There comes a time when Guilders stop raiding Dungeons. When a guild has already covered all the necessary jobs to gear up all of their members head to toe, like smithing, jewel-crafting, and enchanting, there is only one thing to do: Brag… In PVP, of course.

Ah, yes… The fine art of ranked Players vs Players matches, streamed to all the Navinet. The Novus’ equivalent of sports. The universal fascination of watching well-trained players compete with each other, no matter the format--or where it’s being held--had not been lost.

Currently, in Eurola's central region, 15 guilds have registered for the Emberforge Trials tournament that holds preliminary matches before an even bigger event during summer.

For those who cared, each match was important… and especially stressful. It was not uncommon for guilds to tragically disband mid-season after a post-match disagreement or for some of their members to suddenly quit. Some people were not built to endure the pressure, some did not like to receive orders, and some just really, reaaally were not good team players.

So there was a market for ‘Temp Players’.

[ “Did you find out that your resident Healer was sleeping with your girlfriend so you have to kick him out of the guild--After literally kicking the crap out of him first? Is the next important match in two days and you're in urgent need of filling that spot? Oh, do I have news for you, hypothetical, troubled Guild Master! I can fill all your healing needs and I promise not to glance at your beloved even once! Hire someone with experience. I have references! Hire someone that is not afraid of getting their hands dirty. Just ask anyone that had the pleasure of working with me. Hire me!” ]

Temp Players… They usually get offended for being called that. Some prefer to be called Freelancers, Hired-Competitors, and even Mercenaries--although this was not a real war.

Nicholas Laflamme did not find the term ‘Temp’ offensive in the slightest and instead embraced it. Once, a drunk guilder called him a ‘dirty Temp’ loud enough so that everyone in the pub could hear him. In response, the cleric snickered and toasted, “At least you didn’t call me a ‘healing-capitalist whore’. So cheers for that!” Which prompted the entire place to erupt in laughter.

But that was six months ago. In the present, Nicholas had been contracted to enter the PVP arena once again by a Guild Master that only cared about the results. And Results with capital R he’s got…

Raven [https://i.imgur.com/ZX0PfBj.jpg]

Nicholas checked his reflection in the restroom’s mirror, finding a man with curly black hair and tired pale blue eyes staring back at him. A cleric of average physique and average height. A White Mage whose tunic made him look even shorter and puny. So that my contractor’s masculinity doesn't feel threatened… But what marvelous dimples he had! Which helped him achieve the perfect smile. Even more perfect to sell them whatever shit I want them to believe.

He then examined his facial features, enhanced by the Novus’ Avatar rendering by default, giving him a relatively handsome appearance. It’d be more suspicious if I was ugly, wouldn't it?

And after practicing his smile for a tenth time, someone knocked at the door and called him aloud, “Raven, the boss wants to see you before the match!”

“In a sec!” Nicholas replied in a squeaky voice, glancing at Raven one last time. “It was a pleasure working with you…” he murmured to the mirror before walking out.

Henrik was waiting outside and with a grunt gestured Raven to follow him. They crossed the long hallways of the Idunia stadium without uttering a word to each other. The floor was exquisitely polished and their path was completely illuminated by golden lights that made the posters plastered on the walls stand out. The faces of the most successful players looked back at Nicholas, making him snicker. Too bad that my face will never appear in one of these.

He watched his custodian’s large, muscular back. The back of someone who surely had worked hard to come this far. What a pity.

A couple of minutes later, they crossed a double door adorned with golden intricacies. Inside, a single man awaited in front of a wide window that offered him a complete view of the arena; the festive voice of the announcer was carried by speakers installed at every corner of the room. A table full of snacks and a bucket filled with iced bottles of beer stood out in the center.

“Raven,” the man called, deviating his gaze from the current match.

“Friedrich,” the cleric responded, taking a seat in front of the snacks table. Henrik did the same and immediately grabbed a handful of nuts.

“What is going to be then, Raven?” Friedrich began, turning around to show a wide smirk. His blue eyes reflected a palpable youthful energy. “Will this be your last rodeo with us, or have you finally come to a decision? Will you join us?”

