The world within the spires always reminded Hayden of walking in a dream.
Floors and walls appeared tangible one moment, immaterial the next, and sometimes a mix of the two.
Ceilings existed or they didn’t.
Lights hung down from them.
The lights were from the stars visible in the open sky.
Descending steps hovered over a wispy void.
Ascending steps were grounded in solid architecture.
None of which she would ever be able to describe if asked.
It was the same with everyone that had ever been inside the spires.
It was different for them all.
She had been walking for hours before she reached the room she had been looking for. Wandering an ethereal maze, a labyrinth grounded in reality.
Both.
Neither.
She had walked through a short corridor, down an equally short staircase, up, down, straight, right, left, right.
She entered the room.
She had always been inside.
Somehow her mind had accepted the differences, reconciled multiple experiences.
She stared at a screen that had appeared out of the ethereal mists swirling around her.
No.
The screen was on a computer monitor.
She was sitting at a desk.
Plain.
Stark.
Clear.
Clean.
Her fingers moved across the keyboard clacking loudly.
They swiped through mist without a whisper.
The rewards from winning the championship flashed in front of her eyes.
The voice spoke in her ears.
Universal Points, a portion of which contributed by the slaver kingdom. Equivalent to the usual haul from a year’s worth of activity.
The bounty was less useful for her than for her friends since she didn’t have spells and Skills to spend it on.
So, she shared it, sending tidy sums to Dayana, Jayde, Prim and a few others.
Gear didn’t matter. What she had was already better than what she could find on the marketplace.
What mattered was the 20% increase to the maximum amount of electricity she could generate.
It wasn’t a flat, one time increase either.
It would always be there. Tacked on top of any natural increases she’d make in the future through practice and exercise.
From now until her death her electricity power was 20% stronger.
Next came the free attribute points.
She had already gained a couple from the first two matches.
An extra five at one time was unheard of in her experience.
She stared at the screen.
“Direct allocation,” the voice spoke at the same time.
She tapped on the keyboard that was and wasn’t there.
She answered in voice or in thought spreading the points equally across her physical attributes.
She expected to feel… something… different.
Nothing.
It was a little disappointing.
She’d have to test it out later.
See how much heavier her lifts were. How much her endurance improved.
Those were easy enough to gauge.
The rest would be more difficult.
After all she wasn’t about to stab herself to see how much a difference a point made when it came to her natural durability.
Finished, she walked to the marketplace room.
No.
She was already there. She browsed the items people had put up for sale. Considered buying some food from thousands of miles away. They didn’t have that back home or in Miami and she had never tried it before. It’d give her something to do while she waited for her friends to finish their own upgrades. It always took longer since they had classes.
In the same, but different world Jayde stared and listened. Her face screwed in intense concentration. She couldn’t mess this up. One choice. Skill or spell. Higher tiered as promised.
She had already gotten the level up and the 10% increase to her maximum mana, which to her surprise and delight wasn’t a one time, flat increase, but a persistent one.
She also had a lot more Universal Points to spend, which increased even more with a chime in her ear and a notice in her vision.
“Awww… thanks, Hayden ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻),” she replied in both thought and word and text.
How did that work? She didn’t know and it had always made her head hurt to think about it, so she accepted it as it was or wasn’t.
Whatever.
Did it really matter?
“No,” she decided. “Back to the most important decision in the history of myself,” she muttered.
A spell… or a Skill.
Which one?
“Arrgggh!” she punched the ethereal mists or rather the computer screen, which was actually ethereal mist the whole time… or not. “I hate you…” she sighed.
The spell.
“Kohalun’s Punch. Instant death for corporeal entities 1-50% weaker than your overall rating. Pain and fatigue for corporeal entities 51% and above your overall rating proportional to the difference. Casting restriction: Closed fist physical contact.”
“Yeah, no shit. Figured that out from the name… what the hell’s a ‘Kohalun’ anyways… weird ass name. It’s basically just a death touch or a death punch. Why not just call it that?”
“Creator: Kohalun Gun.”
“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes. “What’s the difference? Is it just, like, flavor?”
