The remnants of purple smoke drifted through the Rusty Clam. Zaro opened his team communication.
“Found Maya at the soap factory in the old district. It serves as a cover for their crystal operation. We found her in the basement."
The response from Chad came through clear. “The Collective runs a magic academy there. A bunch of zealots teach forbidden techniques to street rats. I can get you in as a new recruit tonight. Tomorrow morning Ezra and I will come through with the crystal sale contacts.”
Zaro pulled up his system map and watched new information filter in. The factory icon pulsed with dark energy. Educational markers overlaid the map. Training rooms. Practice areas. Something labeled Enhancement Chamber lurked in the basement levels.
[System Alert]
Location Updated. Cobra Collective Academy
Status. Active Criminal Enterprise
Threat Level. High
Notable Features. Illegal Magic Training. Crystal Corruption Research. Really Bad Interior Decorating
Ezra sipped her Dragon's Breath. The flames reflected in her eyes while the purple fire settled. “Perfect setup for tomorrow. We can scout the whole place while making the sale.”
Sally's other patrons returned to their drinks. Zaro accessed his status screen to prepare. He took full advantage of brevity while looking at his stats.
He had 15 stat points and dumped 10 into vitality and 5 into strength.
Level 15 Void Warrior
HP 900
Mana 500
Strength 45
Agility 40
Intelligence 50
Vitality 50
Stamina 40
As skill points flowed into his attributes Zaro braced for the familiar agony. His enhanced vitality changed the experience. What should have been searing pain manifested as only a dull ache like sore muscles after training. The system upgrades settled into place with surprising comfort.
He exited and thought about his new weapon. Maybe he could enhance it with void control.
The void shards hummed as he drew them from storage. Five crystalline fragments of pure darkness. Through void control he merged them with the Poison Pen. The weapon and shards resonated and combined. The blade grew darker and more refined. Its crystal core gleamed with deadly purpose.
[System Alert]
Item Enhanced
Poison Pen Rare Quality
Active ability - Penetration extends poison affinity range by 1 foot
Passive. Inflicts Poison Toxicity for 60 seconds ignores armor
Chad spoke again through the crystal link. “I will take you there now. Play it careful. They get paranoid about new recruits since recent infiltration attempts.”
“Just remember,” Chad added. “they watch for any signs you're not who you claim. Stick to the basics. Hungry for power. Tired of guild restrictions. Willing to learn. The usual recruit profile.”
Ezra adjusted her merchant disguise for tomorrow. She transformed from deadly assassin to crystal trader with a simple change in posture and a draped thin fabric that covered her top half, it was a deep blue.
“One last thing,” Chad warned. “their screening includes crystal resonance testing for magic affinity. They want to see how you handle magical energy. Given your actual abilities…”
“I will remember to struggle appropriately.” Zaro assured him. “Nothing ruins an infiltration like being too competent.”
They stepped out into the evening streets of Galahad. It was still early evening. The first stars appeared above. Somewhere in the old district a corrupt magic school prepared to receive a very unusual student while his partners readied their merchant disguises for the morning.
Zaro stored his armor in the void and swapped for a black tunic with black pants and black shoes. The black shadows of void overflowing onto his body as they swallowed the armor and replaced it with regular clothing. He left his bracers on so they wouldn't be able to tell what his fighting style might be. He also kept the cloak on, it was almost invisible during the day unless he focused mana into it, but at night it was thin, but like wearing a shadow, it increased his ability to blend into the shadows.
The evening air carried the scent of lake water mixed with night blooming jasmine as Zaro made his way down cobblestone streets. Light posts cast shadows across stone buildings worn smooth by centuries of lake mist.
A giggle caught his attention. Through the window of Madame Pam's Peculiar Plants he spotted a young Venus flytrap playing peek a boo with a regular customer. The plant ducked behind its leaves whenever the customer looked its way. Other plants swayed despite the lack of wind. A particularly large specimen near the window seemed to be reading a newspaper.
Zaro activated analyze as he passed Quick Clips.
Name. Byron Swifthand. Level 9 analyze had so much more information. It would go into family tree and dining habits if he wanted to click the tab and explore. But he didn't this time.
The barber moved like a conductor leading an orchestra of scissors. Two pairs floated through the air snipping with precision while he wielded another two pairs himself. A customer sat perfectly still as all four pairs of scissors worked in harmony trimming his hair into what appeared to be the shape of a swan.
Zaro kept walking. The normalcy of everyday magic users practicing their craft made his impending infiltration feel almost mundane. Maybe Galahad had always been a haven for those who pushed the boundaries of conventional magic. And maybe the Cobra Collective simply pushed those boundaries too far.
