I focused my gaze at them, all the wonder of the display sucked out of me. He was relatively tall, which meant he had a few centimeters on me, maybe five? And heavily built, like muscles on muscles. He could easily snap me in two with those arms, that was if the cleaver he called a weapon didn’t shear me in half, vertically. He had blonde hair and light skin, which was wholly on display, bare-chested as he was.
Since he had checked my [Status], I decided to return the favor.
‘[Human : Dawkins][Level: 35]
Status:
[HP: 3482/7199]
[MP: 1351/3749]
[SP: 2829/6191]’
35!? That was like seven Levels above me. Seven whole levels. And most of his numbers were higher than mine. Checking the few other people near him proved the same, with the lowest leveled being Level 32. I was really out of my depth with the whole group.
How had he even known I was a competitor? I could have easily been one of the water guys. But looking around showed no such people around. In fact, if I counted the number of people in the arena, I was sure I would end up with thirty, now that I had joined them.
“Who do you expect to beat here?” he asked as I stood there dumbfounded. The others had stopped what they had been doing and were staring at me, all of them. “I should get you on my first bout, I’d teach you a good lesson before sending you back to wherever it is you came from.”
I felt like crying. I could honestly feel the tears threaten to well up in my eyes. I had never done well with attention, negative or positive. And the attention from the meat cleaver Dawkins definitely felt negative. I tuned him out then, and stared down, tearing my gaze from them all. If I don’t see them, they don’t exist. If I don’t hear them, they don’t exist. I chanted to myself as I began a purposeful march around the perimeter of the arena, glad that there were no spectators in the terraces. If my math was right, it always was, then that would take me approximately three-fourteen one-meter strides. By then, I would have calmed down enough to try a few things in the arena. There was enough room for me to find my own secluded area for a little practice of my own.
When I made it back to my starting point, I hadn’t calmed down at all. But I had accepted my fate. Nothing had changed really, before I left Yange, I knew that everyone would be in their 30s. I had actually thought there would be some close to Level 40. Looking at it that way, things were better than I had expected. But looking up again reminded me that the Level 30s were no joke either.
Assuming they were holding back for when the fights actually began, then they were way above me in nearly everything. The only [Attribute]s that I had that could potentially match up with theirs were [Agility] and [Endurance]. Everything else was a joke, especially [Strength] and [Vitality]. I still had no idea how to actively work on my [Vitality]. The only gains I saw came without me knowing. I would check my notifications and see a vitality leveled up message. Asking Clare yielded nothing more than a generic answer, I decided to ask some of the competitors before the Baronies were over.
With that in mind, I moved back along the perimeter for several tens of steps before arriving at a region I had seen with no one near it, and no projectiles being hurtled that way. It had enough room for me to practice my [Acrobatics] Skill that I had gained a few weeks back. I hadn’t put much effort into it until after the day of the fighting pits.
I removed my long coat and vest, and placed them neatly by the edge of the arena, my staff laid on top of them, and the marvin on top of it all. I knew I was going to sweat soon enough, but there was no way I would be removing my shirt in front of all those people. I went through a ten-minute stretching and warm up routine, before I started jumping around the area like an amateur gymnast who was still learning the basics.
I wasn’t bad. At level 4, my [Acrobatics] Skill was good. And I had performed a lot of crazy feats that I was proud of. But just as with the shirt business, there were just too many spectators for me to be comfortable at all. How will I perform when it comes to the actual fights? The terraces looked like they could house over ten thousand people easily. If I didn’t get used to having people watch me while I did things, it would be goodbye me in the first round.
Then I remembered about the fighting pits and calmed down. When the time to deliver came, I would deliver what was needed of me. All I needed to work on was how to deliver. I got up from my prone position and went through a series of tumbles that still left me on the ground. Maybe I had gotten used to having the staff with me for counterbalance. But that thing weighed nothing, less than two kilos, not more than two at most.
