“I think it’s a waste to wake up early and put on armor just to watch someone else fight.” Zahn gestured at the crowd, “I mean sure, we match, but really? Are we going to get to fight today?”
Ethan waved a hand in his face, “Watch your mouth!” He leaned close, pulling Zahn under his arm, “Today is a special day. At any point, all day, you can challenge the Ringmaster for your freedom or another fighter for an increase in standing. Because of our little ritual in the beginning, One spoke for us all when she won the Key and gave it back so you can’t challenge the boss anymore today. But,” He held up a finger before Zahn could speak, “you can be challenged at any time by anyone to raise their own ranks, and you still have to participate in the melee at noon. Two deaths is a full level.”
“You don’t have to tell me that part,” the lowbie shrugged off the arm and pushed the Warlock away. “I’ll keep my head down. Are we just chillin’ till noon then?” The sands were filled with fighters as the various groups spoke and flexed with one another. He spotted the half dozen idiots and their chipper leader performing group drills with their blades and kept turning to keep them out of sight.
“Something like that. We’re supposed to be available for a challenge but the tradition is to wait for noon or everyone to return from losing their bouts and start the melee. So we can’t head back into the commons, but we can return from death in them, see?” The blonde’s eyes roamed the other Gladiators as he spoke and he seemed increasingly nervous as he looked. Spinning in place he leaned on Zahn’s shoulder to get a better look over another fighter’s head, “Hey I don’t suppose you saw where One got off to? She’s not someone we want to lose track of before the big fight.”
Shaking his head and scanning the crowd he turned back to find a distressed caster. “Okay, split up. Meet in front of our doors if you get a bead on her, if not just keep as much ‘out of sight’ as you physically can, right?” Nodding at his instructions, the Custom made his way towards the walls.
Moving between groups of fighters was easy when they stood talking and laughing together, but with the living chaos he’d immersed himself in he found fights breaking out for chuckles at any given time. Ducking behind a thickly muscled man in a vest and too much body hair had the Player scrambling out of the way when the Gladiator’s friend used the opportunity to shove the man into the lowbie. Scuttling away from the shouts and roaring laughter, Zahn found himself in front of a set of double doors and made his way along the wall.
Each door sat heavy and closed, barring his passage to blessed freedom and shade. The dawn battles had allowed morning sunlight to rise and fill the arena with its constant heat. As he shaded his eyes against the bright sunlight he could better see the stands above the metal doors and found a red and blue shape sitting together. Jumping to get a better view over heads and making his way around to the shaded eastern wall gave him a better angle on the conversationalists even as the metal skull door flung sunlight back at him with each hop.
Cold air greeted his back as he reached the opposite side of the arena from his targets. Standing well in the shade and bobbing up in a rhythm let him see snippets of the pair until their conversation ended and the blue shape stood to manifest as One in her dress and the red became the Ringmaster similarly rising. Zahn stopped his hopping as he realized jumping on the opposite side of the arena as they looked would only ensure they saw him and whatever consequences that held. He stepped backwards to sink against the wall but found space greeting him and nearly stumbled beneath the open portcullis in the east wall.
Turning to find the animal and monster pens, the lowbie strolled down the open hallway with furtive glances back at the arena to make sure nothing lit up or came running to yell at him. Finding no punishment, he continued to follow his path past the sparsely occupied cages and peeked at the remaining occupants.
Reaching the T-intersection he’d become familiar with those few weeks ago, he turned right to try and find whatever Two secreted away at this end. The outer wall curved, its thick stones unmarred by cages but between sets of torches he found mounts bolted into the stone. The metal half-rings made no sense until he came across the third set and found chains and manacles hanging in place and the nature of ‘beast’ became clear.
“So when they’re bringing back Fodder, they grab people too.” Voicing the thoughts seemed loud enough to echo against the mostly empty cages, and Zahn stood staring at the evidence of slavery long enough to miss whatever tell was given.
