The following duels went much the same as the previous. With his Spirit restored at the end of each match, he was able to mercilessly abuse Birthright and Duelist’s Thrust to mow his way through his opponents. By the end, he had begun to garner a larger crowd of spectators - some of which he knew would attempt to recruit him. Everything was falling into place.

Only one duel remained before he reached the apex of the Newcomer’s bracket. Though he had already attracted the attention necessary to be recruited into a notable position within an alliance, he also had his eyes on the quest that had been issued at the beginning of the rounds.

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The Pit

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The Pit

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Bracket:

Newcomer

1st place:

1000 Contribution Points

2nd place:

500 Contribution Points

3rd place:

250 Contribution Points

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He had already secured at least 500 Contribution Points, which would allow him a few days of breathing room in order to get settled. However, Anand was never one to settle for second best.

Finally, Anand was called up for his last fight. He returned to the now-familiar arena of the Pit once again, that blood-crusted battlefield of sand. As the gates opened up once more, he spread his gaze across the field once more. The sand was flecked with blood and gore; interestingly enough, that seemed to stay despite the restoration that the participants received upon the match’s end. The stands that surrounded the Pit were now filled with various curious onlookers. The number of spectators had gradually increased over the course of the day. There were few who wanted to watch the fumbling duels of the weak, but even in the Newcomers bracket, those who had made it this far had the potential to become some of the elite.

Anand met the looks of these spectators with a considered gaze, carefully ascertaining those of which were likely to be recruiters and paying them special heed. They were his ticket to the top, the messengers that would tell the floor that he had arrived.

Pulling his attention from the onlookers, he looked towards the direction of his newest opponent. The man walked forward confidently. He was wrapped in battered leather armor, with various claw marks and stab wounds rending the surface. He held his head high, eyes seeming to pierce through the distracting surroundings - they seemed to absorb every detail, yet dismiss those that were found to merely detract from his single-minded focus.

With raven-colored hair that was cropped short in a harsh manner, presumably by a dagger, and a face covered in sweat and grime, it was clear to Anand that they came from very different walks of life. This man clearly did not know the importance of presentation. As he watched, the peasant reached behind his back and unveiled a massive, barbaric warhammer.

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The warhammer had a brutal appearance, with a spike jutting from the back and top. With a start, Anand realised that he had seen that warhammer before; this man had entered the fifth floor at the same time as him. He continued to examine his opponent, eyes sweeping his figure. They lit upon a small medallion pinned to his chest. A First Wave Completion Medallion.

Anand felt a surge of confidence and derision, feeling at the Third Wave Completion Medallion held within his bag. He continued to approach his opponent, sauntering his way across the battlegrounds. Just as they nearly closed the distance, he activated Birthright, causing his Seed to glow warmly. There was no need to be too overconfident, after all - he needed to make a good showing to impress those watching.

As his boots brushed against the sand, it slid underneath his feet unexpectedly. To his surprise, he slipped backwards, nearly falling on his ass. Only his enhanced agility allowed him to twist the fall into something resembling graceful. As he did so, the wind roared above him in the place where his head had previously been.

He pulled backwards in a rushed daze, his eyes widening as he saw his opponent’s hammer return to his side. In the blink of an eye, the man had somehow managed to bound across the remaining distance between them, sending a strike of his hammer in a deadly, incapacitating blow. Knowing that Birthright had been the line between himself and an unsightly loss, Anand began to circle his opponent warily and took a moment to perform a more proper analysis.

He examined the golden Seed embedded in the mans wrist, plagued by a swirl of crimson. Calling upon his learnings and observations, he concluded that the man was likely to be either a Glory or a Triumph Seed. Both forms held a golden light, and were oftentimes inflicted with the blood-red of blood and war. Which of those he was, it did not particularly matter. Either way, it was clear that the man’s attributes were focused on Strength and Vitality.

Strength was obvious, with the display that the man had already given. His muscles were charged with power, allowing him to boast astounding displays of speed and force. His high Vitality could be seen in the ragged state of his armor; to have suffered such a multitude of wounds and remain able was a clear mark of being able to withstand much. A cockroach. Anand’s lips curled with disgust. He couldn’t stand such people. All strength and brawn, just bulling their way through every complication, heedless of the wounds inflicted upon them.

As he concluded his observations, the man attacked again. Just as before, he moved inhumanly fast. However, this time Anand was ready. He noticed that his opponent moved with the somewhat awkward lilt of one who is unused to his strength. It was likely that he did not have the agility to fully exercise his immense power - a common weakness of his type.

Anand weaved his way through the hammer-swing assaults, contorting his body this way and that. They seemingly went on and on, and even Anand was hard-pressed to dodge them all perfectly. However, each time a potentially fatal blow came, it was weakened slightly by Birthright with a shift in the sand or other various happenstances, allowing him just enough leeway to scrape his way through and avoid the hit.

After gaining an idea of the man’s capabilities, he began his counterattack. He dodged and weaved his way through the ponderous yet swift swings, striking quickly like a viper at every opportunity. His rapier sunk deeply into the man’s shoulder, just as he had done many times before. Yet even then, the man did not slow.

Beginning to feel the effects of his increasing exhaustion, Anand activated his trump card. With Duelist’s Thrust active and staving off his loss of stamina, he unleashed a flurry of strenuous attacks that was only possible through the combination of immaculate body control and momentarily-limitless stamina.

His opponent was soon unable to keep up, and became riddled with wound after wound. Blood poured from him in inconceivable amounts. Yet even still, he did not fall.

Anand began to realise that his initial judgement was more accurate than he had imagined. The man truly was a cockroach. With that in mind, he understood that he must go for more lethal blows. Chipping away at him would only lead to his Duelist’s Thrust ability running out, leaving him exhausted and defenseless. He would not retain enough Spirit to use it again in this fight. Even holding Birthright active was becoming a strain.

Trusting in his luck and agility, he made an impossibly sharp lunge for the man’s throat from an equally-impossible angle. Just as he did so, the man’s eyes were blinded by sunlight flashing across his face, reflected by chance off of the glimmering steel of Anand’s dagger.

As if in slow motion, he saw the man dazzled by the sun and blink. The tip of Anand’s rapier approached ever closer. The man’s eyes opened once again. A look of annoyance briefly flickered across his face, and then he moved. His body flowed with a combination of speed and dexterity that he had not yet displayed, causing the once-deadly rapier to just barely nick a minor cut across his neck. At the same time, his arms had reared back for a swing.

The barbaric hammer landed, shattering Anand’s ribcage like crumpled leaves. He felt his bones crunch and shatter, losing consciousness.

He woke up upon being dragged outside the arena like a sack of potatoes, the restoration effect of the Pit doing its fine work. Though the physical pains were gone, he could still imagine the agony of the hammer colliding with his side. He could still imagine the agony of defeat. The humiliation.

His eyes moved upwards, meeting the back of the man who was now dragging him along. The man who had shamed him. His eyes narrowed, remembering that final moment. He knew that there was something strange going on, something untoward. His brutalized pride wouldn’t accept anything less. And he vowed to find it.