“Created to bypass magical forms of shielding and to function without the need for contact with bare skin, chitin, scales, slime, crystal, rock, liquid, bark, grass, sem—”
“Okay, I get it. I can use it even if I’m wearing gloves or gauntlets. Which sucks because I can’t wear them to use the rest of my punchy spells, so hand protection is still out, unless…” she mused staring at the Skill being offered.
“Unrestricted Impact Casting.”
Like the weird ass voice said.
No more restrictions to her punch casting, as she called it.
If she picked it then she could wear gloves and gauntlets to get extra protection from the spell blow back.
“Stupid physics,” she muttered.
Even if that wasn’t entirely accurate.
The magic definitely made the effects on her much less than on her targets.
None of that equal and opposite reaction force bullshit.
“Fuck… higher tier means it might be awhile before I get access to these two and since the spell seems to be pretty unique, there’s no guarantee that it’ll circle back around. This might be my one chance to get it. Super useful too, for the future and now…”
Now that she was Level 46, that meant anyone Level 23 and lower was dead in one punch. Sounded pretty useless on first thought since those levels weren’t huge threats to her anyways.
But, the mana cost for the Kohalun's Punch was shockingly low for the instant kill potential. And since a lot of the slaver scum were in that mid 20’s to mid 30’s range it’d be super useful in the immediate. Even if it wasn’t instant kill, the majority of the people she’d be fighting would be in for some great pain and fatigue. Might even be enough to put them down as good as dead.
“I am a Punch Mage. This seems tailor made for that. So, that means I should lean into it to keep progressing along the line, whatever it’ll lead too.”
Thoughts of classes like Punch Archmage, Archfist of Boom, The Endfist of the End, One Punch Mage, and more danced through her head.
She giggled.
“I’ll take the punch.”
She felt warmth and a tingling sensation run through her body up from the floor, into her torso, down her arms, ending in her fists.
The spell, Kohalun’s Punch, now belonged to her.
The knowledge on how it worked nestled into her mind.
She’d test it out in the practice chamber for as long as it took to cast without having to verbalize it.
But first…
“Yo, this is my first special spell,” she addressed the spires, “anything else I need to know?”
“No.”
“What’s up with this Kohalun Gun… person? He or she… or it still alive? Dead? Undead?”
“Unlock information through spell mastery.”
“Cool cool. Didn’t know this was a thing. I’ll need to remember this. Seems important, probably huge,” her eye’s lit up, “am I the first?”
“No.”
“What do you mean? Not the first to get this spell? Or not the first to get something with a unique name?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for that,” she said flatly.
While Jayde practiced her new spell Dayana did the same with her new Skill.
Flicker Movement, which she got at 30 had been her most impactful Skill during the tournament. Shadow Wound, which she got at 40 was a little too lethal with its ability to bypass defenses to varying degrees.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
The reward was stated to be a higher tier Skill, which meant it was something she could get in the 50’s, presumably. As was typical of the spires, things weren’t exactly clear.
The extra level pushed her up to one level away from the mythical 50. As far as she knew no one had reached it. Could she be the first?
It was doubly awesome because once she did she’d have two Level 50 tier Skills.
Flicker Clone.
Now, when she used Flicker Movement an afterimage remained behind long enough to perform a single action, lasting no more than a second or two.
Getting it right was proving tricky.
She had to fully form the intent for said action before flickering.
It sort of tore her mind in two. It was as if she was two people at the same time for that split-second.
Very distracting.
It was slowing down her reactions coming out of the flicker.
She didn’t want to leave the practice chamber without cutting down that hesitation.
The margins were razor thin in a fight.
Taking a bullet or fireball to the face was decided in those split-seconds.
Hayden was going to be pissed, like she always was when forced to wait outside, but there was nothing for it.
The stakes were too high.
This Skill could be the difference between life and death, victory and defeat for all of them.
Outside the spire, seated on a nearby park bench, Hayden ate.
Lamb was new to her. As was falafel. And pita bread. The tzatziki sauce was great. And she didn’t know how she could’ve lived this long without the garlic sauce.