“Most people don’t come down here,” Two’s voice was soft but his eyes remained fixed on the Player’s when Zahn turned to see him. “I don’t use a commons, so we all obey a set of agreements we’ve come to. Perhaps you’re familiar with a system of unwritten rules?”
“I don’t know these agreements,” the Custom returned. “They sound reasonable enough, given everyone holds them. Your fight was incredible, I couldn’t track you at all out there.”
The tan-wrapped man sighed, flicking a glance at the ceiling far above. “One of those agreements is my private rooms, given I do not use a commons…”
Looking around, Zahn couldn’t find the end of the tunnel. “Where do you return? Is the other end of the pens a bigger room with your hearth?”
Rolling his eyes and stepping close, the fighter gently seized Zahn’s wrists. “You’re in. My rooms. Let’s go,” leading his trapped prey the high-leveled Rogue dragged the lowbie along the hall until they returned to the intersection before releasing him. “And you should be out on the sands.”
The Custom kicked at the ground as he looked down the path towards a bright square, “There’s sand in here. What are we supposed to do until the melee at noon anyways?”
Two sniffed as he produced a broom and pressed it into Zahn’s hands. “You can clean. This is technically a public area so you won’t be penalized, but don’t try to make a habit of it. If someone wants to challenge you, they have to be able to find you to issue said challenge. You haven’t been announced so there’s little chance you’ll be targeted but it’s not like nobody here knows your name. Sweep.” Pointing at the sandy ground he gestured towards the exit and folded his arms.
The lowbie spent several hours sweeping the various dirt, sand, and leavings from the ground before the melee was set to begin, and he returned the broom with a sigh. “I’ll be honest Two, not a huge fan of being the janitor. You’re coming to the melee?”
The sneak scowled at the ground. “You invade my rooms, call my home dirty, I can’t even,” taking a breath to steady himself, the Rogue looked back up at Zahn. “No, I’ve fought my fight today. Good luck.” He turned to step away and seemed to vanish, the dim shadows they stood in apparently enough for his movement ability.
Zahn followed the cleaner hallway out towards the exit, passing the pile of sand he’d accumulated before the thought struck him. He knelt at the pile and pressed his palm against it, drawing a circle with his fingertips as he sent mana down his arm. He kept an eye on his mana bar as he dumped energy into the dirt mound, trying to track the amount of energy he was spending each second. After several moments he saw the meter dip below two-fifty and decided that must be more than fifty mana worth, given his regeneration rate. “Shift,” he whispered when the circle was complete and he saw the brighter green light fill the shape before the pile began to rumble itself down the hall and out towards the exit like a particularly crumbly pet rug. His new pet carried an aura of green around itself, taking its cloud as if clothing around as the pile shuffled itself down the hall towards the exit. Eyeing the energy bundle strapped to dirt the lowbie tried to gauge if it would run out of power en route but the little cloud seemed to stay about the same size as he watched.
With a shrug and a roll of his shoulders the Custom walked his normal pace to exit the hallway back into the bright sunlight. The crowd of fighters still milled around the massive arena and remembering Ethan’s instructions he turned right to follow the wall towards his doors. He found the blonde leaning against their portal with crossed arms and a scowl as he approached, “And where the Chaos have you been? I thought someone got you and I’ve been waiting for your respawn.”
Zahn gestured with a wave, “I wandered past the animal pens and Two found me. I’ve been sweeping for hours, what’d I miss?” He joined his friend on the wall and looked out to the crowd as the Warlock pointed around.
“There have been five private matches, and the same dude won three of them. I think he’s up to the twenties now. Gods know most Gladiators will do anything to up their position on Tournament days.” The lowbie looked over and nudged him with a raised eyebrow. “Right, you’re last. Whoever wins a duel gets the increase in rank the other would get, on a weighted scale. So the top five are worth the most, but even fifth beating sixth isn’t enough to up him to fourth. But, if fifth were to beat six through thirty, that might, and so four or three would want to stop him somehow. Today is that kind of day, you’ll have a bunch of higher ranked Gladiators trying to climb higher by beating down their betters, and you’ll have some super high-level ones crushing them to keep their own positions safe. Usually One does it, but she’s been missing since her match.”
