“God FUCKING damnit!” I yelled, throwing my Wakizashi at the wall beside where I always meditate after a fight. It had been 32 whole fights since I openly tortured that sadist of a Rogue, and I’d yet to find another breakthrough for another skill. I know I shouldn’t be so spoiled, looking over my stat sheet to read my skills list.
Name: Tom Murphy
Race: [Human(H) - level 1]
Class: Rogue
Profession: None
Strength: 12
Agility: 16
Endurance: 13
Perception: 10
Vitality: 8
Toughness: 12
Wisdom: 15
Willpower: 8
Titles: None
Skills:
Duel Swordsman (uncommon) -
+2 agility + 3 endurance, proficiency for duel short swords
Water stance (common) - +3 agility +3% perception when in perpetual motion using this stance, -6% debuff endurance
Lightning Strike (common) - Wielder is able to add Lightning mana into an attack, amplifying its speed depending on the total mana spent while using it. User gets a +4 agility when using this strike.
Water Step (common) - your devotion to your style has awakened your body to what your mind and spirit have already known as a fundamental law, allowing you to channel your affinity into any step omnidirectionally so long as you’re in Flow, further connecting your physical body to your mind and soul. +3 agility while active.
Level 1, and already I had 4 skills, 3 of which I earned through mere trial and contemplation. I’d also gone through 68 opponents before seeing level 2, but it’s not like skills were the only thing I could achieve here.
My notifications were intermittently dinging so often, I had to figure out how to turn it off which only took intent to do so. Gods of all kinds had been messaging me, some even going so far as to request an in person meeting. Naturally, I took a few up on the offer, and found myself teleported to a new place each time, all wildly different in appearance and…feeling.
The sharp, splitting gut responses to each God and their little realms had really put a massive damper on attaining a Patron around here. I would arrive before some Being that felt like different flavors of living nuclear reactors, and immediately the feeling of not belonging overwhelmed my thoughts accompanied by immense pain, with no logical reasoning to back it. One in particular who referred to themselves as Florstrum, called it the moment I stepped foot in his chambers.
“You, human, do not belong to me.”
Through clenched teeth holding my stomach, I grumbled angrily.
“What do you mean by ‘belong’?!”
“Watch your tone, mortal.”
His room shook, and a green energy emitted from his body above his throne of vines, headed for me in a cloud of ethereal smoke.
“You will learn respect little on-“
He paused, looking at me with a face of what I believed to be surprise, though it was hard to tell given his bark skin covered in vines and various plant life shifted similarly to a person’s, but barely.
“You…how are you standing? What tricks do you play, mortal?!”
“Look man, I’m in some real pain over here. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but please if you won’t help me, send me back.” It was as I glanced up from the ground to say this that I noticed his little smoke screen had surrounded me entirely, glowing so slightly.
“Tell whatever God that sent you, I will not take petty pranks lightly, mortal.”
Just like that, I botched another interview. At least my stomach stopped feeling like I swallowed acid tipped razors now that I’m out of there, but he mentioned I didn’t ‘belong’ to him. That implied I did belong to someone else. The problem was, I hadn’t signed any contracts or agreed to any form of loyalty to any Gods yet.
First it was a Warrior God, Khathorn, who was admitted fine as fuck. Besides some cloth that did the bare minimum of covering up, she had two curved short swords in hand that glowed with a bright white hue along the blades, and Gold illuminating stones at the center of each hilt. She even offered me some badass swords for after the tournament ended that would increase my agility by 8%, a massive boost with even larger implications once I can start adding points to my stats with level ups.
She explained I couldn’t receive any direct boons from any Gods before the tutorial, but that didn’t mean arrangements couldn’t be made in advance, along with some not-so-secret tips, like how leveling works for later. I think she liked me too, which made the excruciating aching in my stomach all the more bitter. She deemed I was not meant for her coveting as a Chosen as well, though I did express my intent on other forms of bonding once I reached her power level. She snickered, but never gave an affirmative ‘no’ to the idea.
