Nil entered the arena backrooms a month after his quest.
The downtime went into getting used to Toggled Supercharging and the growth of Brutal Battery’s sub-abilities. Everyone expected him to take a while to recover from the almost-death, but much to everyone’s surprise—including Nil’s—he didn’t. Only one thing currently mattered to him: getting stronger so he could protect the people important to him. Some claimed it was too soon for his first match. Nil disagreed.
Win or loss. Nil was okay with either. In fact, if he felt his life was in danger, he planned on surrendering and teleporting out of the arena. Nil wanted strength and experience. He wanted to be able to survive quests without relying on Susan and healers. He needed enough strength to follow through with the Symbiotech mission and protect his family afterward if things went wrong.
Nil's surroundings looked oddly Roman—or at least how imagined ancient Rome would've looked. There was no mud or feces on the floor. Everything appeared clean. Almost unusually clean. He imagined the construct or its staff had magical spells to keep everything spick and span and good as new.
There was no sun, moon, or stars. In fact, Nil couldn't tell whether he was indoors or outdoors. While his surroundings looked Roman, the people walking through streets between the backrooms’ many structures were anything but. Most were modern clothes, but Nil also saw people wearing traditional oriental clothes, Victorian outfits, Middle Eastern garb, and even ridiculous superhero costumes. Some people even looked like they were in cosplay. He wasn't sure which of them wore traditional outfits from their world and what was for their arena persona.
For his first match, Nil only had a pair of knee-length gym shorts, a vest, and running shoes. The symbiote, which was supposed to be a part of his outfit, wasn't yet ready. Dr Shina Patel needed more time to fine-tune things and was unwilling to let unfinished products appear on broadcasts that millions might watch. Nil had a vial of burn ointment And wasn't sure whether the arena construct would allow him to carry it into his match. The fact that it was still in his pocket after the teleportation gave him hope.
Even though his clothes were durable and made for arena combat, Nil carried a gym back with spares. He believed there was little capable of standing up to Brutal Battery's destructive power. A full body Expend was enough to shred his underwear and shorts, if not leave them in tatters. There was also the risk of an opponent's ability or magic damaging it.
Vendors selling clothes, armor, weapons, consumables, and temporary enchantments beckoned to Nil. He did his best to dodge any that approached him politely. It was all much too tempting, and Nil didn't trust himself not to blow through his savings. The elite craftsmanship combined with magic and otherworldly materials left his palms itching. Even the cheapest of the products would significantly drain his store of Schema Credits. Until Nil finished the Symbiotech mission, joined a new ludus, and found new sponsors, he needed to be careful with his money.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
From what Nil had heard, healing in the arena backrooms cost far more than Nexus’s Fountain of Pyrene. He needed to save money. Nil had arrived early to explore the area and learn as much as possible about how much it had to offer. Unfortunately, everything required money he couldn’t afford to spend. So, Nil made his way toward gate sixty-nine, which would teleport him to his first match in the Gauntlet of Ten.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Yelling caught Nil’s attention. A giant man stood nose to nose with a significantly smaller, armored individual in a fur-collared white cape. “He and I agreed on a deal. Why would you snake it out from under me?!”
The smaller man shrugged. His blue-grey eyes were cold, and his smile even more frigid. It took Nil a moment to recognize him from the distance.
“I thought it was pretty,” Pietro replied shrugging. “You should know better. Vendors aren’t obligated to hold products for you. It's been two weeks since you put down your holding deposit and left it here. What do you expect this poor smith to do? Wait forever, hoping you’ll return for his stock?”
“I have the money!” The man half-turned his head, looking at the similarly muscled woman holding him back. “He was at the noodle stand! You saw the fucker eavesdropping. He raced here just to steal it and fuck with me!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he returned his attention to Pietro and yelled. “You have a soul weapon! Why would you even waste credits on this? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Pietro chuckled. “Breathe before you give yourself a heart attack. I just wanted it for my weapons collection. That’s all. My armory is the best in Moscow. Don’t you know?”
“What—”
“Tell you what? Fly down to me. I’ll show you around and even let you play with it.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you, you slimy fucking bastard,” the bigger man yelled back.
All humor disappeared from Pietro’s face. He was cold. Stern. The regal silver armor, fur, and general air gave him a regal look. Nil had looked up the man after bumping into him after the qualifiers. Now, he could see how he got titles like God of Death Gauntlet and God of the Iron Gauntlet.
“Is that a challenge?” Pietro asked. “I’m always open to challenges.”
The giant man stiffened.
“You’re no stranger to the Death Gauntlet. Two wins, right? Challenge me for your third.” Pietro took a step back, straightened his collar, and wiped the spittle from his face. “If you win. My armory and all liquid assets are yours.”
“Let’s go, Alan,” the woman restraining the giant man said. “The rat isn’t worth it. We can do a couple of more quests and buy something even better.”
Alan spat at Pietro’s feet before following his friend’s advice. The pair turned around trudged away.
“Think about it, Alan the Atomizer!” The man called after the duo. “Bringing down a man with twenty Death Gauntlet victories could set you up for life.”
Alan paused, half turning around, but the woman forced him away. The antagonized laughed, slinging the sheathed, cleaver-like giant sword across his shoulders. When he turned around, Pietro’s gaze met Nil’s.
The man shot him a slimy smile and winked. Nil ignored him and marched away. He reported to gate sixty-nine and turned in all his belongings for storage. They scanned him, took back anything they deemed contraband, and waved Nil into his first Gauntlet of Ten match. He did his best to push Pietro out of his mind and focused to what was to come. Nil couldn’t afford to focus on anything but what lay ahead.