The Arena coordinators had clearly merged some of the adjacent arena rooms to enlarge the space, because the room spanned 100 yards long by 50 yards wide. There were eight 20 x 20 yard fighting squares, with some room on the sides for spectators or referees. The fighting squares came in each of the prime elements: Water, Earth, Fire, Air, Light, and Dark, with two normal sand squares. All the squares were arranged two by two along the centre of the room. The near end of the room was obviously an administrative area, while the far side of the room held a large medical tent.
Why a tent when they were inside a building? Gareth couldn't tell you. Maybe for privacy?
A tidy black uniformed teenager greeted them at the door with the enthusiasm of a brain-dead zombie, “Participating or spectating?” He drolled.
“Participating.” Oliver said brightly, but the teen’s deadpan facial expression did not change as he pointed to the left.
“Talk to the man with the red armband.” The teen then seemed to forget about them as he looked back to the window that spanned the entire wall, showcasing the floating platforms in the centre of the arena. They were reasonably high up in the hole, but nowhere near the top. Gareth had no clue how a stationary elevator connected to moving rooms, so just chalked it up to magic fuckery.
Oliver didn't acknowledge the rude youth any further as they made their way to the left, towards the admin area.
“Excuse me.” Oliver spoke to a large man with emerald scales over his cheekbones. He had intense, large brown eyes with slitted black pupils. His hair was a short-cropped wavy black, a cut martial artists seemed to prefer. He was dressed in a black uniform with gold trim, and wore a scarlet silk band over his right bicep.
“Yes?” the man asked with a deep base voice. He looked them both up and down, assessing them in a way that didn't immediately put Gareth on edge. It was curious more than anything.
He was tall, taller even than Oliver. Gareth’s recent tier up had had drastic changes to his height and weight, and he now measured a respectable 6.2 feet tall. Oliver was a very respectable 6.8 feet, while the solidly built official stood well over 7 foot tall, carved from pure muscle.
“My apprentice would like to sign up for the tier 1 ‘Free For All’.” Oliver said and showed the official a metal card denoting his own arena ranking. Gareth suspected it just validated his ability to sign someone up.
But wouldn't that just make it impossible for independent cultivators to sign up? - He would have to ask Oliver later, but it was a question that worried him if he wanted to travel.
The official gave the card a casual glance, “Very well. He will need to sign this liability waiver - ensuring he does not hold the arena staff responsible in the case of an incident.” From behind the desk he removed a bamboo scroll case, which he slid open to reveal - surprise-surprise - scrolls! Which Gareth had to give a sign, after he very thoroughly perused each clause, each word, and each facet of what he was signing. The registrar tried to hurry him up a few times but Gareth had time, and he was never going to sign a contract he hadn't read ever again. You only needed to fall through a portal and be tortured for years ONCE, before you learned your lesson.
It was a standard document, just ensuring Gareth didn't sue the arena if he managed to be maimed or crippled.
After more than half an hour of painstakingly reading the contract, then forcing Oliver to read it as well, did he sign the contract with his old Terran signature. The registrar was busy helping someone who had come in behind them, so they waited for a bit before returning to the front of the line.
The registrar grinned indulgently as he slid the signed scroll back into the bamboo case. He then held out a wooden box with a large hole cut in the top.
"Stick your hand in, to see in which arena you will be placed."
The registrar held the box at waist height, and had the guy not intimidated the shit out of him, Gareth would have likely made a joke about sticking hands into dark boxes held at waist height. Gareth was surprised that, with how advanced everything seemed, they would still use such an easily cheatable method, but shrugged and put his hand in. He felt solid stone balls with 2 cm diameter, and luckily nothing else. When he pulled one out, he saw that they were carved from a solid white jade.
His number was a golden 35 inlaid into the smooth jade, and when he showed it to the official, the guy nodded approvingly, “You will be fighting in pit three. Look for the Fire aligned pit. Hold onto the ball as it now counts as your pass for future matches.”
“This one thanks senior.” Gareth said, as custom dictated, and bowed shallowly.
His large head nodded approvingly, then he spoke in hid deep, gravelly base.
“Good luck with your fight, junior brother.”
They made their way to pit three, where Gareth saw twelve other people standing along the edges of a cooled magma, black stone floor that occasionally spewed gouts of fire through glowing orange cracks. The air smelled like sweat, sulfur, and dried out his throat as he breathed. The Earth square behind him helped somewhat with the smell of sulfur, as colourful man-eating flowers released a sweet pleasant scent.
Oliver chucked down his leather bag, containing their training gear, at the edge of the fire pit, while Gareth plopped down his own bag containing all his armour and weapons. It was heavy, but after tiering up he could somewhat handle the 50kg leather bag.
“Now lad, we’ll do some warmups in a moment, but before that we need to get your head in the right space.”
“Okay, good. Because I’m looking at the others and they look very professional." Gareth said as he cautiously studied the other peeps gathering around his pit. Nerves tingled along his spine as he looked at a man in heavy half-plate armour. He wielded a large tower shield and a big-ass hammer. It strongly resembled a steel sledgehammer, if said sledge was the size of an arcade mallet.
