Mason soon stood in the entrance of his private house 'wing', all his players gathered around him. A few faces looked anxious. Most just looked pissed off.

"Bloody thing could have given us more notice," Seamus said, wearing nothing but a white robe and slippers. He dropped it, completely naked for a moment as everyone groaned or turned away or made various 'Damnit, Seamus' noises. Then his innate robe wrapped around him, and the Irishman rolled his eyes. "Nothin' you haven't all seen before now, lads. And lady. Come off it."

Mason was actually glad for the tension break. And he had to admit, despite their...rocky beginning, Seamus had proved himself a competent, loyal member of the team. They all had. Mason grinned as he met their eyes one by one. His players. His soldiers.

"We've prepared for this," he said. "You've all fought and trained together, so there's not much to say. I don't want show-boating. Don't be a martyr if you're getting mangled by sadists. Just get out. Likewise, if I see anyone torturing in there, we're going to have a long talk. You win however you have to, but that's it. You're probably some of the strongest teams. And these are just people who have no choice. They aren't our real enemy, this fucking robot is. Got it?"

The players all nodded, and Mason let out a breath.

"OK then. Relax for a few minutes. And good luck."

"You too, kid," said Carl. "You crazy bastard."

Mason grinned, seeing his name clearly on the 2v2 match list, which hopefully meant it was still working and wouldn't disqualify him for not having a second player.

"Don't worry about me," he said. "I get mangled all the time. You're the pampered princess not used to getting hurt."

"And I won't be starting today, thank you." Carl ran a hand over his head, scratched his nose, and probably engaged in a few other nervous ticks Mason just didn't recognize. But today at least he didn't give him a hard time.

All the players waited in their own way. Phuong sat and closed his eyes in some kind of meditation or prayer. Alex hummed to himself. John sat in silence, but looked pretty desperate for a drink. The spearmen and Tommaso joked in a corner. Becky was whistling and flipping her mace like a drum stick.

"You're not worried at all, are you?" Mason moved closer to her and held back the smile. She shrugged and put a hand on her hip as she wiggled her eyebrows.

"A rottin' dragon tried to make me a chew toy. Kinda puts things in perspective."

Mason stared at her curves and really wished they'd had more like 30 minutes. She caught his eyes and grinned, stepping forward and keeping her voice low.

"We could always try for a new quickie record."

Mason struggled in silence for a long second, but shook his head.

"Save it for the fight. Keep my players alive, soldier."

"Sir yes sir." Becky saluted with stiff posture, then bat her lashes and blew him a kiss. Then she walked over to her team and slapped Carl hard on the ass with a 'Ready, boys?' The older man rubbed his backside and stared with a squint between Mason and Becky as the cowgirl laughed.

Mason loved that she was getting more comfortable in this new world. And probably becoming more like the girl she was back on the farm. It was hard not to be reminded how amazing his personal (and sex) life had become—how lucky he was to be with girls like Haley or Becky or Rosa. Even while exploring something new not two minutes before.

It helped remind him he wasn’t just fighting for a nameless, nebulous blob of ‘humanity’. He was fighting for himself, too.

It was why he needed to get the rewards from this tournament, and put the fear of god in this emperor and his people. To preserve the amazing new life he was building. To protect it as long as he could, even as he fought to punish or stop the alien thing that had made it possible.

That he personally was actually enjoying it all was not the point. He also wouldn't forget the price. He wouldn't forget the dead.

Mason used Call Beast and summoned Streak to his side as the last minutes ticked. The wolf felt Mason's mood and arrived with silent intensity, staring as Mason looked into his eyes.

He didn't actually need to say anything. He and the wolf could exchange basic understanding now with far more speed than words. Mason felt his own mind reflected in the beast's gaze. Their heartbeats were nearly in sync, beating faster by the moment as the promise of violence loomed.

"Yes," Mason said, not bothering to fight the smile, his words more for himself than Streak. "Today we hunt."

* * *

The 'team' waiting cell was larger, and allowed for more time. It had a screen with a rough image of the arena—apparently a lightly wooded, but overall flat area, maybe the size of a football field.

Mason would have preferred something much larger and with plenty of slopes to use to get away. But just by being 'natural' it was already a huge advantage for him.

The screen also gave him the make-up of the other team:

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One caster (arcane). One melee (nature).

Mason grinned when he thought of the players in their own holding cell looking at the same screen. Would they be thrilled, he wondered, when they saw a single player? Would they think their victory was almost guaranteed?

If it were him, he supposed, he'd assume there was a second player but somehow they had a class that masked their details. In any case, he wasn't going to underestimate his enemy. And he wasn't going to play any games.

As soon as those doors opened, Mason intended to sprint out with Aspect of the Cheetah, find that caster, mark him, and end him.

"No I don't care about the melee," he said as Streak growled in question. "If you find him, take him. Otherwise, we kill the caster."

The wolf just licked its chops, eyes glowing as Mason's Fang Brother flared. The extra minutes weren't welcome, but Mason supposed he understood. Now that they saw the terrain and knew their enemy, teams had a moment to consider strategy.

He hoped the enemy teams didn't get any more information, or know in advance. He was suddenly a bit worried the eastern teams, with all their civilians, would have more knowledge about how all this worked.

But it wasn't time for distraction. The seconds ticked down, and the holding cell raised itself up into the arena. Mason held his elven bow, cycling through his powers. Just as planned, he activated Aspect of the Cheetah, and ran straight through the thin trees with Streak at his side.

