You gained a level.

Your maximum and current hit points will increase by 12.

Your maximum and current mana will increase by 10.

I felt it when dawn happened and it woke me from my slumber. A blue window greeted me, so I read it and dismissed it as I stretched in the darkened room. A series of cracks greeted the action as my body complained of the hard bed. There was no light in the room, but once again, that mattered little. I was surprised to see Bia seated and meditating on the floor of the room. Had she been there all night?

I stood up next to her, simply because the room was small, but she rapidly stood up as well. With an audible crack, her head smacked into my chin and I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood even as I forcibly fell back on the hard bed.

“Oh, my Lord,” Bia said. She took a step toward me blindly and tripped over my legs and the side of the bed. She fell on my chest, so that I was looking down at the top of her head. I could feel her chest pressing softly into mine. It only lasted a moment, however, before she scrambled backwards and prostrated herself on floor at my feet.

“I am sorry, my Lord,” Bia said, speaking into the floor. I couldn’t see the flush of her embarrassment in full color without real light, but the grayscale I had showed that even the back of her neck was a darker color of shame.

“It’s okay, Bia,” I said.

“Bia’Keres, my Lord,” she corrected automatically and then shrank even further into her prostrated pose, as though she wanted to climb through the floor.

“It’s okay,” I reiterated. “It was an accident. There’s nothing to apologize for.” I took advantage of the darkness to verify that my tongue was indeed bleeding, but it wasn’t serious, just a nick.  Bia hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor. I sighed and thought maybe giving her a task would break her out of it. “Bia’Keres, please make a light.”

She picked up her staff from where it lay on the floor and I thought for a moment she was going to make a light with her face in the floor, but she did rise to her feet, pointedly looking at the ground and rising to a half bow. She mumbled a couple words and her staff glowed with clear bluish light.

“Thank you,” I said. I carefully stood again and did a couple stretches, eliciting another round of cracks from straightening joints. I thought of trying to deal with Bia’s excessive reverence for me, but she wouldn’t even meet my gaze. Now probably wasn’t the time, I decided. A cursory glance around the room showed a low stone shelf that served as a bed, a roughly 5X5 foot floor space, and several small shelves cut into the walls which held various knickknacks and an empty lamp. Even the cheap inn we had stayed in last night was less humble than this place. I can only assume that no one ever really stays in these rooms or the people who run the arena are massive cheapskates.

“Come, let’s get some breakfast,” I said.  Once again, I led the way as we ventured out into the city.

The main corridor of the underworks was essentially just that one large curving path that ran the perimeter of the arena floor. It was built under the stadium seating, with storage rooms and those four arena anterooms built along the inner ring and a profusion of tiny quarters and offices, as well as some few branching hallways, built along the outside of the oval. I had no trouble finding my way out, despite having been pretty out of it when we were escorted to our room. I'll chalk that up to sharing my senses with three other people.

It was early morning, barely after dawn, as we exited into the main arena entryway. A bored looking night watchman let us out past the turnstiles into the central plaza. It seemed even bigger without the crowds and noise of yesterday.  Still, there were some people out and about. I led the way over to a small open air café and then looked helplessly at the menus as I realized I was still broke. It stuck in my throat, but I eventually spoke to the downcast Bia’Keres. “Bia, would you buy us some breakfast. I’m afraid I’ll have to owe you again until I make some money.”

“It is yours, my Lord,” Bia’Keres said with a frown. She walked away to order breakfast and I couldn’t help but feel that I’d offended her even further. I sighed and realized that now we were both downcast. What a lovely vicious cycle this was.

“Is this chair taken?” I glanced up and saw a rather pretty girl looking at me with somewhat predatory eyes. I didn’t immediately say no, so she seated herself across from me and leaned over into my personal space. “I saw you in the arena yesterday,” she cooed. “You were amazing. I was already leaning back in my chair as much as I could without seeming to be leaning further from her. Thankfully, around that time I heard the sound of something breaking. I looked over to see that Bia had managed to drop our order, whatever it was.

“Excuse me, that was my breakfast,” I said, standing quickly. I stepped over to Bia who was burning crimson for the second time today. At this rate, she might permanently change her skin color. I was disconcerted to realize the girl had followed me over from the table and also took a knee next to us to help pick up the mess while Bia stared pointedly at the ground even as she cleaned up as well.

“They just can’t hire decent waitresses at these little places,” the girl stage whispered in a voice that we could all easily hear. Bia froze in place, before she once again continued picking up shards of crockery and ruined food.

