The bones rattle together like pieces of a toy set, rising from the ground and clicking into place. It’s half formed into some sort of creature—a dog, maybe. I don’t let it keep forming.

I dash up to the bone creature and smash the pommel of my knife through it. The skull pops from the neck and crashes into the ground, shattering on impact. The creature stumbles to the side, but doesn’t fall.

Of course it doesn’t. It’s just a cluster of bones. Why would it need the skull?

The headless animal springs at me, claws extended. I stumble back, slashing at the limbs, and my knife skips over the bones. One paw deflects to the side, but the other finds its mark, stabbing into my shoulder.

[6 points of Slashing damage sustained.]

I bite down a cry and crash my knife through the arm, popping the leg off at the elbow. The creature falls to the ground, staggering on uneven limbs, but its claws stay embedded in my flesh. I aim a kick at the rib cage and the creature crashes to its side, bones scattering across the floor.

The claws in my shoulder wiggle in my flesh like maggots trying to dig themselves deeper. I growl, grabbing the paw and ripping it from my skin. I throw it back at my competitor, but Minji doesn’t even flinch as the bone slows to a stop, hovering in the air before him.

“Nice try,” he says. “But you can’t hurt me with my own weapons. Not while I can sense the presence and control the movement of every one.”

I grimace, holding a hand to my bleeding and throbbing shoulder. That’s damn convenient. Why couldn’t I have gotten a useful type of magic like that?

“Done already?” Minji asks. He smiles, raising a hand. “My turn.”

Abandoning the shape of an animal, the bones shoot toward me like a cloud of shrapnel. I stumble away, slashing haphazardly at the flurry of bones. I strike some, deflecting them, but there’s too many to block. They nick my arms and legs, cutting through my clothes and slashing my skin, as a flurry of damage notifications pass over my vision. I hear the sound of breaking glass with one of the impacts—one of my potions. I glance down and grab the health potion as the bone pulls back: precious drops of the liquid splash to the ground. I yank it from its clasp and splash the rest over myself before it can go to waste. My health begins to creep back up, relief flowing through me as dozens of small cuts and slashes begin to close.

It won’t be enough to weather this fight, though.

The bones swirl back toward Minji like feathers on a breeze. They’re not retreating, however—merely readying for a second attack.

I can’t give him the chance to follow through.

I gauge the space between us. How many paces apart? One, two, three—

Minji raises a hand, and I snatch my smoke bomb from its clasp, throwing it at the ground. The glass shatters on impact, and green fog erupts from the bottle, covering our circle. I can’t see anymore, but I count my steps as I race forward, swinging my blade.

Something hard blocks my blow. The bones resist for a moment, then I throw all my weight into the attack and they go clattering to the side. One, two, steps past them, I swing for Minji, bracing for impact—

My blade cuts through air. I swipe to the left, right, but he’s gone. With a growl I spin in a circle, but there’s nothing within arm’s reach. Which way am I facing now? Shit.

The strike hits me on my right. I stumble away, swiping at the bones, but they’ve retreated into the smoke once more. I race after them, slashing the air, but again I’m left stabbing at phantoms.

Minji chuckles to my left. I slash and strike bone.

“Perhaps not the best move,” he says.

I blindly kick forward, my blade still pressed against bone, and my foot makes contact. More bones scatter away.

“If you could see through the smoke, now, that might have been clever,” the man continues.

I growl and stab toward his voice. I must be getting close, because bones rise up to block my attack. They clatter around my blade, wrapping around my wrist like a skeletal hand. I backpedal, ripping my hand away.

“However, the bones give me an advantage,” he says. “I can use them to scope out my surroundings. Every one you stab or kick tells me where you are.”

Like Lisari’s wind.

Which gives me an idea. I grab another vial and pop it open.

“You’ve stacked the match against yourself,” he continues.

A bone flies at me from the side, striking me in the arm. I cry out as I feel the skin break—a shard of bone stabbed into my flesh—but I don’t drop the bottle. Without another health potion, I’ll just have to bear it until the end of the match.

