I sank down, exhausted both mentally and physically. In rapid succession more announcements followed:

Contestant number 29: Eliminated

Contestant number 33: Eliminated

Contestant number 7: Eliminated

Contestant number 28: Eliminated

Contestant number 22: Eliminated

I pulled up the scoreboard and found one good thing and one bad. I had been awarded with the kill of number 16 when pushing him out of the battle area, but Tristan was beginning to run away with it. What the…? Had he taken out three enemies in his last killing spree?

Tristan Toth, level 15: 125 000

Brad Richards, level 10: 75 000

Jack Marsh, level 14: 50 000

Following our three names, there was five more players that had scored their first kill and was now on the board with 25 000 points each. But, the former leader, Artes Belgrave was off the list. I looked at my score again. It had jumped from 25 000 to 75 000. I pondered that for a moment. Was it a mistake? I didn’t think so. The only explanation was that gathered points was handed from the defeated player to the winner. I was pretty sure that number 16 had killed number 15. That also mean that Tristan probably hadn’t scored three successive kills, but had actually taken out Artes Belgrave.

Remaining contestants: 37

I looted the corpse of number 16, getting another epic bow of burning, an epic sword of anguish and adding to my stock pile of health and stamina potions, and even more food. It was piling up but I still had plenty of inventory space left. Number 16 did have some unusual loot as well. Two potions of resist damage, which granted a 50 % reduction to both physical and magical damage, two large mana potions and one small vial of paralyzing poison. I realized, when looking at that bright red vial, that if he had used this to lace the arrow he struck me with, it would’ve all been over. I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I dipped three of my arrows in the paralyzing poison and put them in one of my quick slots. The vial, now drained from half of its content went back into the inventory together with my potions.

I checked the scoreboard again, not one player below level 14 on it, but at least I was level 11 now. I would guess that still made me the lowest ranked player in the tournament, but there was a massive difference between level 10 and level 11, and – I got 1 more skill point to spend. I would hold on to it until my archery ability leveled up. I was a bit disappointed that my creative kill of number 16 wasn’t rewarded with a new achievement but I guessed none had been programmed for this exact instance.

Ok, it was time to move out. I was out on an open field, the mountains shone a dull red, and there was a thin pine forest to my right. I saw no one else out on the crusted snow, and even if I had been fully preoccupied with number 16 running down to the battle area; I didn’t think I had seen anyone enter the forest. But, they could’ve been there all the time, of course. The contestants that had been dropped in proximity to me was all gone, taken out by either me or number 16. I needed to get back into the fray and do some damage, I just needed to figure out where the fray was.

I could sneak through the forest and maybe stumble into an ambush, or I could walk the white surface, encouraging anyone to try make a fight out of it. I had my bow (well, three of them actually) a high skill level for my level and skills invested into archery. I had a hard time seeing I would be in any major disadvantage in a ranged fight. But then there were those mages, those pesky mages with their lighting and fire bolts. Call me an optimist, but I didn’t think a novis mage could shoot straight for a longer distance than I, so the open it was then.

I started walking, the snow crunching beneath my boots, the wind nipping at my cheeks.

An in-game-message popped up:

Sarah Parsa: Hi there: I like the way you handled contestant number 16. Innovative. Haven’t seen that one before.

Brad Richards: You’re watching the stream?

Sarah Parsa: No, I’m watching it a Jacob’s in Area 7. People are still on a high after the finale of Battle Clash and craves more blood and violence. Looks like the show runners were intrigued by your beef with Vinger, the brother of the Alpha Prime, so they are airing this instalment of the Battle Clash as well.

Beef? What was she talking about. I didn’t share any food with Vinger. He was the last person I would break bread or anything with, if breaking his neck wasn’t an option.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Brad Richards: It’s airing? Is that a good thing?

Sarah Parsa: Oh, yes, it is.

Brad Richards: I guess you couldn’t help me by telling where the other contestants are?

Sarah Parsa: You would be right about that. Strictly forbidden. But your head seem to be screwed on the right way. Your thinking has been sound this far, so just trust your instincts. Good luck.

And then she signed off. A timer started.

Communication lines will reopen in: 23:54 hours.

I trudged on through the great white plains of northern Windersmyr. Why couldn’t they have dropped us in the lush and warm south? Would’ve made for good TV as well, yes? So, this was being broadcasted, talking heads in the studio and all? I realized it really was a good thing, following my thoughts from earlier that it was better to be known quantity than a no-name-contestant that could be dragged into an alley and killed.

