season of Suprises has completed!

Team Rankings:

Team Hunters of Prey: 4 Victories

Team Glory and Gore: 4 Victories

Team Gladiators of Greatness: 4 Victories

Team Horse Shallows: 3 Victories, 1 Draw

Team Outsiders: 3 Victories, 1 Loss

Team Spearbreakers: 2 Victories, 2 Draws

Team Longshot: 2 Losses, 2 Victories

Team Musket Men: 2 Losses, 1 Draw

Team Magic and Lies: 2 Losses, 0 Victories

The Outsiders are in 5th Place! You receive the following bonuses:

+2,000 Bucks

+10 Prestige

+ 150 XP

O’Brian felt a bit of relief at seeing his team was in fifth place. He had no expectation that he would be so high on the list, but it seemed there were more teams than he realized. They couldn’t all fight each other each week but it seemed there were clear winners and losers.

As his XP increased, he noticed that he was now up to 2,300 points. Apparently his last loss had provided him points, though he had no memory of seeing the marker. Probably a side effect of being able to mutter a few words of yielding before slipping into utter blackness.

His chest ached with a phantom pain as he relived the memory of the elephanto catching his dagger and then tossing him halfway across the arena with a single blow.

The new schedule had posted as well, revealing bad news to O’Brian. He was up for today’s match.

Week 2:

Day One: O’Brian vs Saunterel

Day Two: Finch vs Harmpton

Day Three: Off-Time

Day Four: Off-Time

Day Five: Team Scramble (3 vs 3)

Day Six: O’Brian vs Nameless Silk

Day Seven: 2 vs 2 Exhibition Match

“Not much time,” O’Brian thought to himself as he glanced at the schedule. Being unconscious for half of a day had caught up with him and he grimaced. Saunterel was a new name.

Finch, who was standing tall above the crowd, turned to look at O’Brian. “You did well last fight. Don’t let a single loss get in your head. Every fight stays in the arena. You will do just fine.” He tossed a loaf of bread to O’Brian. “This will keep you fresh.”

O’Brian took a big bite out of the loaf and then turned to face the team of Alamanders who were staring at him. “Don’t mind us,” they all said in unison. “We’re just analyzing your body for the various spare parts you’ll provide to the organ market here.”

“There’s an organ market operating in these grounds?” O’Brian asked.

“If you die, yes!” the team of identical illusions all hooted. “Now, go out and die. And don’t forget to spend your Adrenaline points, dumbass. You could have dodged a few more times.”

Right! Adrenaline! That would have allowed O’Brian to keep on his toes in that last round. Damn, things moved too fast in the arena and there was so much to keep in mind. The bow was fine but he needed to focus on sticking with his weapon of choice: the legacy katana itself.

There was no sendoff for O’Brian as he quickly suited up in his cleaned armor and rushed to the gate. The blinding lights enveloped him and in an instant, he was standing upon a great sea of…glass?

The ground had changed entirely. It was now made of a slick green glass that encompassed the arena floor.

“What the hell?” O’Brian murmured.

Environmental Status is in effect! The System informed him.

Environment: Sea of Glass

Effects: You may move up to 40 paces per Move. You must spend 1 AP to end your movement or you will slide the remaining distance against your will. Maneuvering may require Swiftness Tests.

“You saw him take a hard hit to the torso yesterday, but today is a new day and it seems they patched him up just fine!” the Announcer cried out. “Now O’Brian is ready to reclaim his lost glory and hopefully, he’ll be able to keep his positioning in check with such unstable footing.”

O’Brian slid up to his starting position. There was a new Stand today. Thousands of spectators appeared as the profile rose upwards to greet him.

Stand: The Gore Gougers

Sections:

Traders: 10%

Brutes: 35%

Gamblers: 15%

Warriors: 40%

School: Glory and Gore

Description: The Glory and Gore School focuses on high levels of brutality and lethality in each fight. Their supporters watch the fights for fast and frenzied combat.

“And you’ve seen him grind down opponents twice his size and dissect opponents half as large…today’s fighter from Glory and Gore is Saunterel!!!” the Announcer cried, leading to thunderous applause from the thousands in the Stand. The Outsiders weren’t looking too shabby today either, to be honest. The stand was dwarfed by all others but there were a few hundred in attendance. Where did they come from?

Interrupting his thoughts was a blare from a horn. “Oho! You heard the Horn of Heraldry! It looks like His Majesty, the King of Carnage himself, King Fasser has assembled himself upon the judgment booth! The other judges have already scattered to the corners of the earth to hide from His Brilliance!”

The announcement of the king’s presence caused O’Brian to glance up sharply. He could see the man there, in the boxes where the judges normally sat. The man was dressed up today, wearing a great black helm, horns curving up on both sides. He had a great fur cape and wore a symbol of a fist holding a stone, blood dripping down from it, upon his tunic. The man’s expression was twisted and contemptuous, easy to see despite how far down O’Brian was.

“The king!” Saunterel said, snapping O’Brian’s attention down upon his opponent. The man from the Glory and Gore School was not what he expected in the least. His foe for the day was a knight in shining armor, sunlight glinting off the steel full helm and iron plate that he wore. On his right arm was a huge shield, nearly the size of O’Brian and upon his back was a longsword.

“Fuck him,” O’Brian said, glancing up once more, mouthing the word as best he could for the king to see.

“Have some decorum! It is in his presence that we shall fight! You know that means he will judge, correct?” Saunterel snapped.

“He is always watching,” O’Brian replied. “The way I hear it anyway.”

“To watch doesn’t mean to judge,” Saunterel said, dropping to one knee and taking off his helm. The man had frizzy orange hair and his left eye was discolored from a wound of some sort. It was an old injury but it seemed to indicate he had once been shot clean in the eye. “We are in the presence of greatness, bow or kneel, you dolt!”

“The great Gory and Glory prefers to be on their knees, do they?” O’Brian spat. “Maybe I’ll execute you for His Majesty’s pleasure.”

“You’re going to swallow those words along with my sword,” the competitor muttered.

Judge:

King Fasser

The man who made this entire place happen.

Likes: Carnage

Dislikes: Cowardice

O’Brian was distracted for a moment. The box was in the center of the arena, higher than any other stand. It would be a fool’s game to rush the high and mighty ruler now, but come a few weeks of training? Perhaps O’Brian could just shoot him with his bow. That Artemis fellow’s boutique may have something for the occasion.

“His Lordship wishes to give a simple address to the champions,” the Announcer said. “So let’s cut the chit-chat and jibber jabber and give His Majesty his rightful due. Remember, you’re all here today because of this brave warrior!”

Silence fell upon the arena like a great storm from nowhere. The coliseum was so silent that O’Brian could hardly think, the ringing in his ears too great. The king spoke.

“When this season began, it was against my wishes. Blood from the natives of this realm must be shed to consecrate the Meerschaum Coliseum,” the king spoke, his voice deep and gravely. “To slay a House Gladiator is to swat away a fly. To the brave man below, Saunterel, I say this. Bring me the blood I once demanded and I shall make you a god in this realm. And to you, O’Brian…you think you are the first to dream of ending me? So many men and women, like you, freed from an incident or a clever call from a friend…all now tortured within this realm. Your mind is weak and your soul incapable of transitioning to death without my blessing. Survive this round and you will see the next fight will be full of those souls. And then you can perhaps consider falling upon your stolen sword, in order to gain my mercies.”

“I told you, you should have kneeled,” Saunterel said as he stood and put his helm back on. The great visor fell down, concealing his vision of all sides but protecting from arrow shots.

“Ooooh, what a speech, folks I am getting chills,” the Announcer said, nervously. There was a shiver in the man’s voice, a fear at what had been said. “It’s not often we, uh, hear from the big guy but it sounds like today is a bad day for mercy! Are we good, Your Majesty?”

The king nodded slightly.

“Then let’s see if O’Brian can keep his head! The coin toss goes to…Saunterel! Begin!”

Round 1 Starts!

Saunterel drew his great sword from behind his back and held the large weapon up with one hand. O’Brian’s eyes caught notice of the gauntlet becoming locked around the sword. Once the weapon was in place, the man no longer needed to use his muscles to grip it. The iron gauntlet was designed to hold the weapon in place and that meant the arm of the suit of armor was a stabilizer. Useful for charges and ignoring disarms…

“Blasted ground!” Saunterel said as he began to run towards O’Brian. The great boots he wore gave him little traction and he seemed to be more ice skating than running at this point. The momentum of the great knight worked in his favor, however, as he angled his sword above his shield, charging at full speed towards his opponent.

O’Brian opted to use Easy Dodge to leap aside at the last moment, but something was wrong. As he leapt, his landing became uncertain.

Unsteady Footing! Test Swiftness! 80%...80! Success!

O’Brian found his footing as he skated for a moment before turning to face his foe, who was now almost 30 paces away.

“Confound this!” the warrior bellowed and he spun around, keeping his shield high.

The round turned over to O’Brian and he considered his choices. Nothing wrong with a Charge, especially if O’Brian could keep moving up to ten more paces after the hit, thanks to the new environment. He just had to time his slide just right.

Charge Activated! 1 TP Spent! O’Brian’s vision informed him as he began to build up momentum with his legs, turning each step into a skate, leaning forward on each foot to speed himself up.

The knight raised the shield high but had not the AP to actively defend himself. O’Brian rushed him, katana drawn and ready to slash.

In the blink of an eye, O’Brian was past the knight, the blade cutting across the steel armor. The only trouble was that nothing penetrated. O’Brian spun around on his feet, sliding ten paces away from his target. 0 Damage! Target’s Armor is Stronger!

“That was it?” Saunterel laughed. “You really thought your flimsy toy sword could cut through Imperial Steel?”

“Got you in range of a Banzai, didn’t it?” O’Brian said. He had hoped his sword would have some effect, but then again, there were plenty of surprises to be found in the Arena. Surprises such as his Banzai’s ability to ignore armor.

“Banzaiiii!” O’Brian screamed, and he sped up towards the knight, spending 2 TP to activate his Legacy Katana’s ability.

Saunterel swore as he was far too slow to get his shield in position. O’Brian was upon him in an instant, his katana raised to hip level for a piercing attack. The blade thrust violently through the hardened armor and blood poured down the wound.

Hit! 5 Damage to Target! appeared above O’Brian’s head. Stop with 1 AP or test Swiftness to avoid collision!

This was no hard call. O’Brian tested his Swiftness to hopefully not become a mangled heap against the heavily armor knight…80%...19! Success!

O’Brian kept moving past the target, sliding 30 more paces until he was turned around once more.

Round 1 is over! Round 2, begin!

Saunterel was far. He passed his turn over to O’Brian. “You can’t charge forever,” the knight taunted, his shield arm raised high.

“I don’t need to,” O’Brian said, spending the AP to move up to his target once more. He had a plan. The knight waited, shield up. O’Brian activated his Grasshopper Stance Technique, Hurtle, at the last moment, leaping clean over Saunterel’s position.

The knight wasn’t caught off guard as much as O’Brian had been hoping. He spun in place to deflect the back attack but his legs slipped for a second.

Reaction Used! Swiftness Test required to turn! 30% Swiftness…15! Success!

Saunterel spun around, raising his shield just in time to stop the attack. His right foot turned left, while his front heel stayed planted upon the glass surface. He managed to dig in long enough to attempt a block.

Block Test! 75%...12! Success!

O’Brian’s sword was fast but the great shield made of metal easily thwarted his attack, the heavy metal clanging loudly as the sword was thrown away.

The Ronin was fast enough to jump back the other way, however, completing the Hurtle Technique regardless of its success. The Knight spun around once more, to avoid his back from being stabbed.

Swiftness Test! 30%....88! Failure! appeared above the knight as he suddenly wiped out, his feet going upwards. He fell flat on his back.

“Oh, looks like the proud knight took a hard fall, maybe someone should have warned him about the slippage!” the Announcer said.

O’Brian decided to strike without mercy. The man was flat on his back and out of actions. O’Brian, on the other hand, had 1 more thanks to his Solo Form. “This is for your king!” O’Brian spat as he raised his sword up and speared it downwards into the damaged section of the man’s armor. 5 Damage! appeared above the knight.

The knight spasmed and tried to move but instead simply began to groan. Target has been Downed! Execute?

“O’Brian’s normally a fine fellow who lets others up, but it seems that he didn’t come to play our heartstrings today!” the Announcer said. “Finish him for our great king!”

“You!” O’Brian shouted, pulling his blade from the knight’s body and pointing at the king. “You think I am sacrificing to you? This man knelt and now, now he is dead!” O’Brian kicked the fallen knight’s visor open and speared him right through the pale eye. The man jerked upwards for a second and then, nothing.

The crowd roared in approval, even the Glory and Gore section. A standing ovation for his successful execution.

”Taste but do not drink,” the Ronin’s spirit softly whispered as the king slowly clapped, grinning like a fiend. “Hatred is not something that one should sip. Swirl it in your mouth and spit it out.”

“Or?” O’Brian asked, watching as the crowd continued to cheer.

“Or become exactly like him.”

Match won! You have gained the following:

Popularity: +75

Prestige: +10

Victory Payout: 400 Bucks

Execution Bonus: +10 Fame

Style Bonus: +200 XP

Chapter 18

O’Brian walked back into the Common, his mood considerably lower. The victory had been quick, thanks to the strangeness of the arena. There could have been a longer battle, but O’Brian had no mercy for those who were thankful to this dark god who claimed to be a mortal. No human could truly be so cruel, as to demand human sacrifice in order to consecrate these games.

His thoughts clouded, Alamander appeared beside him. “Now that was a hell of a fight! Looks like Week 2 is going to be full of surprises. Due to certain arguments about a technical term I like to call ‘cheating’, I’m banned from the Wagering Board. But if you want to make it here, you’ll need better gear. The money from the fights won’t really cut it unless you know how to wager well and how.”

O’Brian slowly nodded, still thinking about the king. “That Artemis fellow has some very expensive hardware,” he said. “I could do with an upgrade.”

“Damn right,” Alamander said, bringing the warrior over to a section beside the Weekly Roster Board. He gestured towards a large popup display with a variety of data on it. O’Brian’s vision immediately absorbed the information and began to show various forms of wagering to select from.

Wager Board Unlocked!

Description: Each Day, 3 Teams square off in the ultimate sport of Mutual Combat! You can win big by placing bets on the outcome of each fight. Coaches are allowed to bet on any outcome, but Gladiators may only bet on their own victory.

When you make a Wager, you lose those Bucks immediately. The outcome of the match will determine whether you get your money back or if you lose. In the event of a tie, all Wagers are returned to their respective gamblers.

Bets may be placed about certain outcomes in a fight, once you have selected a Winner. These are known as Multipliers. You may select as many Multipliers as you wish, though they have a base cost for each one selected. If your Champion wins, you gain a multiplier effect or a set bonus based on the Multiplier selected.

Day 1 Wagers

O’Brian VS Saunterel: Completed, no further wagers.

Laddish VS Tarley

Matchup Description: A great knight from his homeland where sword and bow are hand in hand squares up against a Dwarven Frenzy Fighter who specializes in Axes.

Odds: 3:1

Multipliers:

Axe Bash

Buy-In: 150 Bucks

Multiplier Bonus: x2

Outcome: Tarley uses his Axe Bash ability.

Hard Cut

Buy-In: 50 Bucks

Multiplier Bonus: x1.5

Outcome: One of the Fighters will take Melee Damage

Steel Versus Steel

Buy In: 300 Bucks

Multiplier Bonus: x2

Outcome: Fighters will survive until the 3rd Round.

Michela VS Millard

Matchup Description: A Libertalian Fighter skilled with Blunderbuss and Blade Alike, against a Musket Man who knows how to keep his cool under pressure.

Odds: 1:1

Multipliers:

Gunsmoke

Buy In: 300 Bucks

Multiplier Bonus: x2

Outcome: Both Fighters will shoot at least once during the match.

Hard Hitter

Buy In: 200 Bucks

Multiplier Bonus: x2

Outcome: A Fighter will take on an Injured Status.

Double Miss

Buy In: 100 Bucks

Multiplier Bonus: x1.5

Outcome: Both Fighters miss during a single Round.

These fights seemed straightforward enough. O’Brian recognized the fighter from the third matchup of the day; it was one of the Amoses. The Libertalian fighter would be the better choice, in his opinion, since The Musket Men had lost their leader, Tally. With odds at 1:1, it was anyone’s game. But O’Brian knew that Millard wasn’t the toughest of the group, having broken first in his 3 versus 1 match from last week.

He decided to use his winnings from the last fight to make the purchase of the easier bet. 400 Bucks in, plus a Double Miss for 500 total.

A Wager has been placed! The System informed O’Brian. Potential Payout: 800 Bucks if Michela wins!

That was some decent coin but not enough for Artemis’ shop. O’Brian turned his attention to the riskier bet, the 3:1 match that was next. A knight versus a frenzy dwarf? Hard to tell who would have the upper hand.

“Needin’ a decider?” one of the gamblers, a dwarf from the Armory asked. He was a stout fellow in a great yellow tunic, wearing dozens of runic beads in his great burly beard.

“What’s your take?” O’Brian asked. “Laddish versus Tarley?”

“Tarley is fresh meat, but I wouldn’t discount him,” the gambler said as he took out a long cigar. He touched a match to one of his beard beads, causing it to ignite. He puffed a few times as he read the bored. “Laddish, on the other hand, has had nothing but wins. A strong man with a longsword and a steed to boot.”

The dwarf grinned for a moment as he winked at O’Brian, the cigar smoke filling the entire area. “Wanna know a secret though? My man on the inside thinks Tarley has this one locked down because the dwarf just bought a custom Boomeraxe from us. It throws like an axe, returns like a boomerang.”

“And you think that’ll win him the match?”

“Laddish comes a’chargin on his mount, axe meets him in the middle. Even if it doesn’t chop him in half, which our work tends to do, he’ll be on his ass and the horse will keep on running. Don’t think falling off a horse is some small thing. Tends to crack ribs and better yet, might break an arm or even the spine,” the gambler replied. He took out a few chips from his side satchel, yellow and purple lines checkered the outside of the chip, red in the middle.

“Now, most of us regular folk gotta buy these suckers before we can even begin to gamble,” he said, raising one of the chips to O’Brian’s eyes. It read 3,000 Bucks on it. “You like it?”

“You…you’re really standing to lose a lot here,” the Ronin mumbled as he stared at the other coins in the dwarf’s hands. “Is it worth it?”

“It’s all about the highs and the lows,” the gambler replied. “I partially invested in this company decades ago, bought a high yield bond and then moved on. One day a fella is at my humble heat hut, hat in hand, asking if he could buy a percentage of my bonds. I didn’t even remember the damned transaction but you better believe me, he wined and dined me like no other. In the end, I gave him a piece of the pie in exchange for a few hundred thousand…not Bucks but the equivalent. Shardgens. Valuable in my homeland. So valuable that it set me up for a hundred lives. But alas, the sweet life takes something from you, friend. The thrill of victory seems numb without the chance of defeat. Having nearly unlimited money takes that from ya.”

“If you find wealth to be such a burden, maybe part with those chips?” O’Brian joked.

“You saying you want a private wager?” the gambler asked. He stretched out his other hand. “Name’s Taxon O’Tole. I wouldn’t mind some side action.”

“You’re too rich for my blood.”

“Come now, let’s not be crass,” Taxon replied. “How’s this, I bet on Laddish and you bet on the dwarf. If you win, I’ll toss in an extra thousand as a way of representing my homeland, and if my guy wins, well, I won’t worry about such things like actually asking for your money. We can just add it to a tab or something. Maybe sell the debt to some desperate fools looking to invest.”

Was this a hustle? O’Brian was unsure. But an extra thousand for a bet he was already going to place? “You aren’t trying anything funny?”

Taxon chuckled. “I suppose that’s a gamble. We on?”

“Put me down for 200 as the side bet. I won’t pay nothing.”

“Done and done,” Taxon said. “When I ask for it, you can pay me out.”

O’Brian shook the dwarf’s hand and made his bet proper. 500 Bucks on Tarley. Surely this man couldn’t be trying to finesse him when he had a fortune to spend.

“Actually…” O’Brian said as the dwarf started to amble towards the buffet table, where many gift baskets were waiting to be plundered. “You have a real fortune?”

“As real as my dick!” he said, slapping his crotch.

“I’m not checking to verify if that’s a joke,” O’Brian replied. “But mayhaps you want to make things really interesting this season?”

“Oh?” Taxon asked, grinning as he palmed one of the chips in his hand before rolling it across his knuckles.

“I could use a bow and your armory services have been more than satisfactory, but Artemis sells weapons of much higher rarity. And higher cost.”

“Why aren’t you using the Charles Catalogue?” the dwarf asked. “That Artemis bloke is a penny pincher, from what I hear, turning dungeons into gods dammed tourist traps. He thinks everything’s one big game whereas Charles focuses only on one thing: delivering competing goods at a fraction of the price.”

“Charles? Is he from around here?”

“No more than any of the rest of us, save you, of course,” Taxon said. “But we wanted to sell weapons of our own too, the Local 312 that is. Yet, Artemis has us beat on quality, don’t tell anyone I said that, so we just let Charles buy our weapons wholesale. Still cheaper than that Artemis fella.”

“Interesting. My point was, our team could use some extra coinage—”

“Afraid that’s where the rules step in, if I’m gambling here, I gotta abide by a few rules and one of which is that I can’t use my funds to directly aid competitors. I mean I was planning on doing that until some asshole got caught pretending to be sixteen different competitors at once, only to have them ‘sick’ the day of the fight, which does count as a loss.”

“Whoever could that be,” O’Brian mumbled, watching as Alamander was ripping through each gift basket like a feral ghoul, sorting through everything in an attempt to find chocolate liqueurs.

“Anyhaps, you’ll need sponsorships and to get that, well, you’d really need to impress this round. Or at least get your Prestige up. Sponsors normally come crawling around sooner than later once your team has some oomph behind them,” Taxon said. “Hey, save some of those crawdads for me!”

The dwarf rushed off to defend the baskets from Alamander, who merely hooted and vanished with three in hand.

O’Brian checked his funds. Surviving the week had given them a boost, but those wagers and some discretionary funding had dropped them down to only 500 Bucks. Not enough for a bow upgrade just yet.

Chapter 19

O’Brian slept fitfully, mostly dreaming about his fight with Harmpton. The brutality of the man had not matched the pace of an Exhibition match but that had not mattered at all. What mattered was there was one man standing and another on the ground, wounded to the point of begging for mercy.

