Nathan was rushed to emergency care immediately. His consciousness was still hazy as the cheers from the stands echoed through the sterilized membrane of the infirmary. In truth, he didn't feel like he was in critical condition. His thoughts were coherent, and the pain from his wounds wasn't overwhelming—more like underlying waves, not enough to shock him, but still present.
“Prepare for a blood transfusion,” the head doctor called out. “Administer the bone marrow stimulator as well.”
Most conventional medicines and healing powders required blood as a conduit. Therefore, instead of uselessly immersing him in a pool of medicinal ingredients, blood was the top priority.
He let the doctors and nurses do as they pleased, a foolish grin still on his face. The hole in his cheek hadn't healed yet, so air kept rushing into his palate. He had won! He couldn't believe he had actually won. Perhaps his fighting style was to harm the enemy a thousand times while injuring himself eight hundred times. He thought he could have fought for a few more minutes, but he wasn't sure. If Qingfeng, instead of stubbornly trying to stab him with arrows, had used her strength to push him off the platform, the outcome might have been different.
A nurse returned with the necessary equipment, two vials of medicine—one yellow and one red—seeming to radiate light through their walls. The doctor took them, but just as she was about to insert the needle, the vitals on the screen above the hospital bed made her pause.
"How...?"
The blood ratio was no longer at alarming levels, and blood pressure and heart rate were stabilizing. Simultaneously, the machines monitoring his wounds showed changes. With a puzzled frown, the doctor waved her hand to triple the video speed backwards. Then, she played it forward in real-time. The wound on his cheek when he was brought in was a hole as wide as half a finger. Yet in this short time, it had shrunk slightly—insignificant, but noticeable if one focused.
"What a powerful physique!" she exclaimed.
The doctor suddenly became enthusiastic, putting down the two vials and the needle. She took another syringe set and drew blood from Nathan's arm. Her eyes eagerly watched the vital signs; after a brief decrease, the numbers began to rise again. Other screens showed bone and marrow activity increasing beyond normal levels.
"Magnificent!" she exclaimed.
"Ummm, doctor?" Nathan said hesitantly, his voice mixing with the wind through both holes from his chipped tooth and cheek, sounding quite comical.
"Ah, yes, sorry! You don't need these!"
She then reined in her curiosity and administered the medicine and healing powder to Nathan.
The medicine entering his throat released a surge of energy that his body had been lacking. It felt like the necessary ingredient for [Titan's Descendant] to operate at full capacity. Nathan sensed as if tens of thousands of tiny bugs were crawling all over him, causing a tingling sensation everywhere. His wounds automatically stemmed the bleeding and jumped to the recovery stage with new tissue and muscle being generated.
"It seems you'll be able to continue in the next round," the doctor commented. "I'll go report the situation to the elders. For now, rest."
Just as he was about to doze off, a clatter sounded, and Zeryn entered with a bright smile.
"Oh my, Nate! You don't know what you've just done!"
Nathan struggled to sit up a bit, still tired and having to lean against the pillow behind him. He smiled at his friend.
"Ew! That's one hell of an ugly smile. Can you keep your mouth shut?"
Nathan smiled wider.
"Don't do that to girls, or else you deserve to be single for eternity."
His mouth still felt salty, making Nathan grimace.
"I thought I'd get some high-grade medicine. Why are they letting me recover slowly like this?"
"Economy, of course. If they can cut costs, they will!"
Nathan nodded.
"You naive fool," Zeryn scolded. "Really, without me, were you planning to remain ignorant forever? They're not using strong medicine to avoid side effects. Regenerative medicines are miraculous but leave long-lasting and severe after-effects. Without a good sleep, don't dream of standing on the arena floor. Higher Tiers somewhat solve this problem as the spirit grows stronger. But for a Tier 1 like you, you shouldn't abuse medicine, understand?"
Nathan nodded again, dumbly.
“Did Qingfeng hit you so hard you’re brain-dead?”
Another nod.
Zeryn groaned. “Listen, you’re trending in the top three searches on PsiLink right now. Your fight video’s going viral.”
“Heh, not bad, right?” Nathan raised a fist to thump his chest, but the pain made him cough.
"Calm down, my friend," Zeryn sat on a stool beside the bed. "Sadly, betting on you has been locked on all channels. The blacklist spread."
"Why?" Nathan wheezed.