The next God was no different in terms of internal ruptures upon arrival, but they were far less interesting as well. They droned on and on about the duty of man to justice, right from wrong, good versus evil, yadda yadda yadda. Honestly, if his horse was any higher I think he’d escape the infinite vacuum of space, and ascend to a new plane entirely.
“Maybe our integration just triggered because he got laid.” I thought to myself, which he apparently could hear too, because I was immediately back in my meditation spot following an outraged look forming on his face. Truthfully, I held no regrets given the outcome. I sat down, and just started to open up my third-eye, when I once again felt the sensation of being elsewhere than before shutting my eyes. It was time for fight number 69.
Nice.
The stature of those I’d fought the last few fights had changed from generally middling on average to absolute specimens, and this guy was no exception. Quite the contrary in fact, standing at probably 6’10, 290 pounds of muscle that made his heavy plating look like my light armor. He held two hammers with comically large hammerheads in a rectangular shape, and wore a thick, oval shaped metal helmet, with bull horns sticking out the sides facing up tilting slightly forward. His long dark beard and mustache, along with his eyes and jaw, were all that could be seen through his helmet that covered down the bridge of his nose. This guy was utterly massive.
“You’re Tom, right? My God told me about you, said you got a tummy ache and hit on her before getting sent back empty handed. Care to explain?”
Damn, she didn’t have to talk trash about me behind my back like that. Cold hearts in the heavens, I suppose.
“No, no not really. If she sticks with you after this though, be sure to let her know I’m open to an apology in the form of dinner and some drinks by the fireplace. Show her R&B music too, save me some time.”
Please, I’m nothing if not persistent. Besides, it’s all in the eyes, and hers were glowing. They might just do that, but it was different.
“Alright smart ass, do your little dance so I can kill you quickly, slots for the top 25 are closing up quick.”
Top 25? We’re almost done?!
Maintaining composure, after much practice with unpleasant surprises by now, I responded confidently.
“Relax meathead, you have to kill the people before they aren’t here anymore.”
“YOU relax pencil neck, they’ve been blipping people mid-battle lately. I just saw a pair of snoozers get removed together over at the Pugilist arena. What they get for pulling guard on each other at a striking arena.”
Concerned was putting it mildly, as the news of expedited matches birthed a renewed sense of urgency. I shuttered recalling I was still 6 away from my own 75th match, including this absolute unit. My only hope was that everyone got an even 100 matches in total to prove themselves. Evidently, I’d been lollygagging.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
I had to focus up now, no time to feel sorry for myself, another conclusion I learned was best to arrive at sooner than later.
“Best not waste time then big man, show me yours I’ll show you mine.”
The sound of metal boots clapping onto the ground as he jogged forward, shoulders squared to me, beginning a low rumble that would crescendo to a roar. He exploded upward going for a double slam from above his head, aiming for mine.
I Water Stepped backwards a few feet. His left hammer slammed into the floor, causing my vision to shake from the sound, but by the time my eyes refocused his hand wasn’t clasped on its handle. 40 pounds of steel appeared barreling towards my temple from the left, forcing me to block instead of dodge. My Wakizashi contacted the hammer head at an angle in hopes I could sheath the blow a bit to minimize the force, but his hammer was too blunted and wide for it to work properly. Blood trickling from my ringing ear down the left side of my neck, I gathered my bearing’s feet opposite to where I was struck.
Okay, so you’re quick too. No amateur could close the distance so fast, he must’ve been trained. If not in fighting, the body control alone to pull this feat at his size was nothing short of incredible. It implied the sum of strength and speed outmatched mine, indicating I wasn’t going to just athlete my way through this one.
“Not bad, big guy. Hope you got a few more tricks, being quick is nothing new to me.”
His eyes narrowed, nostrils flared as he snarled, “You should be dead already you little shit.”
“You should be nicer, who’s going to clean your helmet or help you brush your teeth after this buddy? Don’t you want ‘fwends’.” I said, puffing out my bottom lip.
“You callin’ me slow?”
“No, I just said you’re quick.” He seemed to relax a bit.
