“We need a plan,” Callan said, pacing back and forth in his cramped quarters. There wasn’t much space, but he managed about three steps before having to turn. “A good plan this time.”

Are you implying my plan wasn’t a good one? If you had managed to hold the dveorg girl hostage—

“It was a shitty plan, Xeph, and you know it.” Callan pivoted and started back across the room again. “We need to be ready this time. No way they’re going to actually let us go when this is over. You saw the way the chief looked at me.”

I do admit, the prospect of winning freedom seems unlikely, the god admitted.

“What can you tell me about the dveorg? Anything I might use to my advantage?” Coming to a stop by the window, Callan glanced out at the city bustling below. It wasn’t as crowded as someplace like Seattle, but there were easily several thousand dveorg living out there.

Amazing that something like that had existed beneath his feet and he hadn’t realized.

Nothing that would be useful, Xeph said. The dveorg are usually friendly, if a bit reclusive. They prefer to dwell in the upper levels of the Innerworld, and have developed abilities to let them move more easily through dirt and stone. Their inventions were highly sought after during my time, and they possess animal husbandry skills that rival any found on the surface. Your encounter with the velak is evidence enough of that.

Callan glanced at the bracelets around his wrists. One was still missing several runes where the acid had worn them away. He suspected that was the same technique the chieftain had used on the bars of his cage when it proved too strong.

If he wanted out of here, his first goal needed to be getting his hands on more velak slime. How he was supposed to do that though, he didn’t know.

“Anything else?”

I... Bah! I don’t know what you are hoping to hear, mortal. My encounters with these creatures were extremely limited before my seclusion.

“Because they can’t provide faith?” Callan asked.

That is part of it. Also, the dveorg have always been a proud people. They respect strength above all else. An aspect of their society you are getting to experience firsthand.

“Strength, huh?” he considered that for a moment. “What do you think it did to the chief’s reputation when I pummeled his son?”

Nothing good, certainly.

An idea started taking form in Callan’s mind. He would need the right circumstances to pull it off, but if he could...

While he was still considering, the archway to his room began to shake. The stone peeled away to either side, revealing Krov and a contingent of guards.

“You, ug-mun. Come. It is time.”

“My last fight already?” Callan had slept after they brought him back from his last match, but not for long. His sense of time was all messed up.

Krov said nothing, simply motioned him forward. With a sigh, Callan followed.

As he crawled through the tunnels, Callan glanced at the guard trailing after them. After his first fight, it had only been Krov who had guided him, and now he warranted over a half-dozen dveorg on his heels. That had to mean something. He just didn’t know what.

The wall leading to the arena appeared a few minutes later. Krov waved her hands, the stone falling away, revealing the brightly lit chamber beyond. Callan squinted as he climbed to his feet.

Somehow, there were even more dveorg than before. There wasn’t an empty seat in the place, and the aisles themselves were filled to bursting. Dveorg children sat along the arena's ledge, tiny legs dangling in the air. If Callan was a few feet taller, he could have reached up and brushed them with his fingers.

He didn’t seek out the chieftain this time, simply moved to the center of the arena. Once there, he stood still, waiting.

“Ug-mun,” the chief’s voice rang out. “You have won two fights. This last re-mains. Fight well, and—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Callan said, cutting the chieftain off. “Let’s get this over with already.”

Angry mutters filled the arena. Callan looked up at last and found the chieftain glaring at him. He smirked back. That’s right. I’m not afraid of your little challenges. That bothers you, doesn’t it?

A section of the wall across from him began to peel away. Callan braced. What does he have in store for me this time?

Darkness filled the newly revealed tunnel. Nothing stirred. Above Callan, the crowd quieted, all eyes turned to watch.

With an ear-splitting screech, a brown blur shot from the tunnel, darting around the edge of the arena.

Callan spun, and just barely made out the sight of an enormous spider with a dveorg riding on its back.

Another emerged from the tunnel, and another. The spiders skittered up the walls of the arena, sending dveorgan children tumbling backwards with terrified squeals.

“Three on one, really?” Callan muttered. His eyes tried to track the spider’s movements, but it was too much, too fast.

It’s more like six on one, Xeph noted.

“Thanks, Xeph, not really helping.” He ground his teeth. “Why does it have to be spiders? Why couldn’t they ride giant butterflies?”

Technically, they aren’t spiders, they’re broachnids.