“Nah,” Zahn countered. “I saw her sitting up in the stands with the Ringmaster above his door. They’re why I went into the pens, trying to get out of their sight.” He looked up at the bright sun overhead and saw the melee was less than half an hour away, “Should we be doing anything to prep for this thing?”
Ethan rubbed his chin in thought as he considered the gossip. “Nah, we’ll want to start out here anyways. Whole place is fair game, all the doors close. Any idea what they were talking about?” Zahn leveled a stare back at him, “Right, level two. Sorry. But hey!” He clapped the lowbie on his shoulder, knocking him off the wall. “Just think like this. Because this match starts at two, next month’s match you’ll be a three minimum. That’s progress, right?”
Zahn stumbled to catch himself, staring at his friend. “Aw, fuck. One level a fucking month, why the Hell did I agree to that shit?” He leaned against the wall again, staring at the ground. “Even if they just take levels once each month, that's still absurd slow progress. I gotta be losing levels faster than everyone else here.”
Ethan cleared his throat, “Ah, you’re the only one losing levels. Nobody else has a contract that specifically gives the level penalty each death, mine’s a normal Gladiator stake just like everyone else. There’s been rumors of Players making their way through the Collisae before, and until you showed up I thought there was at least one hiding somewhere. Well,” he amended, looking around at the other fighters, “until that spider killed him with those webs. I didn’t even rush to save him, I was convinced he was a Player and would be fine but we still pulled his body off the wall.” He looked back at the lowbie before nodding at his shirt and Zahn felt the itchy cloth keenly again.
“You thought the web guy was a Player? The one who had my room?”
The Warlock shrugged, looking back into the crowd. “Doesn’t matter now. See that? Wonder what it is.” He pointed, and Zahn followed the direction to see a green glowing blob shuffling a path towards the central ring with a group of Gladiators trailing it like ducklings. Amplifying the mana towards his head he saw the magic vision sharpen and his little minion’s outline became clear through the masses of bodies. Its shape was mostly the same, rolling itself like an eternal tank tread made of dirt and debris as the blob’s mana cloud remained healthy and full during the trek.
The dirt blob’s journey nearly brought it into the central ring when it was rudely stopped by a wooden stave impaling the thing’s middle. The dirt and sand tried to flow around the obstacle, but the runed wood held the mass together as if having speared a living thing. As Zahn looked up from his creation he found the powerful Shaman staring down at it like seeing a bug grown to the size of a dog. The old man twisted his staff, sending a ripple of mana into the blob making it shake and quiver as if in pain.
The Player knelt and pressed his hand to the ground, keeping his eyes on the enchanted mound. Squeezing on the mana-dense area in his chest, he tried to force the energy down his arm as he aimed through the ground. “Shift,” he whispered and saw a thick band of light blue rocket through the sand, leaving a straight line from his feet to the blob he could see glowing brightly. The mana stream impacted the little spellform he’d written before, and the effect reacted accordingly. Intending the mass to move to the side and pull the staff from beneath the Shaman’s grip, the bright green circle absorbed the juice before expanding its influence to around ten feet across and lurching two feet to the side, before collapsing back into the original dirt mound.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The radius around the blob filled with curious Gladiators and the investigating Shaman lurched to the side and fell, taking the various warriors they collided with for the ride. All around the group fighters saw the mass stumble and burst into laughter, pointing and shouting as the tumble began to end in fistfights. Zahn giggled along at the show before he felt Ethan’s hand land heavily on his shoulder.
