Markus squared his shoulders as he assessed the threat in front of him. He knew the monster before him, the altok, as Randall had called him, better than he knew any enemy he’d ever faced before now.

He almost knew him too well.

Markus knew that even with his increased speed and strength, their physical stats likely wouldn’t be bridged by such an increase. He’d shot up fifteen levels just by being battered by this man over and over, that and killing the worm…

His mana capacity was at 219%. He had a ridiculous amount of Flame Mana bubbling inside of him…

He had access to his Stone Skin, his Dash, his Viscous Form… everything but his double-jump. His Malichor Frenzy was in full effect, his weapon’s sharpness and control at their peak despite the partially smashed status of the blade…

Intensity was in effect, quadrupling all of his weapon bonuses. His Adaptive Resistance to fire was still holding, bolstered by all of the Flame Mana he’d received between lives, and during the ticking over of his Mana Manipulation to 5, it seemed to have even improved somehow.

Would it be enough?

The monster stepped forwards, rightfooted. It’d done so hundreds of times. It reached up with a wide arc to swing and then attempted to bathe Markus in fire instead.

Markus didn’t block. He stabbed into the creature’s arm as the flames began to hit him and then shimmied back to the side as they licked his chest and the side of his face.

It still fucking hurt… but it was lesser than before, which was what he was counting on. The amount of Flame Mana within his body paired with the increase in his resistance was cushioning the fire damage for him, and that’d allowed him to get a single strike in.

Going blow for blow with this creature wasn’t an option—he’d get crushed. He just barely had a range advantage with the glaive, but attempting to stab its arm a second time led to him shifting to the side in turn, then swinging the mace directly towards Markus’ shoulder…

He’d seen this attack too many times. Enough that he knew attempting to parry it never worked. Markus attempted to dodge the blow instead, his body twisting, almost losing his footing as the massive mace swerved by just inches from his chest. He barely managed to inhale before a second attack was shot his way, a thrust with the burning mace aimed directly at his torso.

Markus activated Stone Skin, used it to weather the strike. The layer of protection around him was completely nullified from a single strike, but while the attack pushed him back, Markus managed to retain his footing, to breathe without too much difficulty.

One or two more attacks like that and his ribs would be crushed. He knew he couldn’t outmaneouvre his large opponent for more than a few moments at a time, either, even with how well he knew his moves. The difference in speed was still too vast…

But he’d never reacted to Markus’ dash in time. That was always a free strike.

And if he wanted to bridge the difference in their speed further…

Markus activated Frozen Tomb. He still had enough Frost Mana to hold this for a while. He grabbed another Essence Stone from his pocket even as the ice took hold and sped him up, simultaneously slowing the monster.

His Cold Heart passive allowed him to move faster on ice, and while it affected the speed of his opponent, the weight and power behind his enemy’s steps, his heavy boots were enough that he was able to walk fairly uninhibited, treating the ice as a minor obstacle rather than something he’d slip and wobble about on.

It wasn’t enough to turn the tides on its own. Markus needed more.

He summoned icicles to strike with.

…six? He thought his maximum for one cast was four. Was it because Mana Manipulation had hit a breakpoint? Frozen Tomb was a Mana Manipulation ability, so it could be that—

Whatever. Markus threw the icicles directly at the monster’s chest, finding that while they arced and split about halfway into their travel, he was actually able to aim them for the first second or two.

Yet another level of autonomy he hadn’t had only a single fight before. Reaching this new level was showing more and more benefits by the second…

Icicles smashed against the monster’s chest. They staggered him, but none managed to impale him, not even the two that collided with his belly. He simply tensed and took the pain, appearing more as if he were being pelted by snowballs than literal pointed sheets of magic ice.

It still gave Markus enough of an opening to throw the Essence Stone at the monster’s feet. Right after casting Detonate on it, of course.

Boom. He was hoping his mini grenade would be enough to blow the cunt’s legs off, but he had to settle for a few gashes and a part of one of the monster’s boots being burned away.

The monster had to kick off the boot in question to walk again. Now it was partially barefooted, but still coming at him fairly quickly.

