I had lost track of time, but it must’ve been hours since darkness fell. Cloak had flown away to do bird stuff and I sat leaning against the back wall of the stone room above the gate house, looking through a crack in the wall at the paved area. I was cutting slices of grilled meat with my obsidian dagger, popping it in my mouth, chewing slowly. I was fearing to hear those ghostly giggles in the dark and see the translucent prawns float through my sturdy stone walls.

I had seen them, though.

They were out there, wisping this way and that, but if I sat still, it seemed they weren’t able to spot me.

So, I sat still, chewed my meat in silence, and stared through the crack.

By now Tristan must’ve understood what was happening as well; it was only me and him left, and he wanted to get to this place before I did. I only hoped he didn’t realize I’ve been here for hours already. I did hope, though, that he had been running here in a mad frenzy, burning through all his stamina potions, arriving sweaty and depleted. One could hope, right? And I hoped that Vinger saw this, now sitting screaming at his screen that it was a trap.

Scream on buddy, this one is going to hurt.

Or at least I hoped it would. For as for as plans went, this wasn’t a solid ten out of a ten – more like a shaky three. There weren’t that many moving parts in it, it was bare bone, down to the ground simple, but there was still a crap ton of things that could go wrong.

And if it went wrong, I was as good as dead.

The moon had moved in front of one of the narrow slits, and it peeked in at me with a curious glance. My head was buzzing and my eyelids were heavy. I had been on high alert for more than 24 hours and it started to take its toll. If I fell asleep, all would be wasted.

Mustn’t… fall… a-sleep.

“Kraah!” it echoed from the woods. I snapped my eyelids open and scrambled up to a seated position. I stared through the crack and I stared right at Tristan.

He sat in a crouch by the bushes just outside the paved stone circle, surveying the area.

Thanks Cloak. I owe you another one.

Slowly I rose, careful not to make any sounds, staring through the darkness at Tristan. He was level 21 now.

Move.

Tristan did. Still in a crouch, he hurried over the paved area towards the gatehouse. I needed to act fast. From the inventory I equipped a pair of worn-out leather gloves. In my one hand I grabbed the potion of Become Etheral and in the other, the blackish red glands of the Dark Redana; they felt like I imagined bull testicles would feel.

I looked down the murder holes and saw the top of Tristan’s blonde head floated into view.

I drank down the potion.

It felt like the stone floor just gave away. It rushed past my face like a flicker of darkness. I thudded down right behind Tristan, my level 11 strength legs cushioning the landing. With the glands of the Redana in my hand I pushed him in the back as hard as I could, crushing and smearing the hormonal glands all over his green, fancy cloak. He stumbled forward, arms flailing for balance, his armour of silver steel rattling and clattering. I ran back up the stairs to the stone room, peeling of the soiled gloves and put them back into the inventory where their smell couldn’t spread.

“You! Come face me you coward!” Tristan bellowed from below.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I whipped around, the bow of slow in my hand, one of the arrows laced with the paralyze poison nocked. I heard Tristan before I saw him, he came rattling and jingling up the stairs. I fired as soon as he popped out his head. He jerked his head back and the arrow hir the wall.

He was fast. Too fast for my liking.

I shot a glance through the window slits. My skin prickled. They were coming, the prawns, silently bobbing out from the woods.

“You just gonna stand up there with your silly little bow? You’ll only prolong the inevitable.”

“Yeah, maybe I should just throw myself upon your sword and we can both go home and have a decent meal and a drink, right?”

“Sounds all right to me.”

I heard from his voice that he was gearing up. I knew what would come next. Tristan roared and shoulder around the corner, the radiant Orak’s Wrath raised. Pumped up with adrenaline he bulled up towards me.

I fired.

The arrow hit his shoulder pauldron and pinged off to the right.

Fuck.

I turned and ran up the left flight of stairs, up to the battlements. Behind me I heard the eager jingle and rattling from Tristan’s armour. He didn’t gain on me, despite my low speed. That told me an important thing. I’ve seen his snakelike speed when stationary. He had invested a lot of skill points into speed, but not enough into strength to make use of them while wearing his heavy armour. He relied on expensive increase strength boosts instead.