"Because the bookies lost money, of course! Those weird businessmen, they've already locked you after losing to you three times. So stingy!"
Nathan frowned, feeling no aversion to the betting organizers.
"How much did you bet on me last time?"
Hearing this question, Zeryn just pursed his lips, his eyes turning quite devious. If he were uninjured, Nathan would have shaken his head vigorously. Surely Zeryn had placed a sum that made the organizers turn pale when hearing about the previous compensation. What they thought would be an easy meal using Nathan's name had turned into a knife stabbing them back.
"It's fine, it's fine," Zeryn waved his hand. "It's not every day you get an investment opportunity like you. So, how about it? Feel up to fighting the next match?"
“Of course! The doctor said I’m good to go.”
“Great! Go out there and show them what Nathan Reed is made of!”
“Isn’t making it to the top eight already impressive?”
“What, are you scared now?”
“I’m too beat up for your trash talk to work.”
“Touché.”
Nathan laughed when he saw his friend always remembering small actions or words he had taught from his previous world.
Despite his carefree attitude, Zeryn truly wanted Nathan to succeed. The forum comments about Nathan weren’t kind. The malice was palpable, though Zeryn kept that from Nathan. Still, Zeryn couldn’t help but root for his friend. He wanted to see Nathan go further, to silence the haters. People didn’t see the grueling training Nathan had endured—the sleepless nights, the dirty jobs no one else would touch. Zeryn knew about Nathan’s Jessica and their mother’s tragic fate, but that only deepened his respect for Nathan, now heralded as the ‘Greatest Tier 1 Underdog.’
"Wanna watch the tournament in here?" Zeryn asked.
“Can I?” Nathan perked up, despite his exhaustion.
“Of course. Why do you think I’m here?”
Saying that, Zeryn threw out a cube with a metallic gray color from his spatial ring. It floated to one side of the hospital bed, then the front face receded to create a circular hole. From there, beams of light were projected, forming a floating screen in front of the two of them. It was showing a live broadcast of the arena outside.
"I had to ask the tech team to allow me to extract the broadcast," Zeryn said.
"Awesome! You're the best, Zer."
"The four pairs after your round ended quite quickly, no less bloody."
“So we're into the top 4 contenders now?"
"That's right. You surely don't want to miss the first match. Your turn has been pushed to the end with the consent of the disciples."
With another flick of his wrist, Zeryn adjusted the display, zooming in on the combatants in the ring. Xander Caldoran, Tier 1 Phase 8.2, was up against Milo Thayne, Tier 1 Phase 7.7.
Milo Thayne still used his shield and mace as weapons, while Xander was at ease with his spear. Both possessed tall, sturdy builds, not as massive as Roran, but generally enough to intimidate ordinary people.
Nathan suddenly remembered the Chinese word for contradiction, 矛盾 (máodùn), which combines spear (矛) and shield (盾). The word truly seemed fitting for the current situation.
The auxiliary arenas had been cleared, making the space much wider. The rule of pushing others down still existed, but this was done to limit its occurrence. At this point in the tournament, everyone wanted to showcase their skills in front of the Inner Sect Elders watching from above. Even if they didn’t make it into the top four, making an impression could be just as important.
The starting signal sounded. Milo moved cautiously. He clearly understood the level gap between them, so he didn't dare to be too rash. Especially since his opponent had previously scored damage higher than ten in last month's test, and that was just using bare hands, not even using the spear.
Xander stood firm, his eyes following his opponent. One could sense the confidence and certainty radiating from him. It was truly ironic that Milo was the one holding the shield, the image of stability and protection.
With a roar, Milo charged forward, shield covering the front. His speed was fast, but Xander was faster, with the added fluidity of simply stepping to one side, using the wooden end of the spear to sweep across his opponent's legs. Milo stumbled but managed to use his shield to maintain balance. He quickly turned around. Just in time to block a swing from Xander. The impact made Milo step back, his shield arm numb with the reverberating sound.
Xander twirled his spear with expert precision, shifting it behind his back before leaping into the air. From above, he rained down a flurry of stabs, each one bouncing off Milo’s shield. The sheer force of Xander’s strikes kept him aloft, using the recoil to deliver attack after attack. Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal, the sound chilling in its sharpness.
