Gojin, like Grazzok, fell without me having to pull out any of my powers besides Instincts of the Gossamyr. Between my Topaz rank physical attributes, my dedication to the spear, and the sharpness of Delirium of Ruin there just didn’t seem to be anyone in the first arena who could challenge me. The old orc I saw didn’t resurrect all my opponents. A gorgeous female orc resurrected another gladiator, and a human man resurrected a fallen human. It seemed it was up to the tribe of the combatant to resurrect the fallen, and if they had no one capable or couldn’t pay one of the others, they stayed dead.

It seemed weird to me to not just fight to yield, but many warriors had abilities that were triggered on their last legs, and in many cases those were the most powerful. When I swiftly dispatched a werewolf named Gorridin, the announcer filled the time to get a new opponent by talking.

“And you just hate to see it, folks. Gorridin, like many of the fighters today, is a low health monstrosity. When wounded, his attack power sales into the skies and his claws elongate, but our new challenger seems determined to prevent his opponents from activating any of their trump cards by going for one hit kills to emphasize his precision and mastery of the spear. Not a single match today has ended with both challengers bleeding out, a true rarity. What a spear he must be wielding that it can put down a werewolf!”

Did werewolves take special weapons to put out of commission? I just stabbed him through the heart and he died.

“Magical weapons are typically required to defeat a werewolf, or silver-plated. While Delirium of Ruin possesses no magic, it bypasses all immunities. None are safe from the talons of my envoys,” Arx Maxima spoke into my mind.

“It’s been ten months since a challenger earned the right to fight our champion in a single day! Let’s put our hands together for this brave warrior, and get ready to say her name, the one, the only, Porcupina!”

The crowd went absolutely crazy when the metal portcullis rose across the arena. A five foot tall figure walked out with a gait that I could only call a waddle. Despite the short, swaying motion of the figures steps, there was no clumsiness involved. I could tell it was a show my new opponent put on so people would underestimate her. Her entire body was covered in fur and quills, and I honestly had a hard time telling where her vitals were with everything else going on. The long quills made me think of the Decaylings.

Porcupina held a staff in her hands, which she spun in a fast series of movements to entertain the watchers. When the spinning subsided, her staff had sharp quills from her body emerging from both ends. I squinted and focused my eyes and beheld that Porcupina held only two concepts bound to her. Everyone in this arena fell somewhere in the one or two enkindled concepts, so it was no wonder I felt like the best fighter ever compared to them, my physicality was bolstered by my additional concepts beyond the levels they could ever hope to reach.

“In this corner, the reigning champion of the white arena, she of the spiky staff, Porcupina! Challenging her is the newcomer dragonoid, a mystery man who travels with a bevy of beautiful babes! Oh, wait, my assistant corrected me that the auburn haired one is actually a man, my mistake, but he’s a cutey too! Does our newcomer have the wherewithal to stand up against QUILLSTORM!?”

The crowd went insane when the announcer called out quill storm, but I was busy laughing at the sullen look on Remy’s face from the visitors seats until Instincts of the Gossamyr warned me. I quickly shifted my attention to the vast barrage of quills coming at me. I parried them all in one swing of my spear, using Modify Vector to give a pulse of slowness to the barrage so I could catch them all with the flat of Delirium of Ruin’s blade. I moved fast enough I had doubts most of the fighters, let alone the observers, could even follow what I did, or notice the subtle change.

I caught one of the spines from the air before it fell, and examined it, then looked up at Porcupina. Her eyes were wide, but she charged in with her staff. I felt dirty, like I was beating up a child. This must have been how the children with magic must have felt during my academy days whenever they had to spar with me. I blocked each of my opponents attacks with minimal movement, each time I shaved off quills from the staff.

Porcupina was good. If she was as fast as I was, or as strong, I don’t know if my mastery of the spear would have equaled her mastery of the staff, but the physical differences between us were a gulf that her skill with martial arts and staff alone couldn’t cross.

At the end of a flurry of blows which I deflected, she hopped back and smirked at me.

“Gotcha,” she laughed, but her laugh turned into a frown. No wound showed on me, not even a scratch on the fey crafted black clothing. I lifted my left hand and pointed my index finger at the end of her staff, where I had severed all the quills that had been there mid-strike.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“You’re good, but I’m a Topaz. You could yield, otherwise, I’m on a kind of time sensitive mission, so I won’t hold back anymore.” My gruff voice seemed to trigger Porcupina in some way, her eyes filled with rage, her mouth twisted in scorn, and an angry cloud of power flowed out of her. I’d heard of this type of fighter before, but I never thought I’d meet a berserker who fought with such precision and skil.

“Die!” Porcupina threw another barrage of quills at me, only these all radiated vicious anger. I swiped them from the sky with one swing of Delirium of Ruin, then took a step forward, to swat down the next barrage. I didn’t need to take another step, because Porcupina had also charged.

