When Nil stirred, his muscles ached with the characteristic discomforts of anaerobic respiration. It was like a heavy internal ache accompanied by a burning sensation. However, his skin, lungs, ears, and eyes felt just fine. It took a moment to blink away the blurriness. No burns or blisters covered Nil’s arms. He sat up and was pleased to find the rest of him was in a similarly pristine condition.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.” A middle-aged woman with a deadpan expression and tired voice stood on the opposite side of the room, attending to someone in the only other cot. “Get out. We’re going need the bed any second now.” The woman nodded at the gym bag by the door. “You can change in the toilets next door.”

“Did I win?”

“I don’t know.” The woman shrugged. “Someone will find you once you’re done changing.” When Nil idled, a hint of irritation entered her voice. “I won’t tell you again. Get out.”

Nil did as told.

Unlike the space he used as his changing room and warm-up area, the men’s room was pristine with intact commodities. Nil stripped after locking the door. Burning Sands had ripped his vest into shreds. Meanwhile, his shorts and mask had mostly survived. The former had burn holes along the hem, while the latter had suffered friction tears. Patches of his hair stuck out through the new openings.

The woman had done an excellent job of healing him. Despite the aches from the buildup of lactic acid, he felt as good as new. Something seemed different as Nil studied himself in the mirror. The increased Might and intense training regimen was starting to mold his physique into something he typically associated with steroid abuse, but that wasn’t it. He called up his Schema interface, looking for anything out of place.

* Might: Mortal 8

* Finesse: Mortal 6

* Mind: Mortal 3

* Spark: Mortal 9

Brutal Battery: Mortal 4

* Absorb: Mortal 4

* Expend: Mortal 4

Curses:

* Haunting Visage

* Armsmaster’s Disappointment

Even though Finesse had a higher potential rank, Might benefited from natural growth first. It didn’t surprise Nil. He had put his body through significant punishment while practicing switching between Absorb and Expend and back again. He had increased his strength training regimen, too, hoping to improve his effectiveness while channeling Absorb. Brutal Battery had also gained a rank as Expend grew. Nothing gave him a clue of what might’ve changed.

“You going to be long in there?” Knocking at the door, followed by Andrew’s voice, snapped Nil back to reality.

“Just a second,” he replied. Nil splashed water on his face and swiftly dressed without drying his hands, feeling glad he had brought a change of clothes. Before exiting the toilets, he wrapped a scarf around his nose and mouth and pulled his hood up. Andrew and another man awaited him. The latter wore the same sunglasses and suit as the other organizers but no face paint.

“You put on a hell of a show.”

“Thanks. I’m—” The man took a step back and threw his hands up when Nil tried to shake one.

“No names. No touching.” The man’s words were curt and brisk. He glanced at Andrew, frowning. “Where did you find this guy?”

“He’s a bit of a boy scout.” Andrew grinned. He wore a pair of large sunglasses, too. It did a good job of hiding his eyes and upper cheekbones. “But that’s the type of guy you want, right? Honest and only interested in fighting.”

“No,” the organizer replied. “They always grow a conscience when things go wrong and end up going to the police.”

“I might be new to this, but I’m not that naive,” Nil said.

“Anonymity is key. I think it would be best if I just contact you through your friend until you get used to how we do things here.”

“So?” Nil expectantly glanced between Andrew and the organizer. “What happened? Did I win?”

Andrew smiled at him sheepishly, shaking his head.

“It was a close match,” the organizer said. “In the end, Burning Sands was conscious. You weren’t.” Then he handed Nil an envelope. “You put on an amazing show, though. The odds said you wouldn’t last five minutes, and you pissed a lot of people off by taking the stealthy approach and circling behind him. People don’t expect Brutes to display stealth or strategy.” The man went silent for a moment. Nil could feel the eyes behind the sunglasses scrutinizing him. “You’re not quite a Brute, are you? I’ve never seen a Brute move without making any noise, exploding, or releasing shockwaves with his punches. Is it a sonic power of some sort?”

“Am I needed to disclose the details of my power to come back?” Nil asked, checking the envelope’s contents.

“No, but the bookkeepers and matchmakers would appreciate the information. Count it if you want. A win is fifty thousand. A loss is ten thousand. We deducted three thousand for healing fees.”

“Three thousand?” Andrew raised an eyebrow. “That’s steep, isn’t it?”

“What are you, his manager?” The organizer asked, sounding amused.

“I suppose.”

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“Next time, ensure your client doesn’t get hurt or is conscious enough to consent to or reject healing.”

“Next time? You want me back after I get my ass kicked.”

“How the fuck are we supposed to operate if we don’t welcome losers back? This is a business, buddy. Anyway. You put on an excellent show and got the crowd riled up with your tenacity and the surprises. That makes you great for profits, and you’re welcome to return whenever you’d like. We’ll inform your manager of future events. He knows how to sort things out.”

The organizer walked away without goodbyes. Nil felt like a naive dolt in a neighborhood where he didn’t belong. Unlike Andrew, he had grown up in a reasonably well-off and protected area of Greater London. Unwillingness to get involved in the same circles as Andrew meant Nil didn’t have much experience with the shadier side of life either. But if Nil wanted to make money as a fighter outside of Apocalypse Arena, he needed to swiftly get used to the darker side of life.

“Stick around and check out future competition, or leave?” Andrew asked.

“Leave,” Nil answered.