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Milo, hiding behind his shield, felt pressure like a mountain pressing down on his body. He tried to find a way to counterattack, but Xander absolutely didn't allow him to find an opening. When he wanted to run to the right, a swing was waiting, pushing him back. When he wanted to swing his mace from his left hand, he received a response from the sharp tip of the spear. The force disparity made him suffer even more.
Xander's attacks came as if from someone who didn't know what fatigue was, storm after storm. Just as everyone was wondering if Xander had no other moves, a sound of breaking metal rang out. A hole had been punctured in the upper part of the shield.
A jagged hole appeared, fragments flying back into Milo’s face, blinding him momentarily.
When he opened his eyes, his heart nearly stopped. The tip of Xander’s spear hovered a breath away from his right eye.
"The winner, Xander Caldoran!"
With the announcement, the match ended. The entire stands were stunned, still not understanding what had happened. It took a moment before they applauded in congratulation.
"So fast!" Nathan marveled from his hospital bed.
"All of his matches are like that," Zeryn said. "I'll give you some sincere advice, if you face Xander in the next round, just forfeit right away."
"What if, say, Zahra makes it to the inner circle in the next match?"
"Forfeit to her too!"
"That's like not giving advice at all, you idiot."
"It's the truth. You outer sect disciples this year are something else. One at Phase 2.6. One about to break through. Two wanting to have Intent. Argggh, I can't let them steal my spotlight."
Nathan didn't respond but pondered what Zeryn said. About to break through was Keira. So who were the two wanting to have Intent? One was Milo, whom Zeryn had mentioned earlier. Was the other Zahra or Xander?
He was about to ask when Zeryn said while waving his hand at the screen to change to another image:
"Your next opponent, Gideon Wight, Phase 8.9. Quite formidable, just defeated someone at Phase 9.3."
A young boy of sixteen appeared on the screen. He possessed a slim build, short curly hair, and an oval face with dark skin.
"I've gotten the video recordings of his previous matches for you. You can use gestures to control my PsiLink screen. It's quite unfair when others can analyze you but you can't do the same, right?"
Nathan appreciated his friend with a fist bump.
Nathan began to use the remaining time to study and analyze everything about his upcoming opponent. Gideon was a disciple who used a three-section staff, a weapon that was very user-selective. And he used it at a high level of proficiency. Nathan assessed that although his techniques weren't perfect, they would become more refined with just a bit more practice. Gideon's danger was demonstrated through the footage recorded from the qualifying round to the top sixteen and top eight matches, showing his versatility. The three-section staff could attack as a short stick, useful for speed at close range, or extend to its full length like a flexible spear to strike at a distance, not to mention the variations that allowed Gideon to surprise his opponents, leading to their defeat. Among them was Desmond, who had let Nathan fight Cecco in the chaotic round. Desmond used dual swords but was defeated by Gideon, who took advantage of his weapon's flexible attack range.
Nathan sighed. Another speed-based fighter.
Speed was what he lacked most due to the level gap with other disciples. It had only been improved thanks to experience and the unexpected versatility of [Martial Art Mastery], helping him make up for the distance in the qualifying round. After that, the physique of [Titan's Descendant] really allowed him to match up with higher phase disciples. [Better Vision] helped, but because it came after [Titan's Descendant], he couldn't assess the extent of the change.
Although he was cheating like this, he still almost lost to Qingfeng, who had touched the mana aspect and could compress and expand mana. If his opponent had been Roran who had reached Phase 9 or above, he would certainly have lost. Qingfeng even used consumable and difficult-to-manage weapons like arrows. She was a valuable asset for a team where members had specific roles. With her superior archery skills, she could act as a scout or a secret weapon with surprise attacks. The inner sect disciples currently recruiting members were likely targeting her more than Nathan.
After briefly reviewing how Gideon fought, he inadvertently looked at his system credits: 1151.
Fighting continuously had helped his points increase considerably, especially when fighting Roran.
Previously, he didn't understand the potential of his opponents, so he was overconfident in thinking he had prepared enough. But now, he needed all the help he could get.
Without overthinking this issue, he exchanged 600 points for three rolls and proceeded immediately.
Starting normal rolls...
You received [Internal Trauma]
You received [Bad Mouth]
You received [Improved Balance]
Duplicated Skills are held in reserved inventory for future use of [#Need Unlock before Revealing#]
"The hell," Nathan exclaimed.
"What's up? Need more medicine?" Zeryn turned his head to ask.