Oliver followed his gaze and scoffed, “A shield that large will tire him quickly at this tier, nevermind the uselessly large hammer. Speed and endurance are your advantages. All you must do to beat the turtle is dodge and harry him until he can’t lift that shield above his shoulder, then stab his vulnerable spots. Easy peasy, Bobs your uncle, and he’s dead.” Oliver winked roguishly. “You need to get out of your own head, lad. We have spent months preparing and frankly; your bloodlines are monstrous.” Oliver’s roguish grin turned positively devilish. “You saw your own durability against tier 0 blades, and let's not mention your ludicrous fire resistance.”
He dramatically rolled his eyes, and the two shared a smile as Gareth realised he was being silly.
They had rigorously tested his new traits and a few of them shined above the rest so far.
His Baldr bloodline [Bane of mistletoe] made his skin fucking tough to cut through, to the point where it was almost impossible to cut his skin with a tier 0 metal blade, no matter its sharpness. He also didn't bruise as easily.
Apparently, the materials that weapons were made of could also come in tiers, and the higher the tier of the material, the more potent its properties. A tier 3 metal sword could cut through tier 1 like butter, and might struggle to cut through tier 2 metal unless you put some power behind the blow.
Craft mastery of the weapon determined its value, but you could still find tier 1 Grandmaster crafted daggers. A tier 8 Beginner sword was unfortunately useless to any tier 1 because the metal’s innate property would likely be powerful enough to kill most of them, or just be too heavy to lift. The trick was in finding a strong sword for your tier.
Only once Gareth had unlocked his [Falcon sight] trait was he able to actively notice the tier of any given material, because it allowed him to physcially gauge the amount of glow/mana each item contained. A faint glow inside the item denoted that it had low magical density i.e. low tier. A strong glow indicated a higher tier, though he still struggled to be precise in his estimations.
The armour and hammer of the brute were only tier 1, while his shield was a low tier 2.
He would need to watch out for the momentum behind the swing, and maybe an ability the guy might infuse the weapon with, but otherwise the hammer couldn't do that much against Gareth’s new and improved durability. Though that shield could prove a bitch to get around.
His muscle durability was doubly boosted by his Baldr bloodline and his Atlas [Exacting strength] trait. He had really packed on some meat since his awakening, and weighed a solid 83 kilograms of muscle. The only difference was that Gareth’s enhanced body had to catch up with years of malnutrition, and he was apparently still growing. They'd had to increase his shoe size three times by now.
The last of his remaining anxiety was crushed with one surprising ability that he had gotten from Thoth, [Sense hostility]. Using it, he could feel the direction, and intensity of, any hostilility directed at him. When he activated it, to his great surprise, he sensed nothing. They all looked so focussed and in their own heads that they barely acknowledged his existence.
All Gareth’s fears melted away as he looked at the tier 1 fire pit he would be fighting in. Fire resistance from his [Glacial heart] trait would make him moderately resistant to Fire elemental damage at his own tier. So, instead of burning him, the fire spewing from holes in the floor would only feel like a hot bath. He could definitely still overheat, but his skin wouldn't burn as easily…he had found that out at great peril.
“That's the spirit.” Oliver said and shaked Gareth at the shoulder when he saw the spark of excitement in Gareth’s eyes.
“Enjoy the experience, but try to hold some of your abilities in reserve for later matches. Use your [sleep touch] ability if the opportunity presents itself - it will ensure your opponents are unaware of your strengths for the next two matches…or until your name starts circulating. When they start keeping their distance will be when you start using your breath weapons. Ach! But this is too soon to discuss strategy.” He scoffed and waived a hand. “I’m glad you are excited for this match, but now you must study your character sheet and meditate on your capabilities. Once the warmup of the mind is complete, we warm up the body. You have ten minutes to meditate.”
Gareth did as his mentor instructed. Master Guanji had been rather quiet, but as Gareth sunk into meditation he saw Guanji lean closer to Oliver and talk in hushed tones.
Race: Human
Cultivation:
Body (10; tier 1)
Mana to next level:
1000 (beast core)
Currency:
- 80 copper
- 21 silver
- 1 gold
Talent: [Blessed by Life]
Bloodlines:
The first step on the path to immortality, you have chosen to walk the path of Body Cultivation. Trust in your body for if it is nurtured, strengthened, cultivated, then it will never fail you. Bone will never break, muscle will never tear, and in the forge of fate your power shall be tempered. May your bloodline be strong.
Stomach: Agni
- Purifying fire
Stomach: Vishnu
- Heavenly Digestion
Liver/kidneys: Quetzalcoatl
- Serpents might:
Lungs: Vahagn
- Breath of the Vishap
- Breath of Victory
Heart: Moryana
- Glacial heart
- Volgan gale
Blood: Odin
- Knowledge is power
Bones: Baldr
- Bane of Mistletoe
- Emit light
Muscles and tendons: Atlas
- Exacting strength
- Plus Ultra
Skin: Morpheus
- Dreamscape
- Sleep touch
Brain: Thoth
- Falcon sight
- Sense hostility
Aggregate: ???