The lake came into view past the shops. Moonlight reflected off its surface while wisps of mist danced across the water. The old district lay on the far shore where factory smoke mixed with the natural lake mist creating an eternal haze. Perfect cover for illegal magic operations.
Zaro had been practicing spinning the stiletto pen dagger in his palm without using abilities. He was getting used to the weight of it. Knowing it ignored armor and had upgraded with an active and passive ability was exciting.
The lakefront street curved ahead. A figure stood at the corner beneath a sputtering light post. As Zaro approached, the man's eyes tracked his movement with predatory focus.
“Hey, you.”
Zaro stopped. “Me?”
“Yeah.” The man pushed off from the wall. “You look like you can fight.”
“A little.” Zaro kept his posture neutral, interested but not eager.
“Way I see it, a man who can fight should be able to do more than scrape by working for the guilds.” The man circled slowly. “They keep the real techniques locked away. The real power.”
Zaro shrugged. “Guild restrictions are... restrictive.”
“Exactly.” A smile crept across the man's face. “What if I told you there's a place that teaches what the guilds won't? No limits. No rules about what magic is too dangerous to learn.”
“Sounds illegal.” Zaro glanced around as if nervous. “And expensive.” He added.
“First lesson's free. After that…” The man gestured toward the misty shore. “Well, let's just say the skills pay for themselves. You interested in real power?”
This was almost too easy. Zaro let uncertainty show on his face before nodding slowly. “Where?”
“Follow me. Time for your entrance exam.”
The man led the way through winding streets toward the lake. A simple iron gate marked their destination. Zaro's void sense prickled - someone waited just behind the entrance.
“Right this way.”
As they stepped through the gate, a large shape lunged from the shadows. Zaro fumbled the Poison Pen, letting it clatter to the ground. “Oh sorry,” he mumbled, bending to retrieve it. The ambusher's wild haymaker whistled overhead.
As Zaro straightened, he accidentally stepped around the overextended attacker. His right foot just happened to pin the man's heel. The ambusher pitched forward with a startled grunt as he toppled, losing his balance.
“My deepest apologies!” Zaro bowed deeply at the waist. A second whoosh of displaced air passed over his head. As he rose from his bow, his foot found the fallen man's temple with gentle precision. The ambusher went limp.
“Oh, your friend seems to have fallen and been knocked out.” Zaro's voice carried innocent concern.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
The guide spun around. “Gremlin!” He rushed to check his unconscious companion. “Help me get him inside.”
They carried the dazed man through torch-lit corridors to a small medical room. After ensuring the injury wasn't severe, the guide turned to Zaro with newfound interest.
“Not bad. But accidents won't get you far here. You'll need to prove yourself properly, two fights against other initiates. Win those, and you've earned your spot.”
“I'm Reaper and that was Gremlin. Most people never get far enough to learn that.”
Zaro nodded, maintaining his facade of nervous eagerness. “When do we start?”
They descended stone steps into the basement levels. Torches cast dancing shadows across damp walls. The air grew thick with the scent of sweat and something alchemical.
Zaro flexed his void sense and pushed it to the limit as much as he could to get the layout of the place and send updates through void whisper to his team.
“Through here.” Reaper gestured to an open chamber. A sunken fighting pit dominated the center, its floor packed dirt surrounded by stone barriers. Training dummies and weapon racks lined the walls. A few students practiced basic combat forms in the corners.
“You've got an hour before your first match.” The guide pointed to a preparation area. “Training weapons on the rack if you need them. Water in the corner. Don't leave the room.”
Zaro moved to a quiet corner and sat cross-legged, appearing to meditate while actually scanning the room with void sense. Other initiates cast occasional glances his way, assessing the newcomer. The faint hum of crystal energy pulsed beneath the floor - something in a chamber below the training area.
He settled in to wait, keeping his Poison Pen within easy reach while maintaining his facade of an eager but inexperienced recruit. The hour would give him time to observe the other fighters' habits and techniques before his match.
The guide returned with a lean, scarecrow of a man. His leather vest hung open, revealing a chest so thin you could count his ribs. The heavy boots seemed to weigh down his stick-like legs, making each step deliberate and thunderous compared to his frail appearance.
Gecko here is your first opponent. The guide gestured at the pit. “You won't make it to the second,” Gecko spat at him.
Analyze showed Zaro his name was Greg Gecko Marburn. A level 15 Warrior with a hardening subclass.
