A dark cloud sprayed out of Phuong as he charged. Mason's Power Shot seemed to vanish into it, as did the next several arrows Mason loosed at the charging swordsman.

That was new. And pretty damn cool. But he didn't have time to consider it.

Phuong was nearly on him in seconds. He could have drawn his blades, but he wanted to see if he could keep them away. He activated Aspect of the Cheetah, took a few steps to pick up speed, then jumped straight over the charging Phuong.

The swordsman’s eyes widened at the charge, then he slashed in a surprised panic as Mason soared over him. He didn’t swing high enough.

Even Mason was a bit surprised at the height, carrying himself maybe fifteen feet in the air and twice the distance before he hit the ground and rolled to his feet and loosed more arrows.

He sensed Carl a moment before he struck.

With no time to dodge, he relied on his Sleeves and turned to deflect the assassin's blade just as it appeared and stabbed. Fortunately, Carl's weapon wasn't that big. Mason managed to catch the side on his forearm. It flared with blue light and hurt, but his arm still worked fine, and he struck at Carl's face with a fist.

Carl's eyes widened, and he scrunched like a man about to take a hit. But his supernatural reflexes saved him. He vanished as quick as he'd appeared, Mason's fist passing straight through where his face had been.

Streak charged across the room, and Mason turned to face Phuong. Who was apparently already on him.

Mason summoned his Claws as the swordsman's symbol power struck him.

[First Blood: Way of the Sword: Stun partially resisted.]

Resisted or not, Mason felt like he'd been slammed in the gut. He activated his Shield Gem as Phuong's newly sparkling purple blade slashed for his throat. It took two, three hits, then faded, but had lasted long enough for Mason to recover and fight back.

Phuong was moving insanely fast. He'd obviously activated his temporary boost, his feet practically a blur as his sword slashed again and again. Mason kept on the defensive, deflecting with his Claws, trying not to take any hits with his Sleeves if he could avoid it. He wasn't sure how long Phuong's boost lasted, but he decided he should treat this like a real fight.

And Mason ended real fights.

He deflected a slash with his main hand, then lunged and slashed low with a Predator's Strike. Between the power's boost and his own ever-increasing speed, it felt so fast to be almost out of his own control.

Phuong reacted, but too late. He had to lift his leg and pull back in a panic, which threw him off balance. Mason pressed and knocked the older man reeling with two more slashes, one of which was his brand new Exploiting Strike, which also boosted the speed unnaturally.

It struck Phuong's shoulder with a flash of blue, then the swordsman regained his footing and swiped with enough force to send Mason back.

They circled each other, and Mason was about to launch himself again when he heard Streak howl in pain. In the moment he took to look over, Phuong started weaving a pattern, and Mason was forced to attack to interrupt him.

They went another round at similarly ridiculous speed, Mason trying to reach through his bond to get a sense of Streak's condition. The wolf was conscious, in pain, and entirely enraged. Mason pulled back again, neither he nor Phuong getting in a hit this time.

Carl appeared. Twice.

"Now!" they shouted in unison, and Mason assumed he'd used Simulacrum.

Phuong and both Carls moved to hit Mason from three angles. He twisted and charged straight at a Carl, grabbing for the knife and swinging an arm as he smashed into the man and knocked him flying aside, the blade slashing his hand to another shock of pain.

But then he was free, running for his traps, sidestepping a blast from Phuong without looking and grinning as he heard the man curse.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"I can smell it," he explained with a shout over a shoulder. "Your arcane nonsense reeks."

He slid to the wall and drew his bow, groaning as he was forced to use his still fried hand. Both Carls were closing the distance before Phuong shouted a warning.

"He ran straight for that spot. There's traps," said the ex guerrilla fighter, his eyes on the floor. "There. I can see them. Little swirls. Do you see?"

"Seeing won't help you much. Better hurry." Mason opened Endless Quiver, then loosed a series of arrows at both men with rapid shots.

Phuong deflected some like a damn Jedi, or dodged with the barest movement. Both Carls warped and vanished. One appeared next to Mason, far closer than both of them seemed to have expected. One of his traps exploded.

Carl #1 cried out and covered his face as the shrapnel flew. Mason reached straight through it, summoned his shorter Claw, and stabbed the man in the heart.

"Stupid damn clone!" Carl shouted from somewhere near the middle of the court. Mason was about to trash talk, and take another look at the wounded Streak. Then the wolf rose up on his back legs and roared.

Streak had apparently shifted into what could only be described as a werewolf. He was at least nine feet tall, his head basically normal, his body half-man, half-wolf. He snarled and charged at the approximate location of invisible Carl, arms out with green claws extended.

