Title: [Duel Champion]

You fought a traditional duel against a mighty Arahaktar foe. This title is upgradable. Win more duels to increase your power.

Constitution: +1

I barely had time to read it before a golden box magically appeared before my eyes. One moment it wasn’t there; the next, a perfect metal cube adorned with intricate golden patterns stood in front of me.

As I stepped closer, the box opened. Inside, a metal chest piece lay waiting. It was simple yet sturdy, designed to cover the entire front of the torso. Its shape resembled the muscular build of a warrior, with leather straps to fasten at the back. It looked like the armor of an ancient soldier.

When I picked it up, a message appeared before my eyes:

Common - Roman Chest Plate

Used by centurions on Earth, this chest plate is reliable and durable.

Constitution: +1

A second later, the chest plate was on my body. I quickly realized I could equip and unequip it just like I summoned and dismissed the wand and dagger.

Where the chest plate had been, a piece of paper now lay. I picked it up and examined it. It was a message written in English, with elegant calligraphy:

Hi, Zach,

I’m thrilled to follow your journey in this year’s competition. I chose something from your planet, hoping it would make you feel better. I know it can be hard, but you’ll endure. Know that you have people cheering for you, and I’m your biggest fan.

With love, Xharx, daughter of Xharx.

The paper disintegrated from my hand at the same time as the box, messages appeared on my sight to let me know I could re-read the letter later if I wanted to. A mix of bewilderment and exhilaration coursed through me. It was easy to get angry when you spent more than a second thinking about the powers at play—pitting us against each other in this sick game—but at the same time... I felt amazing.

Power surged through me as my thoughts crashed against each other.

“Everything alright, Zach?” Elk asked, his hand resting on my shoulder.

I looked up at him and smiled. “Brilliant! I’m still surprised you’re not calling me mate or saying things like ‘Everything’s alright, innit?’” I tried to mimic his British accent, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

He seemed puzzled. “Was I supposed to call you ‘mate’? That would be well off.”

I supressed a laugh and continued, determined not to explain the intricacies of human accents for now. “Yeah, man… I’m good.”

“Great!” He smiled and continued, “besides, the gods seem to favor us. Deities keep watching.”

“Are you seeing the same notifications?”

“I didn’t earn the title or the sponsorship, but they’re still here. More are coming. I guess they want another perspective on your success.”

“You literally fought off several goblins to survive, saved my life, and pulled off some crazy illusions back there, man. I bet you’ll get sponsored soon.”

“Maybe.” Elk shrugged, motioning for us to keep moving.

We’d finally reached the second floor, and as the messages—and our encounter with the other devils—made clear, others were already here, wandering the corridors, searching for a way to fight the boss and earn a spot in the real challenge.

We needed to move faster if we wanted to be among the two hundred.

“Were you being sincere back there?” Elk asked, his voice low.

“When?”

“When you said we were friends.”

Elk slowed his pace, walking beside me and glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. There was a shadow of vulnerability in the giant’s gaze.

“I guess... yes.” I cleared my throat. “Yes, man. I owe you my life, and you’ve shown me nothing but support. That’s enough to call someone a friend where you’re from, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.” His voice was distant now, his gaze fixed ahead, avoiding mine.

“I thought you said you had friends.”

Maybe I should’ve let it go, but there was something in his demeanor—something familiar—that sparked my curiosity. Something I could relate to.

“Hornless friends. We didn’t have much choice but to be allies. We don’t usually survive for long, you know. So I only had a few friends, and I didn’t choose any of them—not that I didn’t like them.”

“I understand,” I said and I trully meant it..

Elk scoffed and then looked at me. I’d stopped walking and was staring directly at him.

“You actually do? Humans also throw their ‘hornless’ into Hell to die?” he asked, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.

Damn, I felt like an idiot and suppressed the urge to laugh nervously. “I understand it metaphorically. I was in a bad spot for the first fifteen years of my life. I didn’t have many choices, and when I did, they were usually between a shot to the foot or one to the hand. Do you get what I mean?”

