“Look here, Oliver. It matches your eyes, look!”

I was guided to a specific Pod. The man pressed a blue button on the wall, stopping it from moving away. I didn’t think it was particularly important to match my eye colour, because I’d be unconscious while I was in it, but he seemed to think it was the most essential part of selecting a Pod.

“The amber, flecks of green. Delectable, don’t you think? Like an autumn morning on a peaceful lake, floating around on gentle, lapping currents.”

If he wanted to put me to sleep, it was working.

“Is it better than the AT-2000? Looks similar to me.”

“Oh!” he couldn’t help raising his voice, “You have an AT-2000! Of course! Dale is your…stepfather?”

“Not just yet. Good guy, though.”

My purple acquaintance chided himself for his misjudgement. The guard had followed us inside, watching the other three as they perused. This place had undergone a serious overhaul since the last few times we’d snuck in here — it actually felt special now, like shopping for Pods in outer-space.

“Yes, well, the AT-2000 is a lovely piece of machinery. Very versatile. Something like this, however,” he pointed at a Pod further along, “this is your logical next step, now that guilds must be throwing money at you faster than you can rake it in.”

“Actually, there’s just been one so far. My father’s.”

Dark clouds covered his face as I mentioned Dad. Whoever this guy was, he seemed to know exactly who I was, right down to my family dynamics. He was either a distant relative, or a damn good salesman.

“I see. Well, give it time, and make your interest known. Would you like to pose with me here? We can bring in a couple reporters and put out the message that you’re looking for luxury. Good for you, good for me, good for everyone, right?”

The salesman side was leaking through. He clearly wanted the free advertising, but he wasn’t wrong — a photograph in front of a twenty thousand krad Pod would do quite nicely for my…image.

“I think I’ll wait for now, thank you though. This may be rude, but can I ask who you are? You seem to know a lot about me, and I’m struggling a little.”

He huffed and puffed as though it was a terrible affront. I was worried he was like…my uncle or something, then he suddenly changed his demeanour, laughing and slapping my arm.

“Gotcha there! That’s fine, you wouldn’t know me — it’s my job to know eeeverything that goes on in this fine town, and everyone in it. Also, I drink with Dale quite regularly at Paula’s Pub. Once you get him, oh, ten beers deep, he’ll tell you just about anything.”

I grinned at the thought of Dale sitting in one of his faded blue shirts and pairs of denim shorts, talking up a storm with this incomparably different man. I was slowly putting together the pieces of the puzzle, but each time I added a piece, the end picture looked completely different.

“I’m afraid he hasn’t mentioned who his drinking partner is, so that doesn’t help…”

“I’m Major! Major Pods, you know? I’m sure you’ve seen me around this place before.”

If I’d ever seen a gigantic man draped in swathes of purple, I hadn’t noticed. But I was a people pleaser, and I didn’t want to let him down.

“Oh, right! Of course I have! We spend a lot of time here; I can’t believe I didn’t notice immediately.”

“That’s alright, Ollie. Truth be told, I'm mostly in the VIP Room these days. It’s peaceful, you see? With my ears steadily going down the drain, I find myself drawn to visual attractions a lot more. That’s why this room came about, rather than the drab old thing we had before.”

The other three had wandered off into a different section of the interstellar maze, leaving me behind. I didn’t want Major to think I was a tire-kicker, so I feigned interest in a plaque that detailed an experimental new Pod design.

Eventually, he rushed off to a meeting, spouting apologies and ensuring I take down his number in case I wanted to contact him regarding ‘absolutely anything that crosses your mind’.

As though they’d been waiting for me to be let go, the three musketeers poked their heads from behind a display as soon as he left.

“New best bud? Was that the Major?”

“That’s what he told me.”

“Can you get me a free Pod?” Duri asked. “Could really do with an open-air now that you’re showing off yours.”

“I literally mentioned it once. Not showing off.”

We left the Pod-Planetarium, pausing at the door as we worked out what to do next. I was looking for lunch already, but Duri and Joey decided they couldn’t eat until dinner the next day. There was a moment of awkwardness as we parted ways, Annette and I heading to our suburb and leaving Joey and Duri to sort out their differences.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Think they’ll kill each other?” she asked once we were out of earshot.

“Nah. One month of dislike doesn’t negate a decade of friendship. They’ll be fine — could be good for them, like sending a fighting couple on a vacation.”

“In that case, where are you gunna take Claire?”

I bumped her into a bush and said nothing. I should’ve kept my mouth shut earlier when it came to relationships.

It drizzled rain for the last mile or so, coating me in a layer of cold droplets. They soaked into my jumper and eventually touched my skin, cooling me down after the decent walk. In my haste, I nearly walked straight into a pack of reporters standing on the kerbside.

I looked up to apologize, and a microphone was basically shoved down my throat.

“Oliver, what do you have to say about the event?”

“Is it true that you signed a contract with The Final Frontier?”

“Your mother and father are getting back together. How does that make you feel?”