Markus dodged two strikes in succession before stabbing down towards the monster’s exposed foot.

It managed to snake its limb back in time, but Markus reversed his swing at the last moment and caught its thigh on the comeup, grazing it, then with a spin, smashed the handle towards the creature’s head.

It raised an arm to block, and Markus retracted by instinct, pulling some power out of the blow before it could collide. That thing’s arms were fucking thick, he didn’t wanna accidentally break his weapon even further.

The monster braced to blow his torchflames at Markus once more, and Markus shot five new icicles directly at the creature’s face in response, hoping to at least slow him down, or at best, get lucky and blindside him.

Two were melted by the flames. Two more sailed right past his head and missed. One careened off and smashed into the monster’s side, actually wedging itself a couple of inches inside.

He wasn’t impervious. Markus just needed to keep hitting the soft spots and eventually—

“Grr…”

The monster’s chest began to heave as it sucked in a huge breath, then blew a jet of flame all around itself, purging and burning away Markus’ Frozen Tomb from its own feet and most of the area between him and Markus.

Markus himself wasn’t caught too hard by the flames, but trying to re-place the ice on the smoldering hot ground was proving troublesome.

He tried to back up, to find a better space to use his aura, but it only took him a few instants to realise that right behind him were a collection of high rocks, a bridge created by Randall’s transformation of the arena to a higher ground that stood at least ten feet above Markus, his back flanked by an uneven wall…

If he kept being pushed back, he’d be forced against that wall, and then he was as good as fucked. He had a passive to help him if he stood his ground, but toe to toe with this guy, he was almost certain that wasn’t a good idea, and it only worked at full efficiency with an ally nearby.

As it was, he’d already ran through a lot of his options. He’d played most of his trump cards, too. He’d been holding onto his Divine Mana as he didn’t want to use it without due cause, but in a fight like this, in a situation like this, it was beginning to feel as if busting it out might be necessary. He still had no clue what A Grade Mana would even begin to do, but he was getting to the point where he might have to say ‘fuck it’ and find out.

The monster advanced once more, swinging wildly, snarling, its previous stoicism shot, its countenance awash with a grim and almost desperate determination.

He wasn’t the only one with his life on the line, but this monster, despite the gap in their strengths, seemed almost more scared than he was.

Markus had to put everything he had into dodging, but the closer he was to touching the wall behind him, the more he came to realise that such a strategy wouldn’t keep him out of danger for long…

He tripped against a sharp rock and staggered back against the wall, his body lurching as he absorbed the impact. The monster rushed him. His lungs burned…

Markus spat in the creature’s eye.

It was enough. Enough for the monster to miss its swing entirely. Enough for Markus to launch a counterattack. He activated [Scornful Strike], an ability he’d only learned recently, one that allowed him to use a bludgeoning attack to inflict [Freeze I] on an opponent.

He smacked the monster right on the chin with the backend of his glaive, but while he succeeded in knocking blood from the creature’s mouth, he got no notification about the freeze.

Fuck, that was on cooldown now and it hadn’t done shit. He followed up with Acid Slash, pirouetting the weapon and slashing across the creature’s face with Corrosive Mana.

Desired effect was accomplished. There was acid eating into the monster’s face, its eye.

The altok screamed. It began to flail wildly, swinging both mace and torch at Markus without an ounce of coordination or strategy.

A smaller, weaker, slower opponent would be easy to pick apart in this state, but blinding this creature seemed to almost make him more dangerous. Markus caught the heavy metal torch against his belly as he attempted to advance, smashing back into the rocks once more as his stomach began to burn.

The monster dropped the torch, reaching forwards with its left hand and trying to grapple for his head, his neck, something vital it could crush and squeeze the life out of…

Markus jumped in place as the creature rushed him. Its outstretched arm smashed into his stomach. He felt his organs squish as the monster tried to burrow into his torso, as Markus repeatedly kicked at the creature’s stomach in turn, his body being crushed between the rough, uneven landscape behind him and the behemoth that stood before him…

He’d been waiting for a moment like this. One in which the monster was touching him but unable to kill him instantly.

