Apocalypse Arena had brought the fighters to a giant port city built around a bay. The waterfront curved around a thin stretch of sand. Several piers and docks extended into the water, far from the show. Luminescent moss, other flora, and moonlight illuminated the soon-to-be battlefield.

The two challengers started on opposite ends of the bay. If one were to draw a line between their starting points, they would end up with a perfect semicircle with the embankment acting as the shape’s curved edge. Unlike all the Death Gauntlet matches Nil had watched, the Cursed One stood in plain sight. It appeared fast asleep, standing in the water at the exact midpoint between Furball and Shawn. When the pillars of light fell and the match began, Nil expected it to move, but the creature remained motionless, towering three stories tall above the floating and half-sunken vessels.

In all of his previous matches, Furball had taken an approach similar to that of Pietro and Kennit. The man had casually strolled directly to the Cursed One, slain it, and then turned on the challenger. Nil had watched highlights of Shawn’s last Death Gauntlet match, and Airlock had done the same.

The bastards know we’re gunning for them.

Three Death Gauntlet abusers dying on the same day was no coincidence, and their enemy knew it.

Furball traveled along the embankment until he was close to the next pier. He jumped much higher than humanly possible for a person with Bronze Realm might. Once he was at the apex of his jump, all the hair on his body grew, curling and coiling until all that remained was a spherical afro with no person visibly attached to it. Furball bounced off a pier, and a thick twisted chord burst from him and curled around a half-sunken sailboat’s mass. He swung around it like a tether ball, picking up momentum before flinging himself toward the Cursed One.

Meanwhile, Shawn’s approach was nowhere as flashy. He created barriers so thin and translucent they were almost invisible. Only the bioluminescent flora’s glow shining through them gave away their presence. Shawn used the projections as platforms and hopped between the piers and docks, racing toward the monster. It took a level of precision and control Nil hadn’t seen from the man before, and the need for a high Mind made sense.

Occasionally, when the distance was too large between his final barrier platform and his destination, Shawn shattered the manifestation and used the minor explosion to propel himself forward. Nil spotted the flash of smaller barriers around Shawn’s feet and finally understood how the man pulled off the move without hurting himself. Shieldmaster had proven time and time again that he wasn’t just the superior martial artist but also had much finer control over his ability. Nil only managed to keep up during their sparring sessions with raw power and through sheer grit. Shawn liked to say that it wasn’t true that Nil was holding back, but that wasn’t always strictly the case.

Hairy, hooked whips grew out of Alex Maher’s full-body afro. They lashed whatever they could reach, swinging the giant hairy sphere closer to the arena’s center with every passing second. When there was nothing to grab, he bounced off whatever flat surface he could find. The man moved faster than Shawn but had to zig-zag up and down the arena to hook things or bounce. Shieldmaster Shawn faced no such limitations. He moved in a straight line and reached the Cursed One seconds before Furball. When the hairy hooks lashed toward the slumbering monster, a barrier appeared in front of it, blocking them. The surface cracked, but the projection didn’t shatter. Furball swung back toward the closest pier, and his sphere softened. He came to a complete stop instead of bouncing away. Several new extensions shot out of the afro. Their tips resembled harpoons more than hooks. Nil spotted the glint of metal at their tips. Instead of flying in a straight line, they arced toward the Cursed One.

The barrier stopped a couple of them, but the rest reached their destination. Countless luminous eyes opened on the giant body, and the monster roared.

“It’s awake!” The announcer exclaimed. Her narration hadn’t stopped once the match began. Unlike the fighters, the audience was still victim to the announcer’s endless spiel. Channels like Highlight Reel and Festus Creator usually filtered them out. The Apocalypse Arena channel allowed her volume to be turned down once the fighting started, but the cafe manager had failed to do so yet. Nil had ignored it thus far, amazed by how the two fighters moved. Now, as her volume rose, there was no ignoring the woman. “Alex ‘Furball’ Maher has added a new fighter to the mix. Will he use the Cursed One as an obstacle or defeat it straight away.”

The still-standing barrier shattered, destroying all hairy tethers that reached around it. The strands attached to the Cursed One went slack. Tiny silvery spikes stuck out of the rough hide. Black sludge dripped out of them.

“It’s some sort of needle,” Nil told Selia.

“An assassination tool, maybe,” she said. Her food sat on her table, half-eaten and forgotten. Meanwhile, Nil had finished most of his meal. “You would expect hair growing and control powers to belong to some sort of rogue, using stealth and hit-and-run tactics. Maybe that’s why Symbiotech made his soul weapon a tool perfect for surprise attacks.”

“I’d argue it’s still a decent surprise and pretty threatening the way he uses it.”

The conversation came to a stop as the Cursed One moved, finally coming into the light. It had no torso, and its head looked like that of a sea serpent. Meanwhile, the body was a mass of tentacles. It had two giant eyeballs on either side of its head, while countless smaller eyes covered the appendages. None were of the same size, and Nil couldn’t help but wonder whether the monster was able to process all the sensory information at once.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

A giant barrier appeared around the Cursed One’s monstrous head. The beast whipped several giant tentacles at Shawn, creating waves that thrashed the stone dock. They broke through several layers of the barrier. Each shattering caused an explosion that reduced the force behind the attack or whipped tentacles aside. Shawn leaped backward just as the last of his conjurations shattered. A new barrier formed behind him; it was elastic, and his feet sank into it. The surface proved elastic and pushed him back the way he had come before exploding. The force propelled Shawn onto the barrier around the Cursed One’s head.

