Even with a cane, Mr. Stone effortlessly weaved past Daniel's attacks, retreating with every swing, while beads of sweat rolled down Daniel's forehead as he tried to hit him. Rafiq and Carmen's shouts filled their training room as they fought their own dummy clones of Mr. Stone, but he couldn't focus on them—he had to win.

Today was the day of the tournament.

On his next high cross, Mr. Stone flipped his cane and slapped Daniel’s wrist, swatting his punch aside, freezing him. He jabbed the head of his cane into Daniel’s rib before hitting him with his elbow with a heavy finish. Daniel stumbled backwards, nearly letting himself fall, swinging his arms to recenter himself.

Mr. Stone dashed in to take advantage.

The fall was a feint.

As soon as Mr. Stone went in to strike, he flexed his counterpose. Time slowed down as Daniel actually fell, but he bounced back up and weaved into Mr. Stone’s blindspot.

Think about your opponent’s options. Force them into the most favorable for you.

From here, when time resumed, Mr. Stone would likely back away, knowing that Daniel’s effective range was shorter than his. Then Daniel could chase him down. His legs were already tense, ready to spring forward. He could move faster than Mr. Stone could swing. He had enough stored damage for a big punish.

But he was too smart for either of those. He knew Daniel would bank on him attacking or moving out of the way. He might go for the feint instead, but Daniel was close enough for a grab.

All of his options only spelled victory.

Time resumed.

Mr. Stone jumped.

Daniel grabbed at the air and watched, dumbfounded, as Mr. Stone jumped over him and smacked him with his cane midair. He tagged him with hitstun long enough to continue the combo on the ground, ending with a chop to the throat. As he gasped for air, a strike to the temple finished it all.

Emptiness waited for him, blackened with the weight of pure failure. Yet here, in the training room, it only lasted as long as a blink, before he was on the ground and fully healed.

To his left, a dummy Mr. Stone knocked Rafiq to the ground from an air combo, and to his right, the final dummy Mr. Stone thrust the tip of his cane into Chip’s throat, dispelling him and taking Carmen down, too.

“K.O.!” Three of the referees shouted in unison, despawning afterwards.

Daniel laid there, catching his breath, waiting for the inevitable verdict. They failed. All three of them failed. They wouldn’t be allowed to aim for the tournament.

“I believe you three are ready.”

Daniel sat up in surprise. “What?”

Mr. Stone nodded as the dummy versions of him bowed to both Rafiq and Carmen. “It has been a long time since I battled you three personally, but it’s become clear to me that all three of you certainly possess the knowledge. You three know how to fight at a Diamond level. You must learn to apply that knowledge. That can only come from experience, but we simply don’t have the time for you to gain enough to beat me.”

“Even then,” he continued. “Rafiq, your combo extensions and frame traps show true skill, and you’ve become more unpredictable. You’re thinking more. Carmen, likewise, though you reached Platinum last compared to your peers, your setups and dual attacks with Chip are remarkable, and you seem to be doing them faster without thinking as much.

“And you, Daniel.” Mr. Stone ran a hand through his beard. “At times, even I struggle to understand if you’re truly open or if you’re leaving yourself open on purpose. You’re improving on conditioning your opponent — you’re living in their minds, but you chase the next counter so doggedly that you miss opportunities to punish.”

Daniel nodded, taking in the advice. It was true. He could’ve punished Mr. Stone just now, but tried saving it up to store even more damage. It was still his most powerful advantage, but it could still cost him the match.

“Now, we have two hours before the tournament. I believe I have a final training exercise for you three.” Mr. Stone swiped his menu open and tapped open his Fighter menu, switching to the training room settings, going quickly like he’d done it all hundreds of times.

“System command. Spawn Ditto Dummies. Date…” He glanced around at them. “July 29th.”

Daniel got to his feet, the exhaustion gone and replaced with pure excitement. “Ditto training? You should’ve told me. I would’ve brought ice cream to celebrate!”

“Oh, yes, but these are different. These are not dittos to match your current skill levels.”

Between Daniel and Mr. Stone, the familiar Dummy Daniel from his training videos appeared in front of him, wearing an identical puffy black jacket, the same hat, and mimicry of his dreadlocks.

“Begin, students. Battle your past selves, and prove your strength difference from when we started this trip.”

“Round one! Ready? Fight!”

Carmen’s fight against her ditto would likely become a battle of Chips, to see who’s ghost bird was better while the users simply stood aside and concentrated. For Rafiq, poking and footsies, careful to go in and out of each other’s longer ranges and confuse the other with dodgeball throws.