He woke up in a start, noticing that his Exhaustion meter had dropped down to zero. Finch was fighting today, against Harmpton no less. This would be no Exhibition match; it would be a severe fight between both of them to prove who was the strongest. Finch had taken on that beast with no trouble, but O’Brian had no desire to watch the fight. Rather, he wanted to focus on improving his ability to react to trouble.

The road to Level 2 was double from 1, meaning at 2,400 XP he was no further along than if he were at 3,000. Experience Points had uses outside of leveling. He could spend his points on Training and could perhaps improve his ability to Block and Shoot a bit more.

As he roused from his slumber and clambered out of the hammock, the realization struck him. The bets! He had wagered money on two fights and then slept through both of them, recovering from the exhaustion of day one’s match.

Suddenly finding more energy, O’Brian rushed over to the Wagering Board to see what the results were. “Wait a second…” he muttered as he looked at the odds Michela vs Millard, which had posted first. They had significantly changed.

“We can’t see other bets…those were just internal odds…” he mused as he looked at the results. The System updated quickly to show what the actual odds were after the match had been completed. Oh that’s right, gamblers were inside of the stands during the show, making new bets based on each change. Those had significantly changed from the base 1:1 that O’Brian had wagered. It was the same for the last match as well…

Wagering Results from Match 2!

Laddish vs Tarley

Odds: 1:16

Results: 5 Rounds! Tarley won via Knockout!

Your Bet: 500 Bucks

Return: 8,000 Bucks!

O’Brian nearly choked on nothing as he read the results. Not only had the dwarf pulled it off, but the odds of the fight had been so high that he was now…well, rich enough to buy anything he needed right now. Holy hell!

“So much cash,” he muttered as he watched his wealth increase dramatically. His eyes turned to the second wager he had placed.

Wagering Results from Match 3

Michela vs Millard

Odds: 12:1

Results: 2 Rounds! Michela Wins via Yield! A Double Miss in Round 1!

Your Bet: 400 Bucks

Multiplier Bonus: x1.5

Return: 7,200 Bucks!

O’Brian tried to calm down but it failed. “Yes!” he shouted, slamming both fists against the wall. “This is what I’m talking about! Yes, yes, yes!”

“Normally I only hear that kind of cheering in the battlefield or the bedroom,” Alamander said as he walked beside O’Brian. “You win big?”

“I put two modest bets and the returns are…” O’Brian gasped to the wizard, still trying to take it in. “And it’s astronomical!”

“Yup. That’s what makes gambling so fun. You see the base odds in here, but with some upgrades you could see the adjusted odds,” Alamander said. “There’s a lot of money to earn and that’s good stuff, because we desperately need some more fighters.”

“Recruits?” O’Brian asked.

“Day 5 we got a team scramble, that’s 3 vs 3. If we’re down a fighter, we’re considered to have forfeited the match. Never a good look,” Alamander explained. “With your coinage, you could invest in the best gear options for them and of course, you could train them.”

“Training takes XP.”

“It takes your XP, Coach,” the wizard reminded him. “We can fit five more people in the Barracks and you now have the cash to build them up. My suggestion would be to grab some enterprising young wizard. I hear there’s a veritable demon fighting us in the 3 vs 3. Or maybe that was the demons in my head telling me to kill you all on that day. Hard to tell.”

O’Brian shook his head in disbelief. “Wait, my XP can level others up?”

“It’s called Teaching. You’re level 1, which is a world away from the normal who show up in this reality to test their mettle. Most are fodder for the slaughter, but a few may slip through the gates of greatness and become who they were meant to be: target practice while you get into close range.”

“I think I’m going to see that boutique shop that Artemis fellow sent us, then I’ll make decisions afterward,” O’Brian said. He was tempted to gamble more with his winnings, to make even bigger bets, but that was a fool’s errand. He won big by making small bets, no reason to lose it all by getting cocky. He wouldn’t even wager on Finch, as he was unsure whether the man’s level was reflective of being able to take down someone as powerful as an Elephanto.

Instead, it would be better to focus his resources on two major areas: improving his ranged abilities and then equipping a team of scrubs for their debut on Day 5. With off-time, he could spend his XP as needed, but Teaching was now unlocked thanks to his level.

O’Brian departed from the wizard who was muttering about figuring some way to hijack the odds system and made his way to Artemis’ Stand.

The unassuming entrance was in the corner of the shops pavilion, between two large golden pillars. The words Art’s Stand were draped in a red banner and the curling of the letters looked as if someone had painstakingly worked on a logo that was both legible and fancy at the same time.

“Here goes,” he muttered as he walked through the misty doorway. Instantly, he was within a beautiful storefront with dozens of sections.

A woman wearing a red business suit with a black bowtie appeared at his side. Her arm slipped around his. “Ah! There he is, finally ready to make a purchase!” the woman cheerily said. “My name’s Mimic! My sister found a job with Artemis in his very own mountain, and now we Mimics are free to serve the general public without all those terrible rumors of us becoming sticky and viciously murderous to the first adventurer we see!”

“Uh-huh…” O’Brian nervously replied, noticing how stuck he was against this woman’s arm. She felt not like flesh but some kind of false skin that was designed to hold any against their will.

“Anyway, we Mimics of the Skull are trying to change our reputation and so Artemis sent me here to guide anyone who wants to buy. That Charles chump just slapped it all in a catalogue in some dimly lit store and called it a day! Can you imagine? Here you’ve got eye candy to help you pick out the best candy!”

“You said, your name was Mimic?” O’Brian asked.

“Yes! Do you not like my form? I can change it back to a chest that devours people, if you like!”

“Er, no, no,” O’Brian said. Despite his efforts, he could not free himself from her grip. “But I was hoping to purchase a ranged weapon.

“Ahhhh, of course, of course!” Mimic said. She released him, much to his relief, and scuttled overt to a section where dozens of ranged weapons were arranged. There was a glass case full of hand crossbows and pistols alike, each with price tags that caused O’Brian to realize he hadn’t gambled nearly enough for those kinds of weapons. Still, he paused to examine one pistol.

The System quickly showed him the stats.

Heat Ray Gun

Damage: 3 Fire Damage

Cost: 120,000 Bucks

Description: A powerful handgun that uses a spell shard in the center to consistently pour out flames towards any target. Can be used in any hand and can hit multiple targets in one shot.

There were more Techniques for the weapon but O’Brian was cut off as Mimic spoke. “Aha! I see our good man favors a good gun! Trouble is, your pockets aren’t in that league. This is something for those with really deep pockets. But don’t worry, I’m not calling you poor, I’m doing good customer service by implying you are poor instead!”

“Thanks,” O’Brian dryly replied. It seemed that this Artemis fellow didn’t mind sending strange creatures to do his bidding.

“Over here is where you will find what your heart is dead set upon,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him over to the corner of the store where dozens of bows were up on the walls. Each bow was resting on a velvet lined case, with the glass open.

“Is the glass to protect from theft?” O’Brian asked.

“Nonsense, it’s all about presentation. Behind the glass, it’ll kick your ass, glass open, uh…” Mimic trailed off. “I think I had some notecards here about this subject…”

“I think I can take it from here,” O’Brian said as he gazed at each bow. His System Awareness caused three weapons to glow at the same time.

The first bow was made of metal and had a string made of violet substance that caused the bowline to gleam no matter what.

Bow of True Strikes

Rarity: Uncommon

Cost: 4,000 Bucks

Description: This Bow is enchanted with a line that only fires when the shot is lined up perfectly. Some declare the weapon to be cheating, but one must have the skill and strength to fire the shot before they can hit, and thus it is not really an automated weapon (confirmed by all Judges present to be a skill weapon and thus useful for battle.)

Stats:

Shoot Bonus: +25%

Damage: 8

Armor Piercing: 80%

Attack Techniques:

Acquire Target

Cost: 3 TP

Effect: Take one Action to line up a perfect shot. The bow will nudge and move itself until perfectly aligned. Adds +50% to your Shoot Skill. Any percentage over 100% will be converted to the Armor Piercing Roll.

Longshoot the Moon

Cost: 5 TP

Effect: Hit one Target up to 100 Paces away. This attack never misses but can be Dodged or Deflected.

Defense Techniques:

Counter-Snipe

Cost: 2 TP

Effect: Adds +30% to Shoot when Countering a Long-Ranged Weapon being fired at you. Your shot ignores Armor.

This one looked quite promising and would only take five grand worth of bucks to buy. The others gleamed with different information on their combat styles.

Burning Bow

Rarity: Uncommon

Cost: 7,000 Bucks

Description: Some bows lack the ability to set their targets on fire. While they claim to be ‘good’, the truth is if your target isn’t on fire, you weren’t shopping right to begin with. Targets struck by this bow have a 25% chance of Burning, in which the target is ignited on fire for 5 damage per round until they put it out.

Stats:

Long Range Bonus: +10%

Short-Range Bonus: +30%

Damage: 5 Piercing, 5 Burning damage per Round.

Attack Techniques

Burning Bow

TP Cost: 4

Effect: Ignites the bow on fire, adding +5 Fire Damage to your total attack.

Heat Breaker

TP Cost: 2

Effect: If a Target has taken Fire Damage in the current Round, hitting them again will Ignite them.

Ignition Shot

TP Cost: 3

Effect: You may hit a Weapon to Ignite it on fire. Target holding the Weapon takes 1 Fire Damage per use of the Weapon.

Defense Techniques:

Icebreaker

TP Cost: 1

Effect: If your Ally is suffering from a Frost Effect, you may automatically end their Status with a shot from your bow.

Rootvine Bow

Rarity:       Uncommon

Cost: 12,000 Bucks

Description: Hitting a Target is predictable, so why not stop them in their tracks? The Rootvine Bow has been crafted with the most elegant of Plant Runes that allows the weapon to stop an opponent’s movements, tangle up their weapons and better yet, summon a Great Vine to thrash those trying to get to you!

Stats:

Shoot Bonus: +50%

Damage: None

Status: If struck, Target becomes Tangled and cannot use ranged weapons or move until they Break Free with a Grapple Roll.

Attack Techniques:

Rooting Shot

TP Cost: 4

Effect: You may hit up to 3 Targets with a Shoot Test, Each Target cannot dodge as the target is their feet. Each Success causes the Target to become Tangled.

Crushing Vines

TP Cost: 1

Effect: If a Target is Tangled, they take 6 Crushing Damage each time you activate this Technique. This damage ignores all Armor but does not pierce it.

Defensive Techniques

Spray Shot

TP Cost: 3

Effect: Fires at three destinations of your choice. Crushing Vines appear and automatically Tangle any target within 5 Paces of the Vines. These Vines last until the end of the Match, allowing for creative uses for the discerning Bowist.

Break Charge  

TP Cost: 1

Effect: Fire a Crushing Vine at your Location and back up 10 paces to stop a Charge. Charging opponent must choose to attack the Vine or abandon their Charge, ending their action prematurely.

“And these are the cheap ones?” O’Brian asked.

“Cheap is what poor people say, affordable is the better way to express your eagerness to buy the top of the line merchandise!” Mimic said.

O’Brian took the Burning Bow in hand and raised it up. The bow was made of dark wood, with many runes carved up and down the sides. It felt warm to the touch and the red line seemed to cause steam to build up as he moved the weapon around. Light to the touch and better yet, able to augment his short-ranged abilities.

“This would make for a real game changer,” he mused.

“Oh yes, Fire Damage is always a good choice. Most powerful folks ward for magical spells but this is rune magic! It ignores warding effects and such,” Mimic explained. “Unless they are specifically guarded against fire…well, let’s just say it’s a lot of fun to watch someone’s armor melt around their very body.”

“If you say so,” O’Brian said, shuddering as the image went through his head. Still, if his opponents had their way, he’d be cooking like a crab in armor too.

“I do! Shall I ring this up for you?” she asked.

7,000 was a considerable amount of money to spend, but the weapon called to him in a way that was unmistakable. The heat around the handles of the bow, grooves designed to be held specifically by his own fingers…definitely worth the price.

“I want it,” he said. “But I need something else. Something to protect me from Grapples. I can’t see myself slipping out of grabs so easily these days.”

“I have just the recommendation!” Mimic said as she walked over to an area where hundreds of jeweled bands were resting. She unlocked one case and opened it up, pulling out a bangle that was studded with black gems. They glowed with a white light around the edges and O’Brian could see exactly what it was.

Bangle of Grease

Rarity: Rare

Cost: 6,000 Bucks

Effect: When you are Grappled, you immediately gain a 90% chance to escape as a Free Action.

The price point was hard to swallow. But then again, it provided a Free Action, meaning he’d be able to use his sword or dagger in close quarters without fear of being grabbed. Certainly worth the cost, if he was going to be destroyed by something as strong as Harmpton.

“I’ll take this and the bow,” O’Brian said.

“Great!” Mimic said, merrily slapping the band on his right arm. The bangle locked to his arm and he felt a strange slickness on it for a moment, as if the charm itself were showing him how it worked.

He was tempted to have his old bow disposed of, but decided against it. It would be useful to give to a recruit or to use in case he was facing any kind of fire-based foe. For now, he had two powerful artifacts and around 3,000 bucks in the bank. It was time to hire the recruits and divide his XP between training his own abilities and improving those who were joining his very own Gladiator School.

Chapter 20

O’Brian entered the Training Yard to see three people lined up. Each was dressed so differently from one another that it was nearly impossible to tell that they were just level zero nobodies. Grey Greg was waiting for him, standing in front of the three stone-faced fighters.

“Ah! There he is! Recruits show up every day, only to be turned away by our lack of interest,” Greg said. The great beard upon the man seemed to have grown even greyer in the time O’Brian had been out fighting last. “But today is a proud day for The Outsiders! Until this moment, we have simply been a team, now we become a School, like the others! You may have thought the Amoses were devastated by losing their leader, but they have twice as many recruits show up each day as well.”

“And these are all…viable candidates?” O’Brian asked.

“Of course! Gaze upon them for a moment and choose who we are picking.”

O’Brian’s vision immediately updated to show these prospects’ names and abilities.

Sarker Hornetstar

Level: 0

Description: Sarker is a Big Game Hunter from a realm where great monsters the size of windmills walk the earth. Trained by a nurse turned fighter, Sarker is the right man for any contests against those who think themselves bigger than the rest.

Path: Path of the Giant Hunter

Skills:

Long Ranged: 40%

Short Ranged: 38%

Pike: 75%

Talents:

GIantslayer: If Target is Larger than Sarker, he gains a +25% to hit.

Luniver

Level: 0

Description: The moon shines brightly wherever Luniver walks, for he comes from a world where planes branch into endless other realities. Adept at zero-sight conditions, he moves fast and works without complaint, often mumbling about places much harder to navigate than a mere arena.

Path: Path of the Portal Hopper

Skills:

Longsword: 40%

Crossbows: 25%

Spell Scrolls: 90%

Talents:

Environmental Master: Luniver is not affected by environmental changes that affect the ground.

Thresa the Thrasher

Level: 0

Description: While others may shy away from Unarmed Combat, Thresa comes from a world in which fists decide the answer to any question. A brawler and a grappler, she laughs at those who would dare get within range of her vice grip.

Path: Path of the Brawler

Skills:

Unarmed: 50%

Grappling: 55%

Block: 35%

Talents:

Headcracker: All Unarmed Attacks automatically become headshots if the target has no head armor.

“Would it be crass to simply hire them all and wait to see who survives?” O’Brian asked.

“Nonsense, there will be more tomorrow,” Greg cheerily replied. “These folks are greenhorns and applied to this school knowing that it would be easier to be accepted. Remember, as our Prestige grows, so does our applicant roster. Right now, we’re getting every hopeful who wants to show their homeland they were the right pick. They’ll work hard, complain little and best of all, are cheap. I just wouldn’t put money on any of them.”

O’Brian nodded. Seems like today was their lucky day. At 350 bucks each, he could get the whole team for 1,050. Equipping them would be the easy part, as they would just need some stock weapons and armor to become formidable in a fight.

He made the purchase instantly. The roster filled out to show the new team in all its glory.

The Outsiders Team Roster

CHAMPION | STATUS | EXHAUSTION | PRESTIGE | PRESTIGE LEVEL
O’Brian | Fresh | 0% | 53 | 78/100
Finch | Fresh | 0% | 25 |
Sarker | Fresh |  |  |
Luvin | Fresh |  |  |
Thresa | Fresh |  |  |

The recruitment itself was a single use of his off-time slots, so O’Brian had two left. Was it worth teaching them just yet? The 3vs3 coming up was an opportunity to showcase their abilities and with his Burning Bow, O’Brian felt good about any serious fight.

The three became aware of their new team affiliation and all cheered to themselves, trying their best to look professional.

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Greg ordered to the group. “Get into the barracks and wait until you have been armed and armored. Then it will be training for straight days. No one get comfortable and no one start writing any letters back home. You may talk a big game, but O’Brian is in charge.”

“Yes, sir!” the recruits all shouted in unison before running out of the Yard to the Barracks.

“Well they are certainly easy to command,” O’Brian mused.

“I will handle their training schedules. Zeroes aren’t worth much until they get a level and after that, they can manage themselves quite well,” Greg said. “How are we looking in the Funds department?”

“A little under three thousand,” O’Brian replied.

“Then I would suggest you purchase a Bow Trainer’s Dummy,” Greg said. He pointed to the area past a few barrels. “You’ve been trained enough in Archery to know how to shoot a moving target. Your Trainer has done her job, the rest is for you to simply improve your abilities each day. I would suggest you use your remaining slots today to train with the dummy.”

The purchase option appeared in front of O’Brian.

Recommended Yard Training Tool!

Bow Trainer’s Dummy

Cost: 1,000 Bucks

Effect: You may increase your Long or Short Range skill up to 30%.

O’Brian made the purchase and watched as the Yard transformed, the barrels that had been placed for target training turning into a large wooden dummy that was attached to a metal rigging. The dummy began moving from left to right as mechanical gears beneath rotated endlessly to move the item.

“Well, I suppose I best get to training…” O’Brian said. He glanced at his weapon stats to check what needed the most work. With the new bow equipped, he could see his updated abilities with short and long ranged combat.

They didn’t look all that bad, but the Rank of Short Range was set to 0, meaning O’Brian could get the most results out of training Short today. With 2 more slots, he decided to get to work…

Hours passed as he fired shot after shot, 20 paces away at first. It was harder to hit a moving target and arrows zipped past seemingly after every shot. It was frustrating to not see his target lit on fire, but over time, every tenth seemed to hit square in the center of the dummy. Those times were his favorite, as he could see his Skill Rank increase by 2% all while the flames were extinguished instantly by the magic of the Yard itself.

Little by little, he made progress, and by the end of the first day, he had earned 8 ranks total in Short-Ranged. His exhaustion didn’t go up too high either, only 10%.

There was a call from the Yard; it was the gambler fellow Taxon. “Ay there! Big Finch is gonna fight your worst nightmare? Call it a day, son, you ain’t getting any more use out of those slots.”

“I thought the fight would be earlier,” O’Brian said.

“Nah, the schedulers prefer to save the best for last,” Taxon replied. “I noticed you weren’t too quick to come ask for your money back, by the way.”

“I didn’t realize I wasn’t really seeing the odds as much as what the internal system deemed,” O’Brian said as he placed the bow in a holder rack besides the dummy.

“I was wondering why you seemed so unsure of easy money, always bet on the dwarf, my friend!” Taxon chuckled as he handed a clip full of bucks to O’Brian. “You care for an aggressive wager on this fight too?”

“I count Finch a friend,” O’Brian started to say only to be cut off by the dwarf.

“But you think he’s fresh meat for that grinder of an elephant man!” Taxon laughed. “Same thought here. Finch is tough but the Announcer gets calls every now and then. He coulda easily saved anyone with a mere word but my guess is that he’s a ringer.”

“Ringer?” O’Brian echoed as they walked up to the wagering board.

“The King’s Favorite,” Taxon muttered, keeping his voice below a dull roar. “I don’t want to say it but my theory is that the king wants you and that Silk lady dead. You show up at the same time, well, not you, but the spirit in your blade…and then suddenly his best and brightest are shredded.”

They made it to the wager board. The odds were rough against Finch. 10:1, favoring Harmpton.

“So the king may have brought Harmpton in under his private team. They are normally called the Nameless, but that Silk lady ruined that moniker. They aren’t a formal school, more like…oh I know! A Shadow School. One that has only the choicest of fighters. Often handpicked from…” Taxon trailed off for a minute.

“From what?” O’Brian demanded.

“Well, er, from the dead who were sacrificed. But it’s just a rumor, right? Surely these offerings are only for show and nothing else?” Taxon said.

“Just exactly who is this monster keeping these games together?”

“That’s the same question that Charles fellow once asked our shop. Answer to you is the same as to him. He’s a god of death and carnage to those in this land and nothing more than a spectator to those who arrive.”

“He didn’t look like a god to me, just a man who thinks himself above everyone else,” O’Brian replied.

He paused from the conversation to consider placing a bet. Harmpton was from a Shadow School of some kind, a hidden group that avoided being known by the general public. Finch was just a warrior from a faraway place, though imposing and mighty.

O’Brian decided to put 200 Bucks on Finch, just as a sign of good faith. Personally, he didn’t see how the fight was going to go down in the big man’s favor but perhaps he would be wrong.

Chapter 21

The Outsiders Stand was busier than before. Where there had been only a handful of people the last time O’Brian had been out to spectate, there were now hundreds. Most of them were oddly dressed in silken robes that had dragons alongside the edges of the hems. These red dragons were intricately woven into the silk and many of these humanoids showed signs of draconic eyes.

“I’m guessing we’re popular with the dragon people,” O’Brian said as he watched the arena.

“Oh yes, dragons are frequent fliers into these kinds of places,” Alamander said. “Dragons can vary from realm to realm but almost every reality has these interesting creatures. Some are mostly sapient minded while others are vicious brutes with a thirst for destruction. Hard to tell which dragons are well-behaved when others slip into the same realm to bring a bad name to all of dragonkind.”

O’Brian nodded, only half paying attention to Alamander’s rant on dragons. He had never heard of a dragon before the System Awareness gave him a general understanding of the creatures. The only legendary things he had known were the gladiators themselves and Harmpton may be part of those legends…

The Announcer began to shout as Finch and the great elephanto emerged from their respective gates. The entire crowd went wild at the sight of both. “You folks demanded a real fight and here it is! Hailing from a land of giants and runes, Finch is ready to show you all that no beast can tame this man!

“And on the other side is Harmpton himself! He’s said to have fought his way through the very gates of hell, just to turn back around and dive in for some more!” the Announcer concluded.