Our weapons clashed repeatedly, each time I easily severed the quills and a few inches off her staff. Each time I cut a few of her quills off her body, but they regrew basically instantly. I would have to use a thrust, and count on my spears ability to sever anything to not get caught on the jungle of quills that covered her.

While I shifted my stance to allow me to make a solid thrust attack Porcupina leaped at me. Extra quills grew and shot past her normal ones, and only shifting my head to the side saved my eyes. The close call with quills crashing into my scales, almost harmlessly, seemed comical compared to the spike of danger I’d felt before I moved.

I slammed the back of my left elbow into the porcupine woman. Twenty or thirty quills snapped with the power of my blow, and then I brought my right knee up into her stomach, shattering more quills. None of her natural defenses were strong enough to pierce my scales, or the stylish black clothes. I took a step back, and thrust Delirium of Ruin into her center mass once, then twice, before stepping back to make sure the job had been done.

“Killlll yooou I must!” The berserking porcupine lady whimpered out, so I gave her one more love tap with Delirium of Ruin. She stared at my own eyes in anger, her rage failed to sustain her dying body though, and she fell. Her lifeless body didn’t so much as twitch.

“What an upset! Let’s hear it for Emery!” The crowd gave me mild applause. I could tell they’d picked up on one key thing. I was strong. Stronger than Porcupina, stronger than them, maybe than all of them at once. There was no honor in this victory, only a waste. A waste of my time. Not to mention it had been a gross misuse of resources in resurrecting, healing, and sending a series of men and women to fake-deaths for no purpose beyond to ascertain I was strong enough to go do the same at the next arena.

I wanted to hit whoever organized the idiocy that ruled the Plains of Valor with a bolt of lightning. Maybe I should scour this terrible place with Katrina when we finished? No.. If they wanted to live like this, let them. It seemed punishment enough.

Sven, the young gnome, came out of the gate I’d left earlier to meet me.

“Nice work, mister. I made quite a few gold betting on you.” Sven’s high-pitched originated from down by my knees.

“That’s nice,” I lied. “We’re heading for the Obsidian Arena, where do we go to next?” I asked while he led me from the sandy floor of the arena back inside.

“Your party already arranged everything, Lord Emery. There’s a couple of different Arena’s that allow you to transition to Obsidian, not that anyone does that on account of it being suicide, but your party seemed set on going to the Silver Arena next. Your butler paid me to arrange a carriage, and the driver will handle the formalities at the next arena.”

“A carriage?” I asked, slightly surprised. I had a hard time imagining carriages, wagons, or anything but donkey pulled carts traveling between the rough palisades that filled the Plains of Valor.

“Oh yes, my Lord. While the Plains of Valor draw many of the more barbaric sorts, the upper tier arenas have just as many refined masters as they do ferocious warlords. And here we are,” Sven chirped happily when we reached a door. Upon opening it, there was indeed a carriage pulled by two horses, and my companions were already getting into it.

“Thank you, Sven.” I pat the boy on the head. He didn’t panic or cringe, just grinned up at me. It took me a moment to realize it wasn’t bravery, though. He broke out in sweat and reeked of fear. He’d frozen, like a rabbit that saw the hawks shadow too late. I walked over to hop into the carriage with my party.

“Nice showing, Emery.” Uncle Remy congratulated. “How do you think you’ll do at the Silver arena?”

“Let him relax, Remy. That was eight fights back to back,” Chrys said with a glare for the mage.

Claire shook her head in disagreement, which got her a piercing look from Chrys and a nod from me.

“White Arena is full of Ruby fighters. While skill matters, none of them had the strength or speed to give me a challenge. I’m assuming the Silver Arena holds people of Topaz?” I hoped, anyway.

“Yes. If you had revealed your nature as a Topaz you could have gone straight to challenging Porcupina, or so Sven said. Most challengers never know that, so sights like you created today happen every four or five months,” Remy explained the situation to me.

“Alright, tell me about the silver arena. What am I going up against here?” I tried to imagine, but I just saw another sand filled arena in my mind, and couldn’t work up a real threat.

“The Silver Arena is for technically skilled warriors, but there’s one in particular I need you to kill,” Remy said with no sign he might be joking.

“Kill? Who? Why?” I found I didn’t really have a problem with the idea of killing someone, if Remy had a good reason.

“The sister of Hector’s killer is currently the champion of the Silver Arena, Miyuki of the Six Swords.” Remy’s eyes were grim, and vicious.

“Okay. Tell me about her,” I answered. Based on the story of them getting lured into dealing with Hector’s death, there was likely more to it than just Miyuki and her unnamed sister being horrible people. I still wanted to know as much as I could about her though, if she was on my rank.