I walked straight to Dragana. “I need more fights, as many as possible. I don't care who it is, I'll face them.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise and then furrowed in thought. “As many as possible?” I nodded. “That sounds like a request for a gauntlet challenge to me.” A mischievous smile crept onto her face.

“Whatever you need to call it, let's do it.”

She pulled out an illusiacom, “the new guy wants an open gauntlet. Yeah, the one with the bow and the black sword.” She put the illusiacom away and pointed upwards.

The announcer's voice came out, audible in every corner of the stadium, “Ladies and gentlemen, you are in for a treat tonight! One of our newest competitors has issued a gauntlet challenge! He will be competing against any fighters willing to face him, one after the other, without cessation or respite! If you want to take the first step and test your mettle in the Arena, now is the time to show us what you have!”

Dragana continued smirking. “Head through the tunnel, we'll start sending in your challengers once they've come down. Wait behind the bars in between fights. Be ready, many of them will be bringing their own weapons from their time before the Catastrophe.”

I steeled myself and walked through the tunnel to the now-familiar red torches and heavy gate. I could hear the murmur of thousands of conversations up in the stands.

Outside the gate, a sorceror I hadn't seen before walked around, assessing the ground. After a couple laps, he made some small movements and the entire arena floor changed from the slick reflective surface to a very plain dirt. After a couple more laps, he appeared satisfied with his work and flew out of sight.

No gimmicks for this match, just me, my weapons, and the challengers.

The gates began to rise and the announcer started us off, “Let the gauntlet begin!”

I gripped the sword tightly in my hands and sprinted forward. The first challenger had a medium length spear they charged at me with. One well-timed swing knocked it away from me and split the wood of the handle. Two steps, a single swing across their chest and they fell. I was tuned completely into the sensation of the movements. It was just me and my sword working together, no outside thoughts entered into me.

I went back behind the gates. When the arena was cleared, they rose again. The next opponent had a short sword and circular shield. I cut through their shield, but they were fast. They twisted around and cut a gash into my forearm. I didn’t flinch from the pain, embracing it instead. A few more swings and they fell too. I learned from this one that I needed to attack more from the side, I couldn’t be head-on all the time.

The third opponent chose a distance weapon, but this short field was not enough to keep me away. I had used bows my entire life; I knew how to break my pattern of movement, confuse their aim. Their arrows and projectiles may hit me, but they will not be enough to stop me.

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The fourth was the greatest challenge I would face that day. He looked like a savage, wearing loose animal pelts and wielding two medium-sized axes. I approached cautiously and that was almost my downfall. He came in flying, swinging the axes wildly and jumping at me repeatedly. I saw the red bar in my vision ticking down, my panic was rising. The meditative trance I had felt previously vanished. I couldn't focus on him, my eyes were drawn to that little red bar.

And then I realized: I didn't need to have it there, I had just grown used to it. Remove the status bar and map. All of the constant information was gone. I didn't need something external right now, I could feel in my body that I was still able to fight.

I branded my sword. The next time he jumped at me, I threw my blade into him. It worked well enough, stopping his attack and causing some harm. When he went to grab the blade, I recalled it to my hand. He didn't learn from his mistake and we repeated this dance a few more times until he reached a breaking point. He haphazardly began swinging and running toward me.

But I had refound my center; I calmly cricled around him and cut into him every time he left an opening. He lasted longer than any other opponent I faced that day, but even he succumbed, drenched in sweat and blood.

The opponents continued to stream in one by one. Some with blades, others with bows or slings. Some got in a cut on me here or a small piercing wound there, but all fell to my blade in time. My blood mingled with theirs in my wounds and on the arena floor. Every time, I returned behind the gates with the sword still clutched tightly in my hands.

The deep red of the torches’ flames behind me was enhanced by the darkening red of my opponents’ blood. I must have looked like a demon carrying the red of the flames out with me. The audience certainly seemed to appreciate it if their increasing volume was anything to go by.

The novices I faced were growing more hesitant. Each one that fell came more quickly than the last. They must have felt the anticipation in the audience as they stepped out, or noticed the rapid shortening of the time between their wait and the next defeat.

All I felt was satisfaction at the ease with which my blade cut. No amount of blood could stain the purity of the absolute darkness of the obstinite. It did not dull, it did not chip. It's unchanging surface kept me centered. How could I be uncertain of myself when my blade was so certain?

I was behind the gates again, waiting for what the announcer called out to be my final opponent. The deep red surrounded me, from the light and from the latest layer of new blood spread across me from the previous challenger.

The gate rose slowly. My movements matched it, becoming slower from overuse. I let my blade drag along the ground beside me, still tightly gripped. It cut a clean line into the rock floor.

My opponent stood just outside his gate, Longsword clutched between his hands, moonlight gleaning lightly off it. He was very stiff. At first, I thought he might be waiting for my approach, but he seemed more like a frozen animal than a fortress wall.

I walked slowly toward him, bringing my blade up to point it toward him. I couldn't let my guard down at the final step.

His knees wobbled as he took a few unsteady steps forward and then faceplanted into the ground. The armbands flashed. I was frozen mid-stride, staring at the man an entire arena-length away from me. He…fainted?

The audience seemed as confused as me. The air hung silently as a somator came over to scoop him up. The somator gestured that he was alive.

The room filled with the sound of laughter, followed by cheers. My victory came without even swinging my blade. I pumped my fist in the air victoriously, reveling in the energy of the crowd. I had done it: a successful gauntlet.

The announcer’s voice resounded, “May I present the newest rising star: Bloodshade! With his devastating Shadowblade!”