Nicholas could feel the other set of eyes staring at him. He looked back at Henrik, the one who had always been in opposition to hiring him. Nicholas lowered his head. “Is that okay with you, First Officer?”

“I eat my words, okay?” Henrik gruffly said, wrinkling his nose. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Something more elaborate would’ve been nice, but that’s okay too,” Nicholas replied in a soft voice, turning his attention back to the Guild Master. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I haven’t come close to an answer just yet. But that doesn’t mean I won’t give my everything in this match. I’ll perform at my 100% in the arena, like always, and think about your offer after we’re done celebrating. Okay?”

“Is that your cordial way of rejecting me?” Friedrich sighed, his smile never leaving his face. “I thought that after all this time working together you’d stop being stubborn. But that’s the way you are… I guess. Speaking of offers…” Friedrich paused and manipulated his User Interface. Seconds later, a pop-up window appeared in front of Nicholas. “What about this one? Help me train a healer as good as you before the Inferno Cup II begins, and you’ll get this. In addition to a biweekly salary, of course.”

Nicholas examined the virtual window’s content, showing an Epic-tier white mage staff. Its stats aren’t half-bad, eh. I could sell this at a very good price.

Raven chuckled nervously. “T-This is quite generous! Let me please think about--” A second window popped up beside him.

“And this brand new Flying Mount,” Friedrich interrupted while he prompted a third virtual window to appear. “Plus this robe.”

Nicholas came out with a quick estimate of the three promised gifts’ values and pursed his lips. This is a little fortune… And yet…

“Friedrich,” Nicholas giggled, barely able to look his contactor in the eye. “Are you trying to bankrupt the guild?” He then stood up slowly and grabbed three iced bottles. “Let’s see tonight’s results before making a commitment like this, please?” Nicholas smiled modestly and offered them a beer. Henrik stared at the bottle consciously before accepting it, and Friedrich took his without hesitation.

“Sure! Think it through all you want. But would you really reject an offer from the soon-to-be winners of the next Inferno Summer Cup?!” Friedrich exclaimed at the top of his lungs as he toasted.

“I’d be a fool, wouldn’t I?” Nicholas muttered as he sipped his beer and made sure that the others did the same.

***

A thundering ovation filled the stadium just as Henrik crushed the head of his second opponent.

[ Just look at him go! Henrik ‘The Basher’ Bauer has taken the First Blood--and the second! Is there not someone capable of stopping him tonight?! ]

Nicholas sighed after hearing the announcer. “He’s truly unstoppable, huh?” he muttered, and the guilder by his side chuckled.

“You say it as if it was a bad thing, Raven. Come on! Why don’t you cheer up a bit? Victory is upon us! And even if your stay with us is done by the end of the night, you’ll still join us to celebrate, won’t you?”

“You’re right,” Raven half-smiled. “I’m already looking forward to it. Drinking is my favorite activity after all.”

(Raven,) the Guild Master called him through Party Chat. (Are you done there?)

Nicholas placed his palm against his left ear and responded, (Yes, sir. Do you need me somewhere else?)

(Go to Henrik’s position.)

(All right. I’m on my way.)

The priest got up and patted the guilder. “There you go, all patched up. Anything else I can do for you?”

The young rogue shook his head. “No, thank you. You can go.”

“I’ll leave this in your hands then,” Raven said, caressing the 32-feet blue tower beside them. In the shape of a classic chess pawn piece, it hovered one foot from the ground. Nicholas then checked Henrik’s location on his User Interface before running directly to the woods.

On his way, he kept monitoring the squared-shaped map that gradually filled up by the second. Its composition was the standard for official competitions: Two rival bases in opposing corners, three main roads that connected the two territories guarded by multiple towers each, and plenty of unconquered territory to roam around and prepare ambushes.

Come on, come on… Give me a good excuse. A glimpse at the list of teammates revealed a fight happening nearby. A good detour.

(Guild Master! Schneider and Vermont’s HP bar are at the orange threshold.)

(I noticed. But their tower is still at 80%. They can handle it. Just focus on Henrik.)