“If that’s true,” I say, swiping a hand over my blade, “then why haven’t you won already?”

“That wouldn’t be much of a show, would it?” Minji asks. “We are here for the god of war, after all. He deserves a real fight. And blood.”

I yank the bone out of my arm with a snarl, then throw it back in the direction of Minji’s voice.

He chuckles. “You don’t really think you can strike me with my own weapons, do you?”

“Nope,” I say, narrowing in on the voice. “But how about mine?”

I snap the knife forward. I hear a muted thud. Not the thud of knife through a flesh, but of another blocked attack—metal through bones. I close my eyes, listening, feeling, and waiting.

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Minji laughs. “Was that the best you had? Throw a knife at me from inside the smoke?”

My knife is moving through the air, re-orienting itself. The sensation is dizzying. I’ve never tried using my magic this way. But If Minji and Lisari can sense their surroundings through their magic, then why can’t I?

The Attuned poison I’d smeared over the blade rights itself, moving less smoothly than before. He’s grabbed the handle, I think.

“Well,” he says, and I can feel my knife being aimed back at me. “I guess two can play at that game.”

I mentally yank back on my Attuned poison, and I feel the blade jerk in his grasp. Minji doesn’t let go, the blade isn’t pulled from his grip, but that wasn’t my intent. My poison pulls from the blade and strikes something soft and giving, then burrows down into the flesh.

Minji yelps. “What—”

I throw my next potion. He notices in time to block it with his bones, and the glass bursts open on impact. The potion sprays forward along its original trajectory. Minji cries out, showered with bits of glass and, more importantly, a healthy dose of mana-drain potion.

[Mana debuff inflicted.]

Now, I open my eyes and run.

“What did you do?” he cries.

The smoke bomb is clearing out, a light breeze gradually sweeping it from our ring. When Minji can see me again, I won’t have a way to defend myself from his bones. I move with the smoke, trying to buy a few more seconds of cover, as I let my Attuned poison disperse into his body.

[Attunement lost,] Echo reports.

[Poison status effect inflicted.]

Regrettable, but I can make more. Right now, I just need it to do what poison does best.

Echo bring up his HP, I say.

[HP: 78/100]

It ticks down another point, but it’s not falling fast enough. Mana?

[Mana: 140/200]

That one is at least draining away as I watch: 135, then 130, then 125. Still, plenty of magic left to kill me.

The smoke parts, and our eyes lock. No longer the picture of collected control, there’s anger in Minji’s eyes. I dive out of the way as he throws my knife back at me—followed by a wall of bones.

I hit the ground and go rolling, and a staccato of impacts shakes the wood behind me. Pulling out of the roll, I stumble to my feet, hand running down my dwindling line of potions. Without stopping, I grab the invisibility potion and fumble with the pouch of frost seeds.

“Stop running!” Minji shouts, his bones still flying after. But they’re slower now. It’s taking more effort for Minji to yank them from where they’re lodged in the floor. The mana drain potion—or my poison—is taking effect.

Stumbling, I spill a handful of the invisibility potion onto the pouch, which immediately vanishes, along with streaks of my hand. I better not freaking drop these, or I’ll never find them again. Going on feel alone, I pull the seeds from my bag and throw them Minji’s way—one to his left, one to his right, and one right at his head.

“What—”

He flinches back from the invisible blow, then shrieks and begins clawing at the air in front of his face as, presumably, the ice begins to creep over him. It probably won’t be enough to suffocate him or do any real damage, but I imagine the mental toll of having something cold and invisible growing over your face is distraction enough.

His bones shudder and clatter on the ground with aimless direction as I loop around my circle, making it back to my knife. I spill more of the invisibility potion over it as I yank it from the ground; it’s not completely gone from view, like someone took an eraser and scribbled over most of its surface, but it’s enough to confuse, and with Minji still wrestling with the living ice, now is my moment to end this.

Despite his panic, Minji notices as I come barreling his way. He raises his bones as he retreats—and steps right on the patch of invisible ice I’d planted for him. He goes down, and I crash through the floundering bones and leap on top of him.