“No, you don’t,” his opponent yelled through the afro.

Furball latched on to the Cursed One’s limbs and used them to swing up into the air. Once he was high enough, several spiky extensions shot at Shawn. Most bounced off another conjured barrier. But one pierced through. The tip sparked as it bounced off his new sword. Meanwhile, the barrier under his feet shrank. The several spears and hooks attacking it failed to break through. The Cursed One’s tentacles failed to attack the awkward angle and struck out at Furball, forcing him to retreat.

For a moment, it seemed nothing could dethrone Shawn from atop the thrashing Cursed One’s head. His opponent’s effort seemed fruitless as well. The barrier continued to shrink, becoming more opaque with every passing second. Then, everything abruptly changed.

Shawn swayed atop his perch. A couple of seconds later, he collapsed onto his knees. The barriers holding back the whips, hooks, and spears dissolved, and only the one supporting him remained intact. The Cursed One’s erratic movements made it sway back and forth, and Shawn was at the risk of falling off.

Then, he threw up on the translucent surface, spewing luminescent green before falling off. He bounced off the monster’s tentacles before landing noisily in the water.

Nil racked his brain, running through all the recordings he had watched. He didn’t recall any evidence or signs of poison in Alex ‘Furball’ Maher’s previous matches. Either he had picked up a new ability or picked up a new spell. If his attribute distribution was of a Rogue or Arcane Warrior, Nil thought it possible. He glanced at Selia, concerned. Her knuckles had turned white, and her jaw was clenched.

Hairy spears attacked the barrier, shrinking around the Cursed One’s head once again. They bounced off. A second later, the translucent structure exploded. The power was greater than anything Shawn had displayed. Air rippled. All sounds, including the announcer’s spiel, got drowned out. The Cursed One’s head disappeared. It didn’t explode or get crushed. Instead, only a dark mist lingered where it was a moment ago. The remainder of the monster slumped to a side and stopped moving. Parts of it oozed black while the rest shriveled.

Shawn kept his cards close to his chest. Selia and Nil suspected that he did a lot in his private training that he didn’t share. The pair had guessed that the man was working on something powerful but couldn’t be sure what. Now, they knew. Neither could be sure whether it was a new ability or something he was developing with the basic barrier.

It's just incredible.

“Fucking Bastard!” Furball yelled. His afro parted, revealing his body. The hair didn’t seem to grow from every inch of his body, only the previously hairy sections. All the waves had forced him to retreat onto the highest point of a half-sunken ship. It gave him the high ground, but Nil believed there was more to it. Furball couldn’t afford to get his hair wet. He guessed the additional weight made controlling the strands challenging.

An explosion whipped Furball’s head around. Meanwhile, the split screen showed Shawn peeking out of the water behind him. A bubble barrier surrounded his head. He didn’t bob like someone swimming. Nil guessed the man had created a barrier underwater for standing on.

Conical, finger-sized constructs formed around Shawn’s extended hand. They were opaque and appeared far denser than his barriers. They glowed silver, standing out among the colorful bioluminescence.

“It’s his new spell,” Nil whispered, taking Selia’s hand. Her tense shoulders relaxed when he touched her. Her fingers intertwined with his, and she squeezed. “Shawn was going to be okay.”

“I know.”

The projectiles shot at Furball, but he moved at the last moment. It almost seemed as if his hair had a sixth sense and moved in unison even though he was looking in a completely different direction. The man rappelled down, moving at blinding speed, and his tethers shot into the water. Selia’s breath audibly caught in her throat as they wrapped around Shawn. A barrier protected his head, neck, and torso, and Furball pulled up out of the water by his ankles.

“I’m going to kill you slowly,” the man spat, hanging by his hair from the mast that had acted as his perch. Hairy chords went wrapped around it and extended down toward his trapped, upside-down adversary. He lifted Shawn until they were eye to eye. “You fucking—”

“What kind of idiot talks during battle?” Shawn asked.

Alex ‘Furball’ Maher had forgotten about Shawn’s sword. It was not his fault. Shawn had never used one in any of his previous matches or shown affinity for the weapon. In the darkness, it was also somewhat challenging to spot. The sheath matched his black trousers, disappearing into them and the surrounding darkness.

Slashing at Furball’s neck most likely wouldn’t have ended well for Shawn. The hair was thick around it and coiled like dreadlocks. Meanwhile, the tethers attaching him to the mast above were nowhere nearly as protected. Shawn whipped out his sword and slashed them through the coiled afro hair. They both fell into the water together.

A barrier formed around Furball as soon as he went around the water’s surface. Shawn created one just under his feet and stood half-submerged in water. Veins popped in his head as the construct containing his opponent cracked. New ones formed in or over it.

Even though Nil knew that all of the people on their list needed to die, watching Furball perish slowly sickened him. A pit formed in his stomach, and a lump formed in his throat. Drowning looked like a slow, painful, and terrifying way to go. Selia and Shawn believed all of the targets deserved a slow, agonizing death because of what they had done to Adam. Nil agreed but he didn’t have it in him. He wished to finish all his opponents as swiftly as possible. He didn’t see the point in making them suffer.