“I also said you’re fucking stupid, thanks for proving my point though. Poetic you kn-, oh sorry, so poems are like songs. Y’know, ‘A B C D-‘“
“I’m gonna KILL YOU” bellowed the mighty man-baby, leaping at me with a wild swipe of one hammer I dodged easily due to its telegraphed nature. He immediately followed with. Flurry of violent strikes, contorting aggressively as he leaned into every attack with his all. I stabbed quickly into his alternating lead shoulders after each swing pulverized all air that had stood before it.
Being outmatched physically had more than its unfair share of disadvantages, no question about it. The thing is, I’d never been the most athletic guy in the gym. Not the fastest, nor the strongest, but I refused to be content with middling-skill levels, mediocre. Consequently, the majority of my skill based activities, from sports through my early years, to fighting, involved facing somebody either more gifted or further developed physically.
Repeatedly, I’d follow the same recipe they were given. Cyclically coming up just short. It wasn’t until I decided to use tactics my mind developed that didn’t rely solely on being quicker, faster, or even better than the other person. All I needed was one real good shot, and their superiority in all regards are rendered irrelevant. No one could train their brain to keep you awake after enough trauma. No one was perfect, infallible, and because I grew a propensity to win more often, no one was special either.
Our dance of stab until he was too spent to fight, only to insult his intellect, reviving his ambition outright went on for a few rounds, until he went completely ballistic. Slamming his hammers on the ground beneath him, I saw a dim-blue hue puff into the air surrounding his tantrum smashing. The hammers fired like pistons for a solid 8 seconds straight before he came to a seething stance, the mist now all around him.
No words. No quips. Deep blue eyes now terribly bloodshot, vessels protruding in patterns similar to a lightning bolt. No, there were far too many crossing patterns, it was more like webs. Sweat beaded off his face, his beard soaked in a mixture of said sweat and saliva. Blood covered the length of his shoulders. No-Face did this guy dirty by not giving him big enough armor. Then again, he was a bit of a mouth breather. How else could one fall for the same thing over and ov-
POP!
Vision returned about the same time the sound of wind blowing around me awoke me, the crunching sounds and ringing ears settled in only after I bounced across the arena in a rag doll. I tried to pop up, but the only ‘popping’ happening at this moment was my ankle, and jaw bone whenever I tried to move it.
Karma.
Delirium faded, and I shifted my thoughts from whimsy to damage assessment, applying weight slowly onto my bad ankle.
“I can’t believe you’re still fucking alive. What are you, some kind of rodent?”
Easy buddy.
He strolled over, now 6 feet away at a slow pace, twirling his hammers as he gloated, “You know, I come from nothing. I grew up a nobody, on a farm in buttfuck nowhere, with nothing to do but fight. I used to run away from guys who picked on my smarts, like you.”
Now he was beside me, lifting me by armor like a kitten’s nape in his hand. My head screamed in pain as I opened my eyes to meet his gaze.
“That was until I got a little older, and kept getting bigger than all of them. Then? It was my turn.”
Great, another fucking psychopath.
I had to think quickly, think back to my training for anything I could do here.
“Everyday, before all of this? I had to be careful who I hurt, no matter how mean they were. Now I don’t, the creepy suit guy said so.”
Fucking think Tom. What would Korbin say to you right now seeing you like thi-
Of course.
“Hey asshole, you gonna talk all day or kill me? Frankly, I can’t tolerate your stupid bullshit anymore.” Words flowing freely from my swollen face with a viperous tone as he held me hovering a few inches off the ground. He headbutted me, breaking my nose instantly. His head felt like a goddamn stone but, heavy is the head that wears his prey.
“Oh I’m gonna find you after this, you little shit. See ya soon.” With that, he reared back his arm to complete his little execution ritual, but I knew when he was going to swing as soon as his hip twisted, sending force up his lats and arms providing power for his wind-up. His hips snapped back, and my peripherals felt ignited with energy, as I focused all of my will into finding just the right spot.
Following the Flow from his shoulder, it worked its way in a U-shape following his swiping strike. Time slightly slowed as Water Stance activated, increasing my agility and perception, giving me my window to track the energy diligently. The hammer was nearing contact with its insane width all the same, but I had to time this perfectly. Finally, it was about to pass his bicep over into his elbow, when I kicked my left leg back and right leg forward, twisting my hips into a right handed palm strike into the pit of his elbow.