“So, you were a beggar?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at me as if I was genuinely stupid.

“Something like that,” I admitted, patting his shoulder as I started walking again. “I knew people who had it worse, and, in the end, I think I handled it well. So... no, I wasn’t thrown into Hell to fight for my life, but I fought anyway.”

“The gods’ plans are indeed perfect. Only an ugly, human beggar could possibly understand me in this new trial.”

“Hey!” I shoved him, a little harder than I intended. Elk looked genuinely surprised.

I chuckled and continued, “I’m not ugly. I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but never of that. And I don’t live on the streets anymore. I worked at a law firm.”

“Were you an inquisitor? We have those. Scary lads.”

“Nothing like that. More like helping people ensure their rights were being respected. I worked mostly with civil rights cases.” I was proud of the months I’d spent working in law. Aside from my time in St. Gerome’s, helping lawyers with their cases was the closest I’d ever come to being a good person.

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It helped me forget, even if only for a few hours a day, what I’d had to do to survive.

And yet, despite all the effort I’d put in, here I was again, with the whole world—or worlds—watching my true self. Bitterly, I let the thought form in my mind, only to argue against it a second later. You did what you had to do, and you’d do it all over again if you needed to. Do it for them.

I sighed as we kept moving, the tower floor eerily silent.

“What’s the problem with being hornless?” I finally asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

Elk seemed to expect the question but didn’t flinch. He sighed deeply before answering.

“Exactly what it sounds like. When we reach twenty-five, if our horns aren’t bigger than five inches, they throw us into Hell.”

He didn’t elaborate. When I realized he wasn’t going to, I pressed further.

“Is it something religious?”

“For the ones who throw us into Hell, yes. For the ones being thrown? It’s ignorance and the perpetuation of a wicked tradition.”

“So, it’s the priests who enforce this?”

“Yes and no. There is the warrior caste, the dragon priests… it’s complex..”

Elk didn’t strike me as someone who’d spent years in Hell, whatever that meant. The thin devil reminded me more of a history student than a prisoner—a scholar, not a fighter. Even though the topic seemed painful, he didn’t carry the kind of trauma I’d expect from someone fresh out of Jumanji-level hellscapes.

One thing was certain, though. Whatever Hell was, he’d preferred to take his chances in this strange game rather than stay there. That told me all I needed to know.

“I’m finding this whole place eerily silent,” Elk added after a few seconds, echoing the very thought I’d had not long ago.

“Stay here. I’ll scout ahead.”

He nodded, and I moved forward, quickening my pace and relying on my silent steps to stay unnoticed.

With my dagger gripped tightly in my right hand and my wand in my left, I moved through the corridors, sticking to a straight path and avoiding detours wherever possible. I walked for five minutes before deciding it was wiser to return to Elk and retrace our steps.

I was certain I’d stumble upon something—or someone—preparing a trap for us, but nothing happened.

When Elk finally came into view on the horizon, he was waving frantically, urging me to hurry.

With quick strides, I closed the distance, and before he even spoke, I understood his urgency. He pointed behind him, toward the direction we’d come from. That’s when I heard it: the unmistakable sound of massive footsteps stomping against the ground.

We moved to a nearby corner and crouched, peeking out like two middle schoolers spying on their crushes during cheerleader practice.

It didn’t take long for the source of the footsteps to appear under the lamplight shadows. And no, the motherfucker didn’t look like a cheerleader.

His thighs were the size of an obese kid, his belly round and protuberant, and his biceps so defined they looked more like cobblestones than muscle. His leathery skin, similar to a goblin’s, was stretched taut, as though three goblins had been crammed inside the skin of a giant one.

The creature howled in pain with each step, its massive limbs slowly dragging it through the corridor.

When it was about thirty steps away, it stopped and dropped to the ground with a loud THUMP.

That’s when we got a good look at it. The monster had a round nose pierced by a thick metal bar that cut through both nostrils and part of its cheeks. The adornment looked agonizing, and I wondered how the beast managed to eat without suffering unbearable pain.

