The plus to having the match go long was that they had unlocked radios with which they could communicate across the entire square mile of battleground.
The minus was that Prim was on her fourth mana potion and she was starting to get that feeling like when she hadn’t slept in days, but had to take stims because the undead wave was coming back for another go at the barricade.
It was a sort of pinched feeling behind the eyes.
The vague throbbing in her head.
The simultaneous leaden weights around her limbs while they felt like vibrating out of her skin.
The—
“Swanny? You there?” Neckbeard’s voice crackled through her radio.
“Yeah… what?”
“Do you have eyes on the mid?”
“No.”
“Shit… how long has he been missing?”
“I don’t know, a couple of minutes. He wasn’t here when I got back from base.”
“Damn it… you’ve got to call that out!”
“Mid is missing,” she said flatly.
“Everyone got that? Watch out for ganks!”
“Copy that.”
“Copy.”
“Yo, there’s only one guy down here,” Wichita said.
“Which one?” Neckbeard said.
“I don’t know. They were both jacked bodybuilder dudes with huge shields and guns.”
“Swanny, be careful—”
Whatever else Neckbeard said was lost in the whirl of sudden combat.
Prim cast a magic shield to block the burst of assault rifle fire from the side path leading into the enemy’s top side forest. Dropping the radio to let it dangle from its cord she pulled her pistol and fired while running behind her creeps.
The second enemy burst out of the path leading into the enemy’s bottom side forest throwing a flashbang at her feet.
She covered it in ice a split-second before it exploded.
Jagged shards pelted her but a few grazing cuts was the worse of it.
A second grenade landed in the middle of her creep formation exploding into thick, white smoke that stung her throat and brought tears to her eyes.
Blinded, she sent a spell orb spinning around her firing magic missiles.
Those found their targets on their own.
Coughing and choking she raised her radio to her mouth. “Got… three… mid.”
“Copy that, Wichita, Tuxedo, let’s gank bot. He’s isolated. Take him out and we can finish off that second tower and maybe even the base one,” Neckbeard said.
“What about Swanny?” Wichita said.
“Try to keep them busy for as long as you can, Swanny. This is a great opportunity to pressure their base,” Neckbeard.
Fucking asshole! she thought.
She sprayed bolts of fire at the enemy creeps freeing up her own to go distract her opponents.
Stumbling out of the smoke she heard more than saw one of the musclebound meatheads thundering toward her.
She raised a shield to block his charge.
It cracked, but held.
The second meathead did an impossible run and leap high over her head spraying bullets from an assault rifle held in one hand, while covering with that huge, heavy shield in the other.
Conventional wisdom suggested that most musclebound bodybuilders lacked for cardio and athleticism.
These soldiers claiming to represent the true U.S. Government had proved otherwise.
Prim traced his arc with her hand conjuring an orb of the deepest, darkest black into which every bullet vanished.
She dismissed the black orb before the man landed, meeting him with an orb that sprayed flames as it rotated around him.
The man tried to swat at it with his shield, but she kept it moving in an erratic pattern.
Time and space bought, she staggered toward the indistinct blob a few hundred yards away. She hoped that it was her tower.
The other two soldiers had finally finished off the creeps attacking them and chased after her.
She conjured another magic missile spell orb and sent it back to keep them occupied as she cast a gentle spray of water into her face. It sucked that no one had figured out how to cast a milk spell yet.
At least the water did enough.
It still stung, but she could now see.
Another wave of her creeps met her and instead of rushing to the cover of her tower she cast a cloud of mist over her opponents.
She dipped into the right side forest and crept around to emerged back where the enemy had ambushed her. She crouched low hiding behind the wall of earth and grass.
The three men had set up in a triangle formation covering each other with those huge shields as they searched for her while the creeps battled farther down the lane.
Prim conjured one of her nastiest spell orbs.
The vivid green orb zipped over their heads and dropped in the middle of their formation.
It spun, spraying magical acid all over the three.
Armor and clothing melted with alarming speed.
