Jon really wanted to check up on his friends, and he didn’t want to fight alone, so he used his hands to put up the shape of a “T.”

“Time out?” Jocasta asked. Her voice was still amplified, but it had lost its fierceness.

Jon nodded.

“Alright.” Jocasta’s voice raised again. “Looks like our champion wants a quick breather to check in on his friends. Don’t worry. We’ll be back really soon. And it looks like we’re gonna need a new referee!”

Jon jumped out from his seat and ran past the stage. He gave Jocasta a nod of acknowledgement as he ran past her and up the steps.

Hector had just made it to the top with everyone else around him. Jon followed his friends to the back curtain.

Mallory ran up to the table in the office and began moving aside papers and whatnot.

Hector didn’t wait, plopping Marsha down without heed to anything on the table.

Mallory grimaced, but didn’t say anything, only resuming to check on Marsha’s condition.

“She’s alright,” Mallory noted. “Just knocked out cold.”

“That’s good to know.” Hector strode to a chair on the wall and sat down hard. He started taking large breaths.

“It’s you that probably has a problem,” Mallory said. “Letting yourself get smacked around on stage like that. Especially with Tiger style?”

“She wasn’t even using it correctly,” Hector said. “She wasn’t manipulating my movements. She was putting it all into brute force.”

“What do you mean?” Mallory asked. “She was tossing your ass across the stage the entire time! Literally!”

“Oh, I guess so.” Hector rubbed his chest. “Even if it wasn’t proper, it really hurt.”

“It’s supposed to hurt, you idiot.” Mallory rushed to Hector’s side and brushed his hand aside to put his own there. “She probably wasn’t trained properly, so she goes in hard.”

“Hmm. Probably," Hector muttered. “It’s pretty cool."

Jon made another look at Marsha. Bits of her clothes were tattered, and he could see some scrapes on her arms, but she was at least breathing. Her head wrap had managed to stay intact, making sense since Hector never seemed to go for the head at any point during the match. Even if she was unconscious, Jon wondered if this was the most rest she had gotten in a long time. He was happy to let her stay knocked out for a while.

“Are you both okay?” Thalia asked, coming to Hector's side while Mallory was casting mana over his head. “That looked really intense.”

“Yeah.” Hector answered with assurance. “She was tough, but I’ve been through a lot, so, it’s normal.”

“How do you survive if you keep getting hit?” Thalia said.

“Well, you get back up,” Hector said. “Then, it gets a little easier. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“But, what if she cuts off your leg?” Milo asked. He wasn’t even looking up from his notebook, scribbling fast like he had done the entire match. Then what doesn’t kill you makes you weaker.”

“What? Shut up!” Hector crossed his arms.

“The kid has a point, Hector,” Mallory said. “You gotta take care of yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Hector said. “Plus, we gotta get ready for Jon’s match, right?”

“Jon will be fine,” Mallory said. “You should tell him good luck.”

“Oh, right.” Hector looked at Jon. “Good luck on your match, Jon. I-”

Mallory pushed his palm into Hector’s head. Hector fell over, unconscious. Mallory caught him by the shoulder before he fell forward off the chair.

“Whelp.” Mallory grimaced as he maneuvered Hector back into the chair. “That takes care of that.”

He looked at Jon.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to stay here and look after the kids,” Mallory explained. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

Jon nodded, noting the irony in the use of "kids" for Marsha in Hector.

“I’ll be with him!” Thalia ran to Jon. “I’ll cheer for you!”

Jon felt a little embarrassed at the thought.

“Come on, Milo!” Thalia said.

“No, I need to finish this.” Milo waved her away, not even looking away.

“Fine.” Thalia crossed her arms and pouted. “It’ll just be me and Jon.”

“Have fun.” Milo didn’t seem concerned in the least.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Okay. Whelp.” Mallory shrugged. “I could use the company. And maybe he can learn something. Good luck out there. Especially since everyone who can save you is stuck in this room.”

“Thanks,” Jon replied. He took that thought with him while he stepped back outside into the arena.

The curtain seemed to have muffled the crowd. The rush of the cheer came back to Jon as he made his way closer and closer to the center.

A hand grabbed his wrist, holding on tight. Jon figured that this was more for Thalia than it was for him. He was okay with letting her hold on.

When they got to the bottom, Thalia broke away from him and took her seat back near the bottom of the arena.

Jocasta was waiting in the ring.

“Are you ready?” she asked as Jon climbed back onto the stage.

“Yep,” Jon muttered.

Jocasta turned to the arena and held up her arms, “And now, for our second exhibition match of the day!”

The usual roar of the crowd came to meet her.

