038 - THE CLIMB
Not being able to leave the dungeon directly was a setback. But when Conrad entered the Arena for his fifth fight it became immediately clear that at least one part of his survival plan had firmly succeeded.
The crowd.
The burst of cheers and applause that greeted him clad in his Contender Armor, freshly shaved and hair cleaned up per Mara’s advice, nearly staggered him. Instead, he put on a confident grin and opened his arms wide as if to welcome these people - his fans - to a further exhibition of martial prowess in the forced submission of Chaos to Order.
The citizens of Great Pines were on their feet in excitement for the new potential champion, the first to challenge the fifth tier, and many of them were proudly saluting with fists banging on chests as they roared their greeting.
Troy’s parting words echoed in Conrad’s mind as he walked toward the center of the sands and awaited the entrance of his opponent, “If it isn’t deadly, you take the hit. Blocks, body blows, this fight is about grinding those skills higher,” he lowered his voice and whispered, “And keep that smile glued on. Don’t ever let this place know it can hurt you.”
That was going to be a tall order, but Troy had the right of it. If he could make this place feel complacent in its losses, make it feel like he was granting it victories and never even needing to show the full extent of his abilities, in effect, make the dungeon feel it was genuinely outclassed and that it would be putting itself at a disadvantage throwing more resources into defeating Conrad - then on the level of psychology he could defeat it before it could even recognize an opportunity for victory.
“ENTERING THE ARENA FOR THE FIRST TIME,” the Announcer’s voice echoed around the Arena, “IS THE MASTER OF THE FOREST, THE GUARDIAN OF THE GREAT PINES FROM WHICH THIS CITY TAKES ITS NAME, THE WOODSMAN’S BANE, IT’S THE SOON TO BE LEGENDARY HAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWKSWOOOOOOOOORTH!”
A birdlike creature suddenly jumped from an upper balcony Conrad had never previously seen. It spread massive wings and made a slow circle of the Arena sands before alighting in a shockwave of sand and dirt in front of Conrad, forcing him to put up an arm to protect his eyes.
When the dust cleared he saw it was about his height, muscular, and in almost all things very much a bird - likely a hawk but Conrad had no real knowledge of specific birds. It wore flashy gladiator armor that layered some kind of metal studded wood over its legs in a sectioned, pleated skirt. Its arms were similarly protected, and its chest was covered with a stiff heart protector, leaving the white plumage of its belly visible. It stretched out its wings, easily several meters in total wingspan, and screeched at him, bearing clawed and scaled hands, looking as if the dungeon had copied the pattern for its feet onto muscular arms.
“This oughta be interesting,” Conrad muttered. Usually, when he went up against an opponent he looked for ways it could be defeated, but this time he searched it for danger - how could he keep himself from being defeated while prolonging the fight enough to grind his skills up?
“FIIIIIIGHT!”
Hawksworth blasted forward, propelled by great sweeps of his wings. Conrad would have liked to sink his knife into its eye - the thing wasn’t protecting its face at all, seeming to take this kind of attack as an actual hawk would and going in headfirst, but that wasn’t the play. Not today.
He let it slam into him, knocking the air from his lungs and sending both of them to the ground. As they grappled he took a moment to assess its strength both through their contact and also with his Assess spell:
Name: Hawksworth
Race: Dungeon Spawn (hawk/human)
Stats
Agility: 15
Dexterity: 10
Endurance: 20
Intelligence: 5
Strength: 15
Abilities:
No additional information available
That was good, he outclassed the monster on every stat, and he could feel as they grappled that, if he chose to, he could overpower it with his own 21 strength and end the fight.
Then he felt its claws dig into his arm. It took a moment, but as it squeezed it finally managed to break his Toughness hardened skin, the sensation of it like an animal biting him harder and harder until it finally broke through. He groaned and peeled the fingers off his arm, narrowly missing having his nose bitten off by its snapping beak as it rolled over to get on top of him.