“Was that one you? Looked just like your trick against the boys.” Standing up, the lowbie nodded and prompted the man to pinch his brow. “Agh, Z. Bad Zahn. You do realize Burnato now knows you pulled a very public prank on the very powerful Shaman? And that’s literal blackmail in a place like this?”
Zahn’s falling face scanned the crowd, looking to see who knew what happened. Just as he was making the third pass he found the six teens jostling around their little group and their leader staring straight at him with a wide grin. The hulk sat decked in his heavy armor that Zahn had met him in during that fateful night patrol, and his crossed arms only served to increase the brute’s size as he leered. Looking away with a swallow, the lowbie found Ethan moving along the wall and followed quickly.
His HUD clock showed noon was nearly on them, and Zahn still didn’t know what would be happening for the free for all bout. His guide stopped at the northern end where a very solid and smooth wall blocked the entrance to his altar and leaned against the restored barrier. “What now?”
Ethan chuckled, “Now draw your weapons and stay out of the way. Nice distraction,” he reached into his bag while he spoke and retrieved a metal pole that thinned at the tip like a giant needle, before pointing the thing towards the brawl in the middle.
As Zahn pulled out his blades and looked toward the ongoing fight, a voice rang out from above and to the right. “Enough! Get your fill in the match!”
The manager’s bellow echoed around the ring, silencing the fight and various conversations standing around. The Gladiators came to their feet and stood facing the Ringmaster above his door who leaned out over the railing at them all.
“We have new contenders to announce! Seven join our ranks this grand Tourney, and don their armor for the first day. Bid them welcome!” Roars and cheers filled the arena as the fighters raised their weapons and shouted to the skies. As the volume died down, the red-robed organiser continued, “Those who fought for freedom this morning are not required to duel!” Laughter echoed after he spoke, Burnato bellowing loudly. “As for the rest of you, standing in the arena makes you a valid target. You must compete until the match ends or you die, whichever comes first. Last man standing wins!”
With the final declaration the clock struck high noon and the same blue field Zahn had grown familiar with for the ring edge snapped into place on the walls themselves, and blood began to fly. From standing at the northern end of the circle with Ethan he could see weapons and violence churning like a stormy sea straight across to the exit. Shouts and roars rang out as former allies or gossipers leapt into action to stab or slice their neighbor.
One bald fellow with girth poking out between his leather armor pieces held two very long swords across his chest, each blade pointing past his shoulder in opposite directions. He began to spin in place as the Gladiators around him made room, turning the immediate area around him into a deadly blender. The warriors duking it out near him refocused on their own fights as he began to tumble and tilt in various directions to slice the unsuspecting.
“Come on!” Ethan’s voice sounded in Zahn’s ear as he felt himself getting dragged sideways just fast enough to dodge a spray of pebbles rocketing their way around. Following the stony spray with his eyes showed the Player that the fearsome Brouhaman had entered the combat and seemed intent on hitting everyone. His great staff blazed green as he swept the thing about, commanding the ground like a conductor in their orchester. With a wild swing he brought the weapon down on some unfortunate sod’s head before that fighter disappeared from view, buried to the hips in the ground.
Stumbling after his ‘lock the lowbie found himself running into the man as their path was abruptly filled with wrestling idiots who’d dropped their weapons at some point and felt content beating one another. Meaty fists as thick as the Player’s thigh swung past as their owners growled curses at one another and traded black eyes for missing teeth. Each powerful blow that didn’t leave a tremor was deflected or punched away, with the strikes glancing off the other at enough speed to send the casters scrambling backwards out of their reach.
Ducking around the brawl and weaving past a trio posturing at each other with thin daggers, the pair found the backs of the wicked six without Burnato in sight. Zahn didn’t hesitate as he dropped to the ground under a swinging blade and drew an overlapping circle in the dirt before pushing energy into his creation. “Shift!” was lost in the noise as he pushed the ground in a ripple beneath the boys’ feet and sent them tumbling instead of coordinating. Rising back to his feet and chasing after Ethan, he caught up as the blonde punched someone in the ribs to move them and rolled under the return punch.
