“There are few rules, yet each is inviolable; breaking one results in immediate expulsion from the selection.
This selection will last for forty-five rounds. This lowly one will release one hundred wastrels into the arena per round. Beginning with the strongest and proceeding in descending order, an honoured one will choose the type of battle the dregs will partake in.
The choices are battle royale, naval warfare, tower climb and survival of the fittest.
The honoured ones may only converse amongst themselves during a round; this lowly one will prevent their voices from reaching the battlefield below to prevent undue interference. A similar barrier will form to prevent stray projectiles from reaching the honoured ones.
Once a victor has been determined, one amongst the honoured ones must claim them. This continues until we have replenished each instance fully.
The honoured ones may gamble amongst each other on the results of a round, though only before the round begins. The honoured ones must make all bets with tangible assets on the honoured one’s person. Similarly, the honoured ones may barter with each other for the right to claim a winner. The honoured ones must make a claim within ten minutes of the victor being crowned.
Intimidation, bloodline suppression, brainwashing and soul manipulation are accepted methods of negotiation- physical violence is prohibited for the duration of the selection.”
The selection they called it- Leon thought it seemed more like an auction, the merchandise brawling for a chance to be bid on.
That they were recruiting to their instance raised an interesting conundrum- would you choose to recruit the most talented winners, those with the potential to surpass you on the instance ranking or pick only the weakest winners?
Reviewing the information, Leon quickly realised he was actually at a small disadvantage. By choosing the form the first round would take, he’d be offering free information to all the others.
That viewpoint lent an adversarial slant to the selection- if they each selfishly sought the best survivors to join their instance, then it would devolve into petty squabbling, sowing the seeds for future conflict.
Yet, Leon didn’t care about claiming the strongest winners- he alone could conquer any foe thrown at him. These weaklings that fought for survival in the pits beneath him were just that- beneath him. They’d only drag him down if he bothered trying to bring them into a fight.
Hell, this entire event was beneath him!
Not that he was complaining too much- it was a chance to kick back, relax, forge some ties with the others and then head back to the Tutorial proper.
Still, while the actual rewards were meaningless to Leon, for the two weaker members amongst the honoured, it was a lifeline- a powerful partner or well-rounded squad might be the difference between victory and defeat.
This situation called for the use of his favourite trick- flipping the script.
Like a fight, Leon considered his method of attack, his strengths and how best to leverage them.
He hit on an idea with potential. With his Unique Class, he was reasonably sure he had the strongest perception skill here. By freely offering any information he gleaned on the winners through it, Leon indebted the others to him.
It would compel them to repay his kindness, thus forming a group rapport between the five. Reciprocity from them would form a virtuous cycle, a cycle that would only grow stronger with every round.
If that didn’t work, he’d just flare his bloodline and bend them to his will. Either way, Leon got what he wanted- control over the outcomes of this event.
Considering the rules around barter and unrestricted chatter during rounds, Leon felt he was on the right track.
Octavia chose that moment to speak up, ever imperious, raising her arm to point at the white-robed being with such fervour, as though she had taken personal offence.
“Servant, surely you can tell us more details about these four types of battle?”
Leon held back full-blown laughter, a slight chuckle escaping as he answered in the alien’s stead. The idea of this haughty mage demanding more information from a being who had been nothing but servile towards them amused him.
“Leave it, princess. We’ve all the information we need. If our friend had more, they’d share.”
Strangely, that sent the woman back to her isolation, her left arm firmly raised to her temples, blocking Leon’s sight. Leon could have sworn he saw a blush upon her pale cheeks, but he hadn’t time to confirm it.
He had a gambit to play.
“Stranger, how long until the first round begins?”
“Ten minutes, oh benevolent, honoured one, whose wondrous light is akin to a bolt from the heavens.”
“Thanks. As the strongest here, I propose we work together. My Class gives me access to a strong inspection skill. If any of you are unconvinced, I’ll name your Class, level and aggregate level.”
Stolen novel; please report.
A series of shocked reactions came from the others at that revelation.
Finlay ran a hand through his braided beard, studying Leon in a new light, as though he was only now seeing the man for the first time.
The hunter’s obvious surprise gave way to an appraising look. The man, having realised Leon could have exposed them all sooner, yet had chosen not to.
Curiosity warred with caution.
Curiosity won out if the glint in the man’s eyes was what Leon suspected.
The necromancer huddled into her seat, legs tucked under her body, arms pulling her hood tighter around her face, pendant in her lap, green eyes within the darkness still peering out at Leon.
The white-robed alien relaxed into a meditative squat, disjointed arms folded across its branded chest.
Only Octavia failed to react, the now extremely obvious blush seen by all bar Leon.
With none biting down on the bait, Leon moved to the next step.
“No takers? Alright- I’m willing to work together with everyone so we all get what we want- honestly I don’t need anyone, no matter how strong they are. If we’re all open about winners we’re interested in, then we can make sure everyone walks away happy. Any objections?”
Finlay spoke first, surprising Leon- he’d thought the hunter would be the first to jump in.
“Aye laddie, ye speak sense. Better we’re all mates rather than being a pack of eejits fighting over every winner.”