I spun around on the battlement, bow at the ready and fired at him as soon as he became visible in the door opening. He swatted the steel arrow away with his blade. The arrow turned to red molten slosh when it hit his blade.

I didn’t like the look of this.

I glanced down to the overgrown courtyard below, a drop of some 20 feet. It was time to test my theory. Tristan approached slowly an eager grin on his lips, slowly swinging Orak’s Wrath from side to side.

“You can keep on running, little piggy, but I’m the big bad wolf and there’s no escaping me. Ho, ho, hooo!” His impression of a huffing and puffing wolf dissolved into laughter. “I’m going to slice you and dice you, starting from your feet, working myself up. It’ll take some time because this blade, you see, burns the wounds shut at the same as it slices. A most sinister tandem of effects. Cauterizes I think the scientific term of it is.”

You just keep on talking. The longer this takes, the better.

Behind Tristan, over the slanted roof of the tower I saw the prawns coming, silently bobbing, attracted by the glandular scent of the Dark Redana. One of them broke free from the darkness inside the guardhouse and was soon close enough to do that darting attack.

“Cauterizes you say. Didn’t think a meathead like you knew such fancy words.”

His grinning face went slack. For an intelligent person to be regarded as a dumb one, that was an effective button to push.

“Oh, I know a lot more fancy words than that, like decapitate. Dismember. Eviscerate. Do you know what those words mean? I’m a Harvard graduate. What the fuck are you? A plumber? A car sales man?”

“Nah. I do proper work. Construction.”

“Ahh, I can see that,” he said, relaxing his posture, lowering the sword as if he had nothing to fear from a person like me.” One step above being a common grease monkey, I guess. I salute you for your prowess and your success.”

The prawn that had emerged from the darkness of the watch tower darted at him, needle-like translucent fangs protruding from its wide-open mouth. It bit Tristan in the back of the neck.

He yelled, swatting at his neck as if trying to kill a mosquito. The next one bit into his hand. The scream became a howl. He tried to flap his hand, but the prawn pulled the other way and blood squirted in the air.

More of them was coming.

With a roar Tristan swung his sword and cut the prawn biting his hand in two. With a snarl he pulled the other one, biting his neck of, pulling with it pieces of his flesh.

He lit up in a golden glow, downing a health potion, staring at me with confused rage. At least seven more prawns were about to descend on him.

I jumped of the wall.

The ground came rushing up at me: I hit it with teeth shattering force. Pain lanced up through my legs, but they held firm. I whipped out my bow, nocked one of the poisons laced arrows.

This was it.

What the plan in its totality boiled down to.

Get Tristan distracted by the prawns and then paralyze him.

Up on the wall Tristan was attacked by more prawns. He flapped and sliced, his green cloak billowing around him. The prawns were fast and they were many. One of them got a chunk of his cheek and while he was pulling it off, another one sank its teeth into his thigh.

I fired the arrow.

It whizzed past him.

With trembling hands, I nocked another one. I had dipped three more arrows in the paralyze poison. I had four shots left.

At this angle, I had a hard time getting a clear shot away. I mostly saw his green cloak flap and billow in the wind, and the prawns darting in from all angles.

I let the arrow fly.

It zipped through his cloak and went out the other side.

Fuck…

I nocked the third arrow. Tristan blossomed in gold again, and then, in panic he jumped of the wall.

His heavy suit brought him down like a stone. He slammed into the ground.

I let the arrow go before he had sorted himself. It hit him in the side of the neck. The arrow shot clean through, blood squirting out over the cobblestone.

“Gah!” Tristan said, palming the wound, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I lunged at him, my sword over my head. Tristan bloomed in a crimson red and, streaks of oily black. While I still was in the air, his eyes turned black and a vicious grin cleaved his pale white face.

Oh, fuck.

He grabbed me by the arm, his demonic strength out of this world, and flung me across the courtyard. I spun in the air, hit the ground and the world tumbled around me, white sparks exploding in my vision.

My health plummeted down into the red.

I downed a health potion and got up on wobbly legs, not even knowing which way to face.

“Over here, boy!” Tristan roared with that deep, rumbling voice of his demonic version.

