You have received 5 Schema Tokens and 1000 Schema Credits for your victory.
Victory against a combatant with seventeen Gauntlet of Ten and four Death Gauntlet wins, and destroying the Cursed One has earned you an additional prize.
Would you like upgrade materials for your soul weapon or growth fruit for your soul beast?
The decision wasn’t a challenging one. There was no telling when Andrew would return from his quest. His return was at least six months away and there was no telling whether he’d have the necessary abilities, ranks, or expertise to upgrade the Soul Gauntlets. Meanwhile, Meatball could benefit greatly from an immediate growth boost. The sooner she was ready to help him on quests and in the arena, the easier his life would get. So, he picked the growth fruit.
You have earned 5 Schema Tokens and 1000 Schema Credits for progressing your quest.
Nil hadn’t been a Summoned for long and had come a long way since. His first quest had earned him a hundred Schema Credits. After healing fees and taxes, he had around six thousand in his hand. Now, he had earned two thousand credits in a matter of minutes, which converted to two hundred thousand Great British Pounds.
Exchanging the currency and putting it in an investment account would earn him a decent chunk and secure his family’s future. However, the government would take a giant chunk in taxes. Nil expected to lose thirty-five if not forty percent of his earnings. Instead, he decided to hold out until Bunty got back to him with sponsorship offers and partnership deals. Given what people he knew had received, the numbers would eventually match arena earnings. The government would tax it as income, and there was no getting away from it. So Nil decided to invest earth earnings in his family while Schema Credit would go into manuals, upgrade materials, and whatever Meatball needed to grow big and strong.
Nil had suffered no injuries. There was a lot to see in the arena backrooms, but he had other priorities. He returned to the ludus, eager to find out how Selia’s match had turned out. She hadn’t yet finished. Nil found a seat in the viewing gallery and watched with bated breath.
Several fiery tornadoes revolved around Omar ‘Djinn’ Fahid. Nil couldn't be sure if it was a part of the man's power, an updraft created by all the spinning hot air, or another example of distorted physics, but he floated between them, hovering a couple of meters above the ground. The other half of the screen showed Selia. Patches of her tank top and yoga pants had burned away, and her skin underneath appeared red and angry. Sweat soaked her dark hair, her lips were cracked, and her eyes appeared dry and red. Things weren't going well for her.
“You don’t need to worry. She’s got this.” The reassurance came from an unexpected source: Shawn. He invited himself to sit with Nil. “She’s just waiting for the right time.”
The man wore his battle attire. His new sponsor, a defense and securities firm, had provided him with a designer. The woman put him in a red leather jacket, white t-shirt, and bottoms, which resembled black jeans but seemed of a more flexible material. In Nil’s opinion, the outfit, when paired with his African heritage, brought back memories of Michael Jackson in the thriller music video or Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop.
Maybe that’s what they were going for.
“You know her style better than me,” Nil admitted, returning his eyes to the screen. “I wasn’t aware you had a match.”
“Why sit around while you two are doing something? The list is nine-strong, and there’s three of us.”
“Nine? Mine only had seven.”
“Perhaps Layla left out people you have no chance against. Selia showed me hers. Her quest only has six individuals. Adam’s was the same.”
“That’s fair. The barriers let you defend against things that would kill the most of us.”
Shawn nodded. “I figured neither of you had a chance against Airlock. So, I took her out.”
“What was her soul weapon?” Nil asked.
“A scythe,” Shawn answered. “Stupid, impractical weapon. The blade was double-edged and somehow destroyed my barriers better than your energy constructs. It wasn’t easy, and things got dicey after she ran off and killed the Cursed One. But I turned things towards the end.”
“I suspect the corrupted soul weapons and their wielders get a power boost just after consuming Cursed Energy. If you look at the recordings, they always seem to find the way to the Cursed Ones and kill them before facing their opponent. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“I saw the last few moments of your match. I couldn’t tell whether he was incompetent or you just laid down surprise after surprise.”
The conversation ceased when Selia finally made her move. Apocalypse Arena seemed to have taken the combatants to a world that fell during its industrial eras. Crumbling factories lined the streets, and abandoned carriages lined them. The fire-vortex conjurer appeared to have chased Selia into a building filled with giant looms, but Nil suspected that the phase shifter had led him there.
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The man moved closer in on her while still hovering a couple of meters above the ground. Selia and her daggers had no chance of reaching him. When Omar sent a twister of pink, orange, and yellow at her, she fell into the floor. Her opponent frowned, eyes scanning the ground. He rotated while still levitating, hunting for his target. Omar’s fiery cape appeared to move independently. The bottom corners twisted into spikes, stiffening and pointing directly below him. A slash on his right pant leg suggested Selia had already tried to attack from that angle.
The side of the screen showing Selia had gone dark. It refocused a moment later. Omar floated in the frame. The bottom-up view showed his boots, which were made of a material similar to his animated cape. The fabric’s hexagonal pattern fragmented and twisted with miniature fire vortexes in a seemingly constant state of flux. Nil recognized Shina’s handiwork. The garments were a product of her artisanal ability. It took him a moment to realize that the focus wasn’t Omar but the machinery above him.