The necromancer chimed up next, voice soft and subdued as she toyed with her pendant.
“...You don’t care about my Class? The others told me it was an evil one.”
What struck Leon was how young she sounded, he suspected she was only a teenager.
The implication was gruesome- if the System offered kids the choice to take part in the Tutorial there would be a lot of grieving parents back on Earth.
He disagreed with the view she’d adopted- necromancers were the cool ones. If some bored god forced Leon to be a stupid mage, he’d rather be the guy re-animating skeletons than the one throwing fireballs.
“Nothing evil about it- power is power. It’s like saying a weapon is inherently evil since people kill each other with weapons. It’s all in who wields the weapon and for what reason. I’ve no problem with your Class.”
A slow nod followed and Leon tentatively counted her in. He’d normally have gone into more detail about how he refused to subscribe to the good-evil moral binary but felt that would have flown over the poor kid’s head.
The hunter spoke next, with a voice like he’d been chewing gravel.
“Count me in. John Smith. Hope you aren’t bullshitting us here.”
“Nothing to gain through lying John- princess, you in or out?”
A splutter came from Octavia as he replied, her normal bravado gone.
“Yes, I, Octavia Caesar, strongest mage present, agree with this plan of yours swordsman- I, Octavia Caesar, similarly gain nothing by opposing this.”
Rising to his feet and clapping his hands, Leon faced the group.
“Great! Rather than running through what we all need now, how about we save any discussion for after we inspect the winners? Anyone needs the winner? Just say so. If we have any conflicts, I’m sure we’ll all come to amicable agreements, right? Perfect. If anyone needs anything else, pipe up whenever.”
Re-taking his seat, Leon resisted the urge to curl into a ball.
Never had he missed Jin more than right now. That smug bastard normally handled all the talking and social bullshit Leon distanced himself from.
Ironically, a fight with a murderous lizard tired him less than having to take charge of a group.
How ironic that he’d cast off this role previously and now embraced it.
The difference was strength- he dealt with powerful individuals and he was the strongest of them. That changed things.
Before long, Finlay leaned in, whispering to Leon.
“This plan of yours have anything to do with that killing intent you hit me with?”
Whispering in return, Leon decided he’d plant another seed.
“No. But it wasn’t your labrys that caught my eye.”
He’d leave the giant to ruminate on that one.
Their alien friend’s meditation came to an abrupt end. The creature rose to its full height and spoke once more.
“The first round will begin momentarily honoured ones. Leon Knox. This one will receive your choice of battle now.”
“Let’s start with a battle royale stranger- can’t beat a classic.”
“By your will.”
A wave of its sweeping robe summoned the participants into the arena, scattering them equally, each desperate warrior looking ready for battle, armed with sword and sorcery. Leon noticed the cylindrical prisons the System trapped them in, walls of hard light that locked them in place until the order to begin was issued.
Examining one on a whim, Leon noted an oddity.
“Level Four Warrior- Starter Class.
Currently branded with a [Slaughter Seal]. Restricts the user’s stats to their baseline, with each kill loosening the seal and returning a percentage of their stats. Ninety-nine kills are required to fully release this seal. Kill progress is tracked and transfers on death to any other user bearing a [Slaughter Seal].”
Leon could infer the missing aggregate level was a consequence of the warrior having no levels in another Class- the Seal was interesting though.
Doing his duty, Leon relayed the finding to the rest.
“They’ve had their stats sealed. Every one of them is on an equal footing to start with. An interesting choice.”
Finlay chimed in afterwards.
“Aye, I see it too, laddie. Equal start dinnae mean an equal finish though, the stronger ones’ll be gettin’ more stats back per kill.”
John added to the discussion with his own insight.
“The higher levelled ranged combatants have the advantage then- a single arrow or fireball is enough to start snowballing them towards an easy win.”
Octavia snorted, deigning to lower herself to their base conversation.
“Please. Discount the warriors at your own peril. Those of us who have already conquered the first Trial know well the oppressive power a warrior with a proper mana circuit can bring to bear.”
The two men’s eyebrows quirked in surprise at the mention of the Trial. Leon felt surprised the woman had already beaten it.
As expected of a Legendary Class.
Mages were cheaters anyway. When you could wipe out an entire squadron with the right spell, what challenge did an army really pose?
The teenage necromancer brought the conversation back on track.
“A summoner could win- they could just hide in a tower and let their pets do the work.”
Now that was an interesting revelation. Leon wondered how one became a summoner. Such magic seemed rather high-level.
A sheet of shimmering air descended, fully covering their tent, as the alien stepped forward, its tone and vocabulary completely shifting as it addressed the prospective survivors.
“Listen up maggots. You fucked up, you fucked up real bad. This is your first and final chance to make it out alive. Ninety-nine of you will be dead within the hour. Kill your way to a brighter future and pave the path to your salvation with the corpses of your lessers. Don’t disappoint the honoured ones. Begin.”
The barriers dropped, and the melee began. Blood and screams echoed across the desert as a desperate struggle to survive began for some and the afternoon’s entertainment began for others.
Dipping into his storage ring, Leon retrieved a bowl of popcorn, John giving him a look as he did so.
"What? You want some?"