The men didn’t panic. They had thick armor and thick clothing. They banked on the acid using itself up before it got to the skin.
What they did was to scatter away from the acid orb.
She dismissed it and unloaded with all the mana she had left.
A spell orb for each man zipped out and showered them with magic missiles.
The barrage was unrelenting.
Each time the men tried to pivot and shield themselves, she had her orbs fly around to their backs to continue firing.
The men’s assigned health totals reached their limit before her magic.
The referee’s voice informed them of their defeat and ordered them to return to base.
Though obviously battered and injured, but not knocked out the men simply laid down on the ground forcing the battleground mages to come pick them up to serve their penalties.
Smart.
It was faster than walking back on their own and it saved them energy.
Time to put on a show for the viewers.
“I am the god of combat!” she roared up at the drone camera.
She promptly took out her pistol and shot the enemy creeps in their backs.
Then she sat down and began the process to speed up her mana regen.
“Swanny? You there? Over,” Neckbeard’s voice crackled over the radio.
“No thanks to you!” she snapped.
“You okay? What happened?”
“Three on one and I smoked them! Suck on that U.S. Government!” she shot a rude gesture toward the enemy base.
“Yeah… let’s not provoke an unknown quantity. We’ve pushed all the way to their base down here. Chandra, how’s it going up top?”
“I may have gotten carried away and I might have burned a guy’s eye out…” Chandra replied.
“They can fix that now,” Tuxedo Cake said.
“Focus, guys! Swanny, Chandra, their death timers are super long now, so knock down their second towers and rotate to the big monster. We’ll join you after taking out the base tower.”
“I’m low on mana and I’m getting mana sick,” she said.
“Fuck! Okay… forget your tower. Head to the big monster and wait. Stop using pots. Try to recover as much as you can before the rest of us get there.”
“I know that!” she snapped.
She stomped back down her lane and into the top side river to wait and recover what mana she could.
----------------------------------------
“Yo, anyone want anything from the kitchen?” Timber said.
“A bucket of chicken,” Cherry Chapstick said.
“That’s gross, dude,” Greygrass said.
“I’m hungry.”
“Anyone else?” Timber said.
“Nah, dude, we can get our own shit, not lazy, like Chapstick,” Greygrass said.
“It’s no big deal to me,” Timber said.
“We’re good,” Vicks said. “Don’t know how you can even eat right now, anyways.”
“I’m hungry.”
“My tummy is not doing good,” Greygrass said.
“Same,” Vicks said.
“I drank too much,” she replied.
“Same…” he echoed.
“Weakgrass and Weaks,” Cherry Chapstick grinned.
“You wasted a Skill slot so you wouldn’t have hangovers. That’s not something to be proud of,” Greygrass said.
“The Skill improves my overall constitution. It has proven useful on all sorts of legitimate things. Remember when I got bitten by a ghoul? Barely any effect,” Cherry Chapstick said.
“I don’t know about that. I distinctly remember you trying to bite Sgt. Spiritwalker’s face,” she said.
“Yeah, but it only lasted a few hours,” he said.
“SwannyP looks mad,” Timber said as he placed the bucket of cold chicken on the coffee table.
“Thanks, man!” Cherry Chapstick grinned as he grabbed a once crispy leg.
“Gross!” Greygrass said. “You’re not even going to heat it up?”
Cherry Chapstick mumbled something unintelligible around a mouthful of chicken leg.
“You think so?” Vicks said. “The broadcast isn’t picking up what they’re saying. She looks mad, but she did just survive a gnarly three on one.”
“She stomps when she’s pissed,” Timber gestured at the TV.
“Hey, Timber?”
“What, Grass?”
“When you going to cut that fro? You’re starting to look like a tree?” she said.
“Nah, dude you look like a broccoli,” Cheery Chapstick said.
“Or one of those super-tall cactuses we passed driving through the desert,” she said.
“Or that painter guy the old guys like to watch for some reason,” Vicks said.