“Here, making his first foray into the arena,” Jocasta yelled, raising her arm in his direction.

She’s gonna talk about me.

“A traveler from afar. Way past the mountainous terrain that separates our people. He’s come from far across the realm! Here to test his mettle against the great dangers of our world. Hailing from a legendary occupation, tossed aside so that he could fulfill his dreams to travel and become the strongest farmer there is, and here to show us his skills with the blunderbuss… Jon the Farmer!”

Jon got a wave of cheers following his name. Jon thought that Jocasta achieved a lot by not saying very much at all. He wasn’t sure if completely agreed with everything she said, but it also wasn’t completely untrue. Jon got chills at the thought of others hearing his story. They were looking and thinking about him. And they didn’t seem to be disappointed.

Ignore them. Even though they weren’t meant for him, Hector’s words resonated in Jon’s chest. He wasn’t important to them. Win or lose, they would all have a good time.

The truthful pangs of Jocasta’s introduction were still wearing away in his chest when she started the next announcement.

“But we’re not done yet!” Jocasta said. “Because, as you know, we have two sets of mountainous ranges separating us from them. The one in the south, protecting the peaceful farmers from us, and those mountains over there.”

Jocasta pointed to the visible mountain range with her finger. “The ones protecting us from them.”

The crowd seemed to understand what this meant, as they reacted with ecstatic glee.

Mercy? Jon felt a small rush from the thought of seeing Mercy again, but he knew the thought of seeing her so soon after getting back home probably wouldn’t have been feasible. She looked ready to settle down to whatever she had to deal with at home.

“Hailing from the Stonetooth Clan!” Jocasta continued. “Here, in his first exhibition match… Rakheem!”

A hulking figure jumped down from the audience. It wasn’t until he stepped onto the stage did Jon realize how tall he was.

He was very similar to Mercy’s cousin, Damien. Towering height, dark skinned, and rippling muscles. Gray furry arm and leg warmers that matched with his furry hat and his loincloth. Bareskin everywhere else.

Also, unlike Damien, he looked somewhat older, if only by a few years. There was a sharp confidence in his face that contrasted to Damien’s cool demeanor.

In his hands, he carried a hammer that might have been the same height as Jon. The handle was a long, black, thin pole, and the head was a stony cublike block that was the same size as Jon’s head.

One he was on the stage, he turned around and held his hammer over his head.

“Ha!” He yelled.

“Yeah!” The crowd responded to his provocation.

When he was satisfied, he turned back to Jon.

“Well met, Jon the Farmer!” he said. He pointed at Jon with his hammer. “I’m glad to meet you on this battle ground.”

Jon found it hard to choose between staring at Rakheem’s face and hammer.

“This will be a weapons friendly exhibition!” Jocasta yelled. “Remember, three times out of the ring… or knock out!”

There was the familiar rile of the crowd. Jon was amazed a group of people could have so much energy.

Jon faced his opponent again. He was expecting to maybe be outclassed in fighting ability in taking on this fight. He hadn’t imagined taking on someone who was just plainly a superior physical specimen. He gulped.

Rakheem raised his hammer again and the crowd followed his mood.

“Can you dig it!” He yelled.

“Yeah.”

Jon wasn’t sure what the narrative was. How could people follow Rakheem so well if it was his first time here.

Soon, the crowd died down. Jon saw that Jocasta was watching him with interest.

“They’re waiting for you,” Jocasta wishered. “You have any words for your fans?”

Fans? Jon almost shrugged. He decided to take Rakheem’s lead, taking his blunderbuss from his back and holding it up in the air with his hand.

When there wasn’t a response, he pulled the trigger, shooting a blast into the air.

The crowd response was immediate.

Oh. That was easy. Jon brought his gun back to his side and observed it curiously. He had forgotten how novel his gun was on this side of the land.

“There we have it!” Jocasta yelled. “Two men from a foreign land. In a battle between the ingenuity of the Farmer and the brute force of the Stonetooth, who will win!”

Jon and Rakheem took their place across from each other. Rakheem looked as ready to fight as Jon was.

“I wish you luck against my hammer, Jon,” Rakheem said, “but I also wish you luck against me.”

Jon found it hard to find a response to that.

“Thanks.” Jon said.

“Are our fighters ready!” Jocasta yelled. She didn’t even wait for either of their answers. “Three… Two…”

Jon looked up at Rakheem’s hammer again. It was long. He wasn’t sure what his plan was. Unlike his fights with Raglace and Jules, he had no one to help aid him against a physically superior opponent. Jon gulped, remembering his wheelchair.

“...one… Fight!”