Nathan just waved his hand for his friend to turn back to watch the matches. Though full of suspicion, Zeryn just shrugged. Recently, Nathan's strange behavior wasn't uncommon.
[Bad Mouth] was rolled again? He wanted to go crazy at the system. So skills could be repeated multiple times? And there was a hidden function not yet unlocked? Taking a deep breath, he focused on the two skills he had obtained, leaving the system issue for later. It seemed it wasn't as overpowered as he had imagined.
The [Improved Balance] skill worked exactly as its name suggested, nothing special. [Internal Trauma] was the focus.
[Internal Trauma]
Description: Attacks have a 15% chance of inflicting psychological trauma to the opponent's psyche, manifesting as perceived internal distress.
Another skill with such a brief description. The question he posed was whether this skill caused effects in a fixed result format or would it accumulate to make the effect more severe?
Yes. The stacks make the effect stronger.
The system's answer startled him. So did his dissatisfaction and cursing at it get heard and evaluated?
On this, the system remained silent.
He apologized in his mind and then ignored the system. This new skill wasn't rare or above, so he guessed its effect wouldn't be too significant on the first activation. How many stacks it would take to become notable couldn't be tested right now. This was precisely the problem he had thought about before: without verification and practice to familiarize oneself, it would be very difficult to incorporate a skill into actual combat.
The system didn't give him an answer as to whether the effect of [Internal Trauma] would scale with damage output or not. It was as if it could answer but chose to let Nathan figure it out for himself.
Damn system, he cursed.
Fortunately, [Internal Trauma] had branching paths for upgrading. It was still chance and methodical.
Growth Path 1: Pure Chance.
Next Level: increase the chance to 17%.
Growth Path 2: Methodical.
Next Level: change the way the skill operates. Now the effect will apply to the sixth attack.
Choosing one path will disable the other.
After spending a minute reading carefully, making sure he hadn't misread a single word, he decided to choose Methodical to align with his initial direction. Perhaps there would be a time when he'd choose Pure Chance. But the sixth attack still fit the synergy for his fourth attack pattern plan.
The least common multiple of [Amplifying Strike] and [Flowing Strikes] was 12. This number didn't change when [Internal Trauma] related to the number six. Thus, every cycle of 12 attacks, he would stack all three of these skills together. 12, 24, 36 and so on.
He began calculating the possibility of abusing the skill like how he used the previous two skills. By charging specific attacks and leaving them in a waiting state, he could continuously unleash two strikes with two effects stacked on each other. But because [Internal Trauma] operated like [Flowing Strikes], not dividing attack types, it seemed he had no additional deployment methods.
Nathan was immersed in his contemplation about using skills and analyzing Gideon, until he was shaken by Zeryn and snapped back to reality. He had been sitting still like that for half an hour.
"Umm, your turn bro."
Nathan looked up at the live screen, realizing that the two matches following Xander's had already concluded. Zahra Kinyara and Keira Valein had become two of the four most promising outer sect disciples in the south.
He raised his hand to touch his right cheek; the wound had healed, and the skin had become smooth. Muscles and bones were all functioning well. That doctor had indeed fine-tuned the medicine for him before leaving.
"Am I shaking right now?" Nathan asked.
"People would think you're on drugs," Zeryn teased. "Take a deep breath and calm down."
Nathan swung his legs off the bed, stood up and stretched. He tried a few moves to check his current condition. All good. [Titan's Descendant] truly never ceased to amaze him.
In truth, he was trembling more from excitement than fear, unlike when he started. It was like standing up to perform in front of the whole school with his young and passionate friends in college. He was here with the reputation as one of the top 8 outer sect disciples, as an inner sect disciple. The bleak future from a month ago was almost gone. It still existed but was no longer so pressuring. The weight now was his desire to go further, to challenge himself to the extreme.
He lifted the tent flap and stepped out. Greeting him was the warm afternoon sunlight, rays piercing through the mountain range illuminating the arena as if inviting him. The air carried a scorching scent, not just from the sun's heat, but also from the anticipation of the young disciples.
"Nathan! Nathan! Nathan!"
They roared his name when they saw his image stepping out and projected on the screen in the middle of the field. The underdog had come a very long way.
Unable to contain himself, he smiled and looked around. Even if he lost, there would be no regrets. He had achieved what he aimed for; this was just an extra reward.
Gideon was already standing on the platform waiting for him, his hand gripping the folded three-section staff held close to his side.