(Sir, it wouldn’t take more than five minutes to--)

(I know you’re fast, but I NEED YOU to heal our ‘Carry’. Understood?)

(Let him go,) Henrik’s gruff voice interjected. (I could survive another fight before my HP bar reaches red… You’ll catch up to me in a moment, right, Raven?)

Oh, is that ‘blind trust’ I hear? Endearing!

Raven followed, (It won’t take me long, Guild Master, I promise! We all need to win as a team, don’t we?)

Friedrich sighed. (Do it quickly.)

Perfect.

In a couple of minutes, Nicholas reached the middle outpost and started channeling mana. It would take him less than a couple of minutes to heal the injured.

“Thank you, Raven. And sorry for getting this hurt. We shouldn’t have pushed our luck if you weren’t around.”

“It’s okay,” he responded while pulling something out of his inventory. “Here are two red potions. So--Watch out!” Raven suddenly shrieked and dashed toward their defending tower, slamming his back against it to take cover.

“What is it?! What did you see?” The other two got to his side but after scanning the surroundings for a while they found nothing.

“I-It must have been my imagination. Sorry for scaring you, guys,” Raven said with a shy smile while his two hands kept getting stuck to the tower.

This should be enough…

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Nicholas then resumed his previous mission and proceeded to meet with Henrik. On his way, he noticed a group of black clouds at a distance, and a magic circle glowing with energy. Ah, that would be perfect.

(The enemy has summoned an Earth Dragon,) Friedrich told everyone through Party Chat. (It’s heading toward lane 3... Henrik?)

(It’s mine.)

(Raven, come on! Before Henrik engages it!)

(I’m almost there!)

Nicholas met Henrik behind the ruins of a destroyed enemy outpost and started healing him as soon as he crouched beside him. The ground then trembled as the Earth Dragon passed them by. Its rider and three other guilders watched their surroundings thoroughly.

“Would you be able to handle it, Champ?” Raven asked in a faint voice, making Henrik snicker.

“Just watch me.” Henrik tightened his grasp around the hammer’s handle. “I’ll turn that lizard’s head into a pulp.”

I have no doubts about that…

(Everyone, the enemy team will surely attack the other two lanes in conjunction as soon as the Dragon reaches tower three. So be ready!)

(YES, SIR!)

(Aren’t you glad that I healed the ones at lane 2, Guild Master?)

Friedrich chuckled. (Thanks for that, Raven.)

This is what camaraderie is like, isn't it?

Before committing to his next move, Nicholas took a long breath and calmed himself. He almost licked his lips but abstained himself in case Henrik took notice.

Don’t worry, Nick. His mind is in the battle ahead. He won’t notice a thing.

Nodding to himself, Nicholas placed his left hand on Henrik’s shoulder. “Tonight’s going to be memorable. Don’t you think so?”

“The big leagues, Raven,” Henrik replied, gazing forward. “That’s what’s awaiting us. I can almost feel the cup in my hands!”

(Once Henrik dispatches the dragon, we’ll all charge!) Friedrich proclaimed through Party Chat, and everyone responded with cheers and promises of victory, with the exception of Nicholas who was busy using his Eye of the Sage Active Skill to scan Henrik’s armor.

Perfect…

“All done. Go get them, champ!”

Henrik wasted no time and charged ahead, taking the enemy group by surprise.

“Shit! The Basher is behind us!” Nicholas heard one of the enemy guilders cry. The rival group then seemed to receive a new set of instructions through their private Party Chat, for the dragon’s rider urged the beast to sprint forward, leaving the others behind.

(The dragon is ignoring Henrik and will try to at least take our tower down with it! Don’t let it happen!)

The ones guarding that outpost prepared themselves while the pawn-shaped tower automatically fired enormous orbs of pure energy every three seconds. The bulky Dragon withstood the attacks and the ones from its defenders.

Meanwhile, Henrik crushed the skull of the one that did its best to buy the dragon some time. Henrik spat aside and got his sights on his next target.

(Lane 1 is under attack! They brought their famous Cryomancer! Guild Master, send Lena here, please!)