There was a reason he’d lined his leather armour with metal. A reason his gauntlets and cuirass had a metallic sheen…

Markus brought forth the Shock Mana within himself, just as he’d recently trained to, just as he’d learned to, and allowed it to dance along his body, his armour, his glaive.

The current only grew larger and more volatile the more he pushed into it, bits of lightning arcing and forking off of his body as the monster beneath him began to be fried by the energy. The altok screamed, roared, bleated as the electricity ran its course through his body, as his limbs and extremities were thoroughly zapped and cooked…

He dropped Markus eventually. Markus convulsed as he laid upon the hard ground, the lightning having taken its toll on him as well.

But how he felt was never in comparison to the monster. It was still sat upon the floor spasming when Markus eventually found his way to his feet, twitching each time he felt a remaining vestule of energy shoot its way through him.

The monster had finally been brought down to size. Still it held its mace, still it held such power within it, and still it would kill Markus if he misstepped, but with its vision so limited, with its body in such pain, and sat upon its ass as it was…

He stared at the creature. Watched as it attempted to clamber back to its feet.

He stabbed it through the knee.

It howled. Grabbed at his glaive and attempted to break it.

Markus pulled it away too quickly.

It didn’t fall. It remained upon one knee.

Markus slashed along its thigh.

Ribbons of flesh were ripped from the creature’s leg as Markus [Dashed] past and stabbed it in the back of the neck.

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He’d hoped such an attack would be fatal, but the monster held on. It was so durable…

Markus sliced off one of its two remaining ears. He didn’t hold it up like Randall. Didn’t take pleasure in it. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t gloat.

Even if there was a part of him that felt it right to do those things, that felt it helped him to do those things, to be that way, to become form-fitting to the situation he was stuck in…

He knew he didn’t need that part of him. His trials had only shown him as much.

He could keep that scorn, that hatred…

And direct it to those who truly deserved it.

The monster made a swiping attempt to grab at him. It was still fast, but its accuracy was becoming increasingly pitiable.

Markus slashed its arms and backed away. He stabbed it in the arm. In the shoulder. In the back…

Still it attempted to grab him. Attempted to lock him into the same fate.

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake he had before. He kept his distance. Stayed incremental with his wounds, with his pressure. He didn’t go for the obvious attacks. He knew that there was a chance the creature was just waiting for him to try and stab its throat or its head.

He continued to use his range to his advantage. To chip away. He was clinical, as precise as he could be with his wounds and exhaustion…

It was messy, but he got the job done. Reduced the monster to the point where its attempts to block his attacks or grapple him in response were so impotent that Markus barely had to bother defending himself.

He watched as this once mighty creature fell. That which had once seemed so grand and intimidating now appeared only to be small, and frightened, and despairing all at once.

When its wails turned to sobs, it gave Markus pause.

This creature was undeniably evil. The way it spoke so casually of murder, the means by which it had brutalised Markus over and over for the sake of its own glory and power…

Why did it cry?

Was it because it hurt?

It raised an arm to grab his leg, and Markus struck it down again.

Was it because it had failed within its task? Because it knew it would never be the disciple it had dreamed of becoming?

The creature attempted to clamber to its feet, and Markus stabbed its knee once more.

Was it because it had regrets? Did it regret ever coming here? The choices that it had made?

“Kill me…”

This was the first time he’d spoken to Markus. The only time.

“Please. I cannot bear such shame…”

Markus paused. He watched as the goliath with a thousand cuts begged before him, its lip quivering.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was so weak.”

Markus didn’t know what to say, didn’t know who the apology was for. He hated this thing. He hated it.

But seeing another creature so hurt, so upset, so beaten and broken down, even knowing that he was the cause of it…

He too wanted to cry.

And he did. He had no one to hide it from anymore.

“You fought well.”

Markus walked forwards.

“No. You wanted this more than I did, and yet I fought for so much more.”

Markus lifted his weapon.

“This shame will follow me.”

He stabbed the creature right in the neck.

It crumpled.

It fell.

Markus dropped to his knees, panting.

His heart was thundering.

