The same two guards guided Pete to the castle’s guard station. It was a small square room with traditional swords and spears in racks on the left wall. Rows of triple bunk beds lined the other wall. Merpeople beds—Pete noticed—had straps to hold the person in place as they slept…like a loose seatbelt. He imagined a bed without the straps, a mermaid floating away, and waking up in an unfamiliar place. It would be like that one time when he was five…when he sleepwalked from his bed and to the basement. He woke up on a giant beanbag. It was disorienting. A tunnel held place in the far wall. Some mermen soldiers moved about the space. Another merman floated near a desk.

The one at the desk stopped Pete and his escorts. “Is there a reason you aren’t guarding the front of the castle?”

“You see,” the first guard said. “This is Pete. He’s a pizzaman. If you haven’t heard of pizza men, they are great worriers, powerful slappers.”

“He might be strong enough to defeat Charybdis.” The second guard explained. “The king wants us to test’m against Finnegan. It’s hardly a fair fight if you ask me. But if he comes out against Finnegan, we’ll know he’s legitimate.”

“I see,” the desk attendant guard turned to two of the others. “Send messengers to inform the public. There will be a Call’isuem battle today…Finnegan versus Pete the pizzaman.” The attendant returned his attention to Pete. “Make your way through the tunnel on the far wall. It will take you to the Call’isuem. Once there, remain on guard. Your test will begin shortly.”

Within a thick glass sphere at the center of the Call’isuem, Pete stood. Around him, merpeople filled the stands. They all appeared anxious to see the supposed hero who could save them from Charybdis. He was still in a swimsuit; he was still barefoot. After the king’s test, Pete would need to see about getting some clothes.

Though he could see the crowds of merpeople around him, he couldn’t hear them through the glass of the sphere. He could see their mouths opening and closing. Some of them clapped. The glass sphere must have some sound-blocking properties, he realized. The sphere itself recessed into a broad metal base. The base provided the way into and out of the sphere, connecting the sphere to the guard station on Pete’s side. On the opposite side of the sphere—within the base—was a second hatch. Pete guessed it went to another tunnel.

“Now,” a voice began to speak. It reminded Pete of a Monday Night Football pre-game announcer. “We have the test you’ve all been waiting for. In the sphere, you have Pete the pizzaman, watermelon slayer.”

People don’t slay watermelons, Pete thought to himself. Why do they think I can kill watermelons? Then he remembered how many times he had brought up watermelons since he’d met Aqua. Then he thought about what type of watermelons would require slaying. Would they be like the nightshade terrors: vines for arms and legs, a melon for a head, pointed teeth, and beady eyes.

“Pete,” the announcer continued, “is a master slapper with the strength of giants. If you had a boulder, he could slap it better than anyone.”

Pete puffed out his chest, wishing he could hear the crowd cheering for him. Then he realized they might be booing him. What if they wanted him to lose?

“His opponent today will be a crowd favorite.” Pete listened with great intent to the following line. “Finnigan the bull shark.”

Pete chuckled at the name. Finnigan was a great shark name because of the fin part. As the announcer announced the shark, the hatch on the other side of the sphere began to open. When it opened in full, a shark’s head began to appear…inch by terrifying inch.

Though, Pete expected to see the shark’s nose first. Instead, he saw two pointed horns. They curved like a bull’s. Attached to the set of horns was a traditional bull shark. It was traditional for Pete anyway…what he expected a shark’s head to be. It was broad with a wide, frowning mouth.

Finnigan the bull shark [https://storage.googleapis.com/production-domaincom-v1-0-2/962/418962/HNoiSPZo/cf564fbc03ff44cdb539dbee947aafed]

As the first dorsal fin appeared, it reminded Pete of boat’s sail. He estimated it to be at least two feet tall and almost as wide. The second dorsal fin was a miniature clone of the first. Pectoral fins extended to each side like airplane wings. Powerful strokes of the shark’s tail pushed it through the opening, and it did a small circle around the hatch before turning to face Pete. Above the shark’s head, Pete saw words. They read Finnegan the Shark Level 14.

It's like he knows there’s a crowd, Pete realized. If he’s a crowd favorite, I better not drop his hp to zero. I don’t want to make the merpeople mad at me.

“Let the king’s test commence.” As the voice finished speaking, the hatch in the sphere’s base closed, and a chime sounded.

In response to the chime, the shark charged.

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In elementary school, Pete had been a shark aficionado. He knew there were more than four-hundred species. By the teeth, he could identify about a quarter of those species. One thing he knew about bull sharks—the ones on Earth—was that they maxed out at around ten feet. At first glance, Pete thought this one was bigger.