Traits (Passive):
Blessed by life: As an extra-dimensional traveler, the Elder gods have granted you the [Blessed by Life] trait. You are physically immortal and will regenerate from all physical injuries, age, and diseases given enough time and resources. Regeneration rate: +15%
Demonic infusion: Your body has been slightly tempered by Demonic mana. You have gained resistance to demonic mana. (1/?)
Stormic Infusion: Your Skin, Muscles, and Tendons have been tempered by Stormic mana. Your eyes have received a partial forging. You have gained resistance to stormic mana. Your body will passively absorb atmospheric storm mana. Directed attacks you make, will now be infused with 5% Stormic mana.(3/?)
Purifying fire: The fires of Agni will purge most toxins directly affecting the digestive tract.
Mana Digestion: Increased integration of foreign essence: 30%
Serpents might: Poison resistance.
Breath of the Vishap: Water Breathing.
Breath of Victory: Increased endurance: 45%
Glacial heart: Fire resistance, increased endurance: 30%
Knowledge is power: When fighting an opponent - the longer your opponent is observed, the more apparent their weaknesses will become. Tasting a creature’s blood will allow you to relive one of their most recent memories, consuming more blood may grant more memories.
Bane of Mistletoe: Massively increased base durability.
Exacting strength: Increased muscle density and mass. Precise muscular control. Tendon tensile strength and elasticity increased.
Dreamscape: Inner world.
Falcon sight: Increased vision and increased perception in relation to movement speed. Upper limit: +45%
Tier 1 bonus: +70% effectiveness to bodily functions. Adds a +70% effectiveness boost to each Ability and Trait.
Abilities (Active):
Breath of Vahagn: At will, Exhale a cloud of damaging mana in the form of water, fire, or steam. (3 uses: recovered over 2.3 hours).
Volgan Gale: The winds of Moryana may speed you on your way. At will, drastically increase your movement speed for 1 minute 40 seconds, at the cost of medium stamina.
Emit light: At will, Emit a soft light from any part of your body.
Plus Ultra!: Voluntarily exert enough strength to push past the point where damage would start accumulating.
Sleep touch: 60% chance of inflicting [sleep] on creatures of your tier or lower. Percentage decreases with an upwards tier disparity.
Sense hostility: At will, call upon the wisdom of Thoth to perceive the hostility of those who gaze upon you.
Skills:
Meditation mastery: Apprentice 5
First principle - Awareness: Allows deeper insight into the Self.
Second Principle - Stillness: Brings calm, allows you to somewhat mute intense emotions.
Blade mastery: Novice 3
First principle - Let it glide: the lighter your blade glides across a surface, the more likely it is to cut deeply.
Shield mastery: Beginner 2
Polearm Mastery:
First principle - Pierce: You are now able to see and exploit the weakest point of any familiar material or substance. This does not necessarily equate to being able to damage said material.
Bludgeoning mastery: Beginner 7
Ranged mastery: Beginner 9
Armour mastery: Beginner 9
Improvised mastery: Novice 0
First principle - Anything is a weapon: By holding an object you are able to intuitively estimate its balance point, its hardest/sharpest edge/point, its tearing poundage, and durability.
Athleticism mastery: Beginner 8
Stealth mastery: Beginner 9
Gareth looked through his Abilities and Traits…and felt strong. He tensed his molten stomach and felt the coiled burning coolness of his lungs and heart. His skin felt tight, his muscles tense, and his bones heavy.
He sensed the air with mouth and nose, listened and became aware of his surroundings. The scents of the people around him mingled and mixed, painting a picture of sweatstained combat robes, jasmine soap, crafting oil, greece, ozone. Then he focussed further inward, acknowledging that he was more than just his nose and eyes, he was the mind within. He had control of himself, he had control of his emotions. He was excited to finally do something other than training to fight, nervous to fuck it up and embarras himself or his mentors. He was anxious to purposefully hurt someone with a killing implement, excited to put his fighting spirit to the test.
He went through his emotions, not fighting against them, just becoming aware that they were a part of him - just like his nose, just like his ears. They did not control him. He would enter the fight with a clear mind, and a clear goal...win.
When he finally opened his eyes, he was aware and assessing everything he saw with a neutral mindset. He could do this.
He would have to be wary of the bowman on the other side of the square, as well as what had to be a robed mage to his left.
Naturally, there was the tank fighter to Gareth’s right and what looked to be another mage on the far left side of the square. Next to the mage, a medium armoured fighter was doing push ups to warm himself up.
On the right side of the square was an interesting blue man with clawed gauntlets, sitting in a similar pose to Gareth’s.
Before Gareth could study his opponents further, Oliver snapped his fingers in front of Gareth and said, “Right, enough. Time to warm up.”
It was another hour of talking strategy and warming up before the match had to start, and once a white clothed referee called everyone to step into the field Gareth felt confident.
The man in white moved to stand at the edge of the right of the square then spoke loudly, “Fighters, welcome to today's free for all tournament! A few house rules:
- Surrendering is an option; any fighter who attacks after an opponent has surrendered will be disqualified.