The man's braided hair swayed as he dropped into a fighting stance. Despite his skeletal frame, Zaro noted the way the man's skin seemed to take on a harder sheen under the torch light - the mark of his subclass.
Zaro maintained his nervous demeanor as he stepped into the pit, letting his shoulders hunch slightly, his stance intentionally unbalanced. He could feel the other initiates gathering around the pit's edge, eager to see the newcomer tested.
The guide raised his hand. “Ready?” His arm dropped. “Begin.”
Zaro held his ground as Gecko launched a practiced downward swing - a knockout punch that had probably ended dozens of fights. Instead of dodging, Zaro stepped into it, letting it connect cleanly with his chin. No void skin, no defenses. Just raw impact.
The blow that should have shattered bone simply clicked against his teeth. Minus 20 health, barely enough to draw a drop of blood from his bitten cheek. Zaro's mind raced - this was their heavy hitter?
He had a hell of a job ahead of him.
Selling the impact, Zaro took a half step back, looking at Gecko with a betrayed look. “After all we've been through,” he said, watching confusion flicker across his opponent's gaunt face.
Gecko's confidence wavered. That punch had dropped every previous initiate. Yet this newcomer was still standing.
Fine. Time to stop playing.
The transformation began with his knuckles cracking, fists swelling and hardening like ancient oak. Another crack sent the change racing up his arms, skin taking on the texture of gnarled bark. When he popped his neck, his entire frame expanded, flesh transforming into something like raw iron rebar.
The massive boots no longer looked out of place on his transformed body. Gecko stomped, cracking the stone floor, sending vibrations through the pit.
The crowd pressed closer to the edge, eager to see what would happen next. They expected a slaughter - either Zaro would fall like the others, or something very interesting was about to happen.
Zaro shifted his weight, keeping his wounded act but adjusting his stance subtly. The harder Gecko became, the more openings he'd create. The question was how to exploit them while appearing to struggle.
In this world each level granted roughly 5 to 6 attribute points to distribute. At level 15 even with a rare warrior class Geckos maximum potential strength would cap around 75 to 90 points total. Factoring the mana needed for his hardening abilities his actual physical strength probably topped out at 25. Impressive for most but to Zaro barely a warmup.
Between Zaros base vitality and his accumulated stats this fight was like being attacked by an angry child. The real challenge wasn't surviving. It was winning convincingly.
Zaro taunted.
“Let's get the fight going before a family of squirrels moves in, buddy.” He waved his hand dismissively at Gecko's tree bark exterior. “You looked stupid before, but now.” He gestured at the transformation. “Now you look special.”
The crowd's amusement cut deeper than any punch could. Geckos wooden features twisted in rage. The careful theatricality of his transformation dissolved into genuine anger. Just as planned. An angry opponent was a predictable opponent.
A vein pulsed in Geckos oak textured neck as he clenched his fists. The ground crackled beneath his boots as he gathered himself for a charge. Zaro could practically see the man's adrenaline preparing his muscles for an all out assault.
This would hurt. Not Zaro but his acting skills would be pushed to their limit to make this look good.
Gecko charged forward heavy boots thundering against stone unleashing a barrage of hardened fists. Left, right, left, straight, hook, straight. Basic combinations thrown with the confidence of someone used to overwhelming opponents.
Zaro kept his movements simple. Basic footwork sliding back and away letting each strike pass within inches. Nothing flashy, just textbook defense. He could read every punch before it came, seeing the weight shift and shoulder telegraph each move.
The packed dirt under his feet shifted with each step raising small clouds of dust. Light from overhead torches cast dancing shadows across the underground arena making the rough bark texture of Geckos skin catch the flickering light. The air grew thick with tension and the earthy smell of the soil as Gecko continued his assault.
With each movement Zaro felt the smooth flow of countless fighting styles merging in his mind. Knowledge bubbled up from somewhere deep within showing him openings he hadn't known existed before. His feet wanted to shift into positions from styles he had never formally trained. He saw opportunities for throws that would send Gecko flying, opportunities to redirect force through circular stepping patterns, opportunities to push, pull and control his opponent through techniques that felt ancient and familiar all at once.
The skills merged and flowed together like streams joining a river. Unarmed Combat level 8 gave him raw fighting instinct. Advanced Weapons Proficiency level 6 let him read angles of attack. Combat Movement level 6 kept his footwork precise. Battle Tactics level 5 helped him plan several moves ahead. Martial Arts Theory level 8 tied it all together showing him the perfect counters to each attack. It felt like downloading combat knowledge straight into his mind just like those old matrix films.