I turned, or staggered around was a more befitting description, my heart pounding and blood running down my face. Som of my ribs must’ve been broken; I could only breath in shallow gasps and even those was like having a rabid animal inside, clawing and tearing. Tristan walked slowly over the courtyard, lazily swinging Orak’s Wrath. The red shine of the sword had taken a deep, sinister glow, Tristans steel armour had turned into a solid black, plate armour, where red energy seeped through the cracks; his shoulder pauldrons jagged and twisted.

“It ends here,” He rumbled whipping his sword as if it weighed less than a willow twig.

The countdown in my HUD reached zero and I drank down a large potion of restore health. My health shot back up into the green, the tearing pain in my side vanished and I darted for the gatehouse.

“Face me! Weakling!” Demonic Tristan roared and I actually felt the ground shake from his voice.

Fat chance. I had less than five minutes to survive before I could make an even fight out of this, or how even it could be between a level 16 and a level 21, but I knew things now that I didn’t before, like that I had a lot more points into raw strength than Tristan. That was my sole advantage, I was stronger and I needed to find a way to unleash the brawler on him.

To do that, I first needed to survive.

A piece of slender black glass whizzed past me on the right side and shattered against the wall of the gatehouse.

Oh, this again.

I did my zig, and zig-routine and reached the stairs in the gatehouse unimpaled. I tore up the stairs, hoping Tristan would continue his Jason Vorhees impression, walking like slow unavoidable death. I shot a glance out through the window slit. The woods were swarming with prawns.

Oh, fuck. My plan seemed to work a little too good. If I, against all odds, defeated Tristan, it was only a matter of time before those floating critters started to attack me instead of him.

Down at the foot of the stairs I heard Tristans infuriated demonic grunts, the chittering sounds of the prawns as they attacked, and the sound of Orak’s Wrath being swung. Tristan’s armour might ‘ve changed looks and properties, but clearly the glandular secrete was still on his cloak. Awesome. The first bit of good news I’ve gotten during this uneven fight.

One of the prawns darted right through the wall and snapped at me. I stumbled back and got my obsidian dagger up. Four charges, that was all I had. Its translucent mandibles shivered when it made that awful chittering noise. Then it darted for me. I stabbed it and it went from translucent jelly to ice in an instant. It shattered and fell to the stone floor as shards of ice.

I needed to get away from the stone room. Obviously, being this near to Tristan made me a target for the prawns as well.

I continued up the second flight of stairs and was once again up on the battlements. Tristan was still by the entrance to the gatehouse. He was completely swarmed by prawns. He swept his sword back and forth in powerful arcs, but it was almost as if the death of one prawn called more of them into action. I could only hope his battle frenzy went so deep that he forgot all about me for the coming four or so minutes.

That didn’t happen, of course.

He killed of the prawns faster than the dark woods could birth them and soon, he stood in piles of their translucent carcases. He turned his head, looking up at me on the battlements. His eyes were no longer black but a blazing, furious red, as if the inside of his head had turned into a furnace. His grin had nothing happy to it, no playful anticipation – it was naked raw rage, and with a howl he set up the stairs.

My hands shook when I pulled out the bow and nocked an arrow. I didn’t even know if this thing could be killed with arrows. He had overridden the effects of the paralyze poison when he turned into the dark one, but maybe it was the transformation itself that had washed the poison effect away? Didn’t know if it mattered much. Shooting arrows on this dark demon lord felt like flicking toothpicks on a charging rhino, but I was out of ideas. Ordinary Tristan had been slow in his armour of silver steel, but demonic Tristan moved with whirlwind speed, as if a storm surge from the Netherworld hurled him forward. I couldn’t outrun this being, I couldn’t outmuscle it and I had failed to outsmart it.

Then, in the corner of my eye, I saw something through the gatehouse that could change everything.

Yes. Now we’re fucking talking.

I wetted my lips and starred at the door opening in front of me. Demonic Tristan wrestled of the darkness and came running at me. Dead silent, his flaming red eyes locked in on me as if he was a heatseeking missile.

I jumped of the wall, down into the courtyard. Once again, my legs exploded in pain and this time I couldn’t help collapsing into a hurting pile.