While the man studied the ground below him, Selia emerged through the loom. The way she moved, it seemed she was gliding instead of pushing herself through. Omar’s cape reacted before him. The spikes reoriented themselves, pointing and shooting upwards, but passed through Selia as she fell with daggers held high above each shoulder. She scythed them downward, accurately inserting both tips where Omar’s head met his shoulders. The blades didn’t stop until the hilts caught skin and bone.
Omar was dead before he reached the ground. Selia landed on top of him. She rolled off the corpse and onto her back, panting as the announcer declared her victory.
“I told you she’d come out on top,” Shawn said. “Selia’s fighting skills and techniques need a whole lot of work, but she knows how to use her ability well. She’s had it longer than most of us.”
“About that. Selia won’t talk about it, and I’m not sure either. Did she get her ability before becoming a Summoned?”
“Selia won’t clarify that for me either, but I think so. Symbiotech’s experiment gave her the power to phaseshift. They put her a twisted, more broken soul weapon seed than yours in her. If the Nexus didn’t summon Selia and give her abilities to control and manage the power better, she probably would be dead by now. The one time I got her to talk about it, she described the power and soul weapon seeds as cancers slowly eating away at her body. I’m surprised it didn’t fuck up her mind like your old teammate.”
“You’d think we’d all be more fucked up after what the cataclysm and everything did to our world and lives,” Nil stated.
Shawn only shrugged. “I think my parents did me a favor by abandoning me somewhere a ludus would take me in. Cataclysm or not, most people would’ve taken care of their child and tried to give them an okay life.”
Learning about Nil’s social circle regularly reminded him that he had lived a better life than most. The loss of Aisha and his haunting visage felt insignificant, given everything they had encountered.
“We should celebrate our victories and fat rewards,” Nil stated, finally tearing his eyes off the screen. Apocalypse Arena had teleported Selia away. The staff would provide her with immediate medical care, and it didn’t cost as much as the Nexus healing fountain. “I have contacts in a bunch of amazing restaurants in Mayfair. All it would take is a call.”
Shawn leaned back in his chair, staring at Nil. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather it just be Selia and you? I’d rather not be the third wheel.”
“You won’t be,” Nil replied. “I didn’t know Adam particularly well, but he was clearly important to the pair of you. After a week of intense training, it might be nice if we spend the evening just as friends.”
“Do you not like Selia?”
“I do, but I also want her to understand that I have no expectations of her. But that's not the point. There will be other opportunities for us to be alone and have another go at a date. We all accomplished something great and could do with decent friends. I know you’re not my biggest fan, but—”
“You’re a pretty decent guy,” Shawn interrupted, taking a long sip of his drink. He broke eye contact and scanned the room. Even though the man did his best to hide it, Nil could tell that the man felt uncomfortable. He was making an effort to be more than the initial impression he had made.
“You’re not as big as an asshole as you like to pretend either. Don’t think your crappy attempts at being there for Selia have gone unnoticed.”
“Thanks.” Shawn laughed. “Make your booking. I bet Selia will be glad to have the opportunity to go out.” He paused. “Just don’t pick anywhere too pretentious or with a strict dress code. I don’t have a lot of nice clothes.”
“Just no open-toed shoes, tracksuits, or shorts,” Nil told him. “Everything else is fine. You might even score us some free drinks and appetizers if you wear that ridiculous red leather jacket of yours.”
“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” Shawn sighed.
“It makes you look like Michael Jackson on steroids,” Selia stated, emerging from the Apocalypse Arena teleportation chamber. The burns on her skin had disappeared, and she wore old gym wear. They all carried an extra set of clothes when entering the arena’s staging area. Combat often destroyed outfits, and the garish and flashy outfits stood out when returning to Earth. “So what are we dressing up for?”
“Nil is using his connections to the underworld to get us into London’s finest bars and restaurants,” Shawn said, hugging his friend. “Great win, by the way. I bet you’ll have a bunch of sponsorship deals come tomorrow morning.”
Nil nodded. “I had a word, and Festus The Curator will be featuring you soon.” He checked his wristwatch. The evening was almost upon them. “Should we freshen up, get dressed, and meet down here in an hour? I’ll call some friends in the meantime. It's Sunday, and most Michelin-Star restaurants are closed. The few that are open tonight tend to be all booked up, but I’ll try my best.”
“Anywhere will do,” Selia said, hopping up on to her tip toes and pecking Nil’s cheek. “Even a sloppy burger or shitty chain restaurant will do while I’m out celebrating with my boys.” She glanced at Shawn. “Need me to sort you out a date?”
“I’m sure I can find a strapping specimen for myself once we hit the bars,” Shawn replied, shooting her a wink. Nil was glad to see the more casual side of the man finally. It felt odd, but Shawn no longer felt like an annoying stick in the mud.
Most of all, Nil hoped that spending time with friends and a few drinks would help him sleep through the night. A quick and sudden execution had ensured he didn’t need to look into Kennit’s just eyes before he died. However, the fact that he had killed another human being mere minutes ago still ate at him. Nil needed the evening as much as the mourning duo.