His elbow flailed for a moment, before all the energy that traveled such a journey to reach this point flipped on itself, sending it in the direct opposite path it had come from. He clearly had zero expectation to meet any meaningful resistance, making the sudden shift in balance make his knees buckle as he fell beside me. Without hesitation, I grasped a Wakizashi and rolled into a full mount on top of him with my knees pressed on his elbows the moment he hit the floor, and thrusted my blade anywhere I saw cracks.
When he stopped squirming, I used the bottom of my hilt to strike the nose guard on his helmet, over and over again with all of my strength. Blood splattered more with each strike, the sound of bones and metal crunching in concert in succession. Finally, after his nose appeared completely inside out, he disappeared from my grasp. Testing my ankle and opening and shutting my jaw, I finally opened my eyes again, to see the familiar few challengers waiting their turn.
Holy shit, that was way too close.
I shuffled to my meditation spot, my head no longer pounding but spinning all the same. How did I win again? It was such a blur, I had to really sit down and place myself back into my own shoes of a mere 30 seconds ago max. It felt so silly, then again instant healing was silly, but brain trauma was serious. Still, a single moment hung heavily in my mind, when I was literally hung up by my armor.
I realized something.
I felt half-awake, yet present. The feeling was peculiar upon recollection, but progressed into why I was trying to remember; the winning strike. I remembered my training with Korbin, after having trouble keeping my guard strong against his much heavier blows. It was the same technique I used at that moment. I tracked his flow through his body, until it reached a Flow Point.
Flow Points are places in which flow is the most vulnerable to alterations, and typically very easy to injure its area very badly if you’re not careful. I played the energy ricocheting back the direction from whence it came, noticing how unprepared he had been. He had over 130 pounds on me, yet my very quick hand strike with little to no power completely cost him the match and, technically, his life there. Quickly, I yearned to replicate this action. Not long after fight 70 began, where I promptly spammed Flow Point strikes until the brass knuckled pugilist completely gave up all together. After the mercy kill, came the fight that brought to life the fruits of my labor.
He was a middle aged man, probably in his early 40’s, sitting a few inches shorter than me, with a clean shaven face. He wore the classical colosseum warrior outfit, with the Greek looking sword to prove it. Seeing my gaze fixed on his weapon, he lifted it to his face.
“I see you’ve taken interest in my short sword. It’s Mycenaean, a fine piece of bronze craftsmanship. Allow me to introduce myself.”
He placed his arm bent at his stomach and bowed.
“I am Kota, Warrior of Will, and my spirit is infallible. I warn you, this will not go well for you, warrior. Please, do me the honor of knowing your n-“
“Tom. I-it’s Tom, bro. We doing this orr…?”
Kota’s smile was unwavering.
“Ah, yes, Tom! It’s been a pleasure. Right then, shall we?”
Readying his stance, Kota appeared poised to strike at any moment. His eyes locked onto me, his focus palpably strong. Seeing his stance, how sure he looked in himself, the vigor in which he boasted his assumed class was truly…depressing. I really hated to be ‘that guy’, but already his stance looked terrible. Before I could fully pick it apart internally, he shuffled forward, nearly tripping on his own foot. Yet, before he planted his feet again, his body was suddenly much closer, prompting me to strike his shoulder, hitting a Flow Point and sending him tumbling.
Staggering to his feet, he fixed his helmet that had spun crooked on his head, and readied himself once more in his home-brewed stance. Once more, he made the first move of the exchange, this time leaping forward for a two handed downward strike. I considered blocking it, but thought better than to waste the opportunity to try hitting a flow point with my foot.
Raising my knee, I extended my leg, aimed for his hip. Immediately, his body sank in on itself as he crumbled, folding on his ass like a lawn chair. Wincing, he stood back up, a bit slower this time.
“You’re fast, Tom. But you’re not my first challenge here, and I would have it no other way. Without you, I’d have no opportunity to test my own Will. Because of foes like you, my skills have been put to the grindstone, my body mangled and thrashed. Arms broken, fingers lost, yet time and time again, I arose victorious. This will be no different.”