- Any fighter knocked out of the square will be disqualified.
- If at any point the referee calls for a stop, you must do so immediately, on penalty of disqualification.”
He made sure to make eye contact with each fighter as he spoke, “This is a free-for-all quick-knockout fight. Any injury that is life-threatening is grounds for a loss and knock to a lower bracket…Fighters…are you ready?” He looked at the fighters, all ten of them.
“Set…” Gareth took a deep breath and tensed his muscles, excitement and adrenaline surging through his veins like a bolt of lightning.
“Fight!!” Gareth moved.
Each fighter had already picked out which opponent their fighting style would be strong or weak against. This was why Gareth immediately rolled to the left, towards the long-range mage, and away from the tower-shield hammer guy, now respectively dubbed Sparky and Hammy in his mind.
He came up within range of the very surprised Sparky, whose hands had started to spark with blue arcs of electricity. He backpedalled but Body cultivators were the strongest path at low tiers - nevermind Gareth's own peak bloodline strength - and the mage just was not physically fast enough. Gareth rose from his roll in a perfect lunge and thrust, left-hand dominant.
The mage is wearing a navy blue robe with bright blue accents to denote his lightning element maybe?
Sword met fabric, and Gareth was frustrated to see that the material was a tier 2 silk - very resistant to slashing.
Luckily it was only slightly resistant to piercing attacks, and due to Gareth's [Exacting strength] trait he was able to put the combined power of his entire body weight, hip twist, and arm extension into the thrust. His Novice mastery of blades ensured his basic techniques were as perfect as they could physically be.
He was pushing his body as fast as humanly possible, and he would have lost a lot of accuracy if it hadn't been for his [Falcon sight] trait speeding up his perception. So, he kept his focus as he rolled and fully pierced the tip of his longsword between Sparky’s ribs and into his lung and heart.
Before his blade could pierce through to the other side, Sparky literally just vanished off of his blade. Gareth assumed a higher tiered person had whisked him away.
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Not pausing to think, he moved with his lunge into a forward-right roll. Thank fuck he had, because an arrow flew through the air where his torso had been a second ago. He flickered his [Sense hostility] ability and tracked the archer looking at him, waiting for that spike in hostility right before she fired, then added an additional roll to his right to dodge another arrow.
He came up sprinting, still away from Hammy, but towards the fire mage he saw rapidly gathering a ball of flame, aided by the terrain. Between the mage who could sling AOE spells, and the archer whose attacks could be predicted, the mage was the bigger threat.
The Fire square was covered in spiky dried lava that occasionally spewed gouts of flame, adding a chaotic element to the arena. The fire wasn't hot enough to burn Gareth, but it was hot enough to distract him, as he quickly found out.
He was just about to sprint full speed at the fire mage, henceforth known as Smokey, when an unlucky gout of flame erupted right in front of him and made him instinctually veer to the right.
It gave the heavy plate armour, halberd-wielding fighter that had been to his left, enough of a chance to catch up with him and engage him with a thrust.
His halberd had a wicked 30cm long spear point, with a small 20cm axe head on one side and another small 10cm hammerhead on the other.
Gareth was mostly focussed on the spearpoint as it came racing at his chest!
The fighter had successfully flanked him, and now Smokey knew that Gareth had been gunning for him.
There was nothing Gareth could do as Smokey finished building his massive fireball, built from collected ambient flame…and launched it at Pokey and himself.
They were both engulfed by the explosion.
Smokey thought he had won. He turned his attention back to the other fights happening across the field when, out of the smoke, a flaming Gareth hurtled forth with a fierce cry of anger.
He was full of soot. His pants and shirt were on fire. And he was fucking mad. Mostly at himself. If he hadn't stopped himself from running through that small gout of flame, he would have likely already caught up with Smokey and dealt with him.
Luckily, Smokey had given enough cover fire (hehe) for Gareth to disengage with Pokey and come at him.
Gareth was careful not to recklessly engage his [Dash] Ability. It quickly wore him out, and he didn't want to give his opponents insights into what he could do. So, he just normally sprinted at the mage faster than an olympic sprinter, closing the gap in less than a second.
Smokey barely had enough time to turn with a stupid look on his face before Gareth front-kicked him in the chest hard enough to push him outside the square, knocking him into the losers bracket.
With his momentum completely absorbed by Smokey, Gareth easily spun and met the charge of Pokey.
He had had no doubt that the fire wouldn't have been enough to knock Pokey out, and expected him to attack.
He must be boiling in that metal suit, it's a miracle he's still kicking!
“Woah!” Gareth grunted and sidestepped just fast enough to let the spearhead merely graze against his tier 1 leather chest plate.
Much to Gareth's surprised regret; instead of retracting his spear, Pokey twisted his halberd and hooked the bottom of its axehead into the side of Gareth's torso armour. He wrenched his halberd back, and Gareth stumbled forward into Pokey’s own front kick. The difference was that Gareth was moving pretty fast in that millisecond and [Falcon sight] allowed his perception to keep up.
This was also Gareth and Pokey’s second engagement, and Gareth felt Odin’s [Knowledge is power] trait nudging him into a forward roll. More instinct that anything.