"It's truly a shame that Qingfeng lost to you, Nathan Reed," Gideon said when Nathan came within earshot. "I had prepared new techniques to try and break her Arrow Dance."
"You surely know whether you can overcome it through me, don't you?" Nathan asked back, unfazed.
“To be honest, even with my new techniques, I doubt I could have beaten her. That girl is a demon with a bow.”
Nathan laughed, having thought Gideon would be another person taking a superior tone to criticize and mock. Turns out he was quite a sensible person with his own personality.
"It would be an honor to defeat you," Gideon continued. "But it wouldn't be a disgrace to lose to the one who beat Yao Qingfeng."
"The honor is mine as well," Nathan returned the courtesy.
Marcus on the field shouted loudly.
"Begin!"
Gideon didn't hesitate, immediately closing the distance. One section of the staff swung straight towards his opponent. Nathan leaned back to dodge, but the remaining sections of the weapon were already advancing towards him. Gideon swung the three sections of the staff back and forth, faster and faster, until the air seemed to be generating a vortex. Nathan could only retreat again and again. When he could no longer back away, he used his gloves to deflect one swing of the staff. But Gideon didn't falter; another section was already swinging in, both of Nathan's hands becoming busy. His eyes darted back and forth, waiting for a chance to counterattack. But it was futile; his opponent didn't leave a single opening.
There was no choice but to take a risk. Letting one of the sections hit his shoulder, Nathan lunged forward, his hand reaching for Gideon’s tunic. But Gideon was too quick, using the momentum of the staff to pivot, driving the blunt end into Nathan’s chest and forcing him back. Nathan staggered, feeling the wind knocked out of him, and barely had time to raise his arms before the staff slammed into his jaw. His head snapped back as Gideon pressed the advantage, the staff lengthening with a quick flick of his wrist. A heavy blow struck Nathan’s shoulder, sending him sliding backward on one knee.
Nathan hadn't regained his composure from the shock to his chin when another blow came down, forcing him to his knees, sliding back a distance. Looking up again, Gideon had already resumed his stance, holding two ends of the three-section staff, waiting calmly, unhurried and undisturbed.
Nathan raised his hand to crack his jaw back into place, spitting out a mouthful of blood. The tangy smell emanating from his mouth made him dizzy. Fortunately, the staff Gideon used was only in a cylindrical form. Nathan could imagine a scenario where this weapon was customized to Gideon's liking with hidden blades; that exchange just now would have been enough to make him collapse. The strike to his shoulder, if not for his robust body, would have been enough to break bones.
He stood up, his hands forming a short-range attack stance, utilizing Boxing and Wing Chun styles. Once again engaging in combat, he didn't let his opponent dominate freely anymore, but continuously threw punches to disrupt the momentum and rhythm of his opponent.
Gideon, however, adapted seamlessly. He twirled the staff faster, using its spinning sections to deflect Nathan’s strikes. Every punch, kick, or chop was intercepted by the swift movements of the staff, leaving Nathan frustrated as they danced around the platform. Even though Nathan landed a few hits, they lacked the strength needed to shift the momentum.
Triggered [Internal Trauma]. One credit given.
The system had notified him like this several times already, and Nathan knew that although his attacks weren't strong enough, they were still affecting Gideon. The aches and pains from blocking and taking hits from the staff made him sore all over. But it wasn't enough to make him collapse or become exhausted.
Suddenly, Gideon became serious. With a spinning motion, he wielded the three-section staff in a rhythm from top to bottom, then changed to horizontal spins. His wrists moved frantically, manipulating the weapon with expert precision.
At close range, Nathan couldn't create distance. After blocking with both hands during a vertical spin, seeing Gideon's eyes sharpen, he knew his opponent had gathered his strength. Without much thought, he jumped up, turning his backside, aiming his buttocks straight at the incoming horizontal swing.
The staff slammed into his buttocks, making him cry out in pain despite the reduced pain from [Butthurt].
"Arrgghhhh!"
The sound that came out of his mouth wasn't the roar of someone who had gone through voice changes in puberty. There was no deep tone, not even an expression of pain. Ringing in his ears was a high-pitched tone, with a hint of coquettishness. As if enjoying it. Very shameless, very inappropriate.
Triggered [Bad Mouth]. 170 credits given.
*170 people affected by [Bad Mouth]. 107 startled. 51 amused. 11 disgusted. 1 intrigued.