Normally, waiting for the other two was a test of patience.
Now… well, it seemed like she had found herself a new post-spires upgrade ritual.
There was a whole world’s worth of food from many cultures around the world. Some that she had no idea even existed.
It’d be a shame if she didn’t get to sample from all of them before she died.
----------------------------------------
The Magus of the Ten Eyes levitated two feet off the ground using the magic inside one of her eponymous eyes.
The tennis ball-sized orb glowed with power as it orbited around her body along with the other nine.
Each one capable of a specific magic.
The bulbous monster she had taken them from had done great harm to the village she had found herself stuck in when the spires had appeared all those years ago.
Reminiscence.
The monster would have been the death of them all had not the sun itself flown down to lend his aid.
The man hadn’t stayed long after the epic battle.
It would be years before she learned that he had been brother to the man she had encountered in the aftermath of another calamitous clash as evidenced by the devastation she had investigated in what was once the heart of Manhattan.
That man was now her best hope to escape this wretched place of slavers.
The best hope for what remained of her friends to escape.
And…
A darker thought filled the recesses of her mind.
Revenge.
He could bring her revenge for the friends murdered by the slavers.
Thus, despite her misgivings she moved at Cal’s request.
Wide eyes tracked her as she floated through the maze-like hallways of the training stadium.
Competitors, guards, staff, all gawked as they parted before her passing.
Her true eyes stared straight ahead, giving no indication that she noted their presence.
It was a defensive measure. Stuck in the heart of evil. Make them fear. Glare with the ten monster eyes. Pierce into their hearts. Show them threat.
That, along with her victories in the contest meant that they all gave her a wide berth, even the Slaver King’s watchers kept their distance.
It would prove useful in her tasks.
It would be easier to use her magic to conceal the contents of the conversations she sought.
The first ran in the middle of the dirt field pulling a contraption made from a huge, tire-less truck piled with hunks of scrap metal with a harness made out of thick chains.
Dark skin gleamed in the sun.
It wasn’t sweat.
Through one of her monster eyes, the magus saw strange skin.
Biological and metallic.
She didn’t know enough about the latter to recognize what type of metal or if it was even like anything known on Earth.
A deeper look yielded muscles with that same metallic nature.
An act of will activated yet another eye.
It opened wide flashing as it spun around her faster than the rest.
Now, she was safe from prying eyes and ears of all types.
She levitated closer to the dark-skinned woman.
The woman stopped her sprint and straightened.
Despite levitating two feet of the ground, the magus found herself looking directly in the woman’s eyes.
“Hello.”
“You best back up a bit. Those eyes ain’t doing any good for my inner well-being, you hear?” the woman said.
The magus inclined her head and gave the woman more space.
“Thanks,” the woman pursed her lips, “so, what do you want?”
“First of all, I’ve cast a spell. You can speak freely. They don’t have the power to pierce my concealment. Now… I come as a representative of another—”
“Get the fuck out of here with that. Imma tell you what I told the others. Why the fuck would you think I want to be part of your little slaver nation? Look at me. I ain’t about to betray my ancestors and you be putting out them slaves that be looking just like me. Ain’t you ashamed of yourself, you look and sound foreign. Arab, right? They be putting us black and brown folk in them collars. So, why you carrying their water?”
“That… is completely inaccurate. I am not here by choice. Nor do I sanction any of this filth,” she snapped.
“Oh… okay,” the woman shrugged, “what do you want then?”
“I am the Magus of the Ten Eyes.”
“Yeah, I knew that.”
“And you are Miss… Steel Hammer…”
The woman’s face twisted. “Fucking slavers made that nerd shit up.”
“Ah… then what is your name?”
“I ain’t know you,” the woman crossed impressively muscled arms over an equally impressive chest. “Sides, don’t want my real name getting out to the slavers. Don’t know what kind of magic bullshit they could get up to with it.”
“An understandable concern. ‘Steel Hammer’ will have to suffice.”
“Just ‘Hammer’,” the woman spat. “So, Magus, if you ain’t with the slavers, then who you with?”
“Someone that can help us get what we want for a price.”