“You look taller, by the way.”

The pair followed the signs to the exit and walked briskly from the industrial park. Shady individuals hung around the building and along the abandoned, poorly lit streets. Fortunately, no one approached them. The smell of someone’s smoke attracted Andrew, but Nil dragged him away.

“I’ve seen your stash. You don’t need more.”

“But it smells so good.”

“I’m fucking ravenous. Food. Then home. I’m sleeping at yours.”

“Fine.” Andrew sighed.

The pair stopped at a kebab shop near the pub and got shawarma wraps. It had a healthy amount of salad, fries, and garlic sauce, making for a satisfying bite. The pair mostly ate in silence. It was tempting to discuss the fight, but they agreed to limit such conversations to when they were alone and far from eavesdroppers. They bought a six-pack of wheat beer before starting their drive to the scrap yard.

Andrew broke the silence. “Hi! I’m Sunil Roy, Mr Illegal Fight Organizer. It's nice to meet you!”

“I get it. I'm a fish out of water. You don't have to rub it in my face.”

“I know you suffered head trauma before your summoning, but did it knock the smarts out of you and leave the friendly idiot behind?”

“I get it. I fucked up. In the real world, it's seen as basic professional conduct.”

“Let's get something straight, Sunny-boi. This is the real world. There are more pits, gangs, and everything else than fancy, pretentious restaurants where you tweezer food like a Real Housewifes’ eyebrow.”

“Desperate Housewife?”

“No. Don't be that guy.”

“What guy?” Nil asked, feigning ignorance.

“The assholes who pretend they're too good to know that reality TV exists. It makes you look as pretentious as the assholes your restaurant used to serve.”

Nil caught a glimpse of the visage out of the corner of his eye. She sat in the backseat of Andrew's car, giggling without making a noise. His silent companion of seven years appeared to have developed the resemblance of a personality since his ascension. It was a brutal sight that left his chest feeling tight, but he couldn't help but smile. It was nice having his friend back. He enjoyed Andrew's nonstop blabbering and ribbing. It was who he was.

“I'll do better next time, alright?” Nil smiled. “It's how I was raised.”

Andrew paused his joking rant and smiled. He glanced at his friend and then back at the road. “I miss your mum. She was always nice to me.”

“Really? I don't remember one conversation where she wasn't scolding you.”

“It's more than my mum ever did.” Nil knew Andrew didn't have the greatest home life. Neither of them discussed the topic while they were young, but he remembered Andrew spending every evening after school at his house and coming by before breakfast, too. “She told me off often, but that was my fault. Your mum always had a lunchbox ready for me and always ensured I never left your house without eating.”

The arrangement had felt so natural to Nil. He never thought about it. The frequency of Andrew’s visits dropped following the cataclysm, and even more so after he changed schools, but they'd still see each other regularly. The visits stopped altogether after his mother screamed at Andrew for bringing marijuana into her house, but she never told Nil to end the friendship.

“I missed you, too, Sunny-boi,” Andrew said, gently stopping at a traffic light. “Hanging out with you again—”

Nil thought it appropriate to punch his childhood friend's left forearm, interrupting him. He held back, of course. His Might was now more than a couple of ranks above the human average. Andrew pulled the hand brake and put the car in park before glaring at him. Then, the two friends burst into laughter. They threw fists at one another and attempted blocking or dodging. When the lights turned green, and they set off again, the civilian of the pair was panting and red in the face but grinning from ear to ear. It was like they were teenagers again.

“What the fuck was that knuckle hit?” Nil asked afterward, still laughing and rubbing his forehead.

“You like that, do you?” Andrew held up his fist. The middle finger’s first joint stuck out just above the rest. “I call that the Lumpfish Strike.”

“I can’t believe you named it.” Both men burst into laughter again. “Why Lumpfish Strike?”

“You got a weird fishhead, and it's got a lump now, doesn’t it?” Andrew asked after catching his breath. “I know you lost, but you did amazing tonight. It was an unfair match-up. A first-time Brute shouldn't be fighting a mage or whatever Burning Sands was.”

“Is it me, or was he in cosplay?”

“He was. I think it's a part of his shtick. Bro likes to emulate the anime character with the same power set. The organizers let regulars and winners design their outfits. Within reason, of course.” Andrew paused when an Arthurtech van with police colors drove by. Their presence increased as they crossed borough borders into a more secure area. He only continued after they passed a checkpoint. “Either way. You would've won if not for the burning part of Burning Sands. The healer said you were pretty dehydrated and on the verge of a heat stroke.”

“If I'm lucky Absorb will expand to include heat, energy attacks, and more at higher ranks,” Nil said. “I can't do much besides guard and avoid until then. That thing with Expend proved decent though.”

“It looked fucking amazing,” Andrew replied. “It looked like you were going supernova or Super Saiyan.”

“Rest In Peace, Lord Toriyama,” Nil said.

“Rest In Peace,” Andrew repeated. “So what's next? Another fight, or is this enough to tide you over until your next summoning?”

“I don't know,” Nil replied. “It's enough for the house and for the four of us to live on. But I still need to pay rent in my old place and gather funds for Ludus registration fees.”

“End your tenancy. Move in with me until you figure things out. It might not be the most glamorous of places, but you can train to your heart's content and don't have to explain your whereabouts to your dad or Emily.”

“Thanks, Andy. I'll think about it.”