I looked up at the sun from my position on the ground, it was barely peeking through the edge of the stadium. Two, three hours before night fall came, I surmised. If I had been in Yange, I would have had another hour or so of exercise before I called it a day. In Sjuma, I didn’t know what to think of the time.
I had no idea when the training grounds would close; when the time for meals would be, if there was such a thing; when the bouts would begin tomorrow; and other many unknowns that made me sticking to my old routine very difficult. If the fights began in the early morning, then I couldn’t afford to go below halfway of my [Status]s. If they began later in the day, then I had a little leeway. I decided to check where I currently stood at.
‘[Human : Hartie][Level: 28]
Status:
[HP: 3021/3550]
[MP: 4075/4366]
[SP: 2829/5948]
Huh, lower than I had expected. I decided to call it a day and wait for The Grand Competition. If I wasn’t ready for it, I never would be until the coming year. I got up, dusted myself and began putting on my vest.
“Got enough for the day? No wonder you are so low leveled. What kind of training was that?” Dawkins asked. He sounded closer than I had expected him to be, too close for comfort.
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Was he really such a guy? I couldn’t believe that I was experiencing the typical arrogant treatment from those who were better than me. Maybe the System had glitched when it was creating him and left him with a generic personality. I didn’t think it made any sense for someone like him to exist, especially in a world of Levels. If what Boni had said was true, then Dawkins would be small fish in the Counties. A very small fish. I knew that people would gain Levels as the competition progressed, but I didn’t think he would make more than two. And that was with me being generous, not unless there was a way to gain more Levels, but he would have done that already.
I turned to stare at him, and found him with a lackey on his side. The lackey was short, shorter even than me, but just as heavily loaded as his friend. He had red hair and the tan skin I had become accustomed to, which had me doubting whether his hair was actually red. I thought of asking him where he got his hair dye, but dismissed that thought. The more feral thought of just burying Dawkins in an earthen tomb with [Earth Grab] was more difficult to dismiss.
I held my staff tighter, and used it as a clutch as I began my way out of the arena. I had never been a fan of confrontations, and I still wasn’t. The point of the competition was the money. And only the money. Once I got that, I could find myself a secluded area in a secluded part of Mesily and spent the rest of my days there. Maybe I would pay Silas’ family a visit every once in a while.
By the time I was done with all that future speculation, I had already made it to the Inn. I was about to go straight for my room before I realized that I might find it difficult to come back down for a meal.
“How much for a meal?” I asked the lone receptionist I found. Their hair was down, either it was the pony tail who had gotten tired of the pony tail or the other one, I couldn’t really tell them apart.
“The competitors’ meals are covered for by The Grand Competition sponsors.”
That was unbelievable. Meals covered for me? I could eat whatever I wanted, how much of it I wanted, and not suffer a coin. The people of Mesily had to be idiots not to take up the offer of free food, but just to be sure, I asked for more details.
Apparently, I was allowed three meals a day and no meal could exceed a gold coin in value. Since I didn’t know what a good gold coin meal was like, I asked them to bring me the most common meal they had at that price range. I didn’t want to go exploring some fancy new cuisines right before a big fight, nor did I want to spent time perusing the menu. I went to the farthest corner table and was presented with my meal a few minutes later.
Six big fat chapattis and a meat stew with what looked like carrots, potatoes and tomatoes thrown in. I was even given a large orange orange that had been sliced into four pieces. I was salivating even before the waiter left me to my meal. And I dug in haste. Eating chapattis had one secret, you eat them too slow, you eat few. I was planning to eat them all.
By the time I made it to the sixth chapatti, my stomach was complaining. There really was no space for any more of them, but my brain was not ready to surrender the last chapatti back to the waiters. I steadily and cautiously consumed it. Maintaining a pace that would let me finish without realizing that I had gone overboard, but still not fast enough to cause me to throw up the whole meal. That would defeat the purpose of the whole endeavor.
