“Call it off! It’s over, Yariq!”

I roared over the pumping of blood in my ears, but Yariq’s eyes were hateful, set on Vaan’s escape.

Making the first few broad steps of a javelin thrower, I levelled my spear to my shoulder, eyes flicking between Yariq and the fox.

Yariq saw my movement, but then looked back to Vaan.

My mind could not help but jump between thinking of this giant, beastly fox as a pet or an equal enemy, but the burning action in my heart told me it was the latter. The demon fox was at Vaan’s heels. Vaan yelped and cried out, sprinting as fast as he could go.

Widening my eyes, letting in all the light I could from the white and red suns, I made the last bounding movement, at the same time reaching into my stream of inner power. I found the glinting lights a little dim, but still clear, even after all my exertion, and the stream still flowed.

The fiend was thirty yards away, and moving fast. Shocking both [Vigour] and [Weapon Mastery] through my body, I threw my arm forwards and let loose the spear, then set off at a sprint towards the beast. It flew lightning fast, and met its mark broadside.

The impact threw the fox off its feet, ending the chase. Vaan disappeared around a corner.

Sprawled on its side, the spear lodged beneath its spine, it struggled and failed to right itself. In a few moments I was on it. I drew the spear out, the Skills still sparking my thews, and plunged it down again deeper, an twisted, stopping its heart.

““Brilliant beast.” Looking back up to Yariq, feeling fury lick my words, I spat at him, “That didn’t need to happen.”

Yariq was slack jawed, then absolute madness took him. He screamed and launched himself forwards out of the shadow of the blackened ruin, near shutting his eyes against the light of the suns.

But quick as a flash, Go’leb the Sand-Striker got to him, grabbed the hem of his wrappings and held him still. Yariq wrestled against the hand, trying to free himself, but Go’leb’s grip was firm, and after a short time he relented and calmed himself.

Then Go’leb stepped in front of him and raised his Iron Mace to me.

“You and I have a debt to settle.”

Breathing heavily, I turned back to face him, and yanked the spear free from the fiend at my feet.

I raised a hand. ACTION screamed through my veins. In another mood, I may have reasoned with him — it happened in the Horizon Arena, it was a sporting match, there was no bad blood, et cetera, et cetera. But how I was, none of that came to mind. I began to pace slowly towards him in an arc, moving fully to be silhouetted by the sunslight at my back. I remembered his Weakness, Clumsy in humiliation, and shamelessly pushed his buttons.

“Gobblebobble, was it? Can barely remember you. How’s your shoulder? What an embarrassing end to your Arena career. Bet it itches something fierce.”

His dark blue skin went purple, his brow furrowed into rage, and he shouted wordlessly, and set off at me at a sprint.

The same as I’d done to Hrunja, I brought my spear back and raised one hand, beckoning.

He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his legs pumping effort beneath him. He was fresh and my arms were starting to feel leaden. The impacts of the clubs on my shoulder and hip throbbed — I knew ugly dark bruises were forming beneath the Linothorax, but I bounced on my toes and felt my face split into that cruel berserker grin, then lashed out with my spear.

Ducking low, the spear sailed over his head and with another leap he brought his body right up to mine. Luckily, the goading worked its magic. His left hand brought the mace across, the heavy head screaming through the air, but it was a wild swing. With a twist and a slight bend of my torso, it sailed an inch clear of my ribs.

The rush of air from it was enough to make me flinch and fall back, though. A rise of fight or flight pricked my spine and I felt a sudden and horrific urge to tear into him with my teeth. Trying to push that down, I remembered with a sinking feeling that he matched my level, and from what I could recall, all his Stats save Strength were higher than mine.

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That’ll be what I rely on then — blocks, not evasion.

And Go’leb pressed on, stepping forwards again into my space with frightening speed. The humiliation was clearly fading from him, as he easily dodged a wild, panicked strike and jabbed the mace like a sword into my side. I tried to get out of the way of it but the broad, heavy head bashed into my side as I turned. The impact made my eyes water and I grunted pain, feeling organs lurch and the bones bend.

Not letting up, he then brought the heavy mace back to land an overhead blow. Wrenching my spear upwards, I braced with both hands half-yard apart on the haft.