There’s a flash of fear in his eyes. He struggles to throw me off, and the blows wrench me back in time. I’m in the dark, in Enrold’s house, the smell of blood, and offal, and desperation—

My knife sinks into Minji’s chest, and we both gasp. I let go as blood begins to bubble out of him like oil, and then I roll away, revulsion and horror swelling within me.

The bones rattle on the ground like fish flopping on dry land.

“Someone help!” I call. “Healer!”

I glance around wildly. My surroundings suddenly return to me in a rush, as if the whole world had vanished while I was fighting, and now sound and my surroundings are crashing back in. The other matches are still taking place. The crowd roars as people fight and stab and die. Where are the healers? Maru had said there were healers!

I look around for my health potion and find it: the broken glass shattered nearby on the ground, only scant droplets collected on the remaining curved shards of glass.

I stumble to my feet, hovering over Minji. His eyes are still open and flickering, but he’s stopped moving. What do I do? I can’t leave the blade in, but I can’t pull it out either.

“A health potion!” I call, spinning around. “Anyone!”

But no one answers.

[Level Up!] Echo announces, and begins reading off my Level 19 stats.

My heart sinks as the numbers scroll past me. I don’t look back at Minji. My stomach roils, and I brace my hands on my knees, waiting to be sick.

“Winner: Sal Blight!” a voice booms over the stadium.

Finally, someone comes jogging over. I don’t look up when they go to Minji, first. I scrunch the fabric of my pants beneath my hands, forcing myself to breathe slowly and ground myself. I’m alive. That’s all that matters.

The healer appears next to me.

“Can I go?” I croak. “Please.”

The man shakes his head, instead holding something out to me. My knife, dripping with blood.

I almost don’t take it from him. I don’t want to touch it. But if I leave it behind, I might as well be dead the second the next match starts. Hand shaking, I reach out and gingerly pluck the weapon from the healer’s grasp. As soon as I do, he raises a glowing hand to my shoulder, then hesitates.

“Are you injured?” he asks.

“Yes, I—” But when I check my health, it’s completely restored. Right. The level up. “No. I’m fine.”

The healer turns to leave.

“Wait,” I call. “Can I leave? Please, I just want to sit down somewhere.”

“Sorry.” His gaze meets mine with apologetic eyes. “The next fights will be starting soon. You have to stay here.” He hesitates, like there’s more he wants to say, then he shakes his head. “Good luck.”

I watch him leave as the fights continue on across the arena floor. Could I follow him? Would anyone stop me? Even as I consider this, more names boom out across the stadium. The candidates drop in rapid succession. What was once innumerable, then many, has now become countable. Even if I tried to sprint off the field at this moment, I probably wouldn’t make it to the stadium walls before the round concluded. As I impassively watch the last fight, a large, muscular woman with a shield against a lightning mage, I do the mental math.

There’s sixteen of us left. Eight will be walking out of the next fight. Then four, then two, then one. I don’t have enough potions for four more fights. I might not even have enough potions for one more. Not to mention, I’ve already burned my only healing potion. And if I don’t survive the future matches, the healers on standby won’t mean anything.

I turn to look up at the spectator box. Maru is standing at the front, leaning over the railing as if she can’t get close enough to all the bloodshed, gore, and death that’s come to litter the field.

And yet, she’s so far away she might as well be untouchable.

A horn blares through the stadium, and I look back to the last two fighters: the woman with the shield is down.

“Winner: Zathar Han. The first round of combat is complete.”

The ground shifts without warning, and I stagger to the side. The wooden floor comes alive under my feet and the circle I’m in pulls apart, carrying across the field like driftwood on a wave. I watch each of the competitors as they flow around me, trying to track which ones are the high levels and where they’re headed. When I finally come to a stop, I’m already facing my next opponent.

My heart sinks into my gut as I recognize them. The human Fire Blade I’d noted in Maru’s preliminary elimination round. Level 39.

The highest level on the field.

Fuck.