“What’s the difference?” Callan lunged forward, swinging a fist at one of the brown blurs. The beast let out a squeal of pain and dropped from the wall. It’s rider, who Callan saw too late was armed with a short spear, stabbed out at him, scoring a hit across his knuckles.

Pain seared through Callan immediately, far more than a simple flesh should have caused. He yelped and leapt back.

I recall stories about these ‘spiders’ you have on your planet. They are small, spin webs of silk to trap prey, and reproduce through laying eggs, correct?

“Sure, I guess.” Callan shook his hand, trying to chase the pain away. He noticed the skin on his knuckles was sizzling, like it had from the velak slime.

Broachnids are none of these things. They grow to immense size, hunt for their prey in packs, and reproduce via endoparasitoid larvae.

“Endopara... what? Care to put that in plain English?” He started to wipe his hand on the tattered remnants of his shirt, then thought better of it and brushed what little of the goo remained onto his bracelet. The roar of the crowd alerted him to the attack of another rider, and he barely managed to dive out of the way in time. “Actually, never mind. Not important right now.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Yes, yes. What is important is that they are fast, and their fangs can be quite brutal. Best if you end the mounts first, then focus on the rider.

Callan ducked as another broachnid and rider passed just overhead, the hiss of the spear passing a bare sliver from his ear. It seemed the dveorg had learned not to give him a chance to strike at their mounts and were staying well overhead.

He glanced down at the bracelet and saw that another rune had winked out from just the small amount of slime he’d collected. A smile crawled onto his face.

“Those spears are tipped with Velak slime, Xeph. You know what that means?”

That we would be wise to retreat to the center of the arena and allow the riders to come to us?

“Nah, I’ve got a better idea. Watch this!”

Callan lunged forward, arms crossed in front of his face. The rider, already aiming for his head, squawked and thrust his spear as he sped by. Their weapon grated along Callan’s wrist, burning away his skin with an angry hiss—but also leaving a trail of slime across his bracelet.

Even as the pain began to reach intolerable levels, Callan wiped what he could off his wrist with the tail of his shirt. Another rider stabbed at him, and Callan thrust his other wrist forward. Both he and the rider missed, the latter scoring a mark across his cheek.

“Son of a bitch, that stings!” Callan shouted, backing up a step. He mentally summoned his interface and saw that he was down to a negative two modifier. Just another good strike or two...

Two riders dropped their mounts from the wall and charged him from either direction, pincer-style. Callan wasted precious seconds debating. Should he dive out of the way, or—?

Screw it. He’d just have to trust that they weren’t tall enough to hit anywhere vital.

“Eeny, meany, moe!” He turned and lunged for one of the riders. The dveorg’s eyes widened and he thrust his spear forward. Callan’s hand wrapped around it, just a few inches past the point. He gritted his teeth as the skin of his palm began to sizzle, but held on as he wrenched it away. The poor dveorg was so surprised he let it slip from his grasp without a fight.

Which was good, because a half-second later the second rider planted his own spear right into Callan’s thigh.

“ARGH!” Callan twisted and kicked out, knocking the dveorg from his mount and sending him flying. He turned back, but the first rider had already fled back to the safety of the wall. Riderless, the remaining broachnid squeaked and scuttled away.

Callan ignored it. He used the spear in his hand to smear what slime remained across his bracelet, then dropped it. Hand still aching, he seized the spear embedded in his thigh and pulled it out.

Another scream escaped his lips, and his leg quivered and threatened to go out under him. Swaying, Callan wiped the side of the spear on his other bracelet.

One by one, the runes winked out. He watched eagerly, his breath, coming in painful gasps, as the final one sizzled and went dark.

Without any fanfare, the bracelets simply loosened and tumbled from his wrists.

Power rushed back into him. The surge was so sudden it almost knocked him on his ass. Somehow, he remained standing. He turned to the stands.

The rider he had unseated before had reclaimed his mount, and all three now continued their circling on the walls, though only one remained armed. Above, he saw several guards step forward, spears held at length. Seemed they weren’t above rearming their fighters.

Pity it wasn’t going to do them any damn good.

Callan turned until he found the chieftain. The man was leaning forward, watching. Had he not seen Callan remove the bracelets, or did he not appreciate the gravity of what it meant?

Because this party was over. Time to start the new one.

He started running forward. The chief, to his credit, merely narrowed his eyes in confusion, instead of panicking and dropping the wall. Good. Callan suspected he’d only get one chance at this.

He was almost there when he summoned Wurmchain.