The round began without much buildup. The entire audience was going wild from the start; it seemed that this was the match to end all matches. O’Brian wondered if perhaps he should have purchased the Hype House to make the most out of these kinds of fights, but that was for later.

The first round started with Finch winning the coin toss. The big man rushed forward at full speed, his spear raised high as he charged without relent. Harmpton, the massive elephanto turned and anticipated the strike, then at the last possible moment, spun to the right, his speed surprising to all.

Finch stopped dead in his tracks as the beast turned aside, his heels digging into the ground to bring his momentum to a halt. He turned instantly and struck with the spear, stabbing at the opening Harmpton had made.

The spear did not make it through the creature’s hide and Harmpton continued his dodge, leaping aside and raising his great elephantine hands. “That tickled,” he said. No blood was shed, nor were there any signs of damage upon the man’s body.

O’Brian leaned forward and held his breath as he watched Harmpton punch a great fist towards Finch. The big man had no trouble dodging the attack as he flicked to the right, his head easily bobbing out of the way of the strike.

Harmpton struck again with the other fist but Finch was too fast. He dodged once more and the round ended.

“These two are on equal footing for now, but my guess is that Harmpton is just wearing his opponent down for a big finish!” the Announcer said.

The pair was deep in melee and O’Brian had trouble telling who was taking their turn. They were both stabbing and punching at each other, tusk and spear clashing over and over as they fought in a wild frenzy. Without system data, it was hard to keep up with who was winning. But by the end of the fourth round, Finch was staggering backwards.

“Come on, Finch!” O’Brian shouted. “Show him!”

The voice was drowned out in the sea of voices all demanding to see Finch killed. The big man was bleeding heavily now, his arms almost raw from the amount of times he blocked the tusks and the massive fists. This was no Exhibition Match or show; it was completely close quarters chaos.

Finch, who was now missing his spear due to being disarmed in either the second or third round, raised his hands. He took no other action.

Harmpton punched, once, twice and a third time in a frenzied combo that was nearly too fast to see. Finch’s bare chest absorbed each punch, though the third one staggered him, but for only a moment. In the last second of the punch, Finch seized both of Harmpton’s tusks and, with the strength of a true warrior, rolled the entire beast onto its back.

“Oh, Finch can take a punch!” the Announcer cheered. The entire audience had lulled in the middle of the fight, unable to maintain a chant in favor of one before the other’s side drowned them out. Now they were all screaming as Finch saddled atop Harmpton, keeping both hands on the tusks.

“Hold it, hold it!” the Announcer said. “I’ve just…well, goodness me! In all my years, I’ve never seen something so decisive. Friends, friends, it is a Tie! The Judges have already submitted their panel rulings and it’s a perfect ten after that maneuver.”

“A tie?” O’Brian asked. “They called it early…”

“Funny thing is, while this was the match of the century, a tie nullifies all bets and provides nothing to either side!” Alamander said. “Which is why I purchased booze ahead of time with money that I would have owed!”

“Wait, we get nothing?” O’Brian asked, snapping out of his spectator mode. “What do you mean? They had one round left and it was anyone’s fight.”

“And the Judges gave each fighter a perfect ten…” Alamander said. He stroked his long beard and chewed on this. “You’re right. Damn it, you’re right. Something seems fishy here…”

Each stand faded one by one, but Alamander and O’Brian remained in place. A gnome was nearby, waddling up to them. He was a short fellow, wearing a red and green vest with an orange pointed cap atop his head.

“You boys look perplexed, anything old Vimmer can help with? It is said, by gnomes, that gnomes know all secrets!” he said, bowing and doffing his cap for a moment.

“Last time I told a gnome something precious, my damnable internship imploded!” Alamander said, stomping his foot. “But we are somewhat curious. The rules are pretty set in stone, aren’t they?”

“The king is concerning this season. While he has always been capricious and cruel, he seems to have special contempt for O’Brian. Finch was going to win the fight, you can bet on it. A lot of money was going to change hands and a lot of schools would have more resources than you could count. The odds went crazy during the match and well…let’s just say the king makes his own wagers as well,” Vimmer explained.

“You’re saying he’s manipulating the odds for money?” O’Brian asked.

“Nope, he wanted to keep Harmpton alive. The man doesn’t care about cash but he is aware that the better schools were putting too much of their own money onto Harmpton.”

“So you’re saying he cheated in order to stop us from getting a win?” Alamander growled. “Who the hell does this king think he is? If anyone’s gonna rig this game, it’s gonna be me. Trust me, I’ve been kicked out of enough casinos to know when things stink.”

“You’re positive Finch was going to win?” O’Brian asked, frowning a little.

“Harmpton had taken a severe injury to his rib. Finch just needed to tighten his legs in the first action and that elephanto would have tapped to just stop the pain,” Vimmer replied.

A few other gnomes popped up around O’Brian. This was no series of illusion, they waved and spoke a thing or two about the current topic.

“You both talking about how it’s rigged?” one asked.

“Tell him the King Fasser is trying to get O’Brian killed!” another piped up.

“I was getting to that,” Vimmer said. “Point is, sacrifices don’t get out very often. The king fears that since he too is just a mortal, you may be able to break free of your bonds. No one has ever survived a season before, no one like you that is.”

“I knew it! That bastard is mortal!” Alamander yelled. “These uppity non-mages, they almost always try to claim divinity but you never see them within lightning bolt distance, do you pal?”

These gnomes seemed clever enough to speak on this matter. “Would you think I have a chance of killing him?” O’Brian asked.

“Six of us gnomes have money on it happening.”

Chapter 22

O’Brian awoke the next morning fresh and ready to train. He had the XP necessary to continue building up on his Short-Ranged ability. Returning to training was simple and he watched as he lost 50 points from today’s session. 50 points until 50% skill. It was going to be a long three slots…

As O’Brian finished up this third slot, he smiled at the now 14% Short Range skill. The training was getting easier with each day as he learned far more about how not to force too much pressure in order to get the fastest possible shot.

He sat at the banquet table and munched on some bread as he made purchases for the newcomers. Armor sets for all three, a stock bow and spear for Sarker, 2 Lightning Bolt Scrolls and a longsword for Luniver as well as a pair of brass knuckles for Thresa. The costs brought their overall budget down to around 1,000 bucks.

O’Brian went about wagering on the next three fights, mostly following Taxon’s advice as he made each call. Then, it was off to sleep.

The next day was more or less the same. The Recruits were being drilled constantly by Grey Greg himself while O’Brian grinded out his Short-Range ability. The third day of training turned to be the smoothest as O’Brian learned to stop thinking entirely and to just focus on the movement of the dummy. In this meditative state, time passed as quickly as it does when one is distracted by combat.

He left to sit back at the banquet hall and checked on his winnings. They were up to 5,000, thanks to one upset that offset the rest of his bad bets. He was getting the hang of this coaching and management system. Now all he needed to do was get back to his training until it was time for the 3 vs 3…

O’Brian woke up and instinctively began to dress. Three days of Off-Time training had sailed by but now he was sitting at a handsome 25% Short-Ranged skill. Dodging his fire attacks was going to be much harder now.

Finch had too many remaining injuries to join in the 3 vs 3, so it was O’Brian, Luverin and Sarker Hornetstar who were going to duke it out. There had been rumors of a demon facing against The Outsiders this time? That was going to be a strange and terrible thing to withhold.

The three united in front of the gate. Luniver was a pale fellow who dressed mostly in all black; even his leather band armor had been blackened with dyes. His eyes were bright yellow and he grinned from ear to ear. “I’ve been in countless worlds, but this is the only place where I feel at home!”

Sarker, a shorter man with a scruffy beard, raised his spear up. “No matter how mighty our foes are, know that I shall not break!”

“None of us shall fall this day,” O’Brian added. He drew his katana and took a deep breath. Time to see what was waiting for them on the other side.

The team stepped through the gate and was blinded for only a moment before they were standing within 10 paces of each other, 30 away from the enemy team. The team had arrived just as the judges were announced.

Judges Panel:

Judge Eric

Description: Always eager to win a private wager, Judge Eric’s opinions change based on Popularity and Pageantry. Is he breaking the laws? Lawless says no.

Likes: Popular Combatants, High Pageantry, Honor in a Fight

Dislikes: Cheap Shots, Hotheads and those who sully their finery

Favored Technique: Artemis Stance

Judge Thunder

Description: Thunder comes from a world of eternal lightning. His powers of arcing electricity raised him to the heavens themselves – and beyond!

Likes: Magic, Charges and Sniping

Dislikes: Taunting, Dodging

Favored Technique: Sharpshooting

Judge Arseon

Description: A long shot, a burning cigarette and a thrown torch, Arseon enjoys seeing the flames and fury of combat.

Likes: Shooting, Fire Damage, Deflected Shots

Dislikes: Spells, Sword Combat, Instant Hits

Favored Technique: Ranger Style

“And there they are, the Outsiders with some fresh meat for the killing fields!” the Announcer shouted. “Their opponents have already arrived. First, we have the demon eye Hix, hailing from a land where vengeance is the gods’ work! Next up, if you have unfinished business then he is your business, we have the Revenant Velking. Rumor has it that Hix was his eye prior to appearing here. And third, we have a necromantic warrior from the lower hells themselves, the Skellacious Killer known as Grim to all who have died before him!”

O’Brian quickly became aware of the power of these fighters. A new Stand had appeared in the middle sections, revealing his foes were indeed very powerful. Hundreds of thousands were sitting in the stands, cheering and chanting for their ruler, Velking himself.

Stand: The Assassins

Realms often have prices put on people’s heads. Some call it contract killing, other call it art, but if you’re valuable enough, they’ll call your death an assassination!

Sections:

Necromancers: 20%

Gamblers: 50%

Rogues: 30%

School: The Hunters of Prey

They walk in shadow, they hunt without a sound. They consider their targets to be nothing more than prey and kill with the ferociousness of a predator. Skilled in all forms of distraction, vanishing and stealth killing.

Velking was a real piece of work. He was an undead of some sort, wearing mostly rags upon his body. White patchy flesh intermingled with blackened skin that made him appear to be a patchwork of body parts. He wore a black helm upon his head, horns on both sides. These horns dripped continual blood and underscored his deadliness. The rags didn’t appear to be anything useful, was it a challenge for Velking to fight without armor? Or did he merely invest everything into that helm? Hard to tell as gear didn’t reveal itself during a fight.

To his left was the demon Hix. He was a red star in the air, a floating six-pointed being with a single red eye in the center. How the hell would they hurt it? Fire probably wouldn’t work on a demon, so O’Brian just hoped that lightning would handle it.

Their third opponent was a tall skeleton carrying a massive club with a chunk of sheet metal installed at the end of it. To call the weapon an axe was to do a real disservice to the fine craftsmen who made such weapons. This was more of a club with an iron scrap meant to sever a person in half.

Grim, the skeleton, wore heavy metal armor and a curved steel helm. Black energy swirled within its eye sockets and the mouth hung open at all times.

“Sir, we weren’t expecting this at all!” Sarker cried. “These are monsters!”

“Competitors would be the polite term,” O’Brian said back. He could see a shakiness in both of his allies. They were Afraid suddenly.

“Come on!” the Ronin said, aiming his sword towards Velking. He was undoubtedly the team leader. “Hold fast and move only together. This school focuses in surprise attacks.”

The Announcer, ignorant of their conversation, shouted out. “And the coin toss goes to…The Hunters of Prey! Good luck to the chumps on the other side, shoulda brought out Finch!”

Velking took his action first. He dashed a few feet towards O’Brian and then vanished completely. That had to be at least two actions, right?

The demon flew up higher into the air, now 30 paces away and 20 paces vertical. It began to fire burning rays of heat from its eyes, straight towards Sarker.

“Dodge!” O’Brian ordered as he saw the heat begin to rise up in the air. It was a small difference in the arena but O’Brian could practically sense the attack before it happened.

“Ah!” Sarker shouted as he took the advice. Above, O’Brian could see his ally’s skill roll. Dodge Test! 45%...18! Success!

Sarker leapt out of the way just in time to avoid the flaming funnel that crashed into the sands besides him, turning it to glass. Sarker scrambled a little but managed to stay on his feet.

“Curses! Always the squirrelly ones!” Hix grumbled.

Grim took his turn next, charging straight towards O’Brian. His massive club-axe was raised high and O’Brian could see a dozen different ways to react. He took a deep breath and activated the Retreat Technique from his Legacy Katana. As the great skeleton thundered up to O’Brian, he sprang backwards, ten paces from the target, leaving a small clearing between the two.

The great club came smashing down and missed by only two paces. Damn! O’Brian forgot about the weapon’s reach. That could have been a lot more deadly if the club was only a big longer…

The turn did not flip over. Instead, Velking appeared directly in front of O’Brian, his body becoming visible instantly. Velking had long claws that were extended from the edges of his fingers, capable of rending through flesh with ease. No doubt they’d ignore metal, as Velking’s claws were pointed into triangular patterns on both sides as he lunged. O’Brian activated his Easy Dodge technique, jumping back a few steps to avoid the attack entirely. Great, that was all of his Action Points for the round, but Velking was within melee distance now. Maybe it was time to give that Adrenaline a try…

The round turned over to the other three. O’Brian was up close against Velking with the great Grim only ten paces away. The demon Hix was in the sky, preparing to rain fire down upon them again. This was not evenly matched, considering both of O’Brian’s allies were still in their Afraid state.

The status meant they had a 10% chance of not taking an action. Unless…O’Brian had Heart right? He quickly spent the point to rally his people.

“You both signed up for this fight,” O’Brian said. “No one demanded you come here. Will your legend vanish before it even started? I stand strong and so do you!”

Immediately, both of his allies, Sarker and Luverin had their Afraid status disappear, reducing 2 points of Heart from O’Brian.

“Orders?” Luverin asked. He had his longsword ready but O’Brian needed him to do something else.

“The demon, use your Lightning Scroll on it!” he ordered. This took no action, to command his team, meaning that it would be he who chose their fates at the end of the day.

“On it!” the planehopper said and he drew a scroll from the side of his vest, unfurling it and reading aloud.

“Thunder of the plains, dark of the storm, destroy that which is forlorn!” he bellowed, and wind picked up all around him. He tested his skill. Testing Scrolls 90%...46! Success!

Storm clouds built up around the arena for a split second, sheathing everyone in darkness as a pale Luverin thrust a hand upwards towards his target. His fingers spread out the right way and a burst of electricity crashed into the demon above.

10 Electricity Damage! appeared above Hix’s head and the eye fell to the ground with a thump. A demon rapidly assembled on the ground, its rubbery red body writhing in agony. It was still alive, however.

“One more, there’s no glory in letting them get back up!” O’Brian said.

“That was all my mana!” Luverin said. He drew his sword. “I’ve got it though!”

And with that, the man charged forward towards the collapsed demon, though he lacked the speed to reach there this round. Still, he was close enough to threaten the creature if it tried to move away.

Velking laughed at this. “You think a single bolt of electricity is enough to kill a demon?”

Sarker, no longer afraid, defaulted to his training and charged the great skeleton with his lance. “Death to you!”

The skeleton merely stared at him, not comprehending anything stupid enough to charge something so big. He had no reaction points and Sarker’s talent made the pike in his hands even deadlier.

Skeleton Ability Activated! Ignore Damage: 55%...vs Sarker’s Pike 75%...Grim rolled a 70! Failed! Sarker hits!

The long pike speared right through the chest cavity of the great skeleton and the words 8 damage appeared above it. The crowd gasped at the skilled strike, though Grim did not react.

O’Brian still had two actions, thanks to his Adrenaline, and he decided to use them now. Velking was the leader…Sarker was from a land of giant hunters, he’d have a better chance surviving against the giant skeleton save for one problem: the lad was out of reaction points too.

Velking flexed his claws in anticipation for an attack but O’Brian decided to use his Feint Feat, forcing the monstrous man to move aside as he opted to Charge straight into Grim, Legacy Katana raised high.

“Banzaiiii!” he screamed, charging through the opening, spending the 2 TP to turn his charge into something that would level the giant skeleton. His feet beneath him became like wind as he ran so fast that the enemy skeleton could scarcely react.

Hit! 8 Damage! appeared in O’Brian’s vision when he struck the creature right where the pike had speared. Cracks and broken bone made it easy enough to target the weak spot and he thrust his blade upwards, sliding to a halt as the momentum of the attack was transferred.

“Oooh and a feint and a charge from O’Brian, looks like he values the living like Velking uses the dead!” the Announcer cheered and the great skeleton fell over onto his side, falling to pieces as the energy reanimating him faded.

Dust rose up all around them for a second and then settled. O’Brian had one Adrenaline point left and had to choose: Velking or the demon.

“Have you ever slain a demon?” O’Brian asked the spirit within his blade.

“Some say that with the amount of men I have slain, that I was the demon,” came the reply. It was certain in its tone. “This blade has been anointed in the blood of very evil men. And perhaps that counts as holy.”

O’Brian was 20 paces away. Another charge. He hurried as fast as he could, spending his last point of Adrenaline as he buried the blade into the chest of the creature that was still on the ground, recovering from the lightning bolt.

Hit! 6 damage! appeared above Hix. Lethal Blow! Demonic Regeneration Activating…35%...50! Regeneration failed!

“Damn it all, I’m never gonna hear the end of this,” Hix muttered as he merely faded from the battlefield, O’Brian’s blade now free.

“Two down for the price of one long charge,” the Announcer said. “But now it’s time for the second round, let’s see how well Velking repays the favor.”

The round flipped over and Velking turned to face its three adversaries. He was closest to Sarker. In an instant, he was charging too, leaping the distance at the last moment to slash away at the giant slayer.

Sarker lifted his pike up to defend. Defend Test! 30%...02! Success

The long claws of the revenant were caught by the sides of the metal pike, Sarker bringing his weapon upwards to stop the advance. The sound of bone on metal rang out and the audience went wild.

“There’s a defense no one expected! What was his name again? No matter, Velking’s got one more move!”

“Die!” Velking shouted and he began to slash at Sarker in a wild flurry.

Defend Test! 30%...67! Failed!

Sarker tried to bring his pike sideways to stop one of the attacks from slipping through but wasn’t fast enough. Two jabs, then a third, struck him in the torso, turning his leather tunic bright red. 15 damage! Fatal!

“Damn it…tell them I at least made it to round 2…” Sarker gasped as he faded from the arena. The entire crowd cheered the words Vel-King, Vel-King, over and over again.

“Damn it, you saw how much damage he did?” Luniver asked as the round flipped over to them. O’Brian ignored the man and drew out his Flaming Bow.

“We’ll give it double!” he replied. “Shoot it with your lightning bolt, that mana restored, yeah?”

“Just one attack…” Luniver said, turning to face the undead foe. “Together?”

“Fire!” O’Brian shouted and he stretched back the bow’s string, prepared to loose an arrow. They were 20 paces away from their target, which counted as Close Range.

Luniver tested his scroll abilities first. Scroll Test! 90%...07! Success!

O’Brian released the arrow he had nocked at the same time his ally aced his skill test. Lightning and arrow came crashing towards Velking.

Outnumbered Ability Activated! Testing Dodge against Lightning 68%...69! Failed! Testing Dodge against Bow 68%...55!

“By the Huntress!” O’Brian bellowed as time slowed down. Dodge has been forced to Re-Roll! 40! Dodge successful!

The lightning bolt crashed into Velking, dealing 4 damage to him as he leapt aside from the burning arrow.

Damn it! O’Brian had been successful the first time and the second. And that 4 damage was barely lethal.

“He survived!” Luniver said. “My lightning hit square but barely hurt him.”

“Grab the bow off my back,” O’Brian ordered. His ally complied, quickly yanking it off. “Shoot at your leisure.”

O’Brian drew out his blade and readied to charge once more. Let’s see Velking dodge this one.

The Ronin gathered dust beneath his feet as he ran, then the sound of a thwip was heard as an arrow zipped past his head. Velking was just turning in time to see both attacks. He raised his claws to defend but was too slow. The pressure from the charge made it impossible for him to dodge with any abilities he might have had, and the arrow, burning red as the dusk’s sun, buried itself in the shoulder of the revenant.

5 Piercing Damage ignores Damage Resistance! Ignition chance 25%...59! No Burn Damage!

O’Brian slid hard to the right and brought his sword to hip level, turning the Banzai charge into a slash. The blade struck Velking hard in the torso, dealing 8 more damage. Velking fell backwards and raised his claws up.

“Like the dead,” he muttered, “I give for now. Only to return later!”

The entire crowd cheered at this twin attack and O’Brian grinned. Velking’s hit points were low enough for a kill but not an execution. A shame, as the Ronin would have taken the creature’s head off fast enough.

“And Velking is on his ass but still strong enough to know the battle is lost but the war rages on!” the Announcer cheered. “That’s it, three versus three over in two tight rounds. I’m willing to bet no one saw the scrub surviving! And here are the rulings from the Judges!”

Judge Arseon:

The Outsiders: 8/10

Hunters of Prey: 0/10

Judge Thunder:

The Outsiders: 9/10

Hunters of Prey: 2/10

Judge Eric:

The Outsiders: 5/10

Hunters of Prey: 0/10

Total Favor: 22! The Outsiders have gained 22 Prestige!

“Well, if you were hoping for a technical victory, you’d be sorely disappointed as the Judges were mostly delighted with how the Outsiders conducted themselves. Maybe the Hunters of Prey should work better on coordination if they want to win this on points!” the Announcer cheered.

The Outsiders have won the 3vs3 Match!

You have gained the following:

Popularity: 100/100

Pageantry Bonus: +50 Bucks

Red Rank Bonus: 200 Bucks

Match Experience Bonus: 1,200 XP

Chapter 23

O’Brian sank into the hot waters as his darling Lily cheerily washed him. She had been waiting for him in his hammock earlier and after their time together, they both needed to get cleaned.

“You always know just where to scrub to get the tension out of these weary bones,” O’Brian murmured as Lily scrubbed away at his back. They were keeping it professional, for Luniver was in the other bath, treated to a luxurious cleaning from Mon’Sieur.

“That fight was something else,” Luniver said. “I think I’m going to go mage for sure.”

“Wizard is the correct term,” Alamander said as he barged into the bathing area. “And I’ve got exciting news. While you were busy getting the guts and grime out of your bare asses, I just got word that we are now…wait for it…Orange Rank! Our Prestige capped out to 100 and that means we’re in it now!”

O’Brian moved over to the edge of the wooden basin and stretched a leg out to allow Lily to clean his aching heels. She tickled his foot a little before beginning to dig the sponge into him. “What does this mean?”