“Ain’t no one knows what I want,” the woman snorted.
“Are you certain of that? I understand that you were denied the right to leave now that you are out of the tournament.”
“Stupid flying bitch,” Hammer muttered, “she didn’t do shit to me. Only reason I lost was I couldn’t lay a hand on her. Her little bullets and bombs barely scratched me, but that was enough for the judges. Racist fucks. Aight, since you beat that green bitch, I’ll give some time.”
The magus cleared her throat. “Yes, of course. The slavers…” she searched for the right words, “strongly encouraged you to remain, correct?”
Hammer nodded. “Said that I needed to stay for the closing ceremony. Plus, some kind of awards night. Then some big dinner party at the castle,” she spat. “Motherfuckers actually call it that. You believe that? Yeah, said that they got more gifts for me. Promising points, wealth, power, mansions, slaves! Motherfucker said that to me with a straight face. Believe that? I told them to go fuck themselves with a rusty wrench. I’m starting to think that if I ain’t willing to play ball the only thing they’ll have for me is a collar. Should’ve seen it coming.”
“Then why enter the competition? Surely, you knew what these people were like.”
“Gains were too good to pass up. I hit a ceiling years ago. Wasn’t getting stronger even though I kept pushing it. Didn’t really lock in until the first time I got a random percent increase on the toughest Quest ever. Got a couple more after that, but three percent didn’t seem like much for how hard those were. I only won two fights, but I got five percent. Stronger, tougher. Everything with the body. Five percent for two fights that weren’t all that hard. Even losing to that cheap ass bitch didn’t hurt me none.”
“All accurate, but knowing the slavers. How they work…”
“Yo, honestly, I thought they was a little overrated. Figured I could just walk out of here like the bad bitch I am. Plan was to go for the win and bounce. I was also scouting out the place, like, secret agent style. I got a couple of peeps gave me good rolls of Universal Points to do it. Half up front. Seen enough. Lost a fight. So, I was out the window like a deadbeat baby daddy when his baby mama’s all banging on the door with the kids. Tried anyways. The Slaver King, himself, paid me a visit just as I was about to bounce. Listen, fuck that guy, but I wasn’t going to be winning that fight. Plus he rolled up, like, fifty deep. Had a couple of those hairy rednecks with him. A few other gold div bangers. No chance against all that… figured I’d keep it on the low. Sign up, but bounce first good chance I got,” she shrugged.
“You do realize that they won’t allow you the opportunity?” she held Hammer’s gaze. “Your— our only chance to remain free—”
“Yeah and this guy that’s got you being all secret agent-ish can make that happen?” Hammer nodded. “I can smell bullshit,” she tapped her nose, “and you ain’t stinking… yet. What you got for me? And what do I got to do?”
“A request and an offer. Not without risk. Grave risk, to be honest. There will be fighting.”
“Always is,” Hammer shrugged.
“The last banquet at the castle. The one to celebrate this… farce. We will need to fight the king and his people.”
“Yo, did you trade your ears for all those eyes? Didn’t I just say that I was about to eat a beat down from those fucks?”
“Yes, but you were alone then.”
“Huh? Who else your boss picking up?”
“I can’t say. Only that this will not be one of those hopeless last stand fights. There are plans and there are powerful people behind them.” She hoped her words contained truth. Cal hadn’t filled her in completely. She only knew her part. The Quest notification she received when she had agreed had filled in a little bit more of what was to come. “If you agree, you’ll receive a Quest notification, like I did. All that will be expected of you is to be at the banquet and fight as hard as you can when the time comes. You will not be alone, like I said, there will be others.”
“They better be straight killers,” Hammer sighed. “Exit plan? I ain’t fitting to be all ‘hold the door’ and shit. Ain’t down to be snacked on by the wights.”
“Victory.”
Hammer blinked and cocked her head to one side. “Yo, that ain’t good enough. You always got to have an exit plan for if things go bad. Just cause I’m as hard as metal don’t mean I’m stupid. Haven’t lived this long for nothing.”
The magus pondered the question in uncomfortable silence.