He followed his instincts and barely managed to roll under the kick, purposefully dropping his sword to not stab himself, then tangled and grappled Pokey’s supporting leg.
Now, there was something to be said about plate armour, otherwise known as heavy armour. The physical property of the armour was in its name, and it lived up to the reputation as Pokey's leg collapsed and Gareth barely managed to avoid being pinned beneath him.
Pokey had defos not expected that, and Gareth heard a feminine grunt emanate from the closed helm.
Gareth realised he was at a disadvantage against such a heavily armoured opponent, and chose to roll away from the winded Pokey.
He quickly rose, actviated [Dash], grabbed his sword, and sprinted to the other side of the arena, where the archer was firing on Hammy and McFisto the gauntlet guy. Pokey’s heavy armour should make it harder for her to stand up quicker than him.
McFisto looked worse for wear because he had a limp right arm and two arrows in his side, but he was still beating the obsolute fuck out of a prone Hammy.
Maybe there was some history there?
Gareth rolled his eyes as he was once again intercepted. This time by a schmuck wielding two long knives. A large black hood hid their face, while they wore leather plated armour, much like Gareth’s. Gareth didn't have time to wonder how they saw through the hood.
Across their chest was a bandoleer of throwing knives. At their side were small vials of brightly coloured fluid.
Fucking rogues, Gareth thought and sized up the other person.
Stabby, he named him-or-her, Gareth wasn't going to discriminate after mistaking Pokey as male. Luckily, Gareth was no slouch with his long sword and barely broke stride as he thrust at Stabby.
Stabby then used their right blade to deflect Gareth's thrust upwards, and stepped in to stab with their off-hand blade. Gareth hadn't expected this, and took a shallow stab in his bottom-right abdomen for his trouble. Gareth might be physically strong, but these fighters had had years to practice their martial arts, he was lacking in experience more than anything.
That was where he had to override his instinct to move away, as he had already been stabbed and the damage had been done. So, instead, he stood firm and grabbed Stabby’s exposed shoulder, immediately activating [Sleep touch].
This was only the second time he'd ever activated the ability. The first being against Oliver, who had been too high levelled to be affected. This second time was much more effective as Stabby was nearly instantly rendered unconscious and went limp as a ragdoll. Gareth would have finished them off with a stab in the neck, but Stabby’s skull impacted heavily with a pointed piece of dried lawa on the floor when they fell, and instantly disappeared.
Get a helmet. Gareth made a mental note to himself and quickly checked the situation around himself.
Hammy was gone. Mcfisto was gone. Bowie was sighting down her bow at Gareth.
Bowie is sighting down her bow at me!
She unfortunately got her arrow off and it pinned Gareth's foot to the floor.
“That was just unnecessary!” He yelled in pain but Gareth ain't no little bitch. With his other foot he stepped on the arrow shaft, breaking it off and pulling his foot free while the arrow stayed pinned in the stone floor.
“Ahhhh!” Gareth yelled in rage and pain, mostly pain, but the rage helped with that.
Bowie went deathly pale as Gareth started limping, then rapidly sprinting at her.
She hurriedly backpedalled but fumbled her next arrow nock, giving Gareth just enough time to close the distance and slash at her recklessly.
She used her steel bracer to block what Oliver would later call an ‘idiotic and graceless chop used by amateurs and the disabled’. With her other hand, she dropped her bow, drew a long dagger at her side and stabbed at Gareth's neck.
Luckily, because it was the only thing that saved Gareth’s life, her dagger was her secondary weapon and was only forged from tier 0 metal.
His [Bane of Mistletoe] trait negated a lot of the dagger's piercing power. Along with Gareth's instinctive jerk backwards, it was enough to result in only a shallow cut along his collarbone that smarted fiercely.
She had expected the dagger to end the fight, so was unprepared when Gareth's sword came up from below.
His grip on the handle was held loosely and flexible. The blade scraped softly against her armour. Then sliced perfectly along her neck. His Novice principle of the blade, Let it glide, allowed the sharp blade to cut deeply along her throat.
Before he could even be covered in arterial spray, Bowie was whisked away to the healers.
Gods, I hope the healers are as good as they say they are.
Gareth turned back to where Pokey had been.
She had recovered but instead of re-engaging with him, she had targeted an Earth mage, if the small boulders flying around were any indication.
Rocky, he was dubbed, but Gareth might as well not have bothered naming him because Pokey chose that moment to sink her axe into his neck.
And then there were…three? Gareth counted mentally as Pokey took a second to recover, while Gareth stood there like a fucking dumbass.
Sparky; Hammy; Smokey; McFisto; Pokey; Bowie; and Rocky. Rocky must have knocked out two people because the only other person on the field Gareth saw was Pokey.
Hmmm…oh well. Gareth shrugged, his own breath coming in light gasps as all the acrobatics were wearing him out. Suddenly, he felt a cooling sensation start spreading from his heart and his breath started coming easier. The oppressively hot Fire fighting pit was made more bearable by a gale of refreshing frost that flashed from within. They'd already established that a strictly controlled use of his [Dash] could cool him off.