“Dude! That guy is so relaxing!” Greygrass said.
“It’s good for extra cushion with my helmet,” Timber said.
“Very grabable, though,” Cheery Chapstick pointed out. “No arrows, you know I wouldn’t hit you for your personal style choices. I’m talking about a combat issue.”
“I figure if I lose my helmet then I’m already fucked,” Timber said.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Good point. I withdraw my objection to your righteous fro,” Cherry Chapstick tossed a finished leg bone onto a napkin and reached into the bucket for another one. “You want one?” he waved it in front of Greygrass’ face.
She blanched and punched him in the arm.
“Rude,” he smirked.
“I’m gonna rudely puke all over your face if you do that again,” she said.
“Biological attacks roll right off my Iron Constitution,” he nodded.
“This match is pretty much over,” Vicks said.
“The US Government isn’t going to be happy with us,” Timber said.
“If they’re even telling the truth,” Greygrass said.
“What do you think they’re on?” Cherry Chapstick said.
“Probably magic steroids since the real ones back in the old days didn’t turn bodybuilders into peak athletes,” Timber said.
“And you know all about that? Dude, you were, like, two when the spires appeared. We were all little babies,” Vicks said.
“My dad used to body build. He said the stuff he took basically made it so that he could lift more often and, like, make his muscles bigger or something like that. It didn’t necessarily make him strong, I mean, he got strong cause he lifted weights. You couldn’t just take the stuff and sit on your ass. You had to put in the work. It also killed you earlier. Made your organs get bigger or something,” Timber said.
“And I bet he wasn’t running and jumping around like that. I’m having a hard time accepting that they’re moving like that with all that weight. That’s not even counting their gear,” Vicks said.
“Hey, I’m not disagreeing with you, dude,” Timber said. “I’m just pointing out that it’s got to be something magic or Skill related. Maybe both?”
“You think they’d share if we asked them?” Cherry Chapstick said.
“No way!” Greygrass said.
“Just thinking… obviously, I wouldn’t take it if there were side effects, like the dying early thing,” Cherry Chapstick said.
“I don’t know. I think Chandra burned our bridges by cutting that guy’s eye out,” Timber said.
“Did she cut it or burn it?” Greygrass said.
“That poor fuck doesn’t care,” Vicks laughed.
“They can heal that,” Timber said.
“Annnddd it’s done!” Cherry Chapstick clapped.
The commentators narrated the end of the match in their hyperactive and over-exaggerating way as Rayna’s Rangers ‘destroyed’ the so-called U.S. Government team’s base.
“Quarterfinals next! They’re kicking ass and taking names!” Greygrass whooped. “So, how many matches until the finals?”
“Seriously?” Cherry Chapstick stared blankly at her.
“What I don’t know how they name these things. It was all group stage, then first round, second round, third round, then instead of fourth round, they call this the quarterfinals. It’s confusing for no reason,” Greygrass narrowed her eyes back at him.
“It goes quarterfinals, semifinals and finals,” Timber said.
“It’s how they used to do the old sports stuff back before,” Vicks said. “My dad watches old recordings,” he shrugged.
“Who’s next?” Greygrass said.
“The last match of the day will determine that,” Vicks said.
“Anyone want anything from the kitchen said,” Timber said.
----------------------------------------
“Turn that off and come to dinner,” Adal’s mother said. “And tell your girls to eat with the rest of the help.”
“You heard my mom, Talia, Mena,” Adal said.
“Yes, master!” they chorused.
“Hey, little bro! Haven’t seen you in awhile,” Cedric said as he took his seat.
“Yeah, it’s been kinda crazy being in a couple of different events. Then practicing and recovery between matches and time trials,” he shrugged.
“Dad’s been keeping me updated since I’ve been so busy coordinating our recruitment and meeting with prospective hires. You’re doing great! It’s good for our house’s rep! So, what I’m saying…” Cedric leaned forward, “don’t lose,” he grinned.