Cal hadn’t given her an exit plan.
He had told her she was free to leave under her own power if things turned bad.
“I can take you with me in the event that running away is the only option.”
Hammer mulled that over.
The magus felt sudden, sharp pressure from behind.
The slavers.
They had abandoned finesse in their attempts to pierce her concealment spell and were resorting to desperate, brute force.
How many mages were they devoting to the effort?
At least a dozen, maybe more from the different mana signatures she could parse through her eye.
She could hold out for much longer, but no reason to give them more data points to calculate the limits of her capabilities.
“So long as I am able, I promise that I will not leave you there to die or be enslaved.”
“It’s the first part that’s causing me problems,” Hammer gave her a wry smile. “You seem like a straight bitch so, I’m down. Just don’t know if you’ll be alive to deliver.”
“You’ve watched my fights?”
Hammer nodded.
“Then, tell me, at any point, did I ever look like I was having difficulty?”
“Good point. Aight, I’m in—”
The magus exhaled.
“For now,” Hammer finished.
Eleven eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
“That’s creepy as fuck,” Hammer muttered as she took an involuntary step back. A great cloud of dust billowed from underneath her boot. “Listen, I ain’t fully committing to nothing until I speak to your boss or whatever. For all I know this is just some kind of slaver trick.”
“Why would I ever work for them?”
“You fighting in the tournament, ain’t you?”
“Only because the filth had what’s left of my friends in his dungeon,” she hissed.
Hammer’s eyes narrowed. “Wait? You mean he’s keeping pieces of your friends— nah, that don’t make sense. Had? What?”
The magus calmed herself with a reminder that her friends were as safe as they could be under Cal’s aegis.
“The slavers killed a number of my group. The survivors were then taken captive. Hostages held for my ‘willing’ participation. They have since been freed and are hiding in what amounts to safety in this wretched place. I have been promised that their escape will be seen to.”
“Why not just take them and fly out of here? Fuck, take me too. I’ll help you out as far as Atlanta.”
The magus closed her eyes. “Part of me wants to do just that. However, another part of me can’t leave this place while thousands of people are in collars. Forced to live a lie for the benefit of craven filth. I’ve always endeavored to be selfless rather than selfish. To only care for myself and my friends would be to embrace the latter. I fear falling down that path for only evil lies at the end of it.”
“So, fly us out and you can come back or whatever.”
“Although I can carry us all. I cannot do so fast enough to outrun their helicopters. And with the added burden I don’t think my magic will be enough to fight them off. Let alone the added threat of flying monsters.”
“Imma need to speak to your boss first,” Hammer shrugged.
The magus nodded.
There was no point in trying to persuade the towering woman.
She’d have done the same if she was in Hammer’s boots.
“I’ll convey your request.”
“Who else you be hitting up?”
Eleven eyes blinked.
“I meant who else you be asking?”
“That, I cannot say. Will there be an issue in our potential allies?”
“Nah, just wanting to figure out our chances of getting out of here alive. I’d feel a lot better if you got that little girl and the hot guy. Those bad bitches that won the three v. three would be good too.”
“I cannot—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hammer waved her away bending down to lift chains with links thicker than the magus’ arm. “Tell you boss I want a talk before I really agree to this shit.”
“I will.”
“We done, right? I’ve got a workout to finish.”
“We are.”
“Aight, peace.”
“Don’t—”
“Yeah, yeah. I ain’t saying shit about this to nobody. Fuck the slavers.”
With that Hammer continued her sprints while pulling an enormous truck loaded down with great weight.
The magus slowly rose up into the air.
From her vantage point above the arena she could see that Hammer had made a mess of the dirt floor dragging long and twisted gouges for the slaver’s to fix.
Who was next?
She hadn’t mentioned it to Hammer, but the little girl and the hot guy, Isaac Freemen, weren’t on Cal’s list.
“Blackstar or the Emerald Bomber,” she said. Who was closer? “Show me,” she murmured unnecessarily. Her acquired eyes were a part of her as much as the two she was born with. Intent and will were enough.
Her magic flared and she saw where she needed to go.