There was no time to lose, no time at all. I drank down a health potion and rolled over trying to get off the ground. Slowly, with the help of the wall, I got to my feet.

Tristan thumped down in front of me, a gust of displaced air whipping in my sweaty hair from my face. He towered before me, his white face a mask of contorted rage. He was still the heatseeking missile, locked in on me, so he never saw the Dark Redana that came streaking across the courtyard in a forward leaning stride, one of the large, lacquered claw hands behind her racing body, ready to strike.

“Done running, boy?” Tristan rumbled, staring at me, as if urging me to run. “What? No snappy remarks?”

The Redana hurled herself at Tristan with a powerful slash.

I rolled out of the way.

It looked like Tristan folded in the middle, a black spray of blood fanning out. The two of them tumbled in the air and hit ground, rolling over. The Redana ended up on top, savagely slashing at Tristan face while shrieking in something that sounded like fury. Tristan screamed as well, clawing at the Redana that was shredding his face. I stumbled backwards, struck in awe by the display of pure ferociousness of the Redana. I was wondering why Tristan wasn’t swirling with light, downing every potion he had in his inventory, but remembered what Rick had told me: when engaged in hand to hand combat, you had to physically pull gear and potions out of your inventory to use them, to prevent fights being decided only by whom had the more potions.

Then, when all seemed lost for Tristan, his scream deepened to a growl and one of the black metal gloves shot up and grabbed the Redana by the throat. His initial panic had subsided and he had adapted to the new situation. I pulled out my bow and nocked one of the paralyze poison arrows.

The Redana shrieked and wriggled, slashed and clawed but Tristan rose, holding her at arm’s length. His white face was torn to pieces, flaps of it hanging revealing the glistening bone beneath. His right cheek was missing, showing the grin of his jawbone.

He pulled back his fist and lifted the Redana from the ground. Then he struck her in the face. Her head exploded, jitters shaking her body.

With a roar Tristan slammed her body to the ground, rage again overtaking him. He slammed his fist to the Redana’s chest, making it crack, and he kept on pounding.

I circled him at a safe distance, my bow at the ready. How much time had passed since he drank down the Demonization potion? It felt like hours.

My mind hurtled.

Had Rick said that the potion worked for five minutes, or fifteen? I had been sure it was five, but now, I wasn’t as certain anymore. Surely more than five minutes must’ve passed.

With one last punch, he turned the ribcage of the Redana to mush. He panted sitting with one knee at the ground.

Sit there a while longer, asshole. Contemplate your victory. Rejoice in it, you fucking bastard. My heart was hammering, sweat stinging my eyes.

Tristan slowly rose, a swirl around him as he finally downed a health potion.

He turned to face me. I let the arrow go. He lazily caught in his mailed hand, and snapped it in two.

He had asked me if I was done running, and it seemed the answer was no.

I darted back towards the gatehouse.

“This is getting tiresome,” I heard Tristan rumble behind me, sounding bored to the bone.

Then I heard him coming after me, his armour rattling and … rattling?

I stopped running and turned around. The black swirls rose above him and disappeared. Once more he was in his to heavy armour, his face that of a pissed of twenty-year-old.

I pulled my sword and started running at him.

His eyes went wide. He hadn’t anticipated this. He swung Orak’s Wrath. I ducked and came up right in his face striking him over the cheek bone with my elbow. He grunted and stumbled back. I gave him no time to recuperate. I punched him as hard as I could over the nose. It snapped and blood gushed. He stumbled a couple of more steps. His eyes wide open with pain and confusion. He tried to swing his sword (my sword!) but I was once again right in his face. I grabbed the wrist of his sword arm and locked it. He tried to pull his dagger, but I locked that arm as well.

Then I swept his feet.

He fell backwards with a rattle and an explosive exhale. The sword clattered out of his hand. I was still upon him, like an unrelenting crab. Forehead against forehead we snarled into each other’s faces, grappling and butting heads.

I was back in that fucking trench up on Hill 243, Charlie beneath me, way too strong for a Charlie his size. They were all Charlies back then. The rice hat had come of his head and I had him pinned down with my forearm over his throat. Explosions sent showers of dirt over us. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and burnt-out gun powder, the shadows long and bobbing in the heavy light of the burning woods. I’d told me I would never do the black work again, but here I was, doing it.