“HAWKSWORTH TAKING THE DOMINANT POSITION! GROUND AND POUND DELIVERED FROM THE KING OF THE AIR!”
The creature had postured up and was raining strikes down on Conrad. He put his arms up, stiff and bent at the elbows to cover his chin and ears, guarding him from an accidental knockout as he let the thing hammer on him. A moment later it decided to ratchet up the damage and splayed its claws, hoping to take an eye or more flesh, but that wasn’t part of the deal Conrad was offering.
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He grabbed the birdlike appendage as it shot forward, twisting his head out of the way and forcing it, fingers splayed open, onto the ground next to him. He wrenched at it, forcing the claws to drag into the ground until - SNAP.
Hawksworth recoiled with a screech, holding up simple bird-like fingers, claws left snapped off in the sand next to Conrad.
“OH! THE MERCHANT TAKING THE IDEA OF DISARMING HIS OPPONENT A LITTLE TOO LITERALLY!”
Predictably it clawed out at him with its other hand and Conrad repeated the maneuver before shoving the screeching thing off him and returning to a fighting stance. It came at him then and put its full speed on display as it swung, brawler-like, attempting to do with fists what it no longer could with claws.
Conrad accepted the blows, gently nudging his Toughness higher as he swung his own in response. He deliberately missed, jumping around and attempting to teach himself something more about unarmed combat and using as much energy as possible. The two of them slugged it out for a full two minutes before Second Wind activated, granting him a new level of proficiency in the skill bringing it up to three out of five.
Then it got clever. Conrad suddenly found himself on the ground and shaking his head, and when he looked up saw Hawksworth recoiling from a haymaker it had delivered with its outstretched wing. It ratcheted up the damage, now hitting with both wings, both fists and occasionally, striking out with still clawed legs.
Conrad let the fight carry on for some time, listening to the roars of the crowd and the callouts of the Announcer - he couldn’t afford to let any of them get bored. His body was covered in scratches and scrapes, small tears from claw strikes and the monstrous sharp beak of his opponent, his heart was about to burst from his chest and his arms were heavy with approaching exhaustion. Danger Sense had helped him see the wing strikes from the side and had gained a level after he switched to dodging. He had taken about as as many hits as he thought he could take at this point, having used his forearms and even knees to help improve his Recovery Block skill, which gave him a small amount of stamina whenever it activated successfully.
In an inspired lull in a full flurry of attacks from his enemy, he picked his moment. Slipping outside a punch he guided the fist past him and closed in, clinching with Hawksworth. The half-bird, half-man tried to beat at him with its wings but Conrad ducked under those too as they closed in on him, and a moment later grappled around behind the creature. He pressed down hard on its back, forcing it to its knees, and with one arm around its neck he straightened out his chest and beat his other fist against it as he looked out at the crowd, eyes confident and showing none of the aches and pains that threatened to double him over.
They cheered their approval, fists to chest in excitement as the Announcer bellowed, “HAWKSWORTH IS IN TROUBLE!”
Conrad grabbed hold of Hawksworth’s neck and wrenched it around almost backward, pops ratcheting out from it as he snapped vertebrae. He let the dead thing drop and enjoyed the lightly pleasurable rush of XP entering his pool as he put a fist into the air in victory.
The crowd was losing themselves in excitement and Conrad had an idea. He took some of the herbs he still had in his inventory from so long ago and threw them into the air, and seeing this, many of the people in the audience did the same. Hats, coins, flowers, whatever they could get their hands on flew into the air and the sands of the Arena.
“A little tip for doing such a nice job,” Conrad said, not sure if the Arena could hear him. A little goodwill at this point could go a long way.
He strode toward the exit, ignoring the desire to limp, fist to chest as he gazed around the gathered spectators, and the Announcer shouted, “HE’S DONE IT! THE MERCHANT OF DEATH ONCE AGAIN REMINDS ALL COMERS THAT HIS NAME IS NO MERE MARKETING GIMMICK! THE ONLY PRICE PAYABLE, LIFE, AND THE ONLY THING ON OFFER WHEN CONRAD DREN ENTERS THE ARENA, IS DEAAAAATH!”