But he kept it simple. Let Gecko think he was barely surviving. No need to show his full capabilities yet. The wooden exterior his opponent wore might be impressive but Zaro knew there would be weak points where the grain of the wood meet. Natural fault lines he could exploit if needed.
Testing his opponent Zaro threw a light counter towards Geckos elbow covered ribs. This almost guaranteed his opponent could block it. Gecko had purposely caught the strike where his bicep and forearm meet. But that small victory cost him. The hardened fighter tried to hide it but Zaro caught him flexing and shaking out his blocking arm. A small crack had formed where Zaros' strike landed.
Gecko pressed his position, launching a lightning quick straight punch to Zaros chest. The blow connected solidly and Zaro allowed himself to stumble back. Another 50 health gone barely a scratch. He made a show of rubbing his chest gasping slightly.
The crowd murmured appreciation for the exchange. They saw what Gecko wanted them to see. A stronger fighter toying with his prey. Only Zaro noticed how Gecko kept testing his right arm, the one that had blocked Zaros gentle probe. The man's hardened exterior might be impressive but it seemed the interior had some vulnerabilities.
Gecko rolled his shoulders settling into his stance again. His facial features pulled into a confident smirk but Zaro could see uncertainty in his eyes. That block had hurt more than expected and his best shots were barely slowing this newcomer down.
The haymaker telegraphed so clearly Zaro could have dodged it blindfolded. Instead he planted his feet and met force with force. His fist crashed against Geckos launching forward like a piston.
When their knuckles collided the sound echoed through the arena. That sharp crack of wood splitting made several spectators flinch. Like a fastball meeting a Louisville slugger but this bat shattered on impact.
Gecko yanked his hand back with a yelp that came out more surprised than pained. His reinforced knuckles collapsed inward, splintered and crushed where Zaros fist connected. Fine cracks spread like spider webs through the hardened skin around his hand. The protective layer that had given him such confidence now betrayed its fragility.
A few murmurs rippled through the crowd. They had expected Zaro to dodge or block but not match Gecko blow for blow. The wooden fighter cradled his damaged hand close to his chest, his eyes wide with disbelief. That confident smirk crumbled faster than his shattered defense.
Gecko said “I got somethin fer ya,” through clenched teeth, his neck popping as he snapped it side to side. The wooden texture of his skin began to ripple and shift. Like mercury flowing across his body the surface transformed from rough bark to gleaming metal. The change wasn't uniform though. Silver patches spread unevenly focusing on key areas. His forearms shone like polished steel chest plates formed across his torso and his forehead gained a metallic sheen.
Through his void sense Zaro watched the mana channels fire erratically. The flow was unstable, lacking proper control. Energy pooled in some areas while barely trickling to others. The technique required precise mana distribution but Gecko was forcing it through brute strength alone.
“Looks like you haven't finished learning that technique yet huh?” Zaro asked watching the uneven transformation continue. The question hit its mark. Gecko's jaw tightened and a muscle jumped in his partially metallic cheek. The crowd leaned forward eager to see this new development but Zaro saw the desperation behind the flashy display. This was a last resort maneuver.
Small wisps of excess mana leaked from the gaps between metal and skin. The transformation was either a completed state of being or burning through his reserves fast. Whatever came next would need to end this fight quickly. Win or lose Gecko might not be able to maintain this state for long.
Zaros heightened combat awareness took in every detail of his surroundings. His eyes caught the jagged stone jutting up through the packed earth about six feet to his left. Perfect height to crack against a skull or spine. He filed that information away letting his subconscious work out the geometry.
When Gecko launched that desperate right straight exactly as predicted Zaro moved like water. He slipped to the inside of the punch while simultaneously wrapping his left arm over the top of Gecko's extended limb. The overhook grip locked in tight against partially metallic flesh.
In one fluid motion Zaro pivoted his hips left and swept his right leg forward, then back catching behind Geckos knee. The throw was textbook perfect using his opponent's momentum and weight against him. Like a gate swinging on its hinges Zaro turned through the throw letting Geckos own forward drive, amplify the force. The partially transformed fighter went airborne, his eyes widening as his feet left the ground.
The impact was brutal. Gecko crashed down spine first across the protruding stone. The crack of impact echoed through the arena followed by complete silence. His metallic patches flickered and faded back to normal skin as consciousness left him. He lay sprawled and motionless saved from serious injury only by what remained of his reinforcement.
The entire sequence had taken less than three seconds. From punch to throw to knockout. The crowd stood stunned watching their pick for initiation laid out by what looked like some sort of levitation magic. Only those with trained eyes had seen the precise calculation behind each movement. How Zaro had manipulated his opponent and utilized the environment flawlessly.