“A lot! First off, our Roster expands by 3. Next, our base pay goes up to 1,000 per combatant in the ring! Popularity limit goes up to 200 and right now we are hot, hot, hot!” Alamander said. “Best of all, we can start hiring people starting at Level 1. That’s some real firepower we have on our hands.”

“What level was Velking?” O’Brian asked.

“Same as you, numbnuts. You only get to face enemies who are your exact level or lower in a fight, though really…” Alamander trailed off. “A lot of these folks who come in are pretty experienced in combat and they get some special abilities due to their inherent strength.”

“There’s a whole sign-up process, sir,” Luniver added. “You get to choose a few abilities from your own system that get turned into Techniques. Mine is the ability to teleport instead of defending once per fight.”

“Rank Orange,” O’Brian mused. “How very interesting.”

“What’s in that noggin of yours?” Alamander asked, handing an ice cold bottle of booze to O’Brian. The Ronin took the drink and sipped from it. Though the bottle was cold, the liquid tasted like fire, burning his tongue and causing him to cough for a moment. The haze of the alcohol was almost immediate.

“The Elephanto isn’t our level and he did well enough against Finch,” O’Brian mused. “Who is ultimately in charge of who fights?”

“King,” Alamander said. “And he can easily use his own System Mastery to change how things look to the rest of us. One would suspect that he tones it down or up depending on who can see it. Those gnome bastards aren’t liars, I’ll tell you that much. They’ve been here since the day the mountain was carved into a great coliseum. Some say they even gave the king advice on how to lay the foundation down. But they aren’t a fan of the sacrifices. Not at all.”

“Suppose there was some way to lure the king down to fight me…” O’Brian started to say, only to be cut off by Alamander.

“Suppose nothing, you surly bastard! He’s trying to win by putting you up against Harmpton. My guess is he’s the one you’ll be facing in the 2 vs 2. Finch is tough but…Harmpton may have been holding back just to look like he’s on equal terms with the big guy.”

“No,” Finch said as he entered.

“Form a line, why doncha,” Lily said as she sank beneath the waters so that only her eyes and nose were visible. Finch cast a great shadow across the warmly lit room.

“Harmpton is from a race of great warrior elephants. They were once beasts of the plains, hunted for their tusks and hide. Then one day, they rose up and fought their hunters. You may not understand him, but I do,” Finch said as he sat on the edge of O’Brian’s tub. “He yearns to prove himself.”

“You don’t think he’s a ringer?” O’Brian asked.

“I believe he was chosen because his race gives him many advantages over even the strongest class. At level 7, I should have been able to destroy him. But…it seems to me that Harmpton is of a different breed of gladiator altogether. An Elite perhaps.”

“Hmmm,” Alamander muttered. “Elites gain access to the king’s very power. He can channel his energies into them to grant them all number of useful abilities.”

“For all we know,” Finch continued. “He could be level 10 in his home world but only level 1 here due to the experience system. For those of us who return to fight, we maintain our old XP if we can win the opener. Something not terribly difficult for us. That Velking had not fought before. He was loose with his allies because he relies entirely on his own skill to win. But that doesn’t work in an arena fight. One must coordinate.”

O’Brian nodded. “The skill system makes us all subject to a higher law, regardless of our experience back home.”

“For those who have such a thing,” Sarker said. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken,” O’Brian said as he climbed out of the tub. Mon’Sieur was quick to wrap a towel around his waist and Lily rubbed his shaggy hair with a rag until it was nice and dry. “I think we need to start gearing up more. Can we get a sponsorship yet?”

“Funny you should ask,” Alamander said, wrapping his arm around O’Brian’s shoulder and leading him out of the bathes. “We’ve gotten a few formal offers. They pay well but require a certain kind of…finesse, each one of them. I’ve taken a liberty of sorting the better offers for you.”

O’Brian reached the table where four gift baskets were sitting, unblemished. Paperwork was beneath each one and the System quickly absorbed the data, showing it to the Ronin.

Team Sponsorship Deals

Charles Morris Co.

Description: The Great Entrepreneur, Mr. Morris himself, has taken notice of your combat abilities and more importantly, of your involuntary participation in the great game of Gladiator Matches. He wishes to directly support you with a generous discount on his Catalogue Wares, though he prefers to see mercy as opposed to bloodthirsty executions.

Offerings: 50% off the Catalogue, 2 Weapon Vouchers and 2 Armor Vouchers

Victory Bonuses: +2,500 Bucks per Victory

Stipulations: No Executions

Brown Brothers Bottling

Description: Everyone drinks something and if it’s brown, well the Brown Brothers want your business! These interdimensional brothers prefer all worlds know they make the best whiskeys with the smoothest finish!

Offerings: 5 Potion Vouchers at Odd Botanist

Victory Bonuses: 5,000 Bucks per Victory

Stipulations: None

The Ranger’s Guild

Description: Those who guide others through dangerous territories can always use a planar presence in places where many congregate. With their sponsorship, they can advertise their planar travel services and more importantly, put money in your coffers with each successful fight.

Offerings: 1 Premium Fighter when Recruiting

Victory Bonuses: 7,500 Bucks per Victory

Stipulations: A ranged weapon must be used once per Match.

Arms Abound

Description: These arms dealers prefer to deal with those who know how to handle a hammer or a blade in the fine art of gladiator matches. They want their combats to be bloody and brutal, using any manner of melee weapon to show pure superiority. The bloodier the battle, the better the pay.

Offerings: 500 Bucks per foe Downed, 1,000 Bucks per Execution

Victory Bonuses: 10,000 Bucks per match

Stipulations: A Gladiator must use execution if it is available.

O’Brian studied these four sponsors for a time. Charles Morris Company seemed to be on the cheaper end when it came to payouts but then again, those vouchers and the percentage off? Clearly the man was competing with Artemis for sales…but those Artemis weapons were certainly something else.

The other three offered progressively better victory bonuses, but a permanent discount on gear? Hard to argue against…if not for the fact that O’Brian was feeling a bit of loyalty towards Artemis. The weapons were quite expensive, that was true, but with a few good gambling decisions, O’Brian would be able to purchase the best that Artemis had to offer.

After some mulling it over, O’Brian decided to take the Sponsorship that offered the most per victory. Arms Abound would be his team’s first sponsor. Immediately, he received a sponsorship package deal, paying out for the last fight.

Sponsorship chosen!

You gain 11,000 Bucks from the last fight!

Chapter 24

O’Brian entered the Potions shop with a budget ready to improve his abilities to react to trouble. The Outsiders had won enough cash to really set them up for success in the next two rounds. It was almost time to sleep, O’Brian knew, since his Exhaustion was almost at 59%.

The Odd Botanist shop was far more intimate than the other shops. There was a booth at the front of the shop where a fairy stood, chain-smoking cigarettes while a little broom and dustpan cleaned the ashes as they fell.

To his right was a large armoire with dozens of potions, as well as two shelves with things on sale. On the other side, he could see scrolls and poisons locked behind glass.

“There’s our hero!” the fairy said, waving to him. She was wearing a clerk’s visor and seemed to be indifferent to his presence. “The great survivor himself!”

“I’m O’Brian,” he said.

“Sage is my name, though I prefer the scent to my own,” she chuckled. “Potions on your left, poisons and scrolls on the right. Feel free to taste test any potion if your palate is sensitive but we locked up the poisons for your peace of mind.”

As she spoke, the potions began to shine and the System showed him the available inventory.

Potions

Basic Healing Potion

Price: 200 Bucks

Description: It’s not much but will get you back to even.

Effect: Heals 1 point of Damage.

Strong Healing Potion

Price: 800 Bucks

Description: This will get any fighter back on their feet in a pinch.

Effect: Heals 5 Points of Damage.

Arcane Resistance Potion

Price: 1,500 Bucks

Description: Magic has a way of breaking even the strongest of warriors, for that, we suggest innervating yourself against their power ahead of time.

Effect: Gain 80% Arcane Resistance against any magical effect for a Round.

Potion of Firebreathing      

Price: 2,000 Bucks

Description: Take a sip and let the flames rip out of your mouth!

Effect: You can Breathe Fire after drinking this potion, creating a cone of flames that hit up to 20 paces of space. Caution: the fire does not recognize friend or foe, so make sure before you spew.

Potion of Electric Grasp

Price: 2,500 Bucks

Description: Grapplers tend to be shocked if you get this in your gullet before they get their hands on you!

Effect: After Quaffing this Potion, those who try to grapple you during the Round will instead take 10 Electric Damage.

Potion of Ice Armor

Price: 4,000 Bucks

Description: Heat and arrows, blades and clubs? All meaningless to the cold depths of frost.

Effect: Grants you 15 Points of Ice Armor. This Armor prevents all damage to the user while encased and has a 50% chance of extinguishing a fire attack. Lasts until the Armor is depleted. This Armor does not stack with existing armor.

These were certainly powerful. He turned his attention to the scrolls. His Recruit, Luniver, could use scrolls, though his mana was much to be desired for.

“Any chance you have mana potions?” O’Brian asked.

Sage nodded. “Of course, they’re on sale too. 2 Potions for five thousand.”

“And they restore how much Mana?”

“One” came the reply. “It’s dirty business trying to drink a potion in order to fire a scroll. A lot of actions required. You’d be better off buying something that expands your natural mana level if you don’t have the right class for scrolls. Or if you’re keen on that Artemis fellow, a Wand might be your best bet.”

“A wand?”

“Think of it as a stored spell,” she explained, taking a new cigarette out of a very large box. The tip lit itself as she raised it to her lips. “Wands require no mana, as they are charged up already but they can only be used a certain number of times. And there’s no recharging, so you get three charges? That it’s! Toss it in the bin, it’s done for.”

O’Brian chewed on that. “Scrolls provide utility,” he mused. “Since you could have a few. But a wand is more or less about certainty.”

“Just about sums it up,” Sage said, blowing out smoke that looked somewhat like starlight. “So you gonna buy some scrolls?”

“I think it’ll stick to potions for right now,” O’Brian said. “Let me get the Ice Armor and the Fire Breather.” That was 6,000 Bucks, but with the king breathing down the Ronin’s neck, it was worth the purchase.

“Sure enough!”

O’Brian left the botanist’s building with two new potions on his vest. The urge to sleep was creeping in, but he wanted to see what kinds of wands were available in Artemis’ Stand.

The man walked into the storefront across from the Botanist’s, only to be greeted by the chipper mimic named Mimic. “There’s my favorite and only customer!” she said, grabbing him by the bangle. “You have a chance to test out your wares yet?”

“The fire bow turned out to be an excellent investment. I hear about some competitor named Charles and I have yet to check out his catalogue…though that may be dependent on the price of your wands.”

“He wants wands?” Mimic asked, eagerly yanking O’Brian to a section of the shop with hundreds of wands resting on purple pillows. “We’ve got any kind of wand you can think of. Don’t waste your time with damage dealers though, someone of your caliber will want real utility. May I recommend?”

O’Brian nodded and several wands uploaded their data to his System instantly.

Wand of Rebound

Description: Spells have a funny way of bouncing off this Wand and towards the caster.

Cost: 10,000 Bucks

Charges: 1

Effect: Allows you to Reflect one spell cast towards you as a Reaction.

“Ten thousand?” O’Brian gasped. “For a single charge? I…I’m willing to bet Charles could get me half that price and for twice the charges.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that you were broke,” Mimic said, losing all warmth in her voice. “Must I be so crass as to check your wallet when you come in?”

“I’m just saying a sale could be made…if you—” O’Brian was interrupted by the Mimic grabbing him and dragging him to the door with a concerning amount of strength. “Mr. Artemis says that hagglers should be shot and stragglers shown the door. Which do you prefer?”

“Fine, fine,” O’Brian said, leaving the store against his will. The door slammed shut behind him and a banner unrolled, revealing the words All Prices Final, No Negotiations!

“And here I was thinking I could leverage our wins a little…” O’Brian yawned. There was a fight tomorrow…the potions would have to do for now.

His last action was to put all of their funds, 10,000, on the next fight. Reckless? Certainly! But contrary to his previous bets, for this one he had his fate in his own hands. He was going to be pitted against Nameless Silk and he felt confident that as long as he watched his back, he could take down the rogue…

Chapter 25

The arena was different again today. Large vines were growing everywhere, plants that were ten times the size of any human, scattered about, thrashing and snapping at even the smallest fly.

The words greeted him as O’Brian walked out into the heat of the day.

Environmental Status is in effect for this fight!

Vineyard

Effect: Whipping Vines are located within 10 paces of each other. Moving through a Vine requires an Action Point to avoid being Grappled. When you are Grappled by a vine, you become Helpless and cannot React. It takes 1 Action to free yourself from a Vine.

This arena certainly did not favor charges. Shit.

“Today is a great day for those of you with green thumbs, but these two here are ready to do a bit more than gardening! From the Outsiders comes the perpetual thorn in everyone’s side, O’Brian!”

There was little cheering today. O’Brian noticed that not many people had showed up to see this fight. Damn, he should have wagered on the other fights today in order to get a higher number. From what it seemed, there weren’t many people to put their money on the fight.

“And from places unknown, from a school all unto her own, Nameless Silk!” The Announcer cheered even louder, as if desperate to get the crowd excited. There was nothing but yawns and a few ‘yahoos!’ from a gnome or two.

O’Brian felt a shiver down his back. He turned to look upwards and saw that the king was in the judges’ box once more. Did the man know about O’Brian’s goal to slay him? Or was he merely here…to watch the other?”

Nameless Silk leapt down onto her position, having climbed atop a great vine to show off to the nonexistent crowd.

Her outfit was different today. She was wearing all-green, her mask dark and dotted with foliage from the surroundings. Focus was in her eyes as she squinted at him for a moment.

“Here to judge is none other than the king himself! Which has me really wondering about this turnout…” the man trailed off. “Larry, did we advertise the king’s presence? No, no we did have a meeting!”

The Announcer became silent after that, leaving O’Brian and Nameless Silk 20 paces from one another. He could feel the heat on his bow. “O’Brian wins the goddamn toss,” the Announcer abruptly snapped before going dead silent again.

Round 1 has begun!

O’Brian decided not to move into Nameless’ range just yet. She would have plenty of Reactions to dodge his attacks. Best dry her out and keep the rounds going. Drawing his Burning Bow, O’Brian nocked an arrow and aimed it straight at her…damn it!

Just as he lined up the shot, one of the whipping vines bent over. The other vines all bent in different directions. “I had a free shot right there!” O’Brian yelled.

“Upwards, you get a guaranteed hit when you use your abilities,” the Ronin within his blade softly whispered. “Take the risk and hit her from above.”

O’Brian nodded and raised his bow up towards the sky. He knew where she was, and with all this training, she wouldn’t even see it coming.

Indirect Fire Test! Short-Ranged Testing to Hit! 64%...46! Hit!

The Bow let out a burst of satisfactory fire as the Indirect Shot hit. He couldn’t see the damage or ignition but this had been vindication for all that training he had gone through. O’Brian decided to pass his action and wait to respond to his opponent.

Nameless Silk was nowhere to been seen, as the vines immediately changed their position, bending so they had a clear line of sight. A few droplets of blood were visible on the ground, but they vanished as abruptly as Silk had.

“Where are you?” he asked, turning in a circle, bow still raised. There had to be some sign of her…some telltale motion that gave away—

Up to the right!

He saw the light discolor for only a moment as Nameless moved atop one of the vines. She appeared in his vision, her hand showing shurikens, stacked one after another.

O’Brian could outshoot her. He raised his bow and Reacted to Shoot. This was his first time using the Shoot Skill. His Bow gave him a 30% bonus. Shoot vs Ranged Attack! If you hit first, their attack is wasted! 63%...99! Attack hits you!

Time slowed down for only a second. O’Brian’s foot stepped on a small outgrowth, causing his aim to go astray at the last possible second, and the shot went wide. The shurikens found their way towards O’Brian, striking him right in the chest, one after another. 2 Damage! 2 Damage! 2 Damage!

O’Brian took a deep breath and activated one of his class resources: Grit. With 4 points, he was able to negate 4 damage, taking only 2, dropping his health to 7.

As the blood seeped down his armor, he suddenly became aware of his opponent’s weak spots. Her green tunic was reinforced in the chest and legs, but her gut was slightly exposed on the right side. He just needed to get the shot right.

With the Solo Form, O’Brian had one extra action. His opponent lacked this.

The turn went over to O’Brian. His feat had activated, allowing him to see the weak spots on his target. O’Brian could shoot her again, this time using one of the bow’s stronger techniques. He raised the bow high and watched as tension grew in her legs. She might have a dodge ability that activated automatically.

O’Brian decided to test the theory. He used his Adrenaline and took a single shot at the Target. Immediately, she tried to leap out of the way. Dodge Technique Activated! 85%...66! Dodged! She slipped past the arrow and retained her footing above O’Brian.

“I knew it,” O’Brian said. He activated his Adrenaline one more time to take another shot. Another dodge attempt! 85%...07! Success!

She twitched to the right at the last moment to evade his attack. That was two dodges, any more and he might have to make the hard decision to cut his way through these vines. O’Brian took a deep breath and activated his bow for his one remaining action.

No dodges! Nameless Silk’s eyes widened as the burning arrow struck her right in the chest (missing the gut). 3 Damage Dealt! Ignition Roll…77! No Ignition!

Silk gasped and fell onto the other side of the vine as the new round began.

Round 2 Begins!

“What an exciting first round that one was, Silk is as agile as she is lovely but you can’t always outrun death, right?” the Announcer said, keeping his cool at first and then breaking down at the end. “But, but death can be avoided when you just explain you had a minor error in announcing and management related things…”

“Sounds like we’re not the ones being executed today,” O’Brian said, noting the fear in the Announcer’s voice. Would he really be disposed of? The man’s only job was to narrate what was happening and pump the crowd up. Would his replacement really be any better?

Shaking those thoughts, O’Brian surveyed the area. The vines had bent once more, revealing Nameless who was bleeding heavily, hand against another vine stalk. O’Brian felt a pang of pity for only a second before he remembered her ability to gain sympathy by playing possum. This was just another trap.

“Nice try, Silk,” O’Brian said, raising his bow and firing again.

“Nice try, O’Brian,” a voice whispered into his ear as he suddenly became aware of the trick. The Silk he was firing at vanished, revealing nothing but an illusion. Beside him was Nameless, a dagger shanking him in his back almost instantly.

O’Brian’s instincts took over as he felt the dagger start to pierce through his armor. He rammed his head backwards and activated Easy Dodge at the same time, leaping a pace away from her. Dropping his bow, he drew his Katana out and slashed at her with all of his might.

Block Attempt! 32%...69! Block Failed!

Silk, still reeling from the surprise head strike and separation, tried to bring her dagger up to deflect, but it was pointless. The sword was curved perfectly to knock the weapon aside as he drove it down across her.

Nameless fell onto her back as the blood was drawn, spraying red spatters across O’Brian’s face. As she hit the ground, she tossed a smoke bomb, vanishing entirely.

One action left, O’Brian passed on his turn, keeping his sword up just in case. He had been worrying, privately, about his sponsorship with the Arms Abounds crew but this sword attack was definitely going to justify his pay.

There were slight footsteps to the left, but O’Brian was no longer interested in trusting his senses. He had fallen for an obvious trap once again and now knew that Nameless Silk would have slit the throat, had she the right technique for it.

“Hyahh!” the woman said as she ran out from behind a vine, slashing her wakizashi right at O’Brian. He decided to Counter. His legacy katana waited for the right moment and then, he slashed with brutality.

Countering Attack! Counter: 55%...75! Failed! You are Hit!

Nameless Silk slipped beneath the sword, shooting up from her knees to cut O’Brian right across his neck, though the Coiff protected his throat from being slit. 3 Damage! appeared in O’Brian’s vision, dropping him down to 4 Hit Points left.

He staggered backwards for a second. “O’Brian coming in with a counter attack, only to be surprised by both the speed and grace of his opponent,” the Announcer said, seemingly having put himself back together. “But Nameless Silk’s blades aren’t tough enough to take down this seasoned warrior. This may put her at 0 and 3 and she’ll just smoke bomb her way to continue failing upward.”

Round 2 Over! Round 3 Begins!

O’Brian was still within melee distance of his target. She would be fresh full of reactions, but he had a better plan. He hulked towards her, then activated his Feint Feat, forcing Silk to move ten paces backwards, right into range of one of the vines.

“Fuck!” she spat as the vine reached down and scooped her up. “Damn you!” she shouted while the vine held her harmlessly up. “I couldn’t react because of the Feint!”

“Seems you were tricked, fair and square,” O’Brian said, lining up the shot.

“Please, stop!” she gasped, putting her hands out. “Please, I’m not here to die! I’m not like the others.”

“W-what do you mean?” O’Brian asked, lowering his weapon for a moment. This may be a charm effect but the woman was completely at his mercy. This may even count as an Execution. And the king seemed to be the only person who cared to be at this match…

“I mean…well, please don’t think this is a trick…” Nameless Silk started to speak.

“Kill her,” a booming voice said from above. It was none other than King Fasser himself. He was standing at the front of the Judges’ Box, the glass open. “Take her life now. You have won today’s contest.”

“Don’t!” she hissed. “I won’t fade like the rest. I’ll be trapped. You’ll be trapped eventually soon! Don’t play into his game of death.”

“Easy for you to say when moments ago you were trying to shiv me,” O’Brian muttered.

“Gahhh!” Nameless shrieked as the vine began to crush her. O’Brian was faster than lightning, rushing through the vine with his katana drawn. The blade cut through the vine and Nameless was freed. He paused a moment, wondering if that had been a trick, but she was instead lying on the ground.

“Please believe me, O’Brian,” she wheezed. “You know the stories. You know where you come from. And you…you know me…”

“What?” O’Brian asked, her eyes affixing onto his. He could hear something she had whispered to him so long ago, not in the arena. “Anyone ever say you have eyes like the sky? That’s what the runner tribe would call you if you rode horses with them.”

“Horses are dangerous, too noisy and when a storm comes, you’ll be caught just as quick,” O’Brian had replied to her back…back in his village.

“The tribe father says everything is dangerous but what’s the point of living?” she gently rubbed the side of his hair. “I think if you were able to get a yellow flower for me, like a sunflower, you could wear it instead of me. That way you’ll be taken after our wedding.”

“You’re dead set on me?” O’Brian remembered asking. “I’m a nobody.”