He entered the preparation area to find Troy and Mara waiting for him.
“Hell of a show, C!” Mara gushed, “That commentary! You could practically see it even down here!”
“You could almost say the Announcer was born for it,” Conrad joked, then grimaced as he gripped his armor and sent it into his inventory.
Troy handed him a health potion and he downed it immediately, “Good show out there, pretty clear at the end you had the whole thing in hand.”
“More or less,” Conrad grunted, “Hey, Mitch? I’m gonna need a bit more food if I’m going to recover for tomorrow.”
Mitch hovered sullenly near the exit to the outer wall, looked like he wanted to say something then quashed it and just nodded before exiting to do as Conrad had asked, not even bothering to lock him in the cage. The Arena had made it clear it was superfluous now - it would never let Conrad leave, not until he had cleared the twelfth tier.
The healing potion gave him a peculiar sense of well-being combined with a sickeningly visceral sense of bruises healing, bones shoving back into place, and the overall sense of his body somehow moving in reverse, but Conrad sensed he could get used to it and maybe even enjoy it someday. He looked over his stats and shared the update plus his skill improvements with his companions:
Status Modification
Agility: +2
Dexterity: +1
Endurance: +3
Toughness + 2
“That’s a good start taken with your skill enhancements,” Troy said, “You’re going to need to do it again.”
“Oh don’t go stickin’ swords in dead monsters, Troy,” Mara chided, “Think he doesn’t know that? Anyway, liked how you handled that kill, Merchant, half the ladies in that crowd’ll be walking out of here soaked.”
Troy scoffed and drew a circle around his heart but Conrad just laughed before the pain in his back and chest cut it off for him.
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He did do it again the next day, his opponent another spin on a turtle-like creature with hardened plates all over it. Imbued Strike went up two levels to proficiency level three and Conrad, using his club, made the thing into a broken mess, not leaving a single plate intact by the time he delivered the killing blow.
“Solid hits, good progress,” Troy said, then admonished, “You got too focused on offense though, you need to take hits.”
“Did you see the size of it?” Conrad protested, “Thing could’ve demolished my ribcage if I let it.”
Mara chuckled, “Order oughta take away a point of toughness for such girl-ish complaining, C. Don’t be such a scaredy cat.”
Conrad slugged her playfully and took the lesson for what it was worth - it was a subtle reminder that the dungeon was listening, and his confession of weakness and its ability to hurt him would not go unpunished. Mara, in her way, was trying to game the comment into sounding like complaining rather than good sense.
At Tier Seven the dungeon again leaned toward speed, his opponent was much faster than him and carrying its own iron daggers. Conrad was forced to engage Adrenaline Rush just to survive, and after taking a number of wounds, he ended things early, putting his knife through the heart of the half-man, half-snake creature.
“You even get anything out of that fight?” Troy grumbled, “These wounds can’t hold back the Merchant of Death!”
“Honestly, if I’d paid for a ticket to this show, I’d be asking the Announcer for a refund,” Mara said as she chewed on an apple absently, “Poor showing for all these people who forked out offerings.”
Conrad was grateful for the verbal cover. That had been close. He was bleeding badly, his status winking at him letting him know his health was still draining as he went through great pains not to appear to be hurriedly bandaging the dozen or so deep cuts he had taken fighting Salazar, the snake creature. He had gained another level in Toughness and it was doing its best to keep him alive while he worked.
He left a tiny sip of the healing potion in the bottle and tossed it to the ground, where the dungeon eagerly absorbed it. No chance he would give it an excuse to think he wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain, but as it vanished into nothing he hoped that one last sip wouldn’t mean the difference between readiness for the Eighth Tier and a gruesome end.
The following day, he would find out.