(Lane 2 is under attack too, as you expected, Friedrich! Mostly sharpshooters! No need to send backups, we can deal with them!)

(Lane 3 here. As long as Henrik kills the dragon, we can handle it!)

Nicholas almost cracked a laugh but contained himself. Good said, mate. As long as Henrik can do it…

(Raven, remain hidden but alert in case Henrik needs you.)

(Of course, Guild Master.)

When Henrik disposed of a third rival guilder, there was nothing more standing between him and the Earth Dragon. He dashed forward without hesitation, as if a demon had gained control of his body.

[ “Pentakiiiill! Basher is going on a killing spree! And… uh-oh! It seems he’s fully bloodlusted! Don’t avert your eyes for a second, folks! This is going to be epic!” ]

The dragon stomped, making the ground tremble and throwing everyone off balance; that special technique also spawned a pillar of solid rock that impacted the tower directly as if it was a sturdy lance, reducing its HP to 50%.

(Good job, Philip!) his Guild Master exclaimed through their Party Chat. (Take down the tower now!)

The dragon rider was salivating... One more push and they would even the odds against the Stormwatch Sentinels, but a warcry forced him to look back. The rider watched Henrik sprinting towards him, with his bloody war hammer in hand. “No, no, no!” the rider cried. What could he do? His dragon needed ten seconds more for its Special Attack ro recharge and he knew he was no match for The Basher, but the championship was on the line. “Damn it!” he hissed and pulled out his pistol.

Philip the dragon rider opened fire, knowing it was useless.

In every competitive game there is always a Meta… With time, players discover which are the most lethal weapons, the most powerful spells and the best classes.

The Novus was no different.

Users discovered that when you have super strength and also gear up with the best armor, you practically become a walking tank… A walking tank that can dodge, run, and take cover if they need to. Also a tank that can behead an enemy before they can pull the trigger. This caused firearms to fall from grace between the Novus’ competitive community.

Some still use them, especially middled-level Users, but if you pull out your gun in front of a fully-fledged Warrior, you would be laughed at. And yet, some just didn’t have a choice.

This PVP format demanded the use of ‘Assist Players’, those who focused their skills to stun, crowd-control, and annoy the enemy muscle heads. With time, the Beast Tamers became popular.

Sacrificing all of their stats, these Users empowered their beasts instead to accomplish certain tasks that other classes could not, like harassing enemy players in their early stages of the match to stop their advances, or in the case of this Earth Dragon, act as ‘Tower Destroyers’, something this species excelled at.

The only job of this Beast Tamer was to destroy at least two towers per match, and nothing else. People like him did not have the skill to engage in hand to hand combat, so their only option was to at least carry a firearm, knowing they could finish off the already wounded.

With all that in mind, Philip the Beast Tamer, shot three more times while cursing his luck. It was just a matter of time before he got his head crushed just like everyone else and hear the announcer say: ‘Oh, Philip Sanders was so close to destroying Lane 3 tower!’

But three seconds passed by uneventfully.

In shock, Philip saw Henrik kneeling, bleeding and with a pained expression in his face. Using the skill ‘Eagle Eye’, also revealed that Henrik’s face looked pale, as if he had been poisoned.

Philip let out an incredulous snicker and shot his pistol two more times, this time with the intention to kill.

[ Are my eyes deceiving me?! The Basher has fallen! I repeat, the Basher has been taken down by Philip Sanders! The Basher pushed his luck after so many solo battles, and now the Crimson Covenant has the opportunity to take the lead! ]

Embolden, Philip gave the command, and his Earth Dragon used his Special Attack once again, destroying the Stormwatch Sentinels’ tower.

(WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!) the usually jolly Friedrich shrieked through Party Chat. (Did you not heal him at all, Raven?!)

(O-Of course I did, Guild Master! I’m as surprised as you are! I fully replenished his HP to 100%. I swear!)

(Guild Master! Lane 1 Tower has been taken down!)

(Friedrich! The Lane 2 Tower--! I-I don’t know what happened! They somehow took it down with ease!)

(They must have an ace under their sleeve, huh?) Raven commented, trying his best to sound neutral, although from his place behind bushes, he was cracking a wide smile.