"Well…that's new," Mason mumbled, assuming it was a level twenty or a tier two thing. He did his part and kept loosing arrows at Phuong.

The swordsman apparently couldn't use his shadowy shield power again yet. He kept on coming with deflections and dodges, which was working surprisingly well until Mason loosed a Crippling Strike.

The arrow burst apart into shrapnel, and Phuong didn't have time to dodge. He groaned as the pieces flared blue light all over his lower body, and his movement slowed to a crawl.

Mason had him now. He walked forward loosing arrows, the swordsman still deflecting, clearly not sure if he should fall back or move ahead.

"Carl!" he called as an arrow nicked his throat.

The assassin warped and sprayed his colorful illusion. But Mason had predicted it. He closed his eyes, hardly needing them anyway.

He kept loosing arrows at Phuong with blinding speed, hearing at least two hit. Carl moved in for another stab but Mason was just too fast. He pretended to try and catch the blade, then snapped a front kick that knocked Carl a step back before he vanished.

Then screamed.

Streak seized Carl with both clawed hands, snarling as he took him to the ground. Phuong finally dropped to his knees, his torso 'shield' actually stuck with Mason's arrows. His eyes flickered as he fought unconsciousness.

"Well fought, Patron," he said, then toppled over.

Mason pulled Streak back with a mental command, the wolf's lips covering his teeth as he hopped off Carl like he’d been playing.

"Christ," Carl said, shaking on the ground like he was being shocked. "Thing...fucking...hurts. It's like a taser."

Mason saluted, then stabbed him in the heart. It felt weird—like the blade 'went in', but he saw it basically vanish as it touched the shield. Carl winced, and his eyes rolled back.

[Competition mode ended. Safety protocols removed. One minor injury detected. Medical attention recommended. Resuscitating players.]

Carl and Phuong both stopped shaking, groaning as they sat up. Phuong licked his lips like he'd just woken from a pleasant sleep. Carl winced and put a hand to his shoulder.

"That son of a bitch really bit me." He pointed at Streak. "Bad boy! Very bad boy!"

The ridiculousness of chastising the creature in werewolf form nearly made Mason laugh. Especially when Streak looked at him with a quirked head, as if to check if he had indeed been an actual bad boy.

"Carl is just a soft, whiny old man. You did good, buddy. Very good boy."

Streak's body cracked and popped as he shifted back to a wolf, grossing out pretty much everyone—which apparently included a small crowd of watchers at the outside of the court. When Mason looked over Haley and all his other girls (save Rebecca) waved or cheered silently.

Mason sat next to Carl and Phuong and let out a few deep breaths.

"I'm not sure I learned much. I’m a big problem for Phuong. Carl's a pain in the ass but we knew that. Though your reach sucks, and you're too slow, I guess."

"No, kid, you're just terrifyingly fast. When you threw that first punch I almost pissed myself."

Phuong nodded.

"Even with my improved adrenaline boost, Patron, I couldn't seem to really hit you. It was...most frustrating."

Mason knew Aspect of the Cheetah improved his speed constantly, but he hadn't realized quite how much. Mostly, he suspected, it was just his ridiculous stats, and a couple of his 'improved speed' powers.

"That dark shield thing was cool," Mason said. "Does it have a cooldown or what happened the second time?"

"Cooldown," he confirmed. "I shouldn't have used it so early. And I could have held it longer. Was hardly sure how it worked. Now I know."

"That's why we practice." Mason stood and helped the men to their feet. "Well at least I'm not crazy. That seemed alright. I expect I can win most two on ones."

Carl snorted. "Kid, I don't think we were really that close. You'll be fine."

Had they been so outmatched? Mason wasn't sure. He expected one unlucky hit from either of their weapons and things might have gone differently. But it seemed unlikely most players had such vicious weapons. And if they didn't, could they really even hurt Mason enough to kill him? Before he got strong enough to basically ignore their attacks?

It was definitely better, he decided, to overestimate his enemies, and assume they would have their ways. So he'd spend the next two days in the training hall fighting whatever programs simulated two opponents. And he'd do his best to win without getting his face smashed in.

"OK," he shouted to the others. "Show's over. Let's talk strategy for the six man team, then get you in there against a horde of monsters. And someone take Carl to the infirmary."

"I can walk myself, thank you!" he shouted, standing with a groan. "But do I need like a…werewolf rabies shot?”

Streak looked around as people laughed, wondering what was so funny, and also why everyone was looking at him. Mason just gave him a scratch.