It turned out I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

From its back, the creature pulled out a dismembered leg—enormous and red, clearly belonging to an unfortunate devil.

It opened its mouth, but as soon as it tried to bite, it let out a pained scream, squeezing its single eye in the middle of its forehead shut as a tear rolled down its face.

I had to suppress my gag reflex as I watched the cyclops feast. With each bite, it cried louder, yet it didn’t stop eating.

“What are we going to do?” Elk muttered, his voice barely audible.

We could flee—the thing was clearly strong enough to overpower a devil and dismember them barehanded.

But there was one problem.

I didn’t want to flee. I wanted to kill it. I wanted to upgrade my core.

It was almost as if I could hear the viewers on the other side urging me to fight. Maybe they thought I was the reluctant hero type, when in reality, my blood was boiling, ready to charge straight at the beast.

“We kill it. With a plan,” I mouthed, and Elk nodded.

“Back in the duel, when I used the lightning strike and the enemy didn’t fall—did you see anything different?” I asked, my eyes fixed on the cyclops, watching for any sign it had noticed us. But it was too absorbed in its grotesque gluttony and pain to care about our whispers.

“His skin went silver for a moment before the magic hit,” Elk replied.

“So, you’d say it was a special ability, like a particular shard?”

“I’d say that.”

“So, here’s the plan: you create an opening for me with your illusions, and then I’ll make a new one for you to strike with your magic. Sound good?”

“Right,” he mouthed, pausing briefly. “Now?”

“Now,” I hissed, watching the creature take one last bite of the devil’s thigh.

A second later, an illusion of a devil appeared beside the cyclops. The likeness was almost perfect—except for the lack of sound as it moved across the ground.

Looking closer, I realized the figure was modeled after the devil I’d beaten in the duel, his anatomy replicated with stunning accuracy. If Elk’s illusions had any artistic value, he could’ve rivaled a Renaissance painter.

It took a moment for the monster to notice the intruder at its side, but when it finally did, it let out another howl of pain, heaved itself up, and lunged to tackle the illusion.

The cyclops fell face-first, the sound of its chin smashing against the ground echoing through the corridor.

That was my opening.

I moved quickly, striding as silently as possible with my dagger and wand in hand. I wasn’t sure which I’d use first—it would depend on the monster’s reaction.

Halfway toward it, the cyclops rose faster than I thought possible and kicked the illusion with all its strength.

The momentum carried the creature backward, and, like something out of a cartoon, it crashed to the ground, its skull and back slamming against the rocky floor.

As it hit the ground, I was already upon it.

The monster’s massive eye—black as night and only half-open—was my target. My dagger sank into it with a wet squelch.

The cyclops opened its mouth to scream, its massive arms flailing to strike me. But before it could connect, I pointed my wand directly at its gaping maw.

I leaped back as a lightning bolt erupted from the wand, surging through the creature. Unlike the devil I’d faced earlier, this monster had no special ability to protect it.

It convulsed violently under the force of the lightning until fireballs and a massive flaming serpent engulfed its body.

The cyclops didn’t scream as it died, and for that, I was grateful. Before long, the entire corridor was bathed in the glow of its burning flesh.

Then the messages appeared before my eyes.

Ding!

You have slain Cyclops F6!

Ding!

Congratulations! Your soul core has been upgraded.

Calculating…

Mana upgraded.

Constitution upgraded.

New Stats:

Subject: Zach Walker

Race: Human (Earth)

Class: Mage, Rogue

Merged Class: Undergoing calculations

General Rank: F6

Constitution: F7

Magic: F5

Mana: F5

Speed: F4

Strength: F6

Jesus, it felt good to read those stats.

I didn’t even bother counting the constant stream of messages from viewers. They’d been pouring in for the past hour, and while I had no idea how many people were watching or for how long, I could only assume they were enjoying the show.

“Good work,” I said, patting Elk as I approached him.

“We should keep moving,” he replied.

“My thoughts exactly. This will attract attention.”

Without another word, we continued on our way, walking silently and staying alert.

After what felt like an hour, the sound of swords clashing reached our ears.