I got Tristan in a headlock, my forearm pressing down on his throat. I stared into his eyes, that’s the only curtesy you can give a man when you kill him.

It’s hard work choking a man to death. It’s not like in the movies when you put a pillow over someone face and they start flapping their arms just to still within the minute.

No, it’s hard work, I’ll tell you.

Tristan tried to wriggle, squirm to get my crushing weight of him, but to no avail. I don’t know for sure, but in a fight to the death in unarmed combat, I think a 32-year-old former recon marine has the edge on a 20-year-old ivy league frat boy.

I leaned in closer.

“Do not come back here. Hear me?”

Tristan squawked. His eyes turning bulgy and glassy. His clawing at me became a pawing.

“Do not come back here.”

Tristan’s pawing became a plucking, his mouth was wide open, his face red, turning purple around the eyes.

“Do not come back here.”

The cartilage in his throat collapsed with a crunch. Blood welled out of his mouth and his strained body became limp.

Bong!

Contestant number 26: Eliminated.

I didn’t see the XP number rise above Tristan’s dead body but my level bar went completely nuts and didn’t slow down before being halfway to level 22.

Contestant number 17 stands victorious

I leaned back from Tristan’s corpse; my arms numb from the strain of strangling him. I put my hands om my thighs, and just breathed. It was over.

There was a new graphic in my display now:

Congratulations: Brad Richards!

There even was some digital fireworks and confetti raining down over my name. I huffed a silent laugh.

For you victory you are awarded the Master Huntsman Award. It showed in my inventory under the achievements tab, and next to it the real reward was spelled out: Grants 10% extra skill level speed. Grants 1000 credits a day.

All great and well, but I was too exhausted to feel jubilant, and besides, I still had work to do. Tristan’s lootable corpse was just in front of me, but despite being dead tired I stumbled to my feet and walked over to the sword lying on the cobblestones, shining its red light down the cracks.

I picked it up, looked at it, and finally feeling my heart swell with the sense of accomplishment. Then I put it in my inventory. No way I was going to lose the sword again.

When I had the sword secured, I went back to Tristan’s corpse and opened his inventory and oh my, if the laddy was ever stacked with goodies. Over 20 potions each of Major Stamina, Major Health and Major Mana, and assorted exclusive potions I had no idea what they did, like Grand Potion of Flesh Explosion, sounded gruesome enough, and another potion called Mesmerize, and another one called Astral Light, but the main price was, shockingly enough, another potion of Demonization.

I remembered what Sarah had said, that it was worth more than a seaside apartment in Area 3. That was a hefty amount of credits. I needed to think about what to do with it. I had learnt the power of this potion and it was, literally, a game changer which meant a free pass for anything the game could throw at me. There were other potions as well, to many to sort through while in the darkness of an abandoned fort with killer prawns stalking the perimeter.

I shot a glance through the gatehouse, but the woods were still.

Thinking of that. I went over to the maimed Redana and looted her corpse. Three of the glands were still intact, but the skull was destroyed, obviously, and some of the bones but I looted at least around 80 % of the Redana. Main thing was that the glands was now safely tucked away in my inventory and wouldn’t trigger any prawn attacks.

I went back to Tristans corpse and clicked transfer all. His body flapped its limbs as the suit of armour was pulled from his body into my inventory. Together with the armour he also held an obsidian dagger of his own, a much finer one than mine, so that was a win. And then there was the heaps of gear he had looted from all the other contestants that had been might fine gear when I entered the competition but felt more like junk now, the exception of course being the two other legendary weapons that had been brought into the competition. None of them was a one-of-a-kind weapon as Orak’s Wrath but the one-handed legendary sword had an unusual enchantment Fear, that seemed to be effective when fighting large groups of enemies as the fear debuff spread among them and lowered their defence and fortitude. The bow was an even finer price since it was one of those weapons that would level when used, gaining even more power. It held no enchantments but from what I’ve learned all gear could be enchanted, so that could be a project for the future.

Soon after, I saw a blue light at the horizon. It grew and the mumbling sound of the ion engines came to me in soft waves.

My ride back home.