***

Although Henrik was revived soon after, Stormwatch Sentinels could not recover from the loss of three towers simultaneously. They lost, despite being the odds’ favorite. And since Nicholas did not hear anything from their Guild Master or the First Officer, he understood that they did not want him around anymore.

At least that’s what I want to believe, he-he.

Two hours after the tournament ended, Nicholas changed into his best cloak made of yeti’s fur, white and fluffy, something too scandalous for the soft-spoken Raven, and crossed the streets of downtown Sirberlin. He then reached a crowded and noisy bar with an animated green goblin at the entrance flipping everyone off. The sign read: ‘Goblin’s Malice’.

Inside, the familiar odor of alcohol and smoke reached his nostrils. Virtual screens floating five feet above every table showed a reel of that night’s match. Every single clip featured Crimson Covenant, the winners, looking like professional bullies destroying their competition.

Nicholas got to the counter, asked for a beer and chuckled at the video of Henrik getting his ass handled by a certain gun. “Cheers, mate,” he toasted and gulped his drink. It was only a matter of time until the winners made themselves heard from their place. Thunderous laughter filled the place as a clip of Henrik getting pinned to the ground by Crimson Covenant’s carry was featured, followed by a short video of Raven getting frozen.

Yup… Laugh at Raven’s expense too. I’m totally okay with that.

After asking for a second beer that got charged automatically into his account, he walked directly to the center of the bar where the Crimson Covenant guild were celebrating. Nicholas spotted the Guild Master immediately, a buffed guy dressed in an elegant white full suit, with short black hair and a squared-shaped jaw that seemed to be as sturdy as any shield.

Nicholas made sure that his own coat did not have any stains before walking towards him. Naturally, two guilders cut his path.

“I toast for the winners of the Emberforge Trials, and the soon-to-be winners of the next Inferno Summer Cup!” Nicholas exclaimed holding his bottle of beer aloft, he then made a short bow while a guilder informed something into the Guild Master’s ear.

“The Stormwatch Sentinels’ healer, eh?” the Guild Master, snickered. “You’re a Temp, aren’t you? Is your contract with them due? Don’t tell me you’ve come to beg me for work, because, who’d hire you when you couldn’t even maintain your carry alive!”

Nicholas waited until the expected crowd laughter died down to take another two steps forward. He could even feel the other guilders around him tense up. As if they were expecting me to do something stupid.

“Come on. Can you really blame me for trying, Mr. Lefevre?” Nicholas said as he scanned all the faces around him until finding someone that looked remotely sick. He strolled to that guy slowly. “And besides… The Stormwatch Sentinels didn’t lose because of the lack of healing. You won because you overwhelmed them.”

With that said, Nicholas patted the guilder’s shoulder, whose face looked almost as green as a frog. Those nearby saw the moment Nicholas’ palm emitted light and grasped their concealed weapons, but the Guild Master did not give the order to retaliate. He only observed the scene with a hint of amusement in his expression.

The guilder by Raven’s side blinked repeatedly and laughed. “He got rid of my drunkenness…” He turned to his Guild Master. “I felt like puking any moment now, but not anymore!”

As soon as another guilder asked Nicholas to do the same to them, he knew he was in.

“What was your name again, Temp?” the Guild Master asked.

Nicholas grinned. “Just call me Raven!”

Word that ‘Raven,’ the Temp healer contracted by the Stormwatch Sentinels, was having a good time among the members of the Crimson Covenant, spread fast. It only took half an hour for the Stormwatch Sentinels to gather outside the Goblin’s Malice before marching inside in solidarity. Friedrich, their Guild Master, a man always seen with a wide grin and a friendly smile on his face, looked livid that night. Everyone in the bar could see a vein popping on his forehead as he led his guild directly to the spot where the Crimson Covenant were laughing and toasting.

“I see that you found a new guild quite fast, Raven!” Friedrich said out loud, his face looking as red as a tomato. “Or could it be that you were part of their payroll from the very start?!”

The entire bar went silent, and all the gazes pointed at the Crimson Covenant’s Guild Master, expecting a response.