-58 Health. ??? used Counter.
Reeling from the impact the lowbie fell on his ass under another overhead slice, feeling his ankle seized before he was dragged against his will under the punch fest to find Ethan on the far side. “Stop rolling around in the dirt!” He struggled to his feet as he tried to follow, the Warlock pulling him up and jogging around the contenders to the far wall again. Their path had nearly taken them to the metal skull door, and so far the only impact they’d had was Zahn’s shape against the ground.
“Don’t I need to fight something? Doesn’t my ranking matter?” His shouted questions seemed lost in the noise, but Ethan shook his head in reply. “Then what the fuck are we even doing out here?!”
The ‘lock turned back to him, leaning close to shout in his ear. “Survive! You’ll lose against anything and everything, there’s no Fodder in this round! Just stay away until something gets me, then you’re on your own!”
Some instinct tickled the back of Zahn’s neck and he fell into a crouch, dodging yet another overhead slice that carved a line in the stone wall. “That plan sucks!” Rolling in a somersault out of his crouch, the lowbie turned to see who’d been trying to shorten him a few times. The field looked empty of anyone he recognized, and he only found one other person not actively trying to kill a body. The man in question stood square, his sword bare in his hand and his gaze boring a hole into the Player. For a moment he was tempted to simply stare back and break the man’s mind after ten seconds, but the melee nearby made a prolonged staring contest impossible. Zahn fell back to dodge another spray of rocks that made music as they pinged off his neighbors and when he looked again the man was charging him.
Abandoning Ethan and the wall, the Custom dove between the two trading hammer blows to his right and sprinted towards the arena’s center, figuring the combat would be focused in a loop where the bodies stood. The fights seemed to be faster, their movements impossible to predict and nearly taking off a limb several times. Running past the contenders made most of them growl or shout at him, either moving to strike before stopping or striking out and taking a blow from their opponents for it. With his ongoing distraction of dodging murderous pedestrians he almost didn’t notice what he’d been heading for until he stumbled over it.
The green circle he’d animated in dirt less than an hour ago shuffled its way across the middle of the arena, forgotten in the chaos. Falling to his knees as he recognized the thing, Zahn placed a hand on the spellform and tried to gauge how much mana had been spent already from its store. Pumping another pulse of energy into it made the circle glow a brighter yellow-green as it processed the blue mana, converting the energy into a form it could use before continuing its journey unbothered. Standing in a crouch over his minion, the lowbie looked around to try and see the fight’s progress when he was interrupted.
Seeing the thug again chasing him became a lesser priority when a wave of dirt rippled its way around the ring, crashing over the Gladiators and scattering them like flower petals in a breeze. The potent Shaman followed his attack riding on a slanted pillar, his body curled around his planted green staff as if the weapon were a solid oak giving him footing against the turbulent ground’s storm. The wave curved against the barrier’s force, following its master's direction as the wall of dirt and roots roared its way towards the Player and his attacker. Zahn jumped and straightened, intending to run away when two steps later he stopped just as abruptly. The lowbie looked back at his mud rug and ran a quick debate on his options. Can I even outrun a dirt wave? Can I save that thing anyways? Choosing what looked like the quicker of two deaths he hurled himself back on the blob and sent more mana into it, determined to sustain his little minion past his own death.
His attacker was immediately steamrolled by the moving wave of earth, bringing the rising ground up to similarly roll over Zahn when he felt his enspelled dirt mound tug and jerk as the sunlight was blotted out. With a great groan of metal failing and a deep pop from somewhere above him, the Player felt a mountain of dirt collapse against him and slide past, burying his body and dragging him along like a tide as the mass came to a halt.