“That’s the idea…”
“Your brother will do his best and that’s all we want from him,” his father said.
“Oh yeah, totally,” Cedric nodded. “Getting good rewards too, I bet.”
“Good points and a couple of bonus spells and Skills, but the best stuff has been the two levels. One away from 30!” he grinned proudly.
“We’ll have a big celebration when you do, son,” his mother said.
“Nah, you don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense,” his father said. “Level 30 at barely older than 18! You don’t do that without natural talent and hard work.”
“You’ll be one of the top young nobles to know in the entire republic. Houses will be falling all over themselves to match their daughters with you. The marriage contract will be very favorable to us,” his mother said.
“C’mon, Mom,” Cedric’s eyes darted to Adal, “let’s not distract him with things that are years away. He needs to concentrate on the championships. Think about how much higher his ranking would be if he actually won one or even both his events.”
“Of course, keep performing to your best ability, honey,” his mother patted his arm.
“I will, Mom.”
“Naturally,” she smiled primly, “good breeding results in high quality individuals.”
“Speaking of individuals,” Cedric eyed the empty seat to his right, “where’s Amelia? The turkey looks and smells great…”
“A childish tantrum,” his mother sighed. She gestured to one of the collared servants standing far enough away to be unnoticed, but close enough that there would be no delay in service. “Jane, tell my daughter that if she doesn’t come down right away, you and the rest of our help will not be allowed to eat tonight.”
“Yes, mistress,” the smiling woman bowed and departed the dining room.
“Mom—!”
“She doesn’t mean it, Adal,” Cedric said.
“Of course not. Our house doesn’t abuse our essential staff,” his mother said.
“Treat them well and you get their best,” his father said. “Think of how far you’ve built up Talia and Mena in just four years.”
“Yeah… sorry, Mom.”
“Apology accepted,” she smiled.
They heard Amelia before they saw her.
“Dear, what are we going to do with our daughter?” his mom said.
“It’s just a phase. She’ll grow into the realities of our world eventually,” his father said.
“But think of how it makes us look. Do you know how many people saw her and her little friends holding up those signs outside of the auction house? The king is patient and indulging, but only to the young. Not to mention how the other houses will definitely use our daughter’s behavior to undermine our position,” his mom said.
“I’d be more concerned about that if several of the high houses didn’t have their own children participating in this little abolitionist group,” his father said.
Amelia stomped into the formal dining room, pulled her seat out before one of the essential servants could and plopped down with violence.
“There, I’m here, so you can’t starve your slaves anymore!” she spat.
“Amelia, don’t speak like that to your mother,” his father said.
“That attitude can get you in trouble, young lady. I let you get away with speaking to me with disrespect because you are my child. The king’s men won’t if you continue to push this ridiculous thing of yours,” his mother said.
“Good, then maybe when they torture and put us in the dungeon, it’ll wake you up!”
“Amelia, I admire you’re guts and conviction. When I was your age, I wanted to be an arena champion… a childish dream since I didn’t have the talent,” Cedric said. “But, have you considered about where you’re wrong?”
“Me and my friends are the only ones in this whole place that aren’t wrong! You make people into slaves!”
“Okay… but consider this. There has been slavery throughout the whole of human history. Hundreds, maybe thousands of different cultures across all races enslaved people—”
“Shut up, Cedric!” Amelia snapped. “You can’t say that it’s okay for you to make people slaves because other random people out there also did. It’s not an excuse. It just means that you’re just as wrong and evil as them.”
“Ouch… my dear little sister, called me ‘evil’. I think I’m actually hurt,” Cedric sighed.
“They’re not slaves because real slaves don’t want to be slaves and they aren’t happy,” Adal frowned. “Talia and Mena are happy. All of our staff is happy. We treat them well. We don’t whip them or starve them or make them work all day without rest.”
“Oh yeah, Adal… they’re only happy cause the collars make them that way. Did Talia and Mena ask for their collars when they were twelve, thirteen year’s old? I don’t know why you can’t see that. Can you even picture it being done to you? Or to me?”