He did a few preparatory swings with his hand-and-a-half longsword then stalked towards Pokey, cradkling the stab in his gut that was no doubt poisoned. Though his [Serpent's might] trait should help with any poison. He was also favouring one foot, so would need to account for that when he engaged her.
By this point [Knowledge is power] had gotten a good view of Pokey's fighting style, and he identified two methods for beating her.
Number one, the less fun way, was to bait her into the gouts of flame native to this arena square and make her overheat.
Number two: get that weapon out of her hands, and try to angle his sword into a vulnerable spot. Heavy plate armour was just that formidable a threat. He could see no way through it besides her lightly armoured groin area, and that just felt like a low blow.
The standard technique against an armoured opponent was to use his offhand to grab the blade of his sword, then engage in close quarters fighting to accurately slip his blade into the gaps of her armour. The problem was that she had a pole-arm weapon, giving her incredible reach, making closing the distance a gamble.
Even if he managed to cut open the sturdy material of her thigh, he would still have to touch her skin to activate [Sleep touch], and then he might be accused of sexual assault. She was obviously a body cultivator like him, and a stab to the thigh was also not lethal.
Honestly, safest to just wear her down, Gareth thought with a sigh.
Ten feet separated them both, but just as they were about to take that last few steps to meet, a lucky gout of flame erupted beneath Pokey and sent flames washing over her shining silver armour.
It was the straw that broke the camel’s back because with a faltering step Pokey collapsed forward, passing out from heat exhaustion.
-
“Congratulations to our field 3 finalist!”
The white-clothed referee cheered, though when Gareth looked beyond the field he saw that Oliver was the only one cheering with him. Guanji politely joined in the clapping.
A few of the combatants who knew one another grouped up, then headed out. Some people, like Gareth, had their trainers with them. There was just one guy, Mcfisto, who walked off alone.
Luckily, the mentors refrained from glaring, or even looking really, at Gareth. They were either packing up their fighter’s equipment or consoling said fighter.
The ref walked up to Gareth, the gouts of flame stopping for the moment, and bowed lightly, “Well done, junior brother! Might this one please scan your ID badge so as to update your leaderboard ranking?” He held out a jade card inscribed with runes.
“Sure, but will my position change that fast?” Gareth asked sceptically.
“Naturally. By winning this match you are no longer in the bottom 80, but in the bottom 70.” He said with a jovial smile and wink.
Gareth didn't really see the difference ten ranks could make but let the ref do his job, “What happens now?”
“First time, hey?” The ref smiled as he finished scanning Gareth's ID, “Do not worry, you have a one hour break to recover, after which the top eight finalists will fight. The loser brackets have their own fights. If you make it through that you will have to fight the winner of the loser's bracket.”
“Seems kinda unfair that the losers have multiple chances to recover position while winners can only lose places.” Gareth said with a slight frown, but it wasn't a legitimate issue so he wouldn't push too hard.
“The higher you climb a tree, the further your fall from grace should you slip. It is harder for the winner to hold their position than for someone to take it, but that is the nature of the world.” The referee said sagely.
“Wise words, senior brother.” Gareth decided to likewise be familiar with the man.
“Indeed.” He gestured to the side of the large room’s window, “Refreshments have been made available while you rest,” Gareth saw he meant a large metal table covered with glass bottles of juice, “please report to field 7 once the overseer calls everyone together. If you require healing,” he eyed the cut on Gareth’s collar, the slightly weeping thin slice in his armour over his abdomen, and the hole in his boot “make your way to the healer’s section, there in green.” They bowed to each other and the ref strode off for the next match.
Gareth made his way to Oliver and Guanji, both of them wearing proud smiles, “Not too bad, big boy.”
Oliver threw his arm across Gareth’s shoulders and shook him around for a second, “Do you want to hear the good criticisms, or the critiques first?” They made their way toward the healing stall on the far side of the room, where a line was already forming.
“Mmmm… Bad first.” He said definitively.
“Good.”
Oliver took his arm off Gareth’s shoulders long enough to slap Gareth on the back of his head,.
“Your technique when you fought the archer was absolute dogshit, and that is not accounting for the idiotic and graceless chop used by amateurs and the disabled!”
Gareth reeled back in shock at the pure insult booming from Oliver, “Let us not forget that ‘very impressive’ but utterly reckless front kick you used on the fire mage. If that fool had had any situational awareness he would have easily moved out of your way, and you would have gone flying out of the ring. We have a lot of remedial training to look forward to. Speed is important to close with your enemies but you must not move recklessly. It is a common flaw for beginner melee fighters, one you will not make a habit of.” He threatened while putting his finger in Gareth’s face.
Each of Oliver’s points had merit, and Gareth almost got lost in thought as they stood in line at the healers. He saw the situations playing out exactly as Oliver explained, and he had to agree. He’d been too hasty and reckless. Speed was his advantage but it wasn't his only advantage by far.
“Glad you can take some advice.”
When Gareth looked at him with a frown he raised his hands defensively, “Not everyone can handle the truth. You would be surprised by the number of rich boys that I trained, who took twice as long to teach just because they refused to listen.”
