Chapter 45:

I went back for lunch after I finished my shopping by purchasing a baldric for my sword. Carrying it on my belt wasn’t my favorite thing.

Going up stairs I decided it was time to check my progress. Cutting my hand I dripped my blood onto the ritual.

Level: 12

Status: Tier 4: Valhalla Proper

Class: Arcane Fool, Lvl 5

Subclass: N/A

Traits:

Incisive Gaze

Skills:

Mana Perception Enhanced

Spells:

A Fool's Constitution

Dance of the Jester

Weapon proficiencies

Sword: D-1

Spear: F-2

Striking: F-7

Halberd: D-3

Dagger: D-4

Grappling: F-7

Stats

Strength: 33

Speed: 41

Constitution: 15

Focus: 21

Free Points: 22

Blessing: Loki's Eye

Strength: +0

Speed: +0

Constitution: +0

Focus: +2

Jester Shop Access

Additional effects: ???

I grinned down at my status screen. That's why I was feeling so much stronger. I had gained four general levels and five class levels, and that certainly added up. My constitution and focus had also increased by a few points from just training in the dungeon, though I doubted that would be the case very much for focus.

Seeing how fast I was leveling my class, I was tempted to dump my 22 free points all into speed. With my movement spell, I would be able to be anywhere instantly. I wouldn't have to worry about getting hit, nor would I have to worry about doing a ton of damage at once. But I pulled back from that.

For the sake of round numbers, I added five points to my constitution so I would stop getting tired so quickly. I didn't bother putting it so high as to make me a heavy hitter. Then, I added 15 points to my speed and threw the last two into strength. My focus was improving fast enough as it was, and I was still a melee fighter. Even once I learned my Arcane Punch spell, I would need to hit hard. Of course, I probably didn't need a ton of strength and would likely cap it out once it stopped giving me such good returns when it came to striking. So, it may eventually make more sense to focus on speed and constitution and only put points into focus where necessary.

If I could acquire defensive skills or spells, I might not bother putting too much into the constitution and just invest more in focus. But that would have to come later. I didn't want to commit to a specific path when I didn't have to. Besides, my slight specialization is working for me now, but who knows if it will work in the future. I might need to change tack if the paradigm shifts at higher levels. I still hadn't even really incorporated any skills into my style. My combat was purely melee, and only now was I trying to work in some basic spells. Of course, I might never add skills in there, but Loki suggested that around level 100 would make sense, too.

Other good news was my sword proficiency had finally broken into the D ranks. It had been a gradual change, but I was certainly getting better. After I finished going over my status, I cleaned everything up and then went down to have lunch before heading over to the arena to meet up with my team.

***

After everyone arrived, we headed in. Jonas, though, steered the group in a specific direction. "Yesterday, I booked one of the private booths ringside by the fourth platform."

"Mm, that would be a nice treat to see some of the matches up close."

We ended up sitting within 20 feet of the ring in a booth that had a general view and a table. A server came by and brought us drinks and a pitcher of ale. They passed it around, and it was refilled within a minute of us emptying it. When we settled in to watch the fight, nothing was nearly as entertaining or high-level as the fight we'd first seen. But if anything, the fights were actually easy to follow, and we could understand what was happening, unlike the last time when it was a trick to even tell the flow of the fight.

After a couple of fights, the announcer went away from his usual spiel of introducing the two combatants and said, "Now, for those who want to do a last-minute sign-up for the under-level 15 tournament, sign-ups last for one more hour. And a reminder: the grand prize is a commission from Master Smith Herzog! We have to thank him for agreeing to sponsor this event!"

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

The crowd broke into polite clapping, and several people got up to head over to the sign-up sheet table. Bjorn was already out of his seat and halfway there when I even considered it. Was it worth fighting, or should I just stick around and enjoy the event? Looking at the table, I saw that Jonas and Astrid had no interest, but Helga was looking after Bjorn.

"Helga," I asked, "you want to go sign up with me?"

She nodded, and I got out of the booth and let her out after me. We walked more sedately after Bjorn, who was shoving his way through the crowd.

"You're interested in a new sword or something?" I asked Helga.

She shook her head. "No, I don't expect to win. I just want more experience fighting other people."

I nodded, understanding. I wasn't sure if that would be very helpful for the challenges, but it was a good chance for her to reach her own goals. I was only level 12 currently, but I had a class in multiple levels and a ton of stat points from training. I thought I had a real chance if everyone was actually under level 15 to win this whole thing. I was pretty sure I could beat Bjorn one-on-one, especially with my new abilities.

We got in line, and a few minutes later, an attendant was taking down our names. "Helga, do you want to fight in the women's division or the open division?"

She looked about. "The open division."

"Good, good," the attendant said. "We need more casters in there."

She didn't correct him.

"And Miles, was it? The open or men's?"

"The men's division," I said uncertainly, not quite understanding the difference. However, the more limited the division, the better my chances of winning. Just because I was trying to get experience didn't mean I didn't also want to win.

The official scribbled something down and handed us tokens that would alert us when we needed to get into the arena. He also speed-talked his way through the agreement of the rules for the fight. I caught the gist of it, but the details were hard to make out.

Bjorn was waiting for us off to the side of the line as we signed up. He came between us, putting his arms over our shoulders and hugging us in a tight, crushing grip. "I see Helga has more balls than you, Miles. Not even wanting to fight in the open division."