Then there was that deep sounding booong again, and a new announcement popped up:

Contestant number 19: Eliminated

I pulled down the scoreboard. Crap, Tristan again. He was still level 15, though, that was some small consolation, but his 150.000 now doubled my score.

The sun came out and swept the grey away. The black robe helped to warm my frozen body but the glare of the light in the icy surface of the snow didn’t help with my visuals.

I stopped, hunkered down and squinted. Wasn’t there movement up ahead? I shielded my eyes with the palm of my hand. Yes, two other contestants caught up in a full-on fight. A jagged lightning bolt struck down on one of them and in return a bolt of fire came roaring over the sheet of snow.

Mages. Pesky mages.

I didn’t think they’ve seen me yet. Still in a crouch I started a slow run. I pulled the bow out from my inventory together with an arrow. I opted out from using one of the poisoned ones. My thinking was that I would be able to take both of them out while still out of their range. Mages robes did little to protect from physical damage.

Their fight was furious, hurling fire and lightning back and forth. The sounds of the cracks of lightning rolled over the open space like the sound of gun shots. The low murmuring whooshes of the fire balls wasn’t as intense, but had an intimidating air to them. Why hadn’t they killed each other already? The air around them was shivering like the air over asphalt on a hot day.

Shielding.

Right now, they must burn through their mana potions like crazy.

This was close enough.

I stopped, went down on one knee, getting the full accuracy bonus for being stationary. I pulled the string, steadying my breathing. To kill someone while they were engaged in combat was a bit of a dick move, but this wasn’t the place for chivalry. It was killed or be killed, and I didn’t think Tristan would hesitate for even a second.

I was stationary, but the two mages were not, far from it. They danced back and forth, circled each other. The wind was coming on pretty strong from the right. Maybe I should’ve advanced a couple of extra strides? Too late for that now. I raised the bow and fired slightly against the wind. The firing against the wind wasn’t experience or instinct, I realized, but my accuracy bonuses doing their job.

Before the arrow had even hit its target, I had a new one on the string, and pulled back.

The first arrow went in a perfect, flat, trajectory, being pushed towards the two mages by the wind. It would hit the right one of them. Then the mage charged up for another lighting strike and it was like the air around him warped, and it warped enough to make the arrow hiss by, maybe a foot in front of his face. He snapped his attention to me, the second arrow hitting him in the gut. A ball of fire came hurtling may way from the second mage.

Oh, crap. I fucked up, and I fucked up good.

I dove for the snow, the ball of fire sizzling past over me, scorching the back of my neck. I was back up on one knee in an instant, feeling the smell of burning cloth. My robe was on fire.

I pulled the string. The right on of the mages crouched, holding his hand to his gut where the arrow was still sticking out. The second mage – his hands glowing in red – shot him a glance, as if deciding whether to finish him or go after me.

He decided for me.

I let the arrow go. It went with a twang and good speed. The mage sidestepped and the arrow flew past him.

Oh, crap. That was what a level 15 mage could do? Had he downed some reaction potion or what? Hadn’t the time to elaborate on that thought because now he hurled another fireball.

I rolled out of the way. The fireball. scorched past me, turning the snow to vapor and exploding dirt into the air.

I spun up to a standing position and charged at him, while pulling my sword of burning out.

The mage, apparently surprised by my charge stumbled backwards, the red glow around his hands already a deep crimson again. The hands of the wounded mage were also glowing.

I drank one of the reduce damage potions directly from the inventory. The two mages discharged at the same time, the wounded one at the mage that was preoccupied with me, who in his turn fired at me.

I saw the fireball coming roaring.

I pinched my eyes shut and braced myself.

It hit me like a hot brick wall. I stumbled, dazed and confused, smelling burnt hair. I blinked, the skin in my face tightening painfully. The mage that had hit me was on fire, the mage to the right sagging, his teeth gritted.

I got going again.

The mage with the arrow in his gut tried to unload at me, but hadn’t the time. I slashed down on him and his head tumbled to the snow.

25 000 XP rose in the air.

I turned to the other mage. He was flapping his arms turning wildly back and forth, as if trying to screw himself out of his own skin. I charged him and plunged my sword into his back. No way I would let this kill slip away from me. He got down to his knees, gurling before tipping forward into the snow that hissed beneath him.

25 000 XP

Contestant number 24: Eliminated

Contestant number 25: Eliminated

And just like that, I was in second place on the scoreboard with 125.000 points, my level bar making good progress towards level 12. I could see for my inner eye how Tristan was grinding his teeth, and Vinger doing the same, following the clash from some fancy restaurant in High Town, maybe hurling a glass of expensive wine to the wall. Yeah, I liked that image very much. Bet it was true.