“I guess I can see that, but information is currency where I’m from, and I’ll take any you're willing to give away freely.” Gareth finished with a wink.
A smooth, humour tinted voice spoke up from behind them, “That is a good viewpoint to have.”
Gareth and Oliver looked to the pair standing behind them in line, the peach coloured, combat robe’d mentor spoke up and pointed to his frowning apprentice, “This one could certainly benefit from such a quality.”
The apprentice wasn't someone he had noticed before.
She wore red cloth armour, with light leather armour plates over her soft bits. She was as tall as Gareth and sported pale blue eyes, nearly grey. Her long brown hair was done up in a long ponytail that swayed as she shook her head mock disappointedly.
“I saw the last of your fight, junior brother.” The slender mentor spoke up and clapped a hand onto Oliver’s shoulder, “Finally found a good one, hey Ollie?”
Oliver rolled his eyes at the nickname and shrugged off the hand, “Finally is right, Jorund. You say you saw his fight, any pointers beyond the few I mentioned?”
“Many technique errors, and his approach was a bit eager, but I see potential. This is your first match?”
“Yes.” Gareth said seriously, if a stranger was able to notice his flaws, then I definitely went overboard.
“It is Mary’s first match today as well. Looks like you two will be fighting in the next round then. She also beat her opponents with a bit of…flare, shall we say?” His tone was light but Gareth saw the tenseness in his lips that gave away his irritation.
“I already said I was sorry. How was I supposed to know vines can grow into eyesockets?” She said defensively and crossed her arms over her chest.
Oliver smirked knowingly, as if he had seen that phenomenon himself, “Did the vines have thorns?”
Her serious disposition cracked slightly and she revealed an almost self-satisfied smile, “Now that you mention it, they might have. It'll teach that pervert to keep his hands to himself.”
She had a beautifully cut jawline that highlighted her soft cheeks with a rosy tint. She looked like she blushed easily, but was the consummate athlete fighter.
They all smirked at that, but Jorund quickly reigned in, “The point remains that you have now made an enemy in the Holstead family.”
“Need any help?” Oliver asked with a frown.
“No-no, it shouldn't be that big of an issue, but we'll have to look out for an assassin now.”
Gareth's eyes were the only ones to widen, and when he saw the others shrug as if that was normal he threw his hands in the air, “Why are you guys so nonchalant about that? An assassin is dangerous!”
“Meh! It will teach her some security measures that she would have had to employ later anyway.” Oliver shrugged.
“When do I get to hear the good critique of my fight?” Gareth asked with a sigh. These people had vastly different safety standards than he was used to, even when compared to Terra.
“Oh! Sorry lad, that is a fine point. Jorund, please excuse us as we need to finish the debrief.”
“No problem at all, we were just about to do our own when we heard Gareth's statement. Though, if you ever want to pit young Gareth against a skilled opponent, let me know and we'll set up a little play date.” He winked and took a few steps back in the line.
“I will certainly take you up on that offer, cheers old sport.” Oliver said and erected a light privacy screen. It was an enchantment he wore as a small wooden box on his hip, distorting a sphere around them so that others couldn't hear their conversations.
“You did well.” Oliver dove right in the moment the privacy screen was up, “Who were you weak against?” he didn't want to give Gareth answers, he wanted to see if Gareth truly employed the strategy he had thought up before the match.
“I was weakest against the heavily armoured fighters. Their armour made it impossible to get close enough to touch and use [sleep touch]. Likewise, their armour would have just turned my sword away.”
“Right on the head. It was clever to just avoid them until later and let them overheat in this Fire pit. I also saw you were shot in the foot by an arrow, you need to buy some sabatons. It will slow you down slightly, but will protect your largest assets. Smart move in prioritising the mages and archers first. After the heavy fighters, they are your biggest weakness. Luckily the rogue threw himself at you, so you could get him out of the way.”
“Which reminds me, I also need a helmet. Did you see how he went down?” Gareth winced.
“You’ll have to, and yes…I did.” Oliver’s raised eyebrows and strict voice told Gareth he was in trouble, “Someone stabbed you in the stomach with a poisoned blade and you didn't even notice.”
Gareth’s eyes widened “His blade really was poisoned? I thought about it but didn't give it much thought.”
“Eye, as seen by the potion bottles on his hip. Each type of fighter will wear their own kind, normally only at later tiers, but each complements their fighting style. Mages wear mana potions, melee fighters health potions, and if you see a rogue with a potion belt, think poison.”
“Fuck, I didnt even realise poisons would be allowed.” Gareth crossed his arms.
“Nearly anything goes in these fights, because they have to allow each fighter to show their strengths. If someone's Talent involves poisons they would be at a disadvantage in any given fight if the were forbidden from using them. There are a few rules such as: You have to have an antidote for each of your poisons, and no crippling poisons. But other than that you could bathe your opponent in poison for all they care.”
“But I have poison resistance, should I really worry about a tier 1 poison?”