A dozen figures emerged as Mason crossed. He blinked in confusion a moment before seeing smaller versions of the elementals he'd fought when he took down the giant Rochmananoch. Apparently this caster was some kind of summoner.

He smelled the nature 'melee' just as Streak growled in warning, turning and moving to the left as he dropped a series of traps as subtly as he could. The elementals were advancing, and Mason saw no reason to delay. He opened with an acid arrow, knowing they'd worked well enough on the elemental giant.

It exploded and hissed, melting off a chunk of the first. As Mason circled he soon caught sight of a figure hunched down and hiding behind a tree. He grinned and blasted it with a Power Shot.

The tree snapped, the thin trunk exploding with a spray of shrapnel as the huddled caster shrieked and jumped away.

Mason could hear the second enemy chasing him now, somehow camouflaged in the terrain. He ignored her, Streak slowing and breaking away without command, ready to pounce if she got too close.

But Mason was too fast. His feet rushed across the moss and dirt like he was triple jumping, slowing only to keep steady as he stared loosing more arrows from his relatively short bow.

With his speed and aim, arrows soon struck the caster in the side. The back. The hip. But he kept up and was running, trying to get behind another tree.

Mason growled and Marked the man, still loosing arrows, still circling away from the elementals. He blinked with his new x-ray like vision, seeing normal human anatomy shielded with some arcane power. A bit of text popped up—his new 'system suggestions' on how to kill his target, he assumed.

['All for One' arcane summoning power detected. Destroy all constructs.]

Mason blinked and glanced at the elementals, quickly seeing one with a damaged side, another limping.

Very clever, he thought. The man could transfer his hits to his summoned creatures. Well. It was a lot easier to hit a bunch of slow, stupid rock beasts than a running man. But he likely couldn't break them all before he had to deal with that warrior. So the question was—who was more dangerous to ignore?

Mason vanished his bow and stopped, his feet sliding across the ground. He summoned his Claws and turned as Streak growled and bolted at the natural warrior.

Mason saw her moving as a blurry shape maybe thirty feet behind him, feet racing loudly now with no attempt to stay hidden. Mason touched a tree as he charged to meet her, activating his Sleeves to maybe trick her eyes as he too camouflaged against the terrain. They were ten feet apart in a blink. Then they struck.

The woman’s twin blades swiped in a hurried, misjudged swing. Mason blocked both with a Sleeve, not concerning himself with his weapons at all. Mason was a weapon. He rammed his elbow straight into his enemy's chest, the impact sounding with a brutal crunching thud.

The woman lifted off her feet, carried several feet with Mason's charge until he stopped and let her fly back to roll and smash against a tree. She heaved and wretched, and Mason swept her with his mark to see a shattered mess of cracked and broken ribs.

"Don't get fancy in a charge," he said as he walked up beside her. She was wearing what looked like perfectly fitted, thick leather armor, her fingers sporting a few rings, her blades beautifully designed. He could smell a few affinities and expected it was all enchanted, and no doubt very impressive.

He was impressed as she fought to rise, slashing out at him weakly as he moved closer, trying to hold him off as she desperately tried to recover her breath. He formed and stabbed his shorter Claw straight through her back and through her heart, never even really seeing her face.

The arena blared with a trumpeting sound to announce the kill. Mason looked up just as the caster finished a spell, rage and terror in his eyes as the stink of arcane power swallowed Mason with a liquidy gurgle.

What might have been water covered him like a bubble. In curiosity more than fear Mason tried to push through it and found he could barely move.

Streak smashed into an elemental like a furry freight train, shattering it and ramming into the next.

Better hurry, Mason thought to the wizard, still moving a hand through the water. He couldn't breathe, which he supposed would scare most people. But at this point Mason wasn't even confident he had to breathe. At least not for a very long time.

He saw the man channeling and expected some kind of follow up that was worse. He could have pushed, could have done something to escape. But curiosity won out, and maybe the piece of him that liked suffering...

A few seconds later the wizard finished his spell, and a jet of white air blasted out over Mason and his water bubble. He grinned as he felt it freezing. A cold burn touched his skin as the world around him turned ice.

Apex Predator hadn't even flared. He expected he hadn't been hurt, or at least not enough to merit any effort. And though Mason didn't much like being trapped or buried, there was something kind of...peaceful about this. After a few seconds he pushed out with his arms and legs, watching Duality of Strength flare.

In another second, he heard the crack. Then a series of cracks. Then with a growl of effort he pushed out and broke apart his icy cage and flicked off a few pieces from his face. The wizard was staring with wide eyes, his elementals all smashed apart as Streak paced around the man, waiting.

"You're him," he said, sagging hopelessly to his knees.

"I'm him," Mason agreed, banishing his Claws. “You should probably surrender now.”

"We...we aren't permitted," the wizard failed to swallow and started trembling. He was Asian, maybe mid forties, very plain looking. "I can't."

"Permitted by who?" Mason asked, re-summoning a shorter Claw as he walked ahead. The system made it pretty clear you could give up in a match whenever you wanted.

The man shook his head like he wasn't willing to speak, and Mason understood. They were being watched by the outside world. Mason expected the emperor would make sure someone was always watching Mason’s fights. And apparently he had somehow threatened to punish any player who ‘gave up’.

"You fought well," he said, then ran his blade through his opponent's chest. The arena blared, and some kind of simulated applause roared in Mason's ears.

[Congratulations, this victory will go on your official tournament record. You have earned: 1 point!]

[Title gained. Second to none. Win a system tournament 2v2 match alone. +2 to primary statistic.]