“Everyone here’s a nobody, but let’s just say those eyes are the only color that I get to really look at…everything here, it’s mud…mud and fear…”

He found himself repeating the last words aloud. “Mud and fear…Cassandra?”

“O’Brian!” she said. “I knew you’d remember. They take it from you, you know. Every strong memory, every good thought, even your dreams!”

“End her miserable life, you wretch! Or I will force the Elites to come clean you both up!” the king demanded.

O’Brian took a long, deep breath. “You can escape on your own, yeah?”

“If you pass your turn. I was stunned from the grasping.”

“And you can sneak freely?” O’Brian asked.

“Of course.”

“Then welcome to the Outsiders. I’ll see you inside. Don’t trust Alamander but ask Finch to protect you if they get fussy,” he ordered.

Immediately, Cassandra threw a smoke bomb on the ground, vanishing. O’Brian turned to face the king. He swept his arms wide.

“Do you really think you can take my people down?”

“Your people?” the king scoffed. “Your people are little more than cattle to a man of my power. You were grabbed by the dozen. You were the only one with enough meat on your bones to justify the crowd’s desire to see a lot of blood when the arms and throat are opened.”

“You don’t fool me,” O’Brian replied. “You may stand up there, thinking yourself a god amongst men, but word is, you are just a man.”

“What man have you ever met to do what I can do? I raised my right hand and the mountain became soft and supple. I tightened it into a fist and thus, this great arena was born. I have brought endless entertainment to billions upon billions of souls, all who send their best and brightest to test their own theories. They all yearn for blood, blood I provide. I am no man,” the king thundered.

“Then come down and prove your strength,” O’Brian said.

The king hesitated at that. There was silence for a time. “It would be uncouth to fight a man who has just wearied himself. Perhaps when you will bleed enough to fill an ocean. Or perhaps when you are just about to win your last fight of the season…”

Chapter 26

O’Brian returned to his school gate with a frustration growing about him. This king was powerful. Had he jumped down to fight, O’Brian would have been annihilated in the blink of an eye, no doubt. But at the same time, there had been hesitation in the king’s action. The man had shrank back from an opportunity to put the man in his place. But who was to say that he was even truly powerful?

1 vs 1 Match Won!

You have gained the following rewards:

Sponsorship Payout: 10,000 Bucks

Orange Rank Pay: 1,000 Bucks

Popularity: 0/200

XP Bonus: 1,800

O’Brian’s eyes leapt at the sight of the XP bonus. That was more than enough to get him to Level 2! Perhaps leveling was faster in the Orange Ranks…

You have reached Level 2! Advance your Starpath!

Ankle of the Goddess

Effect: You may forgo being Knocked Down once per Match.

Tip of the Arrow

Effect: Gain +10% Shoot.

Forearm of Her Graciousness

Effect: You may Block with your bow.

O’Brian looked them over for a moment and decided on Tip of the Arrow. This raised his shoot to 40%. Very nice. There were plenty of reasons to value range over melee in some situations and with the Burning Bow, he was growing deadlier with his aim.

You are now a Level 2 Warrior!

You gain +6 HP, +6 Skill Points.

Your Adrenaline and Grit increase by 2!

Tier 2 Abilities and Feats are unlocked. You may choose two!

Fighter Feats

Tier 1

Down You Go!

Description: If the Warrior speaks, he may cut you down with more than his voice.

Effect: After you Down or Kill a Gladiator, you may immediately deal Weapon Damage to a target within 10 Paces of you.

Shield Arm

Description: Shields make ample tools in a fight.

Effect: Gain +10% to your Shield Skill or gain the Shield Skill at 25%

Grappler

Description: Wrestling is more than just throwing people around. Gouging is popular with the crowd…

Effect: When Grappled you gain +50% to your Grapple Skill.

Tier 2

Hard Target

Description: Some fighters just know how to take a hit.

Effect: You gain 6 HP

Bruiser

Description: “And he hits him again! That’s fourteen punches to one severely fractured face!”

Effect: Your Unarmed deals 6 damage.

Shieldbreaker

Description: Some rely on the shield until it is no more. And then they, too, are no more.

Effect: You deal +10 Damage when targeting a shield with a melee weapon.

Looking at these feats, O’Brian decided to settle on Down You Go! from Tier 1, as it would improve his ability to survive larger frenzies. The second choice was from Tier 2 and came as naturally as breathing. More hit points. At the end of the day, survival was how much HP one could have.      

After those decisions, he turned his attention down to the various abilities he could purchase.

Fighter Abilities

Tier 1

Rally Forth

Cost: 1 Heart

Effect: All Teammates in the Fight move to your position. This can Reform a Unit.

Break Guard

Cost: 1 Adrenaline

Effect: If a Target attempts to Defend against your Attack, they must spend 2 Action Points.

Call Target

Cost: 1 Heart

Effect: All of your Teammates receive +10% to Strike the Target that you designate. You may change the Target or end the effect, but it costs 1 Heart each time you use this ability.

Tier 2

Endure Pain

Cost: 2 Grit

Effect: You gain 5 Armor for a single oncoming attack. This stacks with other Armor.

Counter-Charge

Cost: 2 Adrenaline

Effect: If a Target is preparing to charge you, you may Counter-Charge to their location. This requires you to Test Counter.

Hurl

Cost: 1 Adrenaline

Effect: Without Testing, Throw a Target six paces away from you.

Dig-In

Cost: 1 Grit

Effect: Gain +20% to your Block Skill.

O’Brian’s eyes fell past the first tier skills and he considered his purchases carefully. Counter-Charge allowed him to be just as fast as his opponents, and his counter could be skilled up a few points. Not a bad purchase at all.

Endure Pain was also on his list, either that or Dig In. Dig-In avoided the trouble altogether with a block, but Endure was guaranteed protection from a hard hit. Between that and the higher HP…O’Brian decided to buy Endure Pain. He was building himself into quite the tank. His Profile updated, showing the new abilities. With his skill points, he would spend them all on Counter.

When he finally strolled out into the Common Pavilion, he found that Nameless Silk was there—Cassandra of the Vale, as he knew her back home. Finch was standing by her side as a bunch of dwarves all yelled and shouted for her to get out of here. It was nice to see there was loyalty to his team amongst the dwarven folks.

“Settle down,” O’Brian ordered, causing the entire room to look at him. The only person not bothered by any of this was Alamander, who was actually eating a large chicken with his bare hands, a sight that none should have to behold. “Look at the wizard. If we were in danger, he’d vanish for good.”

The dwarves all chuckled at that. Alamander paid no mind and kept eating. “This is Cassandra, a friend of mine…well, more than a friend, once,” he said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “And she’s joining the team.”

“She hasn’t won a fight yet!” Alamander retorted. “So I say she’s welcome to keep failing her way to victory. Last woman standing is the best woman standing, I always say.”

Cassandra bowed to O’Brian. “I thank you, my dear O’Brian. Truly, I didn’t think that you could remember me.”

O’Brian walked up and took her hand, pulling her away from the rabble and other curious onlookers. They strolled into the Yard, the closest thing to a garden they had.

“I remember bits and pieces, but most of all, I remember fear,” O’Brian said. “Fear of capture.”

“We all remember that fear, for it is by the clan fathers and mothers who tell us how we can hide,” Cassandra softly said. She was still in her armor, though she had pulled her hood and mask down. Her eyes were a jade green, with short black hair that had been tied into a bun. She was hard faced, however, pain and weariness upon her expression. There was little other than her gentle hand upon his that was soft.

“Yet you came up here? For me?” O’Brian asked.

“It was a foolish request, but the laws were clear that for one to wed, he must be strong. They consider crawling upon the surface, on their bellies like snakes, to be strength. I wanted something simple. It was never my intention to see you vanish like that. But everyone seemed to know ahead of time. They all turned their faces when I asked about you,” Cassandra explained. “By the fourth week, I knew you were gone for good. Unless…unless there was something about the Mountain that would have kept you alive.”

They sat on two barrels near the dummy. There was silence for a moment as the mechanical gears grinded softly, pulling the bow dummy back and forth. She spoke up once more. “I decided not to be captured, however. I figured they would never think anyone would be brave enough to climb the mountain’s side. And I was right.”

The woman looked at her hands for a moment. “I had never felt such pain before, but my…burning desire to know the truth kept me going. I scaled for what seemed like months. And then, I arrived to this coliseum. Someone saw me slip over the wall into the stands and offered me a drink like it was nothing.”

She took a deep breath. “It was there that I saw you tied up and ready to be gutted by the first competitor. During the chaos, I slipped from stand to stand until I met the ones who were there to watch the Ronin whose spirit guides you. They stated that they were peacemakers in their homeland, yet their refusal to wage war had separated them from their loved ones. Eventually they were cast out of the lands they once protected and became Ronin, wandering from dimension to dimension to do what good they can before they finally perish.”

“There were others…” O’Brian mused. Were they still watching now?

“They faded when the Ronin merged his spirit with his blade, exiting the competition as a loser,” Cassandra explained. “But not before one of them gave me a ring. She told me that the ring contained the Shinobi path and that I could fight too. I slipped it on and a spirit spoke to me. It taught me how to move with stillness and to avoid the human eye’s spectrum of sight.”

O’Brian nodded. This made sense. The Ronin were no doubt waiting for an opportunity to disrupt these sacrifices simply as part of their wanderings. They saw injustice and decided to stand against it. “But why us?” O’Brian asked. “Why give their power to random mortals when they were world walking warriors of good?”

“Because no one else would give you a chance,” Cassandra said. “Give our people a chance. These Ronin are aware of what happens when they act in a foreign place. Too much effort on their part becomes a great amount of worship or reliance by the population. They’d rather move in a way that changes the world with the strength of the natives.”

“So…you want the king dead as well?”

“King of what?” she scoffed. “A king administrates. He runs his world. This man just hosts…games of carnage? Our clan mothers and fathers are more kings than he. Though I must admit, I am no longer as judgmental about how they conducted themselves down there. While scaling the mountain I saw…hordes of humans locked within these terrible sealed prisons. All they can do is look outwards at the endless ocean and beg me for help.

“Some of them tried to even grab me, to throw me off, saying my death would be better there than life inside of such a thing.”

“There are more of us?” O’Brian asked.

“Hundreds at the very least,” Cassandra replied. “But I could estimate thousands if there are more cells within the prison.”

“All sacrifices?”

“I don’t think so,” Cassandra said. “I think they’re kept to be used as Royal Gladiators or something. It’s hard to tell from the outside.”

“Then we take him down from the inside,” O’Brian concluded. “You came here to save me but you know I can’t just leave. Not with King Fasser still breathing.”

“I had come to the same conclusion, though I feared you being far more unforgiving,” Cassandra replied. “As you were meant to be slain.”

“It’s more about those who come after me that concerned me,” O’Brian replied, rising from his seat. “But now I feel an anger about all those others. Who does this man think he is? I have heard it from sources safe that he intends to see me lose sooner than later.”

“Then we can’t lose,” Cassandra said as she rose to place a cool hand on O’Brian’s neck. “Taunts are all fine and dandy, but we won’t have much to work with at these lower levels. It was a minor miracle I was able to make it to one. My Shinobi Path gives me the ability to exit any fight if I have at least one Synapse. Every ability just about takes mana. I was living on borrowed time for most of these fights, especially when you were squaring against me.”

“You’re right,” O’Brian said. “There’s no room for a mistake here. You and I will keep our focus on leveling and training. You had no school?”

“None, just the ability to serve as a ‘Stranger’ in each fight. Unlike you, I managed to register myself as a combatant. I don’t wish to brag, but I did have the ability to read and write back home.”

O’Brian barely heard the words as he thought about the countless number of people trapped in this mountain. This wasn’t going to be a war, it was going to be a revolution.

Chapter 27

There was little time for O’Brian to focus on his own training regimen. It was the last day of the week and from the moment he woke up, he knew he had to go back out there. There were plenty of choices to join him in the 2 vs 2 Exhibition Match, but O’Brian knew it was best to bring Nameless Silk right back out.

She was agile and nimble, able to impress a crowd as long as she understood how to fight. An Exhibition Match required Satisfaction as to the Judges’ desires. She would have to follow his directions and O’Brian felt confident enough from the 3 vs 3 that he knew how to handle her.

It was strange seeing a woman he once yearned for now dressing in front of him, hurriedly putting on her jacket and hood without fear of being seen by him. Did he still love her? Lily was a fine partner, caring and funny, without a hint of shame in anything she did. But this woman…he could still scarcely remember her. Was it her that he loved or just the idea of having someone in his life?

“Listen, Silk,” O’Brian said as they finished dressing. “You need to follow my lead to the letter. There’s not much demand to see you or I after such a bad turnout from the last fight. We need to get the crowd pumped. I can’t use my Solo Form here, so just focus on what the judges want.”

She nodded. “I trust you, O’Brian. These fights are not something I ever saw myself doing. But the ring…it gives me just enough of an edge to keep surviving.”

“The key isn’t to survive, it’s to thrive,” he replied as they made their way to the gates. “Whatever comes next, we prioritize winning above survival. Thinking about failure is the easiest way to let doubt in. Just be bold and make the audience happy. That’s all we can do until our School is strong enough to break everyone else out.”

The gates opened and the blinding lights of the sun washed over the pair. They strolled out to the cheers of a much bigger crowd than yesterday’s match.

“Today’s match is a spectacle worthy of any spectator!” the Announcer, same as ever and more confident now, called out as they entered the arena. “From the Outsiders we have an exciting new development. Once just a handful of waifs and scoundrels, they are now certifiably Orange Rank. And that means they’re just getting started. Statistically, once a Team goes Orange they will be hard to take down. But that means they get to face stronger schools too!”

The crowd was thick and a new Stand was present.

Stand: The Rabble

Sections:

Drunks: 10%

Warriors: 25%

Gamblers: 25%

Aristocrats: 40%

School: The Gladiators of Greatness

Description: A motley crew of fighters, warriors and those from worlds with endless carnage, the Gladiators of Greatness often like to start again from the ground up, to prove they have some innate talent that others lack.

“Hailing from a land where a great Judge watches over all, we have The Rabble’s pick of the season, Roost and Knives!” the Announcer cheered as the gates beneath the stand opened up. An immense man, twice the size of O’Brian in both length and width, emerged with a much shorter ally beside him.

The big man wore metal armor with many magical studs laid upon it. The breastplate was curved outwards like a bow and he wore a helm that only covered the top of his brow. In his right hand was a pike with two prongs, definitely useful for spearing an opponent through and then serving them to his ally for a free hit.

“Roost was a bodyguard for a long time, before he found himself convinced to try his hand at these great games,” the Announcer. “They had a rough few seasons but this year is their year!”

The shorter man, Knives, was self-explanatory. He had short swords in both sheaves and wore a double bandolier than contained dozens of knives on both sides. He wore all black and was clearly a stealth fighter compared to his companion.

“And let’s get a look at our Judges for today!” the Announcer said.

Judges Panel:

Judge Pearing

Description: Pearing enjoys losing count of the action while he jabbers, only to see something no one else saw coming.

Likes: Short Ranged Combat, Stealth Hits, Counters

Dislikes: Charges, Ganging Up, Magic

Favored Style: Ranger Style

Judge Songard

Description: A surly Viking from a world that was bathed with fire, Songard likes to see frenzied melees.

Likes: Melee Combat, Executions, Blocking

Dislikes: Long-Ranged Combat, Magic, Poisons

Favored Style: Viking Style

Judge Randers

Description: A potionsmith at home, Randers knew the easiest way to fight a foe was through a bottle.

Likes: Potion Use, Drinking, Thrown Weapons

Dislikes: Scrolls, Wands, Sniping

Favored Style: Alchemist Style

“Now let’s have a good clean match!” the Announcer said as the Satisfaction Meter appeared at 0. “And by clean, let’s get blooooody! The coin toss goes to…Roost and Knives!”

The round started and, at once, Roost began to barrel towards O’Brian. The big man was slowed down a bit by his heavy armor, and had to spend an action to get within charging distance. However, instead of charging, he merely swung his pike so that the bottom was sticking out of the ground. Above, the words Pike Set! floated. This maneuver was to ward off O’Brian’s charging ability. With the pike set, O’Brian would just be skewering himself if he charged straight in.

Knives took his action next, moving 10 paces towards O’Brian, then drawing a throwing knife. “Hold still for me, will ya?” Knives shouted, grinning fiendishly as he balanced the blade on one finger. In a split second, he tossed the knife in the air, caught it and then threw it as fast as he could.

The knife came spiraling towards O’Brian. The attack technique was based on the surprise of the moment he threw and O’Brian’s dodge ability was greyed out. The Ronin took a deep breath and waited for the strike to hit. He had the armor and the extra HP now, he wasn’t as afraid of taking damage.

Knife Hit! 5 Damage! Appeared in O’Brian’s vision, dropping his HP down to 16 points. Damn, those were some sharp knives; his armor had done nothing to stop the strength of the puncture.

The crowd cheered as O’Brian pulled the dagger free and tossed it aside. His body was tougher now, stronger and more capable of absorbing punishment. In fact, he barely felt the damage, after the blade was pulled free.

The turn flipped over to O’Brian’s team. Roost was dug in now, with his pike ready to spear anyone charging right through. On his left was Knives, who could use Roost for cover when convenient for him to avoid being shot down.

The Satisfaction meter was at a paltry 5% so far. “I’m going to cause a distraction,” O’Brian said. “On your turn, get out of sight and wait for Roost to become vulnerable. I’m taking Knives down first.”

“Understood,” Nameless Silk said.

“Let’s give Judge Randers something to gawk at,” O’Brian muttered as he pulled the fire bottle free from his bandoleer, biting the cork and yanking it out. He spat the cork aside and then guzzled the red liquid. There was a burning taste of cinnamon as he consumed the fire breathing potion and he felt something rip upwards from his lungs.

It was his breath! The air within his body had transformed from simple oxygen to pure burning fire. There was no pain within his lungs, save for a feeling of discomfort at suddenly becoming a heat factory. His mouth opened wide and a cone of flames burst forth, washing over both Roost and Knives.

Roost managed to cover his face with his vambraces, the metal arm protectors absorbing the volume of damage. Knives wasn’t so lucky, his leather armor burst into flames immediately and the crowd went wild as he fell on the ground, rolling to put out the fire.

Satisfaction has increased! 15%! appeared above the ignited pair. No doubt Judge Randers was pleased to see such a display.

O’Brian had one more action left. The fire damage had been incidental to the pair, 4 points each. Maybe he should aim for another crowd pleaser…

He drew his Burning Bow and aimed it straight at Roost. The mighty man had dropped his pike due to the flames and was large enough to shoot at with ease.

Counter! appeared in front of O’Brian before he could snap off a shot at the big man. Knives kicked upwards into the air and then landed on both feet, slowly drawing a knife to throw. It was a Counter attack to disrupt the Ronin’s bow shot.

Counter Technique Used! 65%...99! Failed

O’Brian ducked at the last second, avoiding the knife entirely as he raised his bow and fired it sideways. He activated the Burning Technique, increasing the total damage to 10 points. Roost was out of actions and made for easy target practice. The bow struck him dead in the chest and the words 10 Damage! appeared above him. There was no sign that the big man would be going down anytime soon, however.

The ignition of the arrow, the dodge of the knife, all of it added together to increase the Satisfaction rating to 35%.

Nameless Silk had vanished in all of the confusion, her presence easy to lose track of thanks to her Shinobi path.

O’Brian burned two points of Adrenaline, one to move back 10 paces so he was 20 away, and another to fire at Knives.

Knives immediately went to dodge, activating his own technique. Handspring Dodge Activated! 85%...34! Success!

Knives cartwheeled across the battlefield, moving up on O’Brian with a handspring that landed them at point blank range.

“Nice try, sucker,” Knives said. “Roost can take beatings all day long, you should have been trying to kill me!”

O’Brian opened his mouth to give a retort but was cut off by the frenzied shout of Roost. O’Brian’s turn had rolled over to Nameless who had just surprised Roost with a slash to his right leg. He collapsed onto the ground, his tendon severed in a way that made it impossible for him to get back up.

Satisfaction 50%! appeared in front of O’Brian as the stealth attack caused the crowd to roar with excitement.

Nameless vanished once again, ending the Round.

Round 1 Over! Round 2 Begins!

Knives immediately drew both short swords and began to hack with a frenzied flurry towards O’Brian. The Ronin immediately activated his Grit Power, Endure Pain, granting him an extra 5 Armor. The first blade sank into his arm but the thick leather caused the blade to slip off to the side, the second cut O’Brian across the lip, dealing only a single point of damage.

“That all you got?” O’Brian asked.

Roost, who was still on the ground, quickly uncorked a potion of his own and immediately stood to his feet, green energy enervating around his body. The Satisfaction rose up to 66%. The fight was going to be ending soon.

Roost drew an axe that had been holstered against his right leg and started to charge, only to be caught by a trap.

The warrior managed to get a few feet forward before the ground suddenly caved in on him, his leg slipping down a small hole that had somehow been dug by one of Silk’s abilities. He collapsed onto his side, the Satisfaction meter jumping up to 75. With O’Brian as the main target, it seemed Nameless Silk was quite skilled at causing chaos and spectacle.

O’Brian’s turn came and he was quick to draw his sword, tossing his bow onto the ground. Knives grimaced, readying to defend. With the katana drawn, O’Brian swung his sword with utmost speed, bringing the blade at hip level, spinning into the gladiator. Knives brought both short swords down to block the blow.

Block Test! 54%...51! Success! O’Brian’s sword clanged against the twin shortblades, the momentum causing the blade to bounce right off. “Nice try, samurai!” Knives said, the Satisfaction meter gaining a few more points.

“It’s Ronin,” O’Brian said, and he raised his sword up high in a feint before he activated his Hurtle Ability.

He leapt over the other side of Knives, who was trying to raise his sword to block again, only to end up exposed. With his target’s back wide open, O’Brian drove the blade down hard, dropping Knives straight to the ground.

The meter jumped up to 100%. “Damn it all, I knew Roost shouldn’t have wasted that first turn,” Knives grumbled as he lay flat on the ground, blood flowing down his back. “But you gotta admit, that was one hell of a fight.”

“Call it, judges!” O’Brian bellowed, keeping his sword inches away from Knives’ head.

“In just two rounds, O’Brian and Nameless Silk have shown that they are not a mere flash in the pan. They’re both the sizzle and the steak, able to take down their opposites with ease and separation. Let’s see what the judges feel about each team.”

Judge Pearing:

The Outsiders: 10/10

Gladiators of Greatness: 3/10

Judge Songard

The Outsiders: 10/10

Gladiators of Greatness:  7/10

Judge Randers

The Outsiders: 10/10

Gladiators of Greatness: 3/10

Outsiders: 30 Points!