The man narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you babbling about?”

“You heard me right, Jovan!” Friedrich yelled. “We checked the footage, and something weird was going on as soon as you started that coordinated attack mid-match! I don’t know what this bastard did…” He pointed at Raven. “But he sabotaged our towers and our Carry’s armor and health beforehand!”

Jovan Lefevre did not even glance at Nicholas once for his glare had started to glow intensely. “What are you trying to say, Fried?” Jovan said in a menacing tone as he rose from his seat. “I can’t catch what you’re implying…”

“YOU CHEATED!” Friedrich barked. “We were the favorites to win this goddamn tournament! There is no chance in hell that you’d have bested us without cheating!”

“All I see is a bunch of sore losers that can’t stand defeat,” the Crimson Covenant’s carry hissed, a female cryomancer that stood up before the rest of the guild.

“Friedrich, pal!” Raven took the word after sipping from his piña colada. A smirk adorned his face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! We all did our best during that match, as always. But sometimes--!”

It happened in a second. An arrow pierced Raven's chest. That area gradually turned red, staining his pristine robe.

Raven fell.

A System Warning popped up but got ignored as the two rival guilds clashed without a second thought. Thanks to the Safe Zone’s restrictions, the skirmish was not as chaotic as the previously seen in the arena a couple of hours later, and yet, despite all the participants having their stats cut in half, it became a bloodbath in a matter of seconds.

The bar owner hid behind the counter, sipped from a bottle of vodka, and sighed annoyed. “Guilders…” She then watched someone crawling to her side, with a pained expression on his face.

“Can I have a sip of that?” Raven asked, looking pale. The woman handed him the bottle and stared at the arrow still adorning his chest.

“So… ‘Raven’... I was looking forward to your speech. You seemed to be saying something very profound. But it’s okay, seeing you getting shut up was fun too.”

Raven crossed eyes with the black-haired woman as he gulped. “Whatever,” he muttered as he pulled the arrow out and tossed it aside. Then, put his palm against his chest and magically closed the wound.

The woman observed the process in silence. “That was a very nice cloak.”

“It’s a counterfeit,” he said while changing clothes with the help of his User Interface, swapping the cloak for a black button shirt and plain jeans. Then, placing his palm against his face, he seemed to yank his own skin at first until removing an oval mask. Behind the disguise was a redhead male in his late thirties, with eyes of the color of the amber gemstone that seemed to sparkle with chaotic energy. The woman also observed the exact moment Nicholas’ arms and chest inflated, leaving the lanky Raven finally behind. “This is more like it! Do you have something for me, doll?”

She input something on her User Interface, and a virtual window popped up in front of him. “There… 688k.”

“Ah! If there’s something I adore about competitive PVP, it’s its betting scene!”

“I took the liberty to subtract 50k from your cut. You know, for this place’s repairs. Unless you want to stay another day and help me restore everything.”

Someone’s head crashed loudly against the counter, before getting dragged into the mayhem again.

Nicholas winced. “Nah. I prefer paying up. The Germoria region has lost its luster already. And now that I’m done with this ‘quest’, my free spirit is yelling at me to move on!”

“Or better said, you need to stay out of the limelight for a while,” the woman muttered, rolling his eyes.

Nicholas rose, put his hands on his hips, and took a deep breath as if he was smelling the fresh air of a new morning, although what was actually around him was the stench of blood and alcohol.

Nicholas [https://i.imgur.com/XqBd3GO.jpg]

“I’m going to miss you, Brigitta. Too bad it’d have never worked out between us.”

“Because I’m lacking animal ears?” she scoffed with a bitter smile. “Not that I care, but where would you go now?”

“I don’t know.” He exhaled before effortlessly dodging a chair coming his way. “Somewhere calm. Without stress. Where I can also amuse myself…”

A beeping sound alerted him about receiving a new message. He squinted at the sender for a moment before opening it. As he read, a smile crossed his face.

Marissa: Uncle Nick! It’s been a while, huh? Do you have plans for the weekend?

He chuckled. “Brigitta… I think I already have a destination.”