“We can’t control other people, Amelia,” his father said. “We can only control what we do and hopefully, set an example for others to follow. Do you think you’re improving the lives of essential workers by holding up signs and yelling at people?”
“It’s a start,” she huffed. “The first steps to wake everyone up to the lies.”
“Are you serious!” Adal scoffed. “What’s going to happen is your going to get rebel and get killed by the king in the arena like the old champion and then we’ll be screwed by association.”
“Good… then you’ll do something to avenge me or not, since you love your slaves so much,” she sneered.
“That is enough!” his mother slammed a fist on the ebony dinner table. “This is Christmas dinner and you’ll not ruin it like you did Thanksgiving!”
“I’m not hungry, may I go to my room?” Amelia said flatly.
“No!” his mother snapped. “Honestly, dear,” she turned to her husband, “what are we going to do about her before she moves from being an embarrassment to being a threat to not only her own safety but also our house?”
“Maybe a week working a menial job at one of our businesses? It might make her appreciate her privileges more,” his father said.
“It’d keep her out of trouble,” Cedric nodded. “Though, instead of a week, I suggest extending it until the championships are done. The king probably doesn’t want anything controversial to take attention away from the events.”
“I don’t believe he cares much about Amelia’s protests. He didn’t say anything to me the last time we met,” his father said.
“I’ll speak to her friends’ mothers, perhaps, we can arrange some sort of joint punishment,” his mother said.
“At the very least they won’t have time or energy left to organize another one of these misguided protests,” his father said.
“You’re just going to talk about me like I’m not here?” a scowling Amelia crossed her arms and glared at her empty plate.
“Until you’re ready to participate in a proper manner,” his mother said.
Amelia wasn’t ready.
She didn’t eat the food placed on her plate by Jane.
She didn’t move.
She simply glared down at the table.
Adal rolled his eyes.
His sister was truly a child.
Although, he realized that she had only just turned thirteen, so it made sense she was this way.
Still… she couldn’t stay that way for much longer.
His parents were right.
The king was lenient with children.
Adults?
Not so much.
Amelia could drag their whole house down if she didn’t get smart or if someone didn’t make her see reason and truth.
The dinner went well enough, minus Amelia’s childish tantrum.
He played his part.
Speaking when spoken to.
Asking questions.
Feigning interest in things he didn’t care about, like gossip about other noble houses, the day to day functions of his own house, business dealings and any number of things his parents and older brother focused on.
Adal cared for none of that.
All he cared about were his girls and growing stronger together so that by the time the next Freedom Championships arrived they could compete in the Gold Division like the competitors he idolized.
----------------------------------------
Cal met up with Jake on the latter’s balcony outside his hotel room.
“Here,” he tossed a bottle of amber liquid as he touched down.
“Oh shi—” Jake fumbled it before cradling it to his chest like a baby.
“Merry Christmas.”
“You gonna bring freedom down the slavers’ chimneys like Abe Lincoln in a Santa suit?”
“If you’re making Lincoln Santa then I’m more like one of the elves.”
“I didn’t know we were doing presents. I didn’t get you anything,” Jake eyed the whisky, “what’s a Macallan M?”
“Expensive whisky. Straight from a slaver lord’s locked cabinet.”
“I don’t know if I can drink this. Seems wrong.”
“Stealing the guy’s booze is the least of how I’ve wronged him, at least from his perspective.”
“Guess so,” Jake shrugged, opened the bottle and took a swig. “Damn! That’s good… but don’t ask me to describe the notes or shit.”
“Same. I’m limited to three things. Good, okay and bad,” he took the bottle and tried it. “That is good!”
“It better be, probably cost over a grand.”
“Probably more. It was locked up pretty tight. Still, bet you could find it at any high-end liquor store and bar out there. Get as much as you want for free.”
“Or one of those whisky bars. Never had a chance to go to one back then, though I didn’t have the money anyways,” Jake shrugged. “So, what’s up? You wouldn’t have risked coming here for a couple of drinks.”