Reaper hated every moment of it. He wanted to see a fight - a real one, not this surgical dismantling. The fury in his eyes promised escalation as he signaled to his men. Within moments, two more fighters entered the arena while Gecko was dragged away like discarded trash.
The first newcomer was massive, 300 pounds of fat and muscle combined into a human battering ram. Each heavy step radiated earth mana into the ground.
An earth user then, and a big one. Zaro's analyze worked quickly, feeding him data like an old habit.
The second fighter was built remarkably similar to Zaro himself, lean and coiled with restrained power. His ability remained a mystery, making him the wild card.
Zaro's face showed a flash of concern as he assessed the new threats. Two opponents with unknown abilities, plus whatever tricks they might have planned together. But the worry vanished as quickly as it appeared. His hands came up into a clean boxing stance, weight balanced, ready to move. The casual confidence in his posture spoke volumes - he'd faced worse odds before.
The big man grinned and cracked his knuckles while his partner simply watched through half-lidded eyes. The air grew thick with tension as the three fighters began to circle. Two on one odds were bad enough. But two unknown abilities at once? This would take everything he had learned so far.
The crowd's bloodthirsty cheers echoed off the arena walls. They wanted violence. And one way or another they were about to get it.
The lean fighter moved first, darting in with a probing jab. Zaro slipped it easily, too easily. The punch passed through empty air where his head had been, but something was wrong. His void sense screamed a warning as three identical copies of the fighter emerged from the original like rippling reflections, each throwing follow up strikes from different angles.
After images. But these weren't just visual tricks. Each one carried mana signatures that made them seem real, confusing both normal sight and void sense. Four versions of the same fighter moved in perfect sync, their movements liquid and precise. Which one was real? All of them looked solid, all of them cast shadows, all of them disturbed the air as they moved.
Zaro barely managed to block two incoming strikes, but a third caught him in the ribs, the real one. The hit confirmed his suspicion: the after images could distract and confuse, but only the original could make contact. The problem was tracking which one that was in the chaos of combat.
To make matters worse, the earth user was starting to move in, looking to capitalize on any opening the after images created. Zaro was enjoying the fight. It was the first time he fought with no abilities.
Zaro closed his eyes and focused on his void sense. The punches wouldn't hurt him much anyway - might as well use that to his advantage. When the next strike came, he felt the familiar tingle and moved his bracer perfectly into position. The real fighter's fist crashed against the metal, splitting his knuckles open.
Eyes snapping open, Zaro surged forward. He caught the bleeding fighter in a tight clinch and drove a knee into his midsection before using the man's own momentum to throw him directly into his larger partner. Not waiting for them to recover, Zaro followed through, shoving the dazed fighter even harder into the earth user. Both men stumbled backwards.
As Zaro circled to create an advantage, the earth user finally made his move. The ground beneath Zaro's foot suddenly hardened and locked him in place. Three chunks of rock slammed into his chest in rapid succession, tearing his tunic to shreds but failing to break his skin.
With a sharp wrench, Zaro pulled his trapped foot free. In one smooth motion, he scooped up a handful of dirt and flung it at the earth user's face. The instant the man's arm came up to block, Zaro was already inside his guard. The combination flowed like water - left jab to set up the slip past a desperate counter, then a right hook that connected with devastating precision. The earth user crumpled.
As the other man was starting to recover and stand, Zaro caught him with an uppercut that folded him like laundry.
As the dust settled, it revealed a scene that was becoming familiar in this arena: unconscious bodies on the ground, and Zaro standing calmly over them. He'd already equipped a fresh black shirt from his void storage, looking as composed as if he'd just finished a light workout rather than a two-on-one fight.
Reaper's booming voice cut through the lingering dust and excited murmurs of the crowd. Winner! He strode into the arena, grabbing Zaro's wrist and hoisting it high. The usual scowl had been replaced with a satisfied grin, he'd finally seen the kind of fight he was looking for. Not just power, but skill and tactical thinking.
“Welcome to the Cobra Collective, initiate.” The words carried weight, marking Zaro's official entry into one of the most notorious organizations in the underworld. His performance had proven he belonged, taking down three opponents without even needing his abilities, relying purely on combat expertise and physical prowess.
The unconscious bodies were being dragged away as Reaper kept Zaro's arm raised, letting the crowd drink in their newest member. Zaro had successfully made his way in. Tomorrow he would get up early and scout the grounds. He needed to find his extraction target.
Things were about to get interesting.