I pushed the closest of them away, clearing my throat. Their squabbles stopped immediately as they held forth their microphones and cameras, straining to hear my responses.

“I haven’t signed with any guild, though I am interested in offers. My mother and father are remaining separated. Goodbye.”

The roar ensued, and I pulled my hoodie around my face to block the blinding camera flashes shocking me again and again. I should’ve worn something better for my first interview — maybe Major’s offer was a good idea after all.

Mom was standing at the curtains when I came in.

“They give you any trouble?”

“Nope. Their questions are bullshit, but I suppose you do what you gotta do to get an article. Where’s Dale?”

She flicked on the TV, pointing into the biggest crowd of spectators I’d ever seen. The Duel grand final was delayed until today — the assassin lady from a while ago versus The Gladiator.

“He’s somewhere in there, and he’s also upstairs using your Pod. He worked on mine all morning but said there’s still a few hiccups to fix.”

I sat close to the TV, squinting into the pixels to look for anything that resembled Dale. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy to dress up his character too much, which meant that if he was there, he would look the same as usual.

The [Assassin] came out, parading around the stands to the applause of the crowd. Players threw garlands, a band trumpeted out fanfare, and bundles of fireworks flew up into the sky, exploding in splashes of pink and red. She took up her position at the end of the blank field, toeing the starting line and showing off her daggers.

Then they came out.

Their first step crunched into the dirt, and the world went silent. Even through the TV, the only sounds were the boots and a bird flapping its wings overhead. Having made their presence known, The Gladiator continued onto the field, each step like thunder rolling across the grounds. They took their place behind the line, unsheathing a monolithic greatsword and raising it to the sky.

The spectators erupted.

I had no idea when the tradition first started, but for as long as I could remember, this was how it went. The Gladiator would walk out in complete silence, then when they lifted their weapon the skies would fall, and carnage was released into the grandstands.

It was glorious.

How anyone was supposed to win against them after that, I had no idea. If I were the [Assassin], I would be shaking too hard to even hold my spear.

The whistle sang, and the battle began.

Immediately, the [Assassin] disappeared. I could just see flecks of her as she jetted around the arena, her speed super-powered by abilities. The Gladiator trudged to the centre of the grounds and stood still.

A glint of violet flickered, and she briefly appeared as she launched herself in for the first strike. Her aim was perfect, inches from piercing directly into The Gladiator’s underarm and disabling his sword arm.

The crowd leaned in as they watched a historical moment — The Gladiator being bested for the first time.

They were wrong. The giant blade whirled around their body and they leaned forward, separating the space between themselves and the challenger. The [Assassin’s] dagger clanged uselessly against the broad side of the sword and she rushed away, reverting to invisibility. The Gladiator didn’t try to fight back, nor move any more than they had to.

The circling resumed, but there was no way the invisibility could last much longer. Even on a low cooldown and a long duration, infinite use of any skill was basically impossible. That was why Passive skills existed.

All of a sudden, The Gladiator leapt to the side, covering the ground between themselves and the wall of the arena in a split second. Their white cape billowed behind them, and the crowd recoiled at the instantaneous movement despite the huge plates of armour holding The Gladiator down.

The greatsword dug into the wall of the battleground and the [Assassin] couldn’t stop, rushing straight into it and clotheslining herself. She fell to the dirt, and The Gladiator crunched a gloved hand to her face. The fight was over.

Like a sordid executioner, the victor turned, dropping their sword as their foe struggled in their vice-like grip.

The Gladiator held out the flailing combatant, then put a boot through her midsection.

The gong rang. The champion remained.

For a moment the crowd stayed silent, stunned by the ferocious display. The challenger was given a quick death, but the manner with which it was given…

No one had ever matched The Gladiator’s prowess. For the entire two years between Olympics, they’d disappear, only showing their helmeted face when they easily defended their title each time. It was mostly against other [Warriors], which was almost comedic when The Gladiator would let their opponent try every single combo and strike known to man, before cleanly destroying them in a single slice.

Conspiracies claimed that The Gladiator was not real, that there was no player behind that mask. The Government or the developers had created an undefeatable opponent so that the millions of krad in prize money would never make it into anyone’s coffers. That didn’t account for the fact that the 2nd place player also received an absurd payday too, but people would believe it until the day that the helmet came off.

“Phew! That was nastier than the last Olympics. Mustn’t like all the flighty stuff the [Assassin] was doing,” Mom said.

“To be honest, I don’t think it bothered them in the slightest. They’re superhuman — I could barely see the [Assassin] running around and around the arena, but bang! No one should be able to move that fast with so much armour on.”

The Gladiator turned to trudge off the field as the crowd fell over itself.

Job done, krad in the bank, move on.

I started daydreaming of how I’d defeat them, if given the chance. I was fairly confident that my little ruse with throwing my spear wouldn’t work this time. Amongst my conniving, I nearly missed The Gladiator stop and turn to the camera.

For the first time in twenty years, The Gladiator spoke.

“Challenge me, boy.”