Gladiators of Greatness: 13 Points!

“And there it is, folks! Both sides came in with high hopes today but only one was truly able to impress the judges with a perfect score! That’s right, the Outsiders win the match, the judges’ favors and of course, the bragging rights to say that they are on the way to the hall of fame, one week at a time!” the Announcer concluded.

2 vs 2 Exhibition Match Won!

You have gained the following rewards:

Sponsorship Payout: 10,000 Bucks

Orange Rank Pay: 1,000 Bucks

Popularity: 75/200

XP Bonus: 1,200

Chapter 28

O’Brian staggered into the tub, sinking deep and low into the waters as Lily gently splashed some oils into the water. “How you doing, chief?” she asked.

“I’m fried from two fights in a row,” O’Brian murmured. “That last match was exhausting.”

“You and the Missus have fun?” Lily asked.

“Not my missus, that’s for sure,” O’Brian said. He gently slid a hand up her naked belly and touched the base of her breast. He tickled it for a moment before squeezing. “I sought her for companionship once, but that seems like forever ago. I’m happy with you.”

“Don’t be held back by my pretty little butt,” Lily squeaked as she poured water down O’Brian’s head. “Didn’t you want to marry her or something?”

“I wanted to have a relationship with someone who understood me,” O’Brian said. “But that’s changed now. So much about me has changed. My whole life, I was cowering from everything. Now, I barely blink as I get skewered by a dagger.”

“Sounds nice?” Lily asked. “What do you want out of this whole thing? You gotta know I’m just a fling, right? At the end of the season, I’ll go back home. Most everyone does. Even the fighters. What will you do?”

O’Brian thought about that for a moment. “I suppose I don’t think too much about the future, not when there is so much I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand about this place?”

“Everything!” Alamander hooted as he entered the room. Immediately, Lily scowled at the man and rushed away, leaving the pair together.

“Get my back?” O’Brian asked as the wizard sat on the edge of the tub, bottle in hand. He looked perplexed, more than usual today.

“Jokes are for later,” the wizard said. “I just got some pretty rough news and I’m not sure how to tell you.”

“You’re dying?” the Ronin asked, hope in his voice.

“No ,but you sure as hell are dead next round. The king’s behavior is a little easier to predict when you know how to eavesdrop magically,” Alamander said. “I have it on good authority that a few briefcases full of bucks were delivered to a few fighters for Week 3. There’s a Free-for-all on Day 1, that’s tomorrow. You’re slotted in it and there’s six other fighters who are feeling fresh and ready to take you down.”

“What do you mean by briefcase full of bucks?” O’Brian asked.

“What do you think I mean?” Alamander replied with a snarl. “It’s a bribe. You’re going to have 6 vs 1 tomorrow! They’re all going to team up on you, and Harmpton’s not on the list. You’re going to be annihilated as they all work together to take you down.”

O’Brian drew in a breath of sharp air. “You gotta be kidding me…”

“I wish I were, but nope. The king is determined to take you down by proxy. I suppose that this is good news on some level, since it means you are definitely a threat to him. But I don’t see how you’re going to survive this.”

“Wands,” O’Brian said, looking at his income. The sponsorship and gambling had paid off to give the Ronin nearly 39,000 Bucks.  “And potions. Wands and potions.”

“You’re fucked,” Alamander said. “If I were you, I would just surrender ahead of time. Yield immediately or not even show up. Yeah, just withdraw from the tournament. No one will care and the king will forget all about you.”

“I intend to kill him some day,” O’Brian replied, climbing out of the tub. He draped his towel around his torso and let out a deep growl. “And may that day come sooner still.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure he’s heard a dozen threats like that every season,” Alamander said. “Look, you have to think about the action economy. You have 2 Action Points, 3 since you can use Solo form, and then a handful of free actions from Adrenaline. But despite that, you’re not going to be able to keep up. Six on one is no fight. It’s a fucking murder.”

“You’re talking like you care,” O’Brian said as he walked out, grabbing his tunic and tossing it on before returning to the barracks to find pants.

“Arrrg, how can you not care? Look, Charles doesn’t like these games because of the murders and such. He’s done everything possible to send Champions to challenge the king but that man can just send us back to our realm at his convenience,” Alamander fussed as he walked besides O’Brian. “And I have to admit, that even I have grown to like you. I think you’re a fine fellow who takes things seriously. You basically run this team without complaint.”

“I have grown to enjoy this contest of skill and strength,” O’Brian said as he entered the barracks and gathered his underclothes. “The management is interesting and I enjoy the opportunity to allow our school to become something special. But I think you need to understand where I’m coming from.”

Alamander climbed into one of the hammocks and rotated it a few times while listening.

“My people, all our people, have been stolen away by King Fasser. He is a cruel and capricious monster, who seems to think that his power allows him the freedom to do as he pleases,” O’Brian explained. “And I am not one who is convinced that he is nearly as strong as he claims.”

“So what do you intend to do?”

“I’m going to buy a ton of potions and wands to survive tomorrow’s fight and then? Then I’m going to keep on leading this team to victory. We have 13 more weeks to go and I don’t intend on throwing in the towel just because the king is trying to rig a fight against me.”

Chapter 29

O’Brian entered Art’s Stand once more, ready to purchase whatever was necessary to survive the next day’s morning melee. His Exhaustion was high but, thankfully, Mon’Sieur had procured O’Brian a Potion of Relaxation that would double the results of his rest. He’d be asleep soon enough but for now, he needed to get the right wand or tool to allow him to handle six combatants coming at him at once.

“Welcome back sir, I trust your purse is fat?” Mimic said as O’Brian walked in. He nodded.

“Mimic, I’m in a tight spot here. I need your assistance in figuring out what are the best options for a scenario,” he asked.

“Oh, of course, that’s the best part of the boutique experience. Some old catalogue won’t give you the kind of feedback you need to hear. What are you trying to accomplish?” she asked, smiling wide at the man.

“Survival at all costs. Tomorrow I’m going to be attacked by every combatant in a Free-for-all. I don’t have the Action Points to protect myself and I’m sitting at roughly 39,000 Bucks. What do you have?” O’Brian explained.

The woman paused for a moment and took in the information. She slowly nodded. “Sounds to me like you could use something that fights for you.” The mimic walked her way over to a large stone bracelet that was hanging from a single string. The string itself seemed to strain to keep the bracelet hung high.

“Action Points are useful things, but they aren’t the best way to survive. The Autoblock Bracelet is what you want,” she said. “It’s expensive, you’re looking at 35,000 for it, but this bad little boy is capable of creating stone fists that attempt to block every attack coming your way. Grants you a 51% Block Skill that activates automatically. Only downside is that it works once per Match. So you activate it, get protected for a full round and then, you’re shit outta luck.”

O’Brian chewed on his cheek as he looked at this. 51% Auto Blocking? That was powerful…but it was damn expensive. If he bought that, he was pretty much out of cash.

“What are my less drastic options?”

“A Wand of Shield,” Mimic said without skipping a beat. She took nothing personal about him wanting to see what else she got and strolled up to the wand cases where he had been once before. “Takes an Action to cast but you get a 90% Shield Block chance, though it lasts for only 2 hits before you have to reactivate it. Has 3 charges total, so that’s six hits it will block.”

“Plus the Action Point to activate it,” O’Brian said. Maybe he was thinking too small. “What about offensive? Something to take my foes down before they can get me?”

“Ah, I would suggest you use a Smog Bomb!” Mimic said, rushing over to a large chest where dozens of black spheres were resting. “These are useful in a pinch. They cause intense sickness in anyone who inhales, sans you, of course. They are smart that way.”

“Sickness is conditional,” O’Brian mused. “What about outright damage?”

“A shrapnel bomb, but that kind of weapon will not ignore your presence, so you best only throw it when you can…” Mimic said.

O’Brian looked at the cost of the bombs. They were 12,000 per shell and that was simply too high to be useful. Bombs could be dodged…

“I’m going to go with the Auto Block Bracelet,” O’Brian finally decided. “For a damn steep price.”

“It’s worth it when your life is on the line!” Mimic cheerily replied. “I’ll get this boxed for you.”

O’Brian glanced out the store and over at The Odd Botanists. A few potions would do, though he only had 4,000 left. That was enough for 2 Potions of Strong Healing. Anything after that would be overkill.

The Ronin finished his shopping and placed the stone bracelet against his left wrist. The bracelet closed and he saw the interface immediately connect to his own System.

The Bracelet of Autoblock

Description: Stone hands stop many blades.

Effect: Grants you a 51% Block chance from all Attacks, even Ranged, for one Round. Takes no actions to activate.

Uses per Match: 1

The stone bracelet was cool to the touch and had a series of etchings that displayed a single mountain reaching down with many hands to create a circle around the peak. There were a few runes carved into the sides of the bracelet, green and blue energy softly illuminating the lines.

Finch intercepted O’Brian as he was walking to the barracks. “I just saw the schedule. You’re in a Free-for-all first thing tomorrow.”

“I know, it’s not going to be a good situation,” O’Brian replied.

“I sensed that,” Finch said. He thumped his fist against his bare chest. “You could send me in your stead. I would gladly enter the carnage on your behalf.”

“It’s been rigged,” O’Brian calmly answered, heading over to his hammock. “They’re all going to turn on me at the same time. Alamander’s quite certain of it. And while he may be a crotchety old bastard, he doesn’t strike me as a liar for no reason.”

“If it’s rigged, then I shall brutally kill each and every competitor,” Finch said. There was not a shred of emotion or braggadociousness within his voice. He spoke as if it were perfectly normal to annihilate so many. “I fear not their numbers.”

“Chances are, they see you, they won’t fight me like they were planning,” O’Brian replied. “I’m sorry, Finchman, but I just don’t see how you could help me in this situation.”

Finch nodded. “I understand. Alamander is worried but what can we do? There is nothing but death waiting for you. I fear even if you survive, the king will continue to make things harder until you can bear it no more.”

“King Fasser is a native of this land, like me,” O’Brian said. “He seems to have some great degree of power and control, but nothing has suggested to me that he is anything close to omnipotent. He’s just a bully with an arena.”

“Destroying him will not come easily or quickly,” Finch warned. “And I sense your desire to see it done sooner rather than later.”

“The man is just that: a man,” O’Brian replied. “There are many reasons to be afraid of him, but I find that he only irks me more and more. I don’t think this will be a quick and easy victory. But I will keep leveling, keep getting stronger and then, one day, he will slip up.”

“You may find your grasp extends beyond your reach,” Finch said. “But I will be here as long as I can. No doubt I will be dismissed halfway through the season, as a means of getting back at you, but alas, what can I do? He controls all who stay and fight.”

“If there was some way, some special method or secret weakness,” O’Brian asked Finch, “would you be willing to put the king down for good? Stop the sacrifices?”

“If you find a way, then I will gladly lay my life down to see these bloodlettings end,” Finch said. “Though I speak with a hot temperament, the reality is that I must be calm and consider that I do have a loved one at home.”

“Of course,” O’Brian replied, bowing to the big man as he slid into his hammock. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything to separate you from your husband any longer than it takes…”

Chapter 30

The next morning came faster than O’Brian wanted it to. The Potion of Relaxation had helped him achieve a deep and dreamless sleep for a while, but the moment his eyes were open, it was daylight. Time to give the people one hell of a show.

The Ronin didn’t even know the rest of the week’s schedule. Three fights in a row was exhausting but this one would be more than just a single battle. It would be a gauntlet of survival, as everyone teamed up against him.

Perhaps there was a chance that Alamander was making this all up? No, as awful as the wizard was, he wasn’t the kind to give false information. He was weirdly helpful in a few ways, though it seemed most of that help was designed to prevent the wizard from having to be accountable or responsible for anything.

O’Brian grabbed a piece of sausage off a plate on the banquet table as he walked slowly towards the gates. The entire team had assembled to see O’Brian off, and their expressions revealed their opinions easily enough. They had some faith that the Ronin could survive this but they were skeptical about him getting through this easily.

Nameless Silk, Cassandra, came up to O’Brian and clutched his hands. “I fear this is the part where you should give up,” she softly whispered. “You don’t have to die.”

“You think I’ll lose?” O’Brian asked.

“I don’t think there’s a contestant out there who can take down six people all working together,” she replied. “Just forfeit. No one will care.”

“Forfeiture just delays the inevitable,” O’Brian replied, squeezing her hands. “Look, as long as our people are locked away in these prisons, there is always going to be a reason to keep fighting. We both agreed to see this to the end.”

“I understand, on principle, but surely there has to be some other way…” Cassandra trailed off and sighed. “I suppose not.”

“Relax, the worst that can happen to me is that I’ll be vivisected before a live audience,” O’Brian chuckled, releasing the woman’s hands. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a fight to attend.”

Alamander was waiting last for O’Brian. “Bad news can only get worse. Harmpton was just added as a last minute surprise for the audience. That’s seven on one. Still feeling like you can win this?”

O’Brian felt his courage fall for only a moment. Then he remembered his bow and his grease bracelet. Grease and fire could make for quite a combination in the heat of a fight…

The gate opened up as O’Brian made his way forward, keeping his chest held high. “You must not fear the enemy,” the spirit of the Ronin whispered to him. “What you must instead fear is overextending. Do not act without precision and do not strike without preparing a killing blow. Many foes can cause confusion between them…take advantage of this.”

“Thank you,” O’Brian whispered to the spirit as the heat of the day greeted him.

“Today is going to be the best day of your pitiful lives!” the Announcer bellowed. “It’s the kickoff of week three and we have a special treat for everyone here. A Free-for-all with some of the best champions you have ever seen.”

There were seven other contestants as opposed to O’Brian. He didn’t recognize a single one of them except for Harmpton.

There was a minotaur, a great beast with black fur that towered at nearly nine feet in height. He wore metal armor on his torso and his legs were covered in thick greaves that hid his weak spots. On his back was a great axe that had a red jewel in the center of the weapon.

“Hailing from the Mistlands of Mistoria,” the Announcer called out. “We have Gorag the Minotaur! With cunning and wit, he has navigated his way through a hundred matches and comes out of retirement today, just to show the young whippersnappers what for!”

Coming out of retirement? That could be a blessing or a curse. This meant that Gorag could be rusty. If he had to be bribed to fight one more time, he may not be the sharpest just yet. A few rounds could shake off the dust but otherwise, a hard and fast strike might take the great minotaur down.

A tall man emerged from one of the stands. O’Brian was too busy watching his competition to pay attention to the crowds today. They were either going to be very impressed or entertained watching O’Brian die, and he cared little about them.

“You know Luxion from the Longshots! He’s a skilled bowist, sniper and hunter. They say that he has hunted over three hundred different kinds of animals, skinning them all and making armor from them. Luxion is here to show the crowd that combat is more art than technical science!”

The man, Luxion, was wearing a fur hat and leather armor all up and down his legs. In his right hand was a metal crossbow and on his back was a longbow. A ranged fighter…O’Brian’s custom armor would have a chance of automatically deflecting those arrows or bolts. It wasn’t the highest of chances, but still.

“If you don’t know Harmpton,” the Announcer said, “then you have to be dead! Because this elephanto has captured the heart and imagination of everyone here. He has yet to lose a real fight, if you don’t count ties, and today he plans to settle a grudge with a very certain Ronin. If I were O’Brian, I’d start packing up for home…wait, that’s right, you’ll be ensnared here if you die.”

O’Brian swallowed at that reminder. He gritted his teeth as the fourth competitor came out. It was one of the Amoses, Millard. “These Amos brothers are skilled musketeers but Millard showed himself quite the swordsman in the midweek match from Week 2. Let’s see if he can generate some fame in this very special Free-for-all!”

The fifth fighter arrived. It was a heavy armor wearing knight with a face that was impossible to see, due to the size of the helm. Shadows fell over the interior of the cross-shaped slit on the armor, making it difficult to see anything human within.

“And there he is! Gilga the Glorious has graced us with his presence. You know a lot of gladiators follow the schedule, but the schedule follows Gilga! It’s a real treat to see him out today.”

Gilga carried a long black sword that was more a hunk of metal than a sword. It was long and squared, nearly three feet long. It could easily be used as a club or a blade, O’Brian thought as he watched the large man take his place. His black armor shone in the sunlight and the man became motionless.

“And what would a Free-for-all be without a good old-fashioned wizard?” the Announcer continued, introducing the sixth gladiator. “Today we have none other than Bilmore the Magnificent! Mr. Bilmore’s abilities are top notch, his power to bend the wills of others cannot be overstated, why last week he got someone to fall right on his sword! And his mastery over the elements? Second to none!”

O’Brian stood in his position and waited for the Announcer to speak. The introduction was short and meager. “And of course, who can forget O’Brian? He really is something else. Moving on, last and certainly not least, we have the Springforth Knight himself, Lord Roylet.”

Roylet emerged from the gates, walking a few paces before leaping nearly thirty feet clean across the area, landing in his starting position. He wore clockwork armor that ticked and tocked as the gears lining up the sides of his arms and legs perpetually moved. His boots had high-pressured pistons in them, allowing him to leap great distances. O’Brian felt a bit of envy at the sight of the brasswork armor.

That was it. All seven of the other fighters had arrived and were in position. Everyone was a meager 10 paces away from the other. O’Brian swallowed hard as he gazed nervously from fighter to fighter. They were all looking at one another as well, their eyes carefully sending messages as to who would do what.

The tension built up as the Announcer continued. “The rules for the Free-for-all are quite simple: the last man standing is the winner. But that doesn’t mean you can’t all work together for short terms. Don’t forget, a good team-up is necessary to take down the best and the worst alike!”

Those words were like codewords to the fighters. They all stole glances at O’Brian and he felt the tension build up harder in his stomach. His hand was on his sword and he could do nothing but wait for the turn to begin.

“With that in mind, let’s have one hell of a fight!” the Announcer said. “Let’s set up the turn scramble to see who gets to lead the carnage that is sure to come!”

Round Scramble! Turn Order has been Randomized!

Results:

Luxion – 1st

Millard Amos – 2nd

Gorag the Minotaur – 3rd

O’Brian – 4th

Roylet – 5th

Gilga the Glorious – 6th

Bilmore the Magnificent – 7th

Harmpton – 8th

O’Brian’s stomach sank at the sight of him going fourth. This was going to be one hell of a fight.

“Now then, let’s get some bloooood sport going!” the Announcer shouted. “First off is Luxion, let’s see how he chooses to fight!”

Luxion didn’t hesitate, he immediately ran backwards 10 paces, then aimed his crossbow at O’Brian. “Down you go!” he shouted, firing a bolt straight at the Ronin.

The hard shaft of metal whistled through the air as it struck O’Brian right in the torso, the armor absorbing most of the bolt. You have taken 2 damage! his vision told him the moment the bolt touched flesh. Blood dripped down his chest. He was down to 19 hit points.

“Oh, and Luxion fires off with a simple crossbow shot. It punctured but didn’t seem to impale. If anything, it just slightly wounded the Ronin warrior,” the Announcer said.

The turn rolled over to Millard. “En Guarde!” he shouted and he rushed towards O’Brian, sword raised high. O’Brian decided to use his Counter Skill to try and take this guy down in one go.

Counter Test! 39%....22! Success!

Millard raised his sword up high and prepared to bring it down, but O’Brian was faster. The Ronin drew his blade and cut upwards, slashing across Millard’s chest with his Legacy Katana. The blow was so fast that Millard was knocked clean onto his back. 8 damage! appeared above Millard. Bleeding Condition! Target takes 4 damage every action!

Millard clutched his wound but did not yield. He was down but not out. O’Brian had two more actions left due to his Solo Form and he gripped his sword tightly. This was just as Alamander had warned him. They were all working together. Millard would never leave his back open to all these others otherwise.

“It seems that an alliance was made!” the Announcer said as Gorag the Minotaur went to take his turn. He charged forward, lowering his head so that the horns were pointing right at O’Brian. “Everyone versus O’Brian. Professionally, I’d say he deserves it and personally? Well I feel he really deserves it!”

O’Brian activated Easy Dodge to avoid the minotaur’s charge as it spent both actions on a heavy push. The beast ran past him while he dodged to the left and continued upwards to 30 paces. That was enough distance to allow O’Brian to counter-charge later.

The turn flipped over to O’Brian who was dead in the middle of the fight. There were so many enemies and he had only one action and 3 points of Adrenaline… Whatever he did, it would have to be fierce and brutal.

O’Brian decided to take advantage of his Adrenaline by burning it on a Charge Attack towards the fallen Millard. The man tried to get on his feet fast enough but O’Brian was a blur, zipping so fast that the crowd could not keep up with his movements. He rushed past the Amos brother, his sword hanging low. In an instant, the man was hacked in half, unable to defend.

The top half of Millard flew towards the crowd and they all began to cheer. “Oooh, gruesome business! Millard was expecting a gentleman’s hesitation, to allow him to get back up on his feet but it appears that nothing is sacred to O’Brian,” the Announcer said. “That bastard just doesn’t care about anything other than victory.”

The crowd booed and cheered at the same time, impressed with the killing of Millard. O’Brian wasn’t done yet. He had just killed someone within 10 paces of another target – Roylet or Gilga the Glorious.

Using his Down You Go! feat, he quickly turned around and rushed Roylet, slashing his sword towards the man. Immediately, Roylet activated his own defense, trying to Block the attack.

Block Test! 72%...85! Failed!

The Springforth Knight activated one of his abilities, just as O’Brian’s blade was close to his head. The gears and pistons in his boosts went pshhw and he leapt backwards, clearing nearly 10 paces away from his target.

“Damn!” O’Brian said, frustrated at the loss. He almost had the man in his clutches but…still, Roylet had to spend 2 actions to escape this. That was almost as good as getting damage in.

Chapter 31

O’Brian was sweating profusely as he made a decision. Millard was out of the fight for good, joining his brother back home, but there were still seven more fighters. O’Brian needed protection for the rest of this fight. And that meant using his Ice Armor Potion.

O’Brian quickly pulled out the potion and uncorked it, drinking down the icy drink. The damned beverage was freezing to touch and the Ronin could feel a cloudy sensation of pain form up in his head as the ice spread across his entire body. In an instant, he was completely encased in thick ice armor.

The blue armor was ridged and reinforced at every point. O’Brian had no trouble holding onto his weapons, despite the slickness of the ice. He was in complete control.

“And it seems O’Brian has armored up,” the Announcer stated. “Ice armor provides protection from most everything and can even ignore heat spells, though that really depends on the strength of both magics.”