“…uh, okay. Whatever dude.”
Kota lunged forward, attempting to outright impale me through my ‘oh so worthy’ heart. Once more, my foot smashed into him, this time onto the shoulder he intended to stab me on. His body spun in a full circle before his legs got tied up together during his cyclone-activities, and he fell to the ground once more, hard.
Groaning, he forced himself up yet again, his shoulder popping as he forced it back into place.
“Your defenses are impressive, but not impregnable!” He shouted, as he charged once more. For the next, if memory serves me, 18 exchanges we followed the same pattern. Kota attacks, I hit one of the myriad of flow points in which the human body possesses that their kinetic energy traveled, and he’d tumble wildly onto the ground. After a struggle, he’d clamor back to his feet, drop a self empowering monologue, and the cycle had begun anew.
After number 19, however, exhaustion began to win over his body, even if his mind hadn’t caught on yet. Through heavy breaths, he spoke once more.
“I must…say, Tom. You are…by far m-…my greatest challenge yet.”
I stepped back, straightening my posture and lowering my guard.
“You need a sec, Kota?”
He stood there a moment, debating inwardly, before hunching over placing his hands onto his knees.
“No no go ahead, take a breather.” I said through a grin, feeling in the other shoes of my own trainer for a change. After some heavy panting, Kota inhaled deeply as he straightened up, placing his hands on his head.
“Alright!” He announced, clapping his hands and bouncing a bit before picking up his sword.
“Prepare yourself, Tom. Your cowardice ways of avoiding my attacks will not last lo-“
“The fuck did you just call me?” I said, angrily cutting his normal monologue short this time.
“I-I don’t remember calling you anyt-“
“My ‘cowardice ways’?! Tell me, how many times do you think I could ha- ohhh you motherfucker trying to talk shit right now.”
The concept of me being a fucking coward for not killing this self-help content creator ass dork was beyond insulting. That, and I was getting pretty tuckered out to be completely transparent. He didn’t have to know that though.
“Look, how about this. You come at me, and if I block it again, I won’t just stand still. Then you can show me the full power of your mighty will much sooner. Deal?”
Kota gave a toothy grin before responding.
“Heh, your confidence will be your undoing To-“
“Whatever dude, fucking deal or not?”
Kota nodded, and raised his sword once more. In now terribly typical Kota fashion, he dove at me with his sword, aiming now for my neck with a wide slash. Quickly locating where the power came from on his body, in this case his hips since his legs were in the air already, I tracked up where it ought to travel, landing on the now black and blue pit of his elbow. With another palm strike to the Flow Point now battered and abused, his arm cracked inside, causing him to shrill in pain.
The sound of his screams reminded me of the guy with chain blades, resulting in a twitch reaction sending my Wakizashi straight through his chest, piercing his warrior's heart. Kota looked up at me, utterly stunned by the completely inevitable and totally predictable outcome.
“This is not the end, Tom. Thank you, for showing me I’ve much room to grow, I will be seeing you so-“
I decapitated him, having reached my limit for his willpower bullshit for one day. After teleporting out of the arena and finding my meditation spot, I spent a few moments reviewing the intricacies of the move I’d spent the last two fights almost exclusively using. Not long after, I was rewarded for all of my trouble.
*SKILL ACQUIRED*- > Flow Inverse (uncommon) - when activated, the user will respond to an attack with one of their own, as water needs no defense where it can simply fill where it must go. User strikes a Flow Point, reversing the Flow of his opponent’s movements completely. Effectiveness varies based on % advantage in agility. +2 agility, +4 perception when active.
Once again, I birthed a convoluted skill, this time it not only boosted perception, a stat I’d yet to find any way to increase, was uncommon. My very first home brewed uncommon skill, I couldn’t be more easily distracted from nearly dying and losing any hope at attaining a Patron before the Tutorial.
All it takes is progress, the stipulations are a constant, out of my control, and therefore irrelevant. My care lay with winning loyally, I’ve come too far now. Feeling brand new once again, my thoughts drifted to my many fights, scouring for any missed chances for growth until my next fight commences.
Only 30 more, how much worse could it really get from here?