The Iron Mace SMASHED down onto the spear, sending a shocking reverberation through my arms and turning my legs to jelly for a moment. My body buckled and I fell to one knee. He brought the mace back again. I was vaguely aware of Lenya running up to me, but she wouldn’t get here in time — she couldn’t do anything even if she was able to.

Gritting my teeth, I resigned myself to death or death dealing. [Vigour] exploded through me. The effect of my Skills was weakening, but still my arms shot back up again and the pole of my spear met the weight of his mace before it fully had momentum. Bouncing off the wood, his balance was thrown off and he staggered backwards.

Then, without consideration, I brought my spear back, bronze head glinting, and thrust forwards, reaching for the new Skill I had just gained, [Weapon Mastery : Precision]. My whole arm tightened, and some tendon along my bicep creaked and strained almost to breaking, and almost unbidden changed the trajectory of the attack.

The spearhead went clean through Go’leb’s left eye. Near the full length of the blade followed, before the point jarred and stopped at the back of his skull, fricting my arm. My stomach turned as his arms dropped, his shoulders fell limp, and his body convulsed.

Go’leb the Sand-Striker fell horribly to the floor, crumpling on top of himself, his life breath blown away in an instant.

Turning away, mostly in disgust, but also vaguely still aware that our cause here was to bring a criminal to justice, my eyes found Yariq, still standing fists clenched in anger, but eyes wide now, watching the scene.

Panting like a rabid dog, I pulled my spear back out of the gore and stepped over Go’leb’s body, marched over to Yariq, pumped [Vigour], and threw a punch at his jaw. His very high Dexterity meant nothing with his mind so scrambled, and the impact threw him over to the floor, knocked cold.

Movement behind me. I span and brought my spear up close, before my gaze settled on Lenya’s small form, eyes closed flinching, hugging her staff. I stood at ease.

“Sorry. Didn’t go how I wanted it to.”

She opened her bright grey eyes and a smile came to her lips — half-forced, perhaps, but warm and reassuring.

“You did brilliantly, Talbot. You didn’t kill anyone who didn’t deserve death.”

I nodded grimly, glancing over at the giant fox and the desert-folk gladiator.

Bzz.

// SYS : You gained 36 XP for defeating the Lapis Urocyon and 126 XP for defeating Go’leb the Sand-Striker. You now have 192 and need 130 total for the next Level. //

I was sickened again by the amount of Experience gained from killing another person, but I felt also that niggling feeling that the fastest way to become stronger would be to do just that. . . .

// SYS : Well observed. //

I ignored Her. Higher Dexterity might have given me the ability to avoid the hits, but my fingers were numb from the impact of the mace, and my side still thumped pulsing pain, so my instinct immediately went for Constitution.

Con— no, wait.

I struggled. The decision wasn’t massive, I was levelling up almost every day. The one Stat boost, though it always felt massive, wasn’t an enormous consideration going forwards.

This slowly moving brain. . . . That’s it. Mind.

// SYS : Congratulations and welcome to Level 10. Your Mind Stat is now 5. You have 62 XP remaining and need 137 total for the next Level. //

I waved the shining bronze sphere away and produced the rope that Fara had given us, and set about tightly tying it around Yariq’s unconscious form. Then I hefted him onto my shoulder.

“Now just to make it back,” I said.

Lenya just nodded. We left the fox and Go’leb in the dirt. Unceremonious.

The way back through the Dwellship was cautious. At every point, scrutinising eyes peered down on us from the vines overhead, or out of the shanties that leaned on each other in the streets. Not two alleys down, we had a group following us.

“Hey, niraki,” they called out.

“Where are you going with that Zoraki?”

“Let’s talk.”

We tried to ignore them, but eventually they ran out of patience. Coming into a broad open space — possibly one of only a small handful in the Dwellship — the rise down to the Craftship ahead, where we could see over the edge the barricade the wardens had constructed, they caught up to us.

One placed a hand on my shoulder. I shook it off. Another lifted Yariq’s head, still unconscious, and tutted.

“He’s not one of yours,” I grunted. Every bone ached. The wounds on my shoulder, hip and side pulsed horrible pain through my veins.

A bright-eyed young jungle-folk woman came in front of me and met my eyes. I gripped the Bronze Spear of Blinding and felt myself bristle in intimidation, but then I saw her face break in a soothing smile, thin leathery lips opening up to show white teeth.

“Nakai, it’s Talbot, isn’t it?”