The blue armor gave O’Brian a bit more of a height as well, as his feet were cased in frozen boots. That was his last action, but he decided to throw things into chaos with burning another Adrenaline.

He activated his Charge Ability and rushed towards the sniper. The man, Luxion, had pulled away from the herd in order to have the best aim, but now he was wide open and out of actions.

O’Brian raised his sword high and activated the Banzai ability, spending 3 Technique Points which brought him down to only 2 left. The charge was intense and Luxion had no time to avoid the attack.

“Banzaiiii!” O’Brian shouted and he brought the sword from the top, down in a shoulder stroke that slashed straight through Luxion’s armor. 8 Damage! appeared above Luxion and he dropped his crossbow.

“I yield!” he shouted.

“And just like that, Luxion is out of the fight. A smart move, to yield when he was still in one piece. Some spectators reported the words yield died right in Millard’s mouth, so that’s an improvement!” the Announcer cheerily said, though there was some frustration hidden within his words. He knew as good as any that this fight was rigged. But it appeared the Announcer had been hoping the fight would be over fast. Now it was dragging out, because O’Brian refused to give up.

O’Brian was out of actions and merely waited for the rest of the fighters to take theirs.

The turn moved over to Roylet, who had backed up a ways from O’Brian to avoid being cut with the Legacy Katana. The Springforth Knight had some Adrenaline, it seemed, because he began to charge towards O’Brian, activating his heelspring gears to leap forward 10 paces at a time.

O’Brian waited for the knight to reach him. Roylet landed in front of him, bringing his longsword upwards to slash, only for the sword to get stuck against the ice.

No Magical Effects! appeared above the sword. You cannot penetrate this armor with a non-magical weapon!

“Looks like you fucked up,” O’Brian said as the turn moved over to Gilga.

Gilga hoisted his great sword up high and then stuck it into the ground. Red energy began to build up all around him as he started to charge his power.

“Oooh and after a milquetoast attack from the Springforth Knight, it looks like Gilga is preparing to break that armor. One round of charging and that sword will cut any man in half!”

Gilga’s energies built up and O’Brian could see the man was physically transforming too, his body becoming more massive and with muscle definitions that indicated he was linked to the blade in a curious way.

Bilmore’s turn was up. The wizard was shorter than the rest of the competitors; he appeared to be perhaps a gnome or maybe some other kind of fey creature. He wore a yellow robe and had a loose hat with a few playing cards hanging from the tops of it.

“For one to truly amaze, one must find their way out of a maze!” Bilmore said, weaving his hands up and down, carving through the air with his fingers to create some kind of spell effect. “Good luck finding your way through the fog and away from the darkness of smog!”

Spellcasting: Smoke Maze! 50%...51! Failed!

The spell suddenly caused the man to burst into flames for a short duration. The mustachioed gnome leaped backwards and swore. “Damn it all, that spell’s too complicated. Fine, how about a fireball!”

Spellcasting: Fireball 68%...04! Success!

The smoke fizzled around the gnomish wizard but he was quickly able to gather the flames from his body, pulling them all up into a great fireball. The red ball burned as it launched like a golf ball straight towards O’Brian.

“Can the gnome’s fire extinguish that armor?” the Announcer asked as the ball struck the Ronin dead in the torso.

Extinguish Chance: 50%...56! Fail!

O’Brian’s armor held for a second but then, he was on his feet once more, the ice around and beneath him shattering at once. The armor turned to steam and the flames died out. The spell was unable to hit O’Brian, but his armor had been neutralized.

“Damn it all, I wanted to see a roasted human!” Bilmore said.

“It would seem that everyone’s team up plans are failing quite a bit,” the Announcer said. “Here we got O’Brian against seven others and they are taking a hard loss every attack. He’s not unbeatable, however. Let’s see how Harmpton handles things.”

Harmpton let out a trumpet and walked halfway towards O’Brian. He was standing besides Gilga the Glorious, who was still powering up his weapon. Harmpton sneered towards the crowd and seized Gilga by the back of the head.

“You all took money to cheat!” he roared, lifting the great warrior who was still expanding. Gilga frantically tried to hold onto his blade, but was unable to do so. As his hands were pulled free from the weapon, so his muscles began to fade and his body’s power left.

Harmpton twisted the hand holding Gilga’s head, snapping the man’s head in a split second. “And I find it disgusting. They said last man standing, did you not think we would still fight after O’Brian was dead?”

Gilga was tossed onto the ground, his head severed from his body. The crowd, having grown a little bored of everyone attacking O’Brian, started to cheer wildly.

“I thought this was a place of honor, but I find now that you were all so crass as to not only take the money, but to obey the rules?” Harmpton screamed, throwing the skull straight at the caster gnome. The wizard tried to dodge out of the way but had no chance. He wasn’t expecting a projectile at this range.

The skull crashed into the gnome’s head, knocking him over. The gnome immediately tapped the ground and gave the universal sign for yielding before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

“You are all fiends and fools for taking money!” Harmpton bellowed. “And you will all die before O’Brian and I have our fight!”

The crowd cheered at this. There was a look of horror across all other combatants’ faces as they realized they were now fighting both Harmpton and O’Brian.

Chapter 32

The first Round ended. O’Brian felt a burst of energy and excitement at the sight of Harmpton suddenly turning on the others. He had not expected that there would be chivalry or propriety within the elephanto’s heart, but it appeared that the big beastman had his own idea of ethos. And ganging up on a single fighter wasn’t on his list of things to do.

This didn’t mean peace, of course. Harmpton was a wild fighter and stronger than most. Perhaps the minotaur could match him, but assuming that both O’Brian and Harmpton survived the fight against the others, they would still be squaring off. There was no reason to assume Harmpton would want there to be peace.

Round 2 begins! Scrambling Turns!

Luxion – 1st

Gorag – 2nd

Roylet – 3rd

Harmpton – 4th

O’Brian – 5th

Wait, something wasn’t right, Luxion was listed as still in the fight, but he had yielded. Hadn’t he?

O’Brian glanced over to see that Luxion had scrambled away from the melee ranges once more and was setting up his crossbow on some kind of vertical stand. The crossbow had a top loader that allowed him to quickly place a box of bolts into a feeder. There was a hand crank on the other side of the crossbow and Luxion had spent quite some time setting this up.

“You yielded!” O’Brian shouted to Luxion.

“I just said the words, you believed me!” Luxion shouted back. He began to crank the crossbow and dozens of sharp bolts came flying towards O’Brian.

O’Brian couldn’t dodge this wall of bolts coming his way. All of his gear was specifically attuned to arrows, not crossbow bolts. There was a big different between the two and O’Brian was in a bad place, if not for the fact that the Springheel Knight was with him as well.

Thinking quickly, O’Brian used a Reaction to Easy Dodge, moving behind Roylet. The man was loudly protesting but had no time. His great clockwork armor was an easy target for the blanket of bolts and O’Brian knelt down, holding his position until the repeating crossbow stopped firing.

“Oooh, and it seems that those repeater bolts did not leave much left to Roylet,” the Announcer said as the man, riddled full of bolts, fell to the ground, rolling over onto his back.

“Damn, that should still get me XP right?” Luxion shouted as he began to reload the crossbow.

The turn rolled over from Luxion to Gorag. The great Minotaur charged Harmpton, since he was much closer than O’Brian, and the two engaged in titanic struggle. Both sides were fighting with fist and horn, punching and kicking, goring and biting. They both used their reactions and actions in the same volley, fighting wildly with no signs of victory or advantage on either side.

Then the turn fell to O’Brian.

“You really should be ejected,” O’Brian said as he sheathed his blade and drew his bow, aiming it straight towards Luxion. “But I suppose I’ll be the one to take the trash out.”

He was low on Technique Points but could shoot just as well. O’Brian lined up the Burning Bow and released an arrow. There was a loud thwick as the arrow embedded itself right in Luxion’s forehead, igniting the man on fire. He slumped over hard. His right hand still stretched out as it attempted to crank the crossbow once more. The fire spread to the lines on the bow and the box of ammunition as well.

“I’d take accuracy over rate of fire,” O’Brian muttered as he turned his back to the smoldering heap of human. Luxion was not faking it this time, he was out. And that meant there were only three people left.

Harmpton was wrestling hard with Gorag, both of them engaged in a furious struggle to the ground. Their backs were both open.

O’Brian had to make a hard choice here. His bow was fine at longer ranges and both gladiators had used up all of their reaction points. He could shoot Harmpton in the back, ensuring that the elephanto was dead before he could get to O’Brian. But that seemed so unsporting with the way Harmpton kept his head above the rest of these gladiators.

Harmpton had been fair to O’Brian. The fight could have gone in a worse direction had he not thrown off the entire group’s plan in a single blow. That Gilga fellow would have been a real monster to fight. Without Harmpton’s refusal to follow the king’s bribes, O’Brian may not be still standing.

On the other hand, Harmpton might kill O’Brian in the fight. They were only on the second round and they were far from evenly matched. Except for the fact that O’Brian could use his grease and blocking bracelets to protect himself.

O’Brian decided to keep the fight clean; well, as clean as it could be. He aimed his bow at the minotaur and fired a shot square into the creature’s shoulder.

The Minotaur rocked to the left and released Harmpton’s fists as he took a hit from the arrow. 5 Damage! Ignition Chance 25%...33! No Ignition.

The Minotaur turned to face O’Brian for a moment before his head was caved in by a hard punch by Harmpton. Opportunity Attack! appeared above both of their heads for a moment as the great elephanto threw Gorag straight onto the ground. He threw another fist, shattering the jaw of the minotaur laying on the ground.

“Ooooh and just like that it seems that Gorag has lost control of just about all his senses and his teeth,” the Announcer said. “Who could have seen a fight like that coming? All it took was a single arrow to change the tide. But now we have to ask one question? Who will be the last man standing?”

The Round ended and O’Brian was selected to go first. Harmpton turned around to face him. His expression was cold and merciless.

“I have to say thank you, for not letting a few bucks turn your attention towards me at the start,” O’Brian said as he slung the burning bow over his shoulder. He drew his katana and raised it up high.

“You seem to be different from the other contestants,” Harmpton said from his position nearly 15 paces away.  “The king of these contrived games seems to want only carnage and destruction. The people here have no care for the situation at hand but none will fix it. Who are you?”

O’Brian was taken aback by this question. “I am…well…I’m just a victim. A sacrifice whose blood was supposed to be spilled in order to start this season.”

Harmpton slowly nodded. “My people were…accosted.”

“They seem to be having a bit of a chit-chat going on…” the Announcer said. “I’m pretty sure I yelled for blood sport earlier and a light conversation isn’t that!”

“Accosted?” O’Brian asked.

The great elephanto nodded once more. “Yes. The King Fasser arrived to our people a few months ago. He had with him a small army of gladiators, elites he calls them. They were well armed and with powerful poisons that could kill any one of us with a single dose.”

A shiver ran down O’Brian’s spine upon hearing this. “They arrived at your land? How?”

“That I do not know,” Harmpton said. “But he had a single desire. A champion of our own to fight in his great games. He spoke with little regard for our lives but said that if they sent a sacrifice, it would be the only time he would come to see our people with so many forces.”

“He’s done with capturing our own people,” O’Brian concluded. “Sir, Harmpton, I am nothing more than just a man who tried to live his existence out at the bottom of the mountain. There are many of us but each season, so many are captured. For what reasons, I cannot possibly guess. But if the king has found a way to travel to your world, then it means he will seek to travel all worlds eventually.”

“What does he want?” Harmpton asked.

“Seriously, folks, let’s see some bloodshed!” the Announcer tried to interrupt. But the pair ignored his words. They were too engrossed in the revelation they were both making at the same time.

“I have no way of possibly knowing,” O’Brian said. “I don’t even know why he sacrifices us.”

“There must be some power that he draws from the blood. Something about sacrifices that gives him more energy than the rest of us,” Harmpton said. “I only came here because it was necessary to avoid our people being captured.”

“But who’s to say he won’t capture your kind after a while?” O’Brian asked.

“There isn’t much in the word of a man who does those things,” Harmpton agreed. “So what do you say then? Shall we continue to kill one another? Or maybe we take our aim at the so-called king?”

Chapter 33

“You will do no such thing,” a deep voice said, causing both Harmpton and O’Brian to turn to face the man. It was the king, standing on the arena floor. He was adorned in black armor, with a helmet with great horns on both sides. He wasn’t terribly tall but his shoes made up for that a little, putting him on near chest level to O’Brian.

“I have come out to personally congratulate you both on ruining my Free-for-all,” King Fasser said, his voice gravely and dark. Behind him was a great cage. “You think your words and thoughts are hidden from me? I know the heart of every single person here. They all wish to prove themselves, to show to their people that they are worthy warriors. But you two? You speak of ending these games. You speak of fighting against me.”

Harmpton raised a mighty fist. “Do you think you can take me down? You’re a coward who forces others to fight in order to boost your energies.”

“If that were true, then you would have to simply run the numbers,” King Fasser said. “Dozens die per week, hundreds each season. If I were given power by the death of each contestant here…well, it would only make sense that I would be the single strongest person in the universe.”

“Then come over here and—” Harmpton tried to speak further but Fasser stretched out a hand, causing the elephanto to float up in the air, arms and legs suddenly forced outwards. He was suspended in midair, his arms and legs threatening to tear themselves off.

“You should be careful when plotting against me,” the king said. “For you seem to think I a powerless coward. But should I will it, just a little bit more, I could have you torn to pieces.”

“Do it and end my torment!” Harmpton spat.

“Woah, hey!” O’Brian said, suddenly playing the role of the intermediator. “Fasser, you cheated. You’ve been cheating with Harmpton. You know he’s a ringer and you paid off everyone to target only me in the Free-for-all. Are you so uncertain about my power, about our power, that you intend to see this over early?”

The king looked over at O’Brian for a moment. “You seem a bit more reasonable than your counterpart.”

“You are strong, there is no doubt,” O’Brian continued. “But you cannot claim yourself the strongest if you do not face the best here. There are sixteen weeks and we are merely on the start of the third week. What are your doubts about us? What are your fears that we shall somehow upset your plans? What even do you wish to see?”

“I wish to see your blood run through the arena,” the king said. He was silent for a moment. “Very well, if you must know.”

Fasser released his magical grasp over Harmpton, allowing the elephant to land on his feet. The monstrous man did not charge the king, but merely scowled. Fasser raised his left hand and created a series of images in the center of the arena.

The circle of images showed Fasser as a weak and tired man, thin and pale from lack of sun. He was struggling to survive in the mountains, searching for something.

“Life below the mountains was brutal for the weather changed often. The great mountain beside us frequently released torrents of ice or snow, crushing the villages or unleashing some terrible monster upon them,” the king explained.

Time moved quickly in the image bubbles, showing the various villages around the mountain ravaged by snow or beast. Something always descended from the mountain, killing a large portion of the population.

“This was well before our people were able to build themselves into anything of substance,” the king explained. “For the deaths were frequent and impossible to ward off. No matter how clever or skilled with survival you were, the curse of the mountain continued to take without relent.”

Images of kings dying at the hands of three-headed bears appeared, pregnant women becoming frozen as a wild wind blew by, men and women of all kinds, dying miserably and without a chance to find shelter. O’Brian did not recognize any of these people or villages.

“I was different,” the king continued. “I was not content to listen to the village elders give useless advice. They were all fools, because they tried to do everything in their power to endure, but none would scale the mountain. They believed themselves fated to die if they even stepped upon such a place. Many treated the mountain as a sacred god, but if it were a god, to me I only saw a god of death.”

“Like you have become now,” O’Brian coldly replied.

The king grinned at this. “You wouldn’t think that to be an insult to me? Surely, to be a god of death is to at least be a god. You can’t win them all.”

O’Brian shrugged, and the king continued. The images changed, showing him enter a small cavern with a mural upon the wall. “Many men tried to stop me from ascending, all with logic, fears, lies and even violence. They believed the curse upon our world would get worse if a mortal ever ascended. But they were mistaken and fools to boot. My only hope is that they were mauled by a terrible beast while they made foolish sacrifices of herb and spice to the mountain.”

The mural expanded in front of O’Brian. It showed the mountain above all else, with some kind of liquid pouring down upon the rest of the villages.

“I studied this strange thing for years,” Fasser explained. “Looking for its meaning as I subsisted off the few monsters that I could kill. Upon the mountain, these creatures were weak and sleepy, trying to rest for their attack on the mortals below the plain. I found a variety of strange-tasting dishes, made from the mountain monsters. And with their flesh came such power…power of observation and strength, power of knowing and the power to learn even more.” The king fell still for a moment and took a deep breath.

“And it fed me long enough to keep me alive to study this great wall. It was instructions, left by the previous people of the mountain. You see, there were once two great civilizations. One below the mountain, who believed in living in harmony with one another, and those above the mountain, who lived in the clouds and sought to master nature with magic.”

The mural changed, showing a map of the entire world, carefully displaying the different elements. “The land above tended to the rains and weather, whereas the land below tended to the livestock. There was harmony until one day, the Red Demons came.”

The mural changed once more, showing the strange goat-headed demons with bat wings upon their backs. “These creatures made a bargain with the cloudlanders,” the king said. “Slay those below with weather events and disasters, end their lives with brutality, and gain the power of gods.”

O’Brian gasped at this. “What did they do?”

The king laughed. “Oh, what anyone would do. They all claimed that their demands were evil and cruel, but secretly the elders of the cloudlands sought their aid. These Red Demons were pleased with the backbiting and so, gave each elder a chance to earn the demons’ favor: mutual combat.”

The mural shifted to reveal a great arena where men were fighting, slaying each other and being slain by monsters.

“The Red Demons saw no champions, no victors. No one worth revealing their secrets, and so they simply settled upon the mountain,” the king continued. “Pouring their wrath out upon the lowlanders, punishing them for nothing other than the mere crime of being alive. Until they found me, that is.”

The images changed once more to show the young king, standing in front of a band of these Red Demons. Their skin rubbery red, their wings black and batlike and their heads like that of goats. “They were malnourished by the time I met them,” Fasser explained. “Their power far too gone after years of stagnation. It was a pleasure for them to watch mortals below consumed, but there was little rhyme or reason to it. They were beginning to dwindle. Their ranks slowly dying out one by one as the mortal race below faded.”

The king proudly puffed out his chest. “It was I who took control of their group. They wanted to simply devour me, or open me up while I was still alive, in the hopes of generating even more energies for themselves. But I was clever enough to convince them I was of more use to them alive than dead. After all, they were slowly fading away. And I saw the opportunity to take real control of the world below. Those fools who warned me to stay were long dead by the time I began to fall prey to the cold of the mountains. A bit of fur from a slain beast is all one needs to keep back the harshness of the frost.”

“Demons are here?” O’Brian asked, glancing past the man and at the great cage behind him.

“Oh yes. Red Demons are everywhere. They are the very foundations of what you are standing upon,” the king explained. “You see, these demons had powers that you and I would consider to be world changing and astounding, but to them it is a mere parlor trick. Having studied the first time the cloudlanders were forced to fight against one another in a great spectacle, I decided that I would convince these demons to do the same with the lowlanders.”

The king grinned fiendishly at that. “You should have seen it. They gave me the power to change this entire mountain into an arena at the snap of a finger. Oh, it cost them nothing to shape this entire place into the Meerschaum Coliseum, and to raise up a force of immortal fighters? Even easier. Their power fused with my creativity allowed me to become the ruler of this place…though there was one deal that was made. Every season of fighting, I would provide a single innocent sacrifice to the Red Demons. The blood of someone who could not fight would be spilled upon the land, to grant the demons their own immortality.”

“You’re feeding them?” O’Brian roared.

“You’re damn well right I am,” the king said. “Each splash of blood, each loss of life, it gives them eternal strength. And I get a piece of their power.”

O’Brian felt sick to his stomach upon hearing this. “What’s your endgame here? What is the point of doing any of this?” he asked.

“At first, the idea was just to show the lowlands that they were too weak compared to my mind. I wanted to see them suffer a little, and then reveal myself,” the king explained. “But the power I gained from each fight, from each conflict…I decided that the population better serves as a slave population. Mere cattle for me to select for a bloodletting every now and then.”

“You have hundreds of us,” O’Brian shouted. He felt his anger getting the better part of him. He could do it. Just draw his sword and slash the man in half. “Locked away in prisons. Why?”

“Desperation makes for interesting elites,” the man replied. “Come now, you are taking this far too personally. You would do the same if you had the power I did. It is the power of a god, to build, to create, to see men and women throw their lives into the flames just for a taste of glory. It is everything one could ever want.”

“I must ally with O’Brian here,” Harmpton said. “You are a sick man if you truly take pleasure in this.”

“I take pleasure in knowing that I am the strongest of my people,” Fasser said. “And you two should take pleasure in knowing that you are worthy enough to face a demonic creation.”

Chapter 34

The great cage rustled as the king turned his back to O’Brian and Harmpton. “You do not understand the nature of the scenario. The Red Demons want the blood they were promised. I have tried to reason with them, but we had made an agreement, O’Brian. They want your blood spilled out all upon the ground, soaking the great arena. I see no reason to keep this farce going on any further. You may have thought yourself special because of the Ronin, but you will be pitted against a great Demon Beast. Harmpton? I would suggest that you stay alive, for the demons do not care about your blood…just yet.”

The great elephant looked at O’Brian and then at the cage. “It sounds less like my problem than yours,” he said. “I’m afraid that I must look out for myself here. If one of us is going to kill Fasser, it’s going to be me.”

O’Brian said nothing at that, he merely drew his katana and gripped the sword tightly. He could feel the bumps of the bands around the handle exude a kind of energy.

“You must not be afraid of a mere demon,” the Ronin spirit said. “For you are a Ronin too. A demon is nothing more than a creature of power. Are you going to stand and quiver before a monster? A mere mortal? The only thing you should fear is that which is truly immortal.”

O’Brian nodded and took a deep breath.

“Greetings to all!” the king’s voice said, echoing throughout the entire arena. “I am your mighty king, Fasser. The Announcer often breaks up these moments of silence with chatter and idle discussion. But I thought it best to explain to you all that this extra game is to put an end to O’Brian’s amateur streak as a fighter. He was never meant to be a participant in this great game and his presence is a blemish to all who participate. We shall be removing him with the oldest of traditions: sending a great Demon Beast after him.”

Match Has Changed! The Free-For-All has been changed to a Beast Match!

You are facing a Red Demon Beast! The arena has refreshed your health and abilities!