He dropped his broken glaive.

He pressed both of his palms against the sand.

The… sand?

The arena had reverted. It was the same as it’d been before.

He scarcely noticed. He retched. He heaved.

He fought for control of his breath.

For control of his thoughts.

…he’d won.

He’d survived.

He’d…

“Well… aren’t you a splendid fighter?” Randall cheered. He raised his arms, bolstering the audience to cheer alongside him. “Give it up for Markus! What a splendid performance!”

He was awash in praise and blood and death and misery. Through it all, he could feel a small shimmer of relief…

But he knew he couldn’t trust it. That he couldn’t trust anything here.

“Let’s see…”

Randall flew down from his chair and stood over the still bleeding corpse of the altok.

He kicked it.

“Hmm! Still a slither of life in there! Don’t worry, he’ll likely succumb to his injuries within seconds…”

Randall bit his lip, tilted his head from side to side, as if he were contemplating a great riddle.

“Only…”

His lips twisted. His eyes trained on Markus.

“I don’t think this fight is entirely over…”

Randall clicked his fingers.

Markus found himself levitating five feet off the ground. He felt as if all of his limbs were being tugged in different directions. It was a momentous task only to breathe.

“What do you think, Markus? Shall we give them another shot?”

What did he…

Markus watched as the worm from before began to lift from the ground, once partially covered by sand, floating now ten feet above ground, its corpse long dead, its tail end entirely limp. The altok, too, began to float.

Randall cackled. “Oh, I haven’t done this in such a long time! Consider it a gift for a battle well-fought!”

Drathok teleported into the arena.

He waved two hands before Randall, demanding his attention.

“No… Great One, I beseech you, your agreement with Elasar was that only Markus would be the one to be endangered, that—”

“Silence,” Randall hissed, tossing Drathok back against a pillar with a flick of his eyes. “I have no interest in honouring a deal with a pit lord, and for an imp baron to even dare speak to me on my actions… you’re lucky I’m in such a good mood!”

He cleared his throat as the spilled blood of both worm and altok began to float around the pair of them, as the two bodies began to float closer to one another.

“I am fair,” Randall said. “Tell your master I will pay whatever reparation he wishes. My only wish is to put on the show of my dreams…”

He waved up to the audience as the two monsters began to coalesce, as the blood began to seep into them both, as they started to become one, an unholy abomination cursed with divine energy…

“Besides!” He raised a hand as the monster’s horrific form began to take shape. “They’re all wonderfully entertained by what’s transpiring down here, well, aren’t you?”

The crowd seemed too shocked to respond instantly, all of them were transfixed by the rippling, pulsing sinew and flesh parting and being conjoined as the altok’s body began to slot within a space along the worm’s head…

Randall waved his cane. Ten, maybe twenty members of the audience exploded immediately, their bodies becoming red paste as they splattered over their fellow spectators.

“Well? Aren’t you?!”

A hurried cheer. It was soon joined by many more.

Drathok gasped at the sudden carnage; Markus felt panic beginning to rise within him once more, bubbling within his core.

“I can’t let you do this to my…”

“Well, what exactly are you going to do about it?” Randall laughed, flashing down to Drathok in a swoop of his wings. “Kill me? Stop me? Cry for your master?”

The massive worm-altok hybrid began to grow legs, first spindly, but soon thick. First it was two, then four, and eventually, six.

“You know what?” Randall laughed. “You know what? I’m tired of sitting here and watching.” He lowered Markus until he was only a few inches from the ground.

“I’ll tear the limbs from this miscreant myself. Forget the theatrics.” He smiled more deeply, an inhuman glee painting his features. “I’ll pull each layer of skin from you, one by one, and tear through each ounce of hope and humanity left within your miserable body. I’ll expose every nerve in your system, and play upon them like an instrument! I’ll paint this place with your entrials! I’ll keep you in that state for as long as you can manage, until you die, until you breathe again, until your very soul begs me for an end, and as I am so generous, I will gladly grant you death, for I AM—”

A flash of motion. Ember appeared.

She leaped.

She bit into Randall’s arm.