For Daniel, it was straight fundamentals.

Straight hands.

His Ditto was too aggressive and daring, yet unconfident in his counter. The Ditto’s mimed, primitive aggression gave him a few counter opportunities, and even when the dummy caught on, he still landed a counter-infused punish, taking the first round quickly.

By the second, it was used to him trying to counter. It started clashing fists to neutralize frame advantage, bobbing and weaving and striking back. The Ditto got a lucky counter off, but it often still hit the low Combo-Potential limit, freezing up and giving him a chance to strike back.

Daniel also had the advantage of knowledge. He hadn’t dealt with many Grapplers, by that point back then. Every time the Ditto tried countering, Daniel grabbed him and threw him to the ground. When he attacked on wakeup, it was a free counter — free damage to store.

The time started to tick down and they’d danced all the way across the training room. Daniel faked a counter, leaving his right fist not closed all the way. Such a small difference meant it wouldn’t trigger, but the Ditto didn’t pick up on that. It rushed in for the grab, learning from him.

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

Daniel weaved underneath the grab and finished the fight with an uppercut.

“K.O.!”

Daniel stood victorious over his Ditto, his earlier self from only one month ago. To his left, Carmen used Chip as a shield over her body and stood victorious over her clone, as her clone's Chip faded away behind her, separate from its owner. To his right, Rafiq juggled his Ditto against the wall in a combo for a minute straight. They all stood around for a moment, waiting for his combo to end.

Mr. Stone watched with proud smiles as they all stood victorious over their dittos.

“Come, students. We have a tournament to prepare for. You three are certainly ready.”

----------------------------------------

The entrance to the Thunderdome was deep within the Medina. It usually wasn’t active, this late at night, but the Thunderdome’s presence lit a blaze of activity. A long line led up to the entrance, flanked by shopkeepers and merchants calling out from their stalls to sell the waiting fighters different foods and items that would definitely improve their performance.

A man tried to sell Daniel a bottle of liquid that he promised would help him recover from blockstun, but Rafiq quickly stepped in, shielding their group from the hagglers and even a pickpocket.

Two fighters nearly challenged each other in line, but shouts of disapproval quickly shut them down and forced them out of line.

This area wasn’t a Nozone, Mr. Stone had explained. Challenges were still allowed despite the tournament arena being registered within the System.

“Why don’t they just make it a Nozone?” Daniel asked. “Would make things a lot easier. They wouldn’t have to deal with stuff like this.”

“It’s in an effort to preserve the tournament’s original spirit. The Thunderdome existed even before Nozones were wished into existence by a One, so they still keep it that way to pay homage.”

At the entrance, the proctors registered them once they handed over their System ID cards, and they were each given hoods and cloaks to hide their identities. Daniel didn’t even get the chance to identify his fake target before they all obscured their identities and entered the staircase deep underground.

The main arena was a giant room with spotlights on the center clearing, a flat dirt circular arena. Compared to the tournament arena from the South City Beginners tournament, it was a tight, personal change of pace. A crowd built, either standing or sitting along the stone bleachers, whispering among themselves.

Once they found their seats, Daniel swiped his Fighter menu open. Even still, it wasn’t a Nozone. Challenges were allowed by the System. Going by the experience on the way in, though. it was unlikely anyone would exercise that.

Soon, the bleachers were packed with attendees, and the main organizer of the tournament roared onto the arena. Fayez the Great, the thirty-second strongest fighter in the world, paced on stage with a grand gesture and a proud smile.

Daniel thought it was a trick of his eyes. With every step, Fayez grew taller. He rolled back his sleeves, revealing hairy arms, claws forming on the ends of his fingers.

By the time he reached the center of the arena, he was a seven foot tall lion of a man, his beard becoming a mane of its own.

“Welcome, my friends, welcome!” he said, his voice loud and booming even without a mic, his proud smile of fangs shining in the light.

At that moment, the line along Daniel’s wrist shook with a new notification — the tournament brackets, sent as a System message. Windows of white blinked into existence around the arena, and he opened his, too.

He’d fight his “target” in the first round, as the fifth fight. Rafiq would fight his afterwards, later on as the 15th round. Carmen would have to fight someone else in the first round, not running into her target until, hopefully, the third round.

But if all went well, fighting their “targets” wouldn’t be the highlight of their night. They weren’t the real targets at all.