Energy surged through O’Brian’s veins as the refresh effect took place. His HP moved back up to 21 and his Technique Points rose to 7 once more. He felt as good as before any other match, except for the intense fear in his stomach.

“Let’s see how O’Brian survives this!” the king bellowed. The cage fell open at once, revealing a great demon of red and black fur.

The creature was not a goat but rather a giant fox, with six burning tails, thrashing up and down in a frenzied pattern. Its eyes were black as coal and smoke rose up from the creature’s mouth as it snarled. The thing was the size of a barn, with four legs each the size of a horse.

Beast Match has begun! Round 1!

Red Fox Demon First!

O’Brian swallowed hard as the great fox demon rose up on all fours and let out a snarling roar that showed an endless series of mouths and teeth. He had no clue what to hit this creature with—his Burning Bow would certainly do nothing against a burning fox demon.

The creature rushed up to him and threw a lengthy paw right at his chest. He immediately activated Easy Dodge, losing 1 TP and jumping out of the way just in time. The paw cut through the air, setting the oxygen on fire in front of O’Brian.

“Damn it!” he said, seeing as the claw came towards him again. At least he could React here with a counter. He raised his sword and slashed as the great paw came charging.

Counter Test! 39%...41! Failed!

Unfortunately, his counter skill was not sufficient by only a few meager points. The claw struck him hard in the torso, tossing him backwards a few feet. Still, he was able to land on his feet, holding his ground as best he could.

5 Damage taken! appeared in his vision, dropping his HP to 16.

The beast planted both claws into the dirt and let out a bellowing roar before a sea of flames came pouring forth towards the Ronin. Damn, the creature had 3 actions too!

O’Brian activated Easy Dodge, leaping aside to avoid the fire breath, losing another TP. He wheezed a little as the heat of the air caused breathing to become harder.

The monster towered over O’Brian, but one of his Feats had activated. He could see the Weak Points of the creature, now that he had taken damage.

The head of the fox was empty of all strike areas but its tails were specifically glowing yellow, showing a spot where its vitals were located. A curious place to keep its weak points, but it made sense. The tails curled upwards and moved constantly, never being used for combat purposes.

The turn flipped over to O’Brian and he had 3 Adrenaline and 2 Actions left. “Let’s do this!” he shouted, running as fast as he could and using his Grasshopper Stance to leap up high upon the knee of the beast. It roared at him but did nothing as he jumped atop its back and charged towards one of the tails.

Tail Curl Technique! 48%...17! Success!

Before O’Brian could slash any of the tails, the beast activated one of its techniques, causing each tail to curl up tightly into a ball. The weak spots vanished from the Ronin’s view and he swore aloud.

“Come on!” he yelled, striking as hard as he could against the tucked tails. The curl method had reinforced the muscles and hide, making it impossible for the sword to even break through.

Still on the Red Demon’s back, O’Brian flipped his sword downwards and grabbed the handle with both hands. “Hyaaa!” he shouted, digging the blade deep into the back haunch of the fox demon. It let out a yelp as 4 Damage! floated above it.

Burning blood began to well up from where the blade had struck and suddenly, O’Brian’s feet were on fire. He leapt backwards just in time, stomping and stamping to put the flames out. There was no damage but his sword was still stuck in the back of the creature.

“It’s going to take a lot more than four damage to kill this thing,” O’Brian said, retrieving his sword as an action unto itself. He decided to hold onto his Adrenaline and allowed for a new round.

“And you can see that O’Brian has realized that he is now standing up against something stronger than anything he has ever faced,” the king narrated, glee in his voice.

The fox demon kicked up and down, causing O’Brian’s swiftness to activate to stay stable. Testing Swiftness! 80%...91! Failed!

With that, O’Brian was tossed onto his back, thrown far off the Fox demon’s hind legs. The fox yipped as it easily made its way to O’Brian’s new position. The Ronin groaned, still holding his sword as the beast loomed above him.

It opened its mouths and lunged down. O’Brian was quick to try and Counter the Attack.

Counter Test! 39%...23! Success!

As the fox’s mouth came down to crunch on O’Brian, he speared the beast in the tongue, stabbing upwards and sectioning off a piece of the appendage as he pulled it free. 8 Damage! appeared in O’Brian’s vision and the fox let out a high-pitched squeal.

“Come on!” O’Brian yelled and he climbed back onto his feet. The Fox attempted another bite and the Ronin was quick to activate his Dodge Ability to freely move out of the way.

The tails were untucked once more, now that the creature was fighting again. O’Brian decided to give it a shot. He ran along the side of the beast as the turn flipped over to him and he leapt high upon its back.

Thanks to the jump, O’Brian could activate High Slash, an ability he rarely got to use. Since he had just jumped up there as an action, he was free to attack the weak spot without paying anything.

As he sprung like a grasshopper, he thrust his longsword forward, waiting for the creature’s defensive abilities to kick in.

Tail Curl Technique! 48%...31! Success!

Once again, O’Brian’s attack was thwarted when the great tails tucked themselves against each other, becoming too hard to hit. But the Ronin wasn’t dissuaded. He had two actions left…best go for the back of the head.

O’Brian turned on his heels and sprang forward, raising his sword up high to thrust it within the back of the beast’s head.

The fox let out a yip as the sword pierced right through, the attack hitting automatically! 2 Damage Dealt! appeared in O’Brian’s vision. Not even close enough to take the creature down.

With another attack, O’Brian decided to just stab again. 2 more damage. The beast was regenerating already, its wounds closing up.

The third round began and the fox tried to flick O’Brian off again. Hopefully he would hold firm…

Testing Swiftness! 80%...10! Success!

O’Brian managed to keep his feet in position upon the back of the great demon as it tried to buck him off. The beast snarled and swung a paw at O’Brian, prompting him to dodge once more, still using his Easy Dodge ability.

His TP was running low and his attacks were barely doing any damage. This was a losing fight and O’Brian knew it.

Chapter 35

O’Brian tried to dodge the next attack, in order to preserve his TP. The fox could reach behind its head with its paws and was still swiping to try and take him down.

Dodge Test! 50%...85! Failed!

The paw connected with O’Brian and threw him a good 10 paces off of the creature’s back. He heard a loud crack as he sat up and his HP dropped down by 10 points. You are Injured and past half health! The System warned him.

With only 6 hit points left, O’Brian was a mere swat away from being killed. He staggered as he tried to stand easily, only for the words Injured! to appear in front of him.

You have a Cracked Rib! Your movement is reduced to 5 paces per AP and you cannot move and Attack at the same time!

“You gotta be kidding me,” O’Brian muttered as he gulped down one of the Strong Healing potions, getting his HP back to 11. The fox had used all its points in order to take its prey off its back and now O’Brian had the benefit of time to figure out how his next move.

“Ain’t you a sorry bastard?” Alamander’s voice said as it swirled around O’Brian’s ears. “Getting your ass kicked and you just got injured too.”

“Here to mock me as I die?” the Ronin asked, clutching his side where the cracked rib was radiating white hot pain.

“More like here to help you win, in a way,” Alamander said. “Finch wants to tap in and fight for ya. It’s against all the rules but that doesn’t stop an asshole like me from doing so. Trouble is, he might be ejected by the king immediately. So you’ll have to risk losing your best fighter.”

“He’ll be ejected anyway,” O’Brian gasped.

“Finch is concerned with how the fight is going,” Alamander’s illusory voice said. “Look, if there was some way I could just zip you away, I would, but you gotta make a call here. Keep fighting on your own and die horribly, or call in Finch for a longshot victory.”

“Send Finch in,” O’Brian said without hesitation. It was easy to know when he was beat and this was the exact situation. “But you’ll need to distract the king for a moment.”

“Got it!” the voice said.

For a moment, O’Brian wondered if that exchange had been real at all. That could have been a trick from the demon or from his own senses, after being hit so hard. But fortunately, those doubts faded as a great train appeared from nowhere.

It was a marvelous contraption, made of metal and colored with prismatic paints. The great train let out a loud whistle as it began to circle around the fox.

“What the hell manner of device is that!” the king bellowed. “Get that out of here right now! What do you mean, we aren’t doing this? Damn you all, it’s just a metal machine!”

The fox lost interest in O’Brian for a moment and turned its back, swiping at the large steam engine that was rushing as fast as it could away from the beast. Each swing seemed to miss and the king was screaming in wretched rage at the apparent loss of control of the match.

O’Brian could tell that this metal engine was nothing more than an illusion. The air besides the Ronin moved for a moment, revealing the cloaked form of Finch.

“I fear that this will be the last we speak,” the big man said. “I have grown to like you and appreciate your leadership. I was in a rush to get home but being a part of this team has been a joy.”

“Can you really take it down?” O’Brian asked.

“You keep striking at the tails, but they curl inward,” Finch said. “Run with me and leap atop the back. You strike only after I do.”

O’Brian nodded. The noise from the train had caused the demon to completely lose interest in anything as it tried to chase after the device like it was a mouse. Several gladiators were appearing to try and attack it, their arrows and spears merely ‘bouncing’ off the illusion. With any luck, this might get Alamander kicked out too, but O’Brian somehow doubted it.

“Now!” Finch said, dashing fast. O’Brian tried to follow after but his injury was too great. The Finchman upped his speed even more, barely visible thanks to the chameleon spell effect around him.

O’Brian slowed down and drew out his Burning Bow instead. Maybe the creature wouldn’t be immune to heat.

“Sorry, my injury,” he wheezed.

Finch continued running, not bound to any of the rules of the fight. He leapt atop the back of the red fox and with a mighty hack, severed one of the fox’s tails. The beast immediately yelped and bucked, before Finch swung again, taking one of the other tails out.

This caused the Fox to fall onto its back and side, thrashing and twisting as it yelped in agony. Finch leapt clear of the creature and went to deliver a killing blow to the creature, only to be lifted into the air.

“Gods damn it!” the king cried as he appeared in the arena, hand raised to keep Finch up. “You were my favorite thus far.”

“Do not think that you do your deeds in the dark,” Finch said. “For there are greater powers in the universes than you. Do you believe that you are in the right with what you do here? Many of us agree to fight, for death is nothing more than just a short trip home. But to those who are like O’Brian, death is slavery to your very whims.”

“Oh please,” the king said, staring up at Finch. “You truly think that you are in the right? What would you even know about anything? You’re just a big dumb brute, without a single thought in your head other than kill.”

“I have another thought,” Finch said. “Feel free to kiss my well-muscled ass.”

The king started to get angry and stretched his hand out to banish the man, but he paused instead. “It occurs to me that you interfered to save O’Brian. And while you have indeed injured the fox demon, it is still alive and able to kill him…yet…yet I must admit, sending you straight home provides no real sense of pleasure. There’s no finality to it.”

He stopped and took in a deep breath. “Ah, I have a better idea. Finch, are you a man of your word?”

“I am,” the big man replied.

“I believe you. You have conducted yourself with uprightness and skill beyond everyone else. Even Harmpton was going to fall beneath your strength,” the king said, still grinning with a fiendish look. “Then perhaps you would take to joining a different school? One of my own elite Shadow Schools? Serve as my warrior, end the lives of those who willingly bring up the blade until the end of this season.”

“And in exchange you would allow O’Brian to claim victory for the Free-for-all and end this mismatched fight?” Finch demanded.

The king was grinning like mad. “I see you aren’t nearly as dumb as I was willing to believe. My apologies, Mr. Finch. You’ll be the coach of a new team. Think of O’Brian as your rival. And of course, with him against you, you must kill him. In a fair fight, of course. Surely he’ll reach Level 7 at some point, and then it would be a real treat to see who would win. The honorable barbarian or the skunk of a Ronin who merely got lucky a few times in a series of fights?”

Finch glanced down at O’Brian. The great fox was starting to get back up. “You will not cease until this man is dead or the season is over?”

“If O’Brian can get to the end of the season, he’d still have to face the best of the best. And you think you’d be a loser in the fight?” the king asked. He almost looked delighted by this new idea.

“If you so wish it,” Finch said. “I could be persuaded to join a Shadow School. Though I must insist that you cease your attempts at making the competition so one-sided for O’Brian. He has been through enough.”

“If he can’t survive, that’s his problem,” the king said. “But I must warn you, Finch. Some minds are easier to mold with my power. You may think your will great and my strength nothing, but over time, I can take control of your thoughts. I can make you an extension of myself. And that is the cost of letting this man survive today.”

“Season’s over in sixteen weeks,” Finch said. “If you think you have the power to break my mind in that time, so be it. Just be warned that if I am not allowed to return to my home after the end of the season, my employer will be arriving. And I have yet to meet the man who can match wits with Artemis of Adventure Awaits.”

The king nodded at this and turned his attention towards O’Brian. “Well then? What do you think of this arrangement? I take one of your best and leave you with nothing. And then, he’ll kill you at the end of all of this.”

“Sounds more fair than what I’m facing against right now,” O’Brian spat back. “Am I free to go?”

“Indeed,” King Fasser said. “You have won the match. The Beast was just a little encore for the fans.”

“Good luck to you, O’Brian,” Finch said. “It seems that next we face, it will be as foes. And think not that I would dishonor you by holding back.”

With that, the entire arena was empty in a split second, leaving O’Brian with nothing but stats to look at.

You have won the Free-For-All!

Sponsorship Payout: 10,000 Bucks

Orange Rank Pay: 1,000 Bucks

Popularity: 100/200

XP Bonus: 1,500

Chapter 36

O’Brian staggered into the common pavilion, the breath knocked out of him with each step he took. The entire area was empty, save for a lone Alamander.

“You doing okay?” the wizard asked, kindly walking up to take O’Brian’s arm and help him over to the banquet table.

“I figured you’d be yelling at me and kicking me in the ribs,” O’Brian wheezed and he sank onto the bench. He gasped in pain as he tried to move his right arm up.

“Easy, pal, you just went through hell,” Alamander said. He sat beside the man and patted him on the shoulder. “Believe it or not, but it wasn’t a joy to see you with the odds against you. I may be an ass of a man but that king has it coming. Wizards gain ultimate power every time they write a new spell, but mortals shouldn’t be mucking around with demon stuff.”

“You think it’ll destroy him in the end?”

“The best demons aren’t the ones who turn against their handlers,” Alamander said. “Quite the contrary, it’s the ones who learn what makes a mortal happy. We like to think that humans have a great variety of desires and interests, sure, but after a while people just fall into a routine. A demon who knows a man’s routine is a demon who can control him for life.”

“So what’s the plan then?” O’Brian asked. Alamander poured the man a shot of hard alcohol.

“It’s the same as it’s ever been,” Alamander replied. “You step up and take more charge. At Orange Rank, our Prestige isn’t much but when we get to Yellow Rank, that’s when things really start changing. You’ll be able to give orders and send bonuses to your team when you are spectating. It’s called Live Coaching and it’s pretty useful.”

O’Brian took a shot of the drink and gagged. “Why are you being so kind right now?”

“Well, the truth of the matter is, I like you,” Alamander said. “In a weird sort of way. You had a real choice on your hands, keep Finch or your ego. And you chose to lose your ego. Trouble is, now you’ve created your own worst enemy, since Finch will have little to no trouble killing you. With the Shadow school now out in the open, you’ve got him to worry about each week.”

“And you weren’t caught for messing with the arena?” O’Brian asked,

Alamander chuckled. “It’s going to take a lot to catch old Alamander. I managed to pin the whole thing on a bottle fairy and now she’s trapped in a place with no light or sound for a few weeks! After that, well, I guess she’ll be back here for angry, salty revenge. But don’t worry, my plan then is to blame you!”

The room slowly began to warm up as dozens of workers started to come out. Bakers placed food on the tables, trainers ran by, yelling at the Recruits and forcing them to run laps around the table.

“So we just gotta get through the season,” O’Brian mused. “And then after that, we might be able to take the king down. Who is to say what happens if the demons don’t get their sacrifice like they’ve been promised?”

“My guess is they take the king’s blood as payment. And then…well, I suppose whoever takes control of the throne and expels the demons is the real winner,” Alamander said, sliding a piece of bread over to the injured O’Brian.

The warrior winced as he picked up the bread. “You think we have a chance of putting an end to these games?”

“I think it would be a bad idea to end them, as you’ve got commerce, tourism, interdimensional interests,” Alamander said. “But this place could definitely use new management.”

Epilogue

O’Brian walked down the long hallway. He was holding Cassandra’s hand and they moved slowly, in lockstep.

“I can’t say I’m a fan of you staying in these fights,” Cassandra said, gently squeezing his palm as they ventured, for the first time, outside of their own quarters. They had been invited to negotiate with another team, one that had just arrived.

“What else am I to do?” O’Brian asked, wincing a little as they started up some steps leading further in the hallway. He could see dozens of sour-faced paintings of men and women all around them. These people had a hardness to their faces, a grim determination that seemed to indicate something larger than life than their meager frames could display.

“I’ve got to lead this team from the front and more importantly, I can start teaching with all my XP. We’ve got three free days for the recruits coming up,” he continued. “I believe we can get them all leveled up.”

“Purely coaching is safer,” Cassandra replied. “I mean, I’m barely courageous enough to go out there on my own.”

“Yet, you do it anyway,” he answered. They paused as he tried to gather his strength for the continued walk down the long hallway.

“You’re barely able to breathe free of pain, let alone walk. Your Injury is enough of a reason to retire,” Cassandra objected as she listened to him breathe.

“What if it’s just…you that takes my breath away?” he cheekily asked. She scoffed at that and gently tapped his chest.

“I thought you and that scrubbing girl were an item,” she softly said.

“She seems to think that I’d be better off chasing some high-end tail, like yours, for instance,” he replied.

Cassandra tried not to laugh at that. She twirled her hair in her fingers, idly thinking about it. “I didn’t mind you being taken but…you and I had a history. A real past.”

“Trouble is though…” O’Brian trailed off. “I’m not trying to come across as crass or anything. But is it possible that we just cared about each other because we were the only options? There were few people available and many women avoided romance for fear of the noise childbirth makes…you were the only woman I knew who was willing to endure anything to start a family. Now…well, now we’re far from that idea.”

“It’s a constant question,” Cassandra agreed. “Are we together because it is convenient or because there is something meaningful in there…but I don’t think about that too much. I merely thought constantly about you being taken from me. All on my account. Well, for the tribe’s account.”

“I like Lily quite a bit. I can’t imagine having a reason to move things any further with her though,” O’Brian said.

“I should say so, the way she leaves nothing to the imagination,” Cassandra laughed. “And me with all my layers and hoods. Are you saying I should fight in the nude?”

“I can’t imagine your judge score being very lower with that being a factor,” O’Brian replied. She giggled at that and gently placed a kiss on his cheek, being careful not to hurt him.

“I wouldn’t think of it as a competition between myself and Miss Lily. She seems happy enough to be your cleaner and I don’t mind a pretty face around you. But I think we should talk more about this when we finally get out of this mess,” she said.

“You think we’re stuck?” O’Brian asked.

“You think we’re not?” she replied.

They paused for a moment to consider the other’s opinion. “You were the one who chose to come here,” O’Brian said. “I was abducted. If either of us wanted out desperately, I would assume it would be me. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. For the life of me, I can’t get enough of this fighting. There’s something inside of me that just wants to continue waking up. Like I have been asleep my entire life until these fights. It’s like they’re brief lapses of being awake and the rest is just one long sleep.”

“I feel the other way. Each fight is like a nightmare but as soon as I’m safe from everything, it feels just like it didn’t happen,” Cassandra said.

They stopped their walking before a great metal door with golden handles. O’Brian went to open it for her but Cassandra was quick to make the effort.

“Easy, your ribs,” she said, pushing the door open for them both.

A warm smoke came rising out of the room, like cinnamon or freshly baked bread. “Walk cautiously, injured one,” a woman said. “For my tail is somewhere around here.”

O’Brian leaned against Cassandra as they both began to ascend up a long series of steps. There was a great red tail, a dragon’s tail, resting on one of the steps. With Cassandra’s help, they were able to get over it without hurting the Ronin too much.

As they continued up the stairwell, O’Brian couldn’t help but notice a strange portrait to his left. There was a woman and a man sitting on a couch together, their hands gently placed in their own laps. Except the woman had a dragon claw and the man had a metal right hand. The words Galaria and Artemis C190 were below the portrait.

“Artemis?” O’Brian asked.

“Not quite,” the dragoness said as they reached the top of the steps to discover a great red dragon lying on the ground before them. Her head was gigantic and her eyes were dark yellow, piercing through them both. “But I am well acquainted with every inch of that man. He is my husband.”

“He’s the guy from the stand! The Adventure Awaits fellow!” O’Brian gasped. “I spent a ton on a bracelet I didn’t use even once!”

“Yes,” the dragoness said dryly. “I was hoping to discuss my husband’s idle passion for selling overpriced designer goods to you.”

“On behalf of the Outsiders,” Cassandra said. “I am Cassandra, or Nameless Silk. And this is O’Brian. I like to call him Eyes Like the Sky.”

“That is a proper introduction, the dragoness said as she shape-shifted into a human, tall and with raven black hair. She sat upon a great throne, the only draconic part of her were her long claws. “I am Galaria, the Dragon Queen of Self Rulership.”

“It is an honor to meet a dragon, my lady,” Cassandra said. “Please accept my bow twice, as for my companion is wounded.”

“Indeed. A hellspawn injured you and yet you still are alive,” Galaria said. “Finch has been compromised in many interesting ways before, but this latest one gives me an opportunity to…how can I say it? Prove my husband wrong. He seems to think that Finch can’t be beaten, no matter who you throw at him. I believe that Finch, while powerful, can be taken down by a dragon. Trouble is, with the way levels work and all, a dragon here, in this system, would be far too valuable for any team to even dream of affording.”

“Of course,” O’Brian said, looking over at Cassandra. They were both unsure of what this woman was getting at.

“New teams join in on the fourth week, but I see you have a few more slots open,” Galaria continued. “I should think it pleasant if you would agree to allowing me to join your team? Finch is powerful, for certain, but a dragoness? Well, let’s just say we won’t need to fear any demons.”

“Why would you ever want to join The Outsiders?” O’Brian asked, his jaw dropping. “You’re a dragon.”

“That is the exact reason I am joining,” she replied. “Because my damnable husband never shuts up about Finch being the best there ever was. He always likes to say ‘well in dragon terms, Finch technically is just an infant, so you can’t really compare him to a real dragon…’” she trailed off for a moment. “So in dragon terms, I intend to brutally eviscerate Finch, win that bet and argument and then, of course, liberate this paltry dimension. Those Ronin don’t know the first thing about saving a people…”