He shook her off of him with ease. His arm was scarcely marked.

He drove a foot into the hellhound’s side. He pierced her body, drove it straight through her.

“What is this? You send your pathetic attack dog to maul me, Eris?”

He twisted his foot in Ember’s body. The hellhound howled and whined and squeaked.

“All of you are ridiculous. All of you, all of you are completely, utterly—”

Markus watched as Serena materialised before Randall, immediately blasting him twenty feet back with a pulse of prismatic energy.

“Oh, and now you’re here.” Randall wiped off his gown as he flapped his wings and pushed himself upright before he could get completely coated in sand. He cracked his neck. “You have a problem too, do you? Bored of presiding over the lunaris?”

Serena ignored him. She placed a hand to Ember. A pulse of healing magic flowed through her. The dog’s head twitched.

“Funny!” Randall laughed. “I’d have never expected such compassion from you. You’re here to save this human, are you?”

Serena continued to ignore him. She stood as Ember’s wounds closed, facing Randall. Sand clung to the ends of her dress from where she’d knelt down. The wind ran in a gentle current. In the background, a giant monster continued to form.

Drathok dared say nothing. Markus didn’t attempt to intervene, even through his restraints.

The audience were silent.

“What exactly were you planning to do, anyways?” Randall brandished his cane as he walked forwards, arms outstretched. “You have no Divine Arm, no sacred treasure, your power has been decimated, and you dare to approach me? For what purpose?”

Serena conjured a transparent blade of pure energy. It shimmered with every colour of the prism.

“I didn’t come here for him,” she said. “I came here to skullfuck you.”

“Oho! Well I’d like to see you tr—”

Randall coughed blood, a twenty foot blade of light now piercing his gut.

He began to walk through it, even as Serena moved the weapon up, along his chest, through his neck and all the way along his head, splitting him in two halves from the stomach up, though the flaps instantly reclosed as soon as her blade had retracted.

“Your powers really have diminished, haven’t they?” Randall laughed. He brandished his cane. “I’m not sure I even need this to end you.”

Serena flicked her wrist. Randall dropped to his knees, the sand beneath him caving in.

“Wh-you…”

There was a relentless rumble. It was as if gravity itself was attempting to bury Randall beneath the sand.

Serena strode towards him like a maiden drifting across gentle waters, the touch of her toes against the sand so soft she barely disturbed it, the sway of her dress in the heat so calm that she appeared more picture than person.

She placed a hand upon Randall’s head. Turned to Markus, smiled.

She began to lift him into the air. Ripped an arm from his body.

He regrew it even as he tore a leg from her in turn.

The two of them flitted and danced and teleported between one another, moving further and further away from the arena as Serena continued to pull him, to push him, to force him to lead and chase.

Before long, Markus could barely see either on the horizon, and after that, he couldn’t.

His restraints dissipated, and he fell from midair.

Ember was laying in the sand, stable but still seemingly dazed.

The audience were stirring, fearful, more vocal now that their god, their captor had left them.

The monster beneath them all was beginning to awaken. Without a master to pull its reins and direct it, it seemed intent on smashing whatever laid in its way, and eating whatever it might get close enough to.

It was a monstrosity. A six legged draconic worm with six arms jutting out from its overgrown, metallic head. Layered in scales and steel and flames, this creature looked more than capable of tearing through the entire arena, all of its inhabitants, and likely half of Sun City if it weren’t taken care of.

Drathok hadn’t been joking. Leaving Randall with any control over arena proceedings was…

Perhaps it was Markus’ fault all this was happening. Maybe, if he’d just taken his punishment and not fought back, then—

Screams echoed as the monster’s tail slammed into the side of the arena stands, the side of the mountain, breaking off an entire section of stone as rubble began to crumble down around the onlookers.

Markus clambered to his feet as he spied the fresh hole the creature had left.

It wasn’t hard to tell where it led. Even through the murkiness, even through the tightness of the aperture…

There was a glint of sunlight beyond.

The monster reared. Drathok clambered to his feet. Ember remained inert.

The crowd began to move, to attempt to run for the narrow exits...

What the fuck did he do now?