“It is always prudent to avoid something on your opponent’s blade. An acid is not a poison and could easily eat through your stomach. Other than that; he might be rich enough to buy, or resourceful enough to make, his own poisons that overpower your resistances. Never assume you are stronger that your opponent, keep your guard up and their blades out of your body.”
“Fair enough.”
“Good, now what else did you learn?” Oliver waved.
“Mages are squishy?”
“Excellent observation. Yes, early level mages are often very fragile, but do not mistake their fragility for weakness. If you did not have Fire resistance, that fire mage would have burnt you to a crisp. In later levels their spellcraft potency overcomes your physical defenses, and they will pose a legitimate threat.”
Oliver had no idea just how right he was. It would only be a few hours later that Gareth would realise that even tier 2 mages could defend themselves well enough that they posed a threat to body cultivators.
After a quick and miraculous healing, Gareth was back to warming up for his next match. The healer had honestly focussed most heavily on his foot and abdomen. The abdomen to make sure there weren't any punctures in his guts, and his foot because it was such an extensive injury. His guts were finy, so they just gave him a few stitches. His foot needed the cleanly shaven, porcalain skinned, ponytailed gentleman to actually activate his healing spells, and they seemed fucking miraculous.
“After this ranking match you must complete weekly arena fights to stay within the rankings. If you do not meet your weekly quota you will lose rankings. Unless you bring a healer’s note from the hospital, or one is sent on your behalf. You will also deregister each time you leave the city, this will also make your ranking grey out. Upon your return, and more than a week has passed, you will have to challenge the person in your ranking.” The ref who had Gareth draw the jade balls from his box explained when he handed Gareth his new number, this time a big ole ‘D’ carved into the jade ball.
“Does that mean there are a bunch of the same ranks running around? What, do all of them fight at the same time if that happens?” Gareth asked Oliver as they left towards the Darkness aligned fighting square.
“Indeed.” Oliver said, a bloodthirsty grin spreading across his lightly moustachioed lips. This was the man who had been beating the shit out of Gareth for more than three years. He knew that grin, he knew that Oliver loved fighting purely for the sake of mastering himself, and it was a quality he had instilled in Gareth. Guanji had helped Gareth overcome the instinctual fear of dodging, and Oliver had forged that knowledge into two distinct fighting styles.
Aggression: the art of overwhelming your opponent at the cost of defense. Core values: speed, strength, flow.
Defensive: the art of outlasting your opponent at the cost of dealing damage. Core values: stance, precision, endurance.
In the previous match Gareth had to employ Aggression because he had been at a disadvantage on defense anyway. If he had played defensively then the mages and halberd chick would have just destroyed him.
After pre-fight jitters worked their way out during the first match, the fighting anticipation that Oliver had instilled in him returned.
There would be three matches, his second match being against each winner of the previous round of fighters. 8 people, who could kick the ass of 10 other people.
Oh well, at least it's going to be fun. Gareth thought and affixed his own bloodthirsty grin. The air was rife with experts and competent people, and Gareth looked forward to becoming one of them…one day.
He would have tried to scope out the competition but the darkness square lived up to its name. Extending from the floor of the square rose a cube of utter blackness, its impenetrable walls 10 feet tall, hiding deep shadows that swirled and twisted, tricking the mind and hiding his opponents. All except for a young, goth-looking girl to his right.
Gareth glanced over and met solid eyes of purist silver, no pupil, and black sclera. They seemed to glow from within and swirled with glittering sparkles, like a bath-bomb. She wore thick, pitch black eyeshadow, and matte soul-crushingly black lipstick. Her mouth turned down in a frown of contempt, not just for Gareth but for the concept of his existence. She wore thick leather armour beneath a leather trench-coat, adorned with small spikes and blades. Spiked gauntlets covered her hands, and when Gareth activated his [sense hostility] ability, he nearly staggered back from the raw malevolence she projected.
What made the disconcerting feeling even stranger was that Gareth felt ichor-like, insidious hatred not from the girl…but from her black leather coat.
Before Gareth could do or say anything else, she looked away from him and stared back into the unknown depths of the square.
“Who is she?” Gareth whispered to Oliver next to him, who had noticed the interaction but said nothing.
“No clue.” He replied softly and bluntly. “Her eyes scream Light mage, but her clothes say Dark. Too much leather to be one of those hoity-toity light types. Her rune engraved leather gloves say mage, but her cloak also set my hackles on edge, because it screams ‘skirmisher melee fighter’. Watch your back, lad. Other competitors who passed the previous round are not to be underestimated, just keep your mind clear and focussed on the present. That which you know, that which you do not. That which you can do – and that which you cannot.”
Gareth soon heard the white robed ref’s voice echo across the field once more, though he was hidden by the obscuring darkness of the square's walls.
“Welcome back fighters, to the second match of the day! We once again have a free-for-all match! Your ranking is once again determined by how long you can stay standing. The winner will be considered eligible to move onto the next bracket of fighters… and become Volun Arena's 15 920th ranked fighter!”
The ref’s enthusiasm was, unfortunately, squashed by the hopelessly large number. No one respected any fighter below rank 2000 and these guys were just starting.
“So without further ado…on your marks…Steady...”
“Fight!!”