Opening his eyes and looking up, the Custom found his blob intact and happily trying to push its way through dirt piled over a foot high, and he was buried up to his waist in the side of a pile. Looking back over his shoulder he found the pillar that Brouhaman had been riding sitting notably empty, and the green staff of doom doing its glow thing under the dirt mound. With his mana sight he could clearly see the Shaman in question had survived the collapse of his spell and was quickly righting himself before continuing the assault.
Zahn struggled and kicked at the dirt, freeing a leg and working on the other when another body emerged from the pile and moved against him. The stranger with a grudge brushed off his armor before he flicked his wrist and re-summoned his blade, pointing at Zahn on the ground.
“Oh, come on dude. Grow up.”
His taunt falling on deaf ears, the lowbie continued to try and free his leg from the heavy pile as the brute approached. Looking between his attacker and the form of the Shaman, the Custom found himself hoping the old man reached his staff before whoever this was reached him.
“You owe me, maggot.” Apparently not so deaf, the fighter stopped as he reached a foot away from his target. “I was promised a hundred weapon levels off your miserable hide. I’ve been patient, and you haven’t returned to your post to die. I’ll carve my levels out of you, little Player.”
Zahn was saved needing to reply as the Shaman rose up, bearing his mighty magical staff and sending another wave of dirt in each direction. The spherical pulse took the thug off his feet, sending another pile to cascade over the Player’s prone form to bury him again as Brouhaman raged at the surroundings. From under the pile of earth he couldn’t see what was happening, but his Mana Vision showed him enough. From the brightly-glowing emerald beacon at the center, missiles shaped like massive teardrops hurtled through space to break apart in midair. Arcs and curves of mana swept through the dirt covering him, sending shapes like spikes and wolf traps crashing around and pulling pockets of ground from the surroundings.
In a final wave the Shaman sent all the loose rock away, the blast carrying multiple fighters to the far walls as the lowbie was exposed. In a moment of silence Brouhaman stared down at the level two as he stared back up, the incredulity broken by his dirt blob minion shuffling itself across the now-uneven battlefield. As the silence popped the old man stabbed the ground with his staff, sending spears of green light down into the ground prompting Zahn to roll and tuck himself out of the way. As he passed his minion the spears manifested, great shafts of rock and rootbound earth thrusting themselves out from the ground and thoroughly perforating where he lay moments before.
Running away from the center was much easier than towards it, with the bulk of the Gladiators dead and defeated and the remaining having been cast around by the angry old man. Reaching the blood-soaked sands where most of the fighters fell he found a body lurching towards him, manifesting itself to be Burnato among the dust clouds.
“You!” His bark cut through the background noise and Zahn had no illusion he was being called out while he jogged his way back to the edge. “Get back here, maggot!”
He thought he’d finally found Ethan when another body lurched at him from the wall only to fall backwards when the hostile stranger revealed himself. He ducked under the straight blade, rising to his right and turning to run when he slammed into a body and fell flat. The sword struck his wall, finding heavy armor covering a heavier man.
Scrambling along the sands past the big fighter’s legs, Zahn found his feet and ran less than a dozen steps before he found someone else standing in the dust cloud looking his way. The tallest of the six teens, this thin boy had reach his friends could only envy and had chosen to accent his specialty with a thin spear. The lad spotted Zahn as he emerged from the clash behind him, and immediately hefted the wooden weapon over his head to throw.
“He's mine!” came a shout from behind, heard above the clash of metal weapons and too far for him to tell who spoke.
Facing down the ranged terrible teen, Zahn felt a stab of envy at the kid’s range before his brain percolated you’re an idiot and mana filled his throat. He shuffled to the left before the kid’s eyes widened and he started to grin, prompting the lowbie to dive back towards the right - directly into the thrown javelin’s path. Faking out the lowbie and tossing his missile immediately rewarded the tall boy, his target taking the bait and spear directly to the gut.
Watching his prey collapse before vanishing, the boy jogged forward to retrieve his javelin and straightened up with a smile. He was still reading his accomplishment on the grave when a voice sounded from behind, “I said he’s mine.”