Alert: 3% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 3%

There was something utterly satisfying about seeing that message again. Callan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. Missed his powers. He wasn’t going to let his freedom go to waste.

So, as the chieftain’s eyes grew wide, he swung his chain, sinking the tip into the stone ledge above, and heaved himself up. He reached for the first length of chain and activated Mountainform simultaneously, sealing his skin from the tips of his fingers all the way to his elbows.

Alert: 6% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 9%

Callan grinned, swung a moment, then pulled himself higher.

Even with Mountainform, the chain still cut into his palms, leaving spots of red as he climbed. Ignoring it, he pulled himself faster. He knew what was coming next.

There it was. The chief waved his arms, and the walls began to drop, sealing him away from the dveorgan audience. Callan couldn’t let that happen.

So, while holding the chain, he activated his own Shape Stone ability, forcing a pair of spikes to rise from the floor just inches above his head. The spikes struck the descending wall, and with an ear-splitting shriek, held it back. If just barely.

It was all Callan needed. With another mighty heave, he pulled himself up onto the platform.

Dveorgans ran screaming in all directions. Several guards were running towards him, their weapons lowered, but Callan simply grabbed the tip of the first spear and spun, hurling both it and its owner into the other guard. Both went down in a jumble.

He turned back, saw the chieftain staring at him wide eyed, and grinned. The little creature quaked as Callan stalked forward and seized him by the arm.

Good work, mortal. The chieftain will prove a much better hostage than the dveorgan girl. With this we should be able to buy our freedom easily.

“He’s not a hostage, Xeph,” Callan said, still grinning. Lifting him up, he stared into the chieftain’s eyes.

Then flung the dveorg behind him, down into the arena.

The dveorgan hit the sand below with hardly a sound. Callan doubted that the fall had injured the chief much, but he just lay there, dazed, as Callan hopped back down to join him.

Turning in a slow circle, he made sure he had the audience’s attention. Even with the wall half descended, dveorgans were peeking their heads through to watch. Hundreds of black eyes stared back at him.

“You wanted to watch a fight?” Callan’s voice echoed through the arena. “Well, best prepare for a good one.”

He turned and pointed at the chief. “No more proxies. It’s just you and me now. Man to man. Or man to whatever-the-hell you are. Let’s do this.”

The chieftain began scrambling backwards as Callan advanced. His eyes were wide as saucers, and his whole body quaked with fear. Was he even now remembering what had happened to his son down here? Callan hoped so.

Human, are you certain you want to do this? Xeph asked, his voice unusually hushed. However, Callan had never been so certain of anything in his life. According to his head-mate, these dveorgs respected strength more than anything else. If that was the case, it was time to show them just how strong he was.

Another step forward, and the chief let out a shriek. He backpedaled further. His hands closed over something. Focused on appearing intimidating, it took Callan a moment to notice.

And before he realized it had happened, a velak slime-coated spear was hurtling at him.

He didn’t think. Didn’t plan. He simply reacted on pure instinct. In less time than it took to breathe, his Mountainform shifted. Stone flowed down his wrists, across his arms, up his shoulders, and pooled about his chest.

Alert: 16% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 24%

The spear struck, the velak slime letting the tip sink a good half inch into his armor before coming to a stop. It hung there, quivering. Callan glanced down, his nose almost brushing the shaft.

Taking a deep breath, he released his hold on Xeph’s power. The spear clattered to the ground as Mountainform flowed back up his arms and solidified on his fists.

“Good throw,” he said, stepping forward and looming over the chieftain. The dveorgan swallowed nervously. “If that had been anyone else, it might have even worked. Too bad you’re dealing with a god.”

He formed a stone-encrusted fist and raised it high to swing.

“I weak!” The chieftain’s shriek tore through the arena. “Please, ug-mun! No more. I sub-mit. You strong, I weak! I weak!!!”

Muttered whispers rippled through the audience above. The chieftain crawled forward, tears in his eyes, his fingers grasping at the tattered remnants of Callan’s shoes. A single line of snot ran from his nose.

“Please. You spare chief, yes? You be hon-or-ed guest of Ish-ka-plet. Ug-mun strong. Ug-mun will be giv-en all he de-sire. Just... spare chief?”

Callan glanced up from the sniveling chieftain and looked round at the watching audience. Above him, a slow chant was building in volume.

“Ug-mun. Ug-mun. Ug-mun!”

“UG-MUN!!!”

A smile wormed its way onto his lips. “I think we managed to earn their respect, Xeph.”