When the last piece wiped the stew bowl clean, it was quickly placed in my mouth and I picked up the orange. The journey to my room was made in haste. The first thing I did when I closed the door was to create a glob of water into my canteen, then downing enough of it to push everything down. I disrobed, carried my dirty clothes into the bathroom and got under the shower. The water was cold and refreshing, and I took my sweet time ridding myself of the dirt and grim that had accumulated on my skin throughout the journey and the subsequent bout of training. I moved onto cleaning my clothes, then drying them and back to the shower to rinse myself before I wobbled out of the bathroom and barely had the presence of mind to get under the covers before I succumbed to the exhaustion. Or the overeating. I couldn’t be sure.
…
When I woke up, both numbers were asking for my attention. Together with that and my normal routine, it was close to half an hour before I made it to the receptionist desk. I hadn’t interacted with any of the other competitors aside from Dawkins, and his interaction had made me wary of interacting with any of the other competitors. I knew they weren’t all like that, but I was a cautious person and I needed my time before I was ready for another interaction. Which I was, after that meal and sleep. Also, I needed information about the competition. The only thing I knew was that I had to beat my opponents to knock out zones.
“Meal. Like yesterday, only with three chapattis instead of six. If I need more, I will ask,” I told the receptionist.
When they moved to carry out my order, I realized they were different than the ones I had seen yesterday. For starters, she was clearly a she. With a light skin and very light brown hair that could have been called blonde under some lights. I was about to call her back and clarify when I heard her call the right order to someone else. I guess they keep track of what everyone eats. How did she know what I ate though? I thought as I made my way to the corner and waited.
Within a minute of sitting down, someone else joined me; a middle aged man from his appearance, in every sense of that word. More tan than light, though.
“You couldn’t sleep before the big day?” he asked as he sat down opposite me.
I would have preferred he pick his own table, but I could use the opportunity to learn a few things. I just hoped the endeavor would be worth it.
“I slept fine. I just woke up and I think I went to sleep immediately after I left the arena,” I said. I wanted to add elaboration on when that was, but he beat me to it.
“Really!? You must have slept for more than twelve hours. That’s…” he trailed off, having lost words to describe what he thought of that.
“Yeah. I was kind of tired.”
“Haha, from the tumbling in the arena?” he asked.
And I finally had a high certainty that he was a competitor too. I hadn’t really checked the other people in the arena carefully, but Dawkins and his lackey were both in their twenties. Early twenties, or maybe even late teens. I guess people of all ages do participate.
Our dishes arrived then. And I began almost immediately, taking a few bites before deciding to answer him.
“That, and the journey to the city.”
“How far away did you come from?” he asked in between mouthfuls of his own food, a normal bread and stew; I might have seen cheese too.
“Yange.”
“The last I heard, the fare for a Troop was two golds,”
“I didn’t come with a Troop. On my own,” I replied to his comment without thinking. I didn’t think it was such a big issue but it might have been safer if he thought I came in a Troop. At least I thought so.
“You walked the whole way. I see,” he said. And I felt like he had come to a huge conclusion just from that piece of information alone. I really needed to learn to control myself more. It always happened so, every time I spent a considerable amount of time without interacting with anyone, when I get the chance, I always got too chatty.
We continued our meal in silence for a while before I decided to ask about the competition. After I had finished my meal of course.
“What are the rules of the competition?” I asked him.
He gave me a look, before composing himself and answering my question. “There are several rules. I don’t think I can explain them all to you before the opening ceremony. How do you not know the rules?”
Well, it wasn’t exactly an answer but at least I learnt about a ceremony. It sounded like something I would have to attend. “Are they any different from the ones followed in the fighting pits?”
Boni had told me that the rules weren’t that different between the two competitions. And talking about the fighting pits would at least give him a reference to use. It might also give him more information about you. I pushed that part down as I waited for him to answer me.
“Not really. Only that you will be allowed two potions to regenerate all three [Status]s for a total of six potions.”
That made sense, a little. I finally had a frame of reference on how to fight. “What about this ceremony? When and where will it be held?”
“The training grounds. Around two hours from now. We are all expected to attend.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that.”