“We’re at maybe the halfway point of this whole Quest and I wanted to check in with you guys here.”
“Are we? I’ll take your word for it since you’re the only one with the whole picture. We’re on schedule with our parts. Have you been keeping up with the events?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool, then you know where our teams are at. Um… the slavers are keeping an eye on us, but in the same way that they’re sorta keeping an eye on all the outsiders here for the championships. I’m pretty sure they aren’t extra suspicious or anything like that. This place sucks and it’s starting to wear on some of us. Everywhere you go there’s enslaved people and we’re using their services, so that’s good for feeling guilty. Just the other day I saw this fat fuck slap his enslaved assistant for something stupid. Knocked her down to the ground and split her lip. Barely anyone even paid attention. But the worst part was the enslaved girl just kept smiling that creepy smile they all have. I almost jumped in, but I didn’t cause I remember the Quest. Let little evils go to stop a bigger one. At least that’s what I keep telling myself,” Jake said.
“It was unfair to ask this of you guys.”
“Nah,” Jake waved his prosthetic right hand, “you made it clear that it was a volunteer thing. No one’s blaming you. At least I’m not. And you said that chances of success go up higher the more help you have. I don’t know about the rest, but I can’t say no to that. Whatever happens, I know that I did all I could to put a stop to slavery and that’s something you can do without regrets or complaints,” Jake said.
“Even if you and others you care about don’t get to see the results?”
“A little grimderp of you, isn’t it?”
“I’ve wondered lately if I undersold the dangers of this.”
“Oh, we knew. Only a moron or someone with a reckless disregard for their personal safety wouldn’t see how going into the heart of the enemy’s territory with a comparative handful of people wasn’t dangerous. My only request is that if it goes tit’s up, you get Hillary out of here safely. It wasn’t my call, but I wouldn’t have brought her along even though I needed her to get the bags of holding done.”
“Demi has an exit plan for Hillary and anyone else that needs to get out if things go bad. And I’m working on adding more hands to our side. Strong hands. Which is partially why I’m here,” he handed Jake a small notepad, “some notes. I may need your help with someone depending on how the dominoes fall.”
Jake flipped through the pad eyes widening as he figured it out. “Is this for—”
“Possibly… though I have a good feeling he’ll be willing to lend a hand.”
“Alright, alright,” Jake nodded deep in thought, “how did you get his measurements?”
“The same ways I get most of my information,” he shrugged.
“Whatever… yeah, maybe, probably, quality might not be the best, but I can do some work. We brought small fabrication and machining equipment. I even brought one of the newer portable magitech 3d printers, Lexi and Lewis said they’d program an itching curse on me if I broke it.”
“You can make the spells work? The same way you did for Detective Ordonez’s spell gun?”
“Oh yeah, totally. You haven’t been up north in awhile. Our magitech R&D office finally succeeded at making them reliable. Way better than what I made a long time ago. That piece is actually up in a glass case in the museum. My name under it and everything!”
“Congrats!”
“Leaving a legacy, man! Never thought I’d do anything like that,” Jake nodded.
“You essentially started a whole… thing.”
“Yeah man and you’re going to see the latest fruits of it soon.”
“Can’t wait!”
They traded the bottle until it was empty.
It didn’t take long, which wasn’t surprising when one of the drinkers couldn’t get drunk and the other had a big body to help absorb the alcohol.
They then spent way too much time discussing hypothetical match-ups of Gold Division competitors that hadn’t faced each other and to people not in the tournament.
Their conclusion was that Cal would’ve won… easily.
But that was only if Eron wasn’t in it as well.
“No offense, bro,” Jake slurred, “but you gotta admit that he’d kick your ass. I’m meaning that he already done it once. Your armor and face wuz all busted and he wuz pretty mush fine.”
“I wasn’t trying to actually hurt my own brother.”
“Suuuurrrreeee… wha’ever you says,” Jake winked.