Bjorn shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Hey, I just don't like beating up women," I joked, even though I had laid out Astrid just the morning before yesterday.

Bjorn laughed as he steered us back to the booth. Helga even gave a small snicker.

When we got back, Jonas ordered a round of shots for the table, and we went back to the party.

Bjorn was the first to be called to fight.

With a grace that still surprised me coming from such a big man, he vaulted over the railing rather than finding his way through the tunnels. Standing in the center of the arena, he waited impatiently for his opponent to come out of the tunnel.

A woman held a wooden staff with a glowing gem at the tip. The referee brought them to the center and asked them if they understood the rules. They both nodded.

Mimicking the same words spoken by every official bout we had seen so far, they both mentioned. "On my everlasting honor and pain of repeated death, I swear to abide by the pack."

They separated and started the fight. Bjorn moved first. His strategy was obvious; he needed to close the distance.

The flash of spells the woman sent after him as he charged forward looked obnoxious. But we had been training for a while. The fire blasts were mostly deflected by his shield, though his arm did get charred.

At most, they slowed him down a step.

Once he got in close, the fight was over, and the crowd disinterestedly clapped after his roar of victory finished echoing throughout the arena. It was only the first round, so of course, it shouldn't have been too bad.

It was sometime before one of us fought again. As the afternoon went on, people started to get more intoxicated. I could tell solely based on the volume of the crowd and how much they got in the match.

When it was her turn, Helga found her way down to the fighter's entrance, and a few minutes later, she walked out of the tunnel, sword held high. The crowd showed more enthusiasm for her than anyone else so far. It appeared that Bjorn was not alone in liking women with swords. Once the roars of approval died down, her opponent came out. Helga had been paired with a spellcaster as well.

They swore the same oath that Bjorn did. Then, the referee started the match.

Helga clearly had experience dealing with other casters. She charged forward and, with some fancy flexing of her mana, disputed the other mage's spells as they got close. I would need to grill her about that as soon as I could. Why hadn't she told me about this? No wonder how she was able to get through her schooling with pretty much no magic!

The fight didn't last long at all, and she quickly won.

Before she made it back up to our table, it was my turn.

Mimicking Bjorn, I walked to the arena's railing. But instead of vaulting over it smoothly, he did, so I climbed up. Despite the nearly dozen drinks I had so far, balancing on the thin metal tube was trivial. I toasted my horn full of mead to the crowd before knocking it back.

Once it was drained, I tossed it over my shoulder and Bjorn without looking at him. I heard him yell something at me, but I couldn't make it out over the crowd's approval.

I forced the spinning in my head down and bent my knees. In a fluid motion, I sprung forward, ducking into a front flip. I dropped a dozen feet into the sand of the area and landed with a smooth roll, depositing me on my feet. Somehow, during the dive, I found time to draw my sword. I didn't remember doing that.

Across the sand, my opponent was already waiting for me. The big man looked at me and grinned, and I gave him a small salute with my sword.

I was paired with another sword user, a hulking fellow I hadn't seen before. My trait gave me the fact that he was exactly level 15. I grimaced. My swordsmanship had made it into the D ranks already. I just hoped that my class would make up the difference. Still, it was an unlucky first opponent.

The referee came and started the bout with the same questions and oath. I wasn't really paying attention to what was said. Instead, I was spending my time eyeing up my opponent.

Once the start command was given, I dashed forward. Slashing with my blade, I ducked under a grapple attempt from his off-hand and cut into his side.

He roared and spun, flailing with his pommel toward my head as I was too close. I rolled underneath like I was a boxer. Coming up on the other side, I threw a short piston shot at his ribs.

Stepping to the side, I stayed close. As the big guy took a step back, I took a step forward, staying within his range. At this range, our swords were pretty much forgotten for a second. I pummeled him with fists and knee strikes until, eventually, he got his blad between us.

Hooking his ankle, I pulled his feet out from under him. Stepping back, I turned to the crowd, really starting to get into this. The audience made these duels much more fun. Or perhaps that was the 'fool' part of my class showing through?

Turning back, I could see he was a little slower getting to his feet. The bruise and damage I had done were significant. "You surprised me," he said. "That's not gonna happen again."

This time, he charged, and his attack, while ferocious, was relatively uncoordinated. I was already starting to plan how I would finish him off. I blocked several blows and then, with as much fanfare as possible, activated my spell. Sparks of light burst off me like fireworks as the spell did everything to put on the best show it could. The Dance of the Jester took me behind him almost instantly, my off-hand blade appearing between his vertebrae. Right before my attack landed, a red light filled the arena, and an invisible force stopped the blade dead.

An automatic voice shouted, "Disqualification due to magic use."

The announcer took over. "Oh, an illegal strike! What a pussy! Someone yelled, using magic in a men's duel." He paused. "The authorities are telling me that the Skoggangr Þræll rules are in effect. So have fun, everyone, and go get him!"

Confused, I was surprised when a drinking horn pelted me in the forehead from the crowd. I pulled my healing spell, and the fog of alcohol that had been clouding my thoughts disappeared.

All at once, I realized my mistake. The categories weren't for fairness based on strength or anything like that. The men's division was for those under level 15 who used skills and weapons only, while women's were probably used for magic only.

I cursed myself for being an idiot and dodged a tankard of ale being flung from the crowd at me. Their mood had changed rapidly, and the roar the crowd was emitting had a distinctly angry tone. Despite my nimbleness, I missed the rotten tomato that hit me in the back of the head.