Daniel clenched his fists at his side. He might fight a Fifty tonight. He would fight a Fifty tonight, without Mr. Stone even knowing that was their real goal. They hadn’t seen any in the crowd, yet, with all the hoods and cloaks, but the event had only just started.

In his own tournament, Fayez was the first round, and he beckoned his opponent into the ring with more confidence and swagger than the sun. A woman named Blight climbed over the fence and threw her hood away, her figure thin and ragged, her face wild. Sick purple energy radiated from her fists.

The crowd bellowed in excitement as Blight issued her challenge and the battle began. Carmen told them all about Fayez’s signature strategies and frame traps, and they played out across the circular arena just as she explained. His lion-like body gave him the ability to grow and manipulate his hair, letting him grab his opponent from afar.

His sharp claws raked at her guard with sweeping yet deceptive blows, giving the impression of being punishable heavies, yet really meant to catch her off guard when she tried to punish.

But, Blight was almost like his perfect counter. Energy shot from her body like invisible blades through the air, slicing his hair apart. As he wailed away at her block, energy gathered around her body, resulting in an explosive punish that grew with the strength of his own attacks.

That was Apex’s puppet. It couldn’t just be a coincidence that someone perfectly selected to counter Fayez’s powers and strategies showed up the day Apex was killing another Fifty.

His peril grew as the fight went on. The crowd’s cheers muted as Blight soon gained the upper advantage. By the third round, Fayez opted for hit and run strategies, but his size and her speed advantage made that difficult.

Fayez the Great fell.

“K.O.!”

The muted tension exploded into harsh boos and chants as Blight took Fayez the Great’s position as the thirty second Fighter in the entire world. She didn’t emote or audibly celebrate, instead remaining stiff and solemn. The crowd chanted and called for a rematch, but Fayez shouted over them, stating that, for now, he had truly lost his rank.

Once she was out of the arena, Fayez ushered in the next two challengers. One climbed over the boundary and fell into the dirt circle, while the other one leaped from the top of the bleachers.

Fayez disappeared from the arena halfway through the second round. By then, it felt like the attention of the crowd drifted away from the fight. Menus opened all around them, and Carmen even opened hers, stating that this was the most exciting part of the tournament.

They also didn’t declare it a Nozone because Fighters were allowed to challenge each other for rematches in the back rooms.

Everyone watched the streams with bated breath, waiting for the moment Fayez would rematch Blight in the back rooms. Daniel opened his and waited, too, yet he and Carmen shared a knowing look.

“You know the fight might not really happen?” he whispered.

She nodded. “This might be when Apex strikes. I don’t know…wait, is that Thunderknuckle?! Look — that guy with the big arm? He’s here?”

Daniel followed her point, to a man in a cloak who’s robotic shoulder and arm protruded through his cloak.

“Ah, yes. Surprising. I defeated him long ago when I struck a weak point and dismantled his arm.”

So, if he looked hard enough at some of the cloak, even in the low light, he could pick out certain unique details. He and Carmen made a game of it, as Rafiq left to find the concession stands, with Carmen easily winning. He continued trying, even when she left for the bathroom, scanning the crowd to pick out anyone he could find.

He couldn’t miss that shield anywhere.

A cloak moved through the crowd with the outline of a shield pressing against the back of his cloak and broad shoulders underneath, with an auburn beard barely visible. Another cloak moved through the crowd beside him, with the outline of a gun barrel and a glowing red eye. It wasn't a magical glow; this was more technological, more scientific.

Daniel’s stomach plunged.

Sir Guardian.

Synapse.

Apex was here.

The energy in the air shifted. Where most remained in place and watched the climactic fight below, more people started to shuffle within the crowd, and murmurs grew.

“Daniel.” Mr. Stone harshly whispered. “Text Carmen and Rafiq to return immediately. Something is off.”

Heart pounding, Daniel pulled out his phone and opened the app to text, but heard the scratching feedback of a radio from the man beside him.

“...The Limiter Brace is a fake! It’s fake! Target is still able!”

The crowd recoiled like a storm. Fighters rushed down the bleachers towards the exits or other hallways. Mr. Stone grabbed Daniel by the shoulder, ushering him out of their seat.

He couldn’t even finish texting Carmen and Rafiq before the sun invited itself indoors.

Blinding light filled the left side of the arena. A thunderous roar smacked the wind out of him as the world exploded into black and a mess of sound. Daniel didn’t feel Mr. Stone’s hand on his shoulder anymore. He wasn’t even in the bleachers.

He was in the center of the smoke filled arena, the eye of a harrowing hurricane of battle.