I turned and met the girl’s eyes. At first she eagerly leaned in to hear what I had to say, but something she saw caused her to turn slowly pale. “Go. Away.” I ordered her.

The girl stood up as though being drawn to her feet by a cord attached to her head, then turned and stumbled away. After a few paces, she glanced over her shoulder and fled, barely even slowing down when she tripped and bloodied her knee on the uneven street. A blue box popped up to reward my little performance - with miserable timing as usual.

You have learned the skill “Death’s Mandate”

Death’s Mandate Death ultimately exercises its will on all living creatures. You have learned to give orders that weaker creature’s cannot ignore. Only works on creatures of lower level or weak will.

Activated

Mana Cost: 5

I shook my head, banishing the windows, then turned back to finish cleaning up the mess. The actual waitress stood a few steps away, no longer willing to approach the two of us. “Bia,” I said. Her hands stumbled at my voice, but she remained silent. I decided to stick with the tack I’d been taking and give her something to break her out of her misery. “Let’s let the waitress take care of this. Can you get some more food, please?”

“Yes, my Lord,” she said quietly. We stood together and separated as I returned to our table and she went in to order again. Thankfully, my little exchange with my amorous fan hadn’t gone unnoticed and no one else seemed willing to approach me.  I wasn’t thrilled with the looks of suspicion and fear, but at the moment it was better than friendliness and lust. Bia came back with breakfast after a few minutes and for a while, we ate in silence. It wasn’t long before I grew tired of it however, as it wasn’t the companionable silence I was used to us sharing. Usually, I just felt comfortable having Bia near me, like a safety net or a warm blanket. Now I felt like I was being followed by a death row inmate just waiting for me to execute their sentence.

“Bia-“

“Bia’Keres, my Lord.”

“Why do you do that!” I snarled, losing patience with the whole thing.

She shrank down in her seat and stared fixedly at her plate, but responded clearly. “I am Bia’Keres, my Lord. I am yours.”

What the hell do I say to that? I sat back in my seat. “Bia’Keres, let’s just forget everything that happened this morning. None of it was important and I’ve even learned from it. Instead, why don’t you suggest what we should do today to help me grow in power.”

Bia thought this over for a moment, then closed her eyes and made an obvious effort to wipe away the events of the morning. “Yes, my Lord, I believe some sparring would help you improve your fighting style.”

I smiled, “That sounds good. I know they have a training room back at the arena.”

She nodded and though she didn’t smile, the tense atmosphere of the morning was mostly gone. It seemed she was just as happy to forget it all, as well. We finished breakfast in a leisurely manner and returned to the arena.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

As we passed the guard at the gate, he called out to me, “Oi, you that fella blasted the skelingtons with green magic yesterday?” he asked. I nodded and waited for him to get to his point. “Seems like you gots a match firs’ thing this morning,” he informed me. “Best ‘urry or you’ll be forfeit.”

I glanced at Bia and frowned, “So much for our plans. You’d think they would have told us about this last night.” Her expression turned more serious as well.

We wended our way through the early morning arena-goers and got the number for the anteroom. It was number II this time, not that it was any different when we arrived there, save for the fact that it was empty. It was just us this time, against whatever or whoever the arena had chosen to throw at us. I noted, gratefully, that I had healed completely overnight. Had I been human, I know I would still be stiff and hurting.

The doors slid open, but the roar of the crowd was decidedly kitten-like. I glanced up at the stands and there didn’t seem to be even a tenth of the people we saw at the qualification round, which I hadn’t even made any money from, in point of fact. The guys running this arena sure knew what they were doing. Nearly 100% of the fighters who went through this place must do it for nothing but room and board. Then the miserable fools would graciously bequeath their winnings and all their belongings to the arena when they died someplace between fights one and ten. I reminded myself that my goal was to find the source of power under the arena, not become the arena champion, then proceeded to kick myself as I realized I could have gone looking for it this morning instead of that miserable excuse for a relaxing breakfast.

My thoughts were interrupted by the announcer starting his roll, revving up the crowd even though there weren’t many in attendance.  “Entering from door number two, newly minted in the arena, Ker’Haros and Bia’Keres! And entering from door number four, Anger and Myrkai!”

Across the arena, I saw Scarpatch the Underbite, as I’d already dubbed him, and his enslaved cat. I frowned as me and Bia slowly approached the enemy. No one appeared to have any ranged attack capabilities in this fight, or if Bia did she wasn’t sharing just yet. As such, the four of us approached the center of the arena at our leisure until we stood merely 50 feet apart.

Anger, as he seemed to call himself, grinned and hefted a short heavy axe. “I’ve been lookin’ forward to this,” he snarled. His cat, Myrkai, readied itself, holding itself crouched, but with its hands off the ground with claws extended. I frowned at the odd duo, noting that the cat still wore that ridiculous collar and the 5’ leash was attached to Anger’s belt.

“You take Anger,” I suggested to Bia and again mentally kicked myself for so casually ordering her about. The two of us circled to the outside of the duo as we approached until I could see Bia past Myrkai and Anger. Then we attacked.

I didn’t want to get into a grapple with the cat, since he had more natural weapons than I did, but thankfully, the leash kept the creature on the defensive. With my longer arms, I reached in and began to take jabs at the cat’s head and body without any luck. In fact, all I got for my efforts were some nasty slashes along my arms.

The anthropomorphic cat looked a lot like the ones from Skyrim, a video game I spent a lot of time on in my previous life. Their bodies were essentially bipedal, although he seemed to be capable of sprinting on all fours, and the head had a muzzle like a real cat and a very dangerous set of teeth.  In fact, more than a few of my attacks I had to pull short as he seemed more than willing to simply bite my hand off if it got close enough. Across the way, I saw Bia effortlessly parrying every strike Anger made, and I once again wondered not just if she was more powerful than me, but exactly how far past me she really was.

After a couple of minutes of this pointless exchange, my arms were dripping with my own blood and Anger was huffing with fatigue. Part of me wanted to suggest switching opponents, but just one solid connection from that ax and I knew I’d wish I was only bleeding a little.

Finally, I tired of the back and forth. It was time for something drastic. I feinted to the side and then tackled the white cat man full the chest, smashing the top of my head into his attempt at biting me.  I felt his claws slash across my back painfully, but I put an elbow into his throat and began slamming short brutal punch into his lower ribs. Meanwhile, the leash jerked my tackle in close to Anger and nearly pulled him down on top of us. I didn’t have time to pay attention to the other fight, and just had to trust Bia to keep him busy or I’d end up with an axe in my spine.

Myrkai reacted to my actions first by slashing my back up till it was bleeding freely, and when that didn’t work, he flipped the grapple and wrapped that leash around my neck.  All he had to do to snap my neck would be drop back with his weight, so before he did that, I drew my sword and slashed through it. Myrkai froze as the leash separated with a crackle of electricity, like a fallen power cable.  I took the opportunity to smash the hilt of my sword brutally into his head a few times, sending him off to dreamland for the time being. I sheathed my blade immediately after.

When I pulled myself out of the grapple, I was just in time to see Anger staring at the broken lead like it was a poisonous snake. It completely broke his attention from the fight with Bia, and she seemed almost disgusted as clocked him in the head with a well metered strike and sent him to sleep as well.

As I climbed to my feet, I instantly felt woozy and light headed.  Just how badly was I hurt by all this scratching, anyway? “Status” I mumbled.

TITLENameKer’HarosAlignmentNeutralRaceUnknownLevel2ClassThe NecromancerTitleChosen of DeathProtection0Defense15Health3/24Mana15/20Strength18Dexterity15Constitution--Intellect12Wisdom12Charisma16Leadership1Luck1Reputation10Souls3The newly Chosen of Death.  He has yet to do anything truly significant and, so far, most of the world remains oblivious to his existence.

He is recognized as a beginner gladiator with some potential.  Many remember his impressive debut in the qualification round.

“Oh,” I commented. Bia frowned as she stepped around our fallen foes. Meanwhile, the announcer started up his spiel. “There you have it, folks, an exciting, but one sided battle.  Ker’Haros and Bia’Keres easily triumph  over Anger and Myrkai, although our black skinned friend seems a little scratched up!” The crowd weakly laughed at the attempted joke, but I was just interested in making it to the door out of the arena without passing out. That would certainly be embarrassing, after all.

Your status is critical.  You are at 1 hit point.

Crap, I guess that bleeding wasn’t just for show. I stumbled through the door into the anteroom just as my vision turned swiftly black around the edges and I started to pass out. There was a pretty blue window right as I was losing consciousness.

You have 0 hp and are bleeding out. Without medical attention you will die.

Maybe you should have mentioned the bleeding a little earlier. That was my last thought to myself as the darkness claimed me.