Another fact that Pete knew about bull sharks was that they had more testosterone than any other animal. Under different circumstances, Pete might have wondered if an animal on Round had more testosterone than a bull shark. But he didn’t have time to think about that. Instead, he needed to worry about not getting eaten.

As the shark charged, it lowered its horns to impale Pete, and he understood how bullfighters must feel…if they didn’t have a cape…or shirts…or swords…and if they were underwater… After some consideration, Pete realized he didn’t know what it was like to be a bullfighter. Bullfighters had it much easier.

Thirty feet separated Pete and the shark, and Pete considered his options. As he thought about how to defend himself, his battle menu activated. He tried not to let the battle log, hp bars, or anything else distract him. Should I jump to the side? On land, he would have felt more comfortable with this strategy. As it was, he wasn’t sure how much the water resistance would restrict his movements. Plus, the shark had a super wide head. It would be tough to clear the mouth and the horns.

At Twenty feet, Pete noticed that mouth begin to…smile. It looked like a smile. Did the shark know what it was doing? Was it more than a mindless animal? The smile revealed sinister rows of daggerlike teeth. Pete considered trying to swim away from the shark. Though, he knew it would catch him.

When the shark was ten feet away, Pete considered activating Slap’ M Silly and trying to slap his opponent. Though, the shark’s horns were longer than Pete’s arms. It would impale him before he did any damage.

Five feet separated them when Pete made his decision. With a precision that was driven by panic-induced adrenaline, Pete let his reflexes take over. Those reflexes caused him to raise his arms and grip the horns with his arms, one horn in each arm.

The force of the collision as his hands met the horns jarred his body. His elbows and shoulders took the worst of it, but he felt it down to his toes. Where Pete’s body had taken damage—twelve hp of damage to be exact—the shark appeared unphased. It continued straight toward Pete, attempting to chomp at his core.

Using the grip he held on the horns, Pete swung his legs away from the teeth, and they missed by inches. The shark continued to swim in circles, turning its head back and forth and trying to bite Pete.

Pete continued to use his grip on the horns to maneuver to safety. Though, he realized he couldn’t stay on the defensive forever. If he did, the shark would land a bite. It was a matter of time. And a bite is all it would take. Though Pete didn’t have a stamina bar, he didn’t need one to know he was tiring. Plus, the initial collision with the shark had drained a quarter of his hp.

As Finnegan the shark thrashed up and down, left and right. All Pete could do was hold on for dear life…until his hands began to slip. Centimeter by centimeter, his hold weakened.

Finnegan the bull shark appeared to recognize this, so he chambered his head to one side before swinging it back with purposeful intent. Pete’s grip gave way in full, and he zipped through the water, crashing headfirst into the arena’s glass.

For a second, his vision blurred. Next to his hp bar, he saw an unfamiliar icon that looked like stars spinning above a person’s head. Huh, he thought, Zoey was right. There is a debuff icon for concussions. The icon went away, his vision cleared, and he stood up. With his hp under half, he knew he’d have to be extra careful. With that thought in mind, he scanned the arena for Finnegan.

The bull shark headed toward him at full speed, horns gleaming with malice. Pete forced calm into himself, and he remained still, inhaling slow, deep breaths. Five. He began to count backward in his mind. Four. Inhale. Three. Exhale. Two. Focus. One. Finnegan stabbed toward him with a final lung, using all its momentum. Pete dodged the horns, using his hands to catch the shark’s nose and flipping up and over.

Unable to slow itself, the shark’s horns impaled the glass. And the horns remained stuck. It tried to free itself, whipping its tail back and forth, a tail which Pete was careful to avoid. Trying—and failing—not to look clumsy in front of the spectators, Peter swam-walked next to the shark’s head. He was careful to avoid its tail. Then he lifted his hand, activated Slap’ M Silly, and swung. His open palm connected with a hollow thwack,

The shark’s body went limp, unconscious but not dead. A prompt appeared:

You defeated Finnegan the bull shark. You gained 0 Experience points. Good on you for not killing him, though. Even though you can’t swim, you are a good person.

A second prompt appeared:

Slapping proficiency raises by 4. Slapping proficiency increases to 405.6.

Evasion raises by 10. Evasion raises to 32.2.

“Thanks…I think…” Pete told the prompt as he blinked it away. As he did, he noticed the hatch which led to the guard station tunnel begin to open. Through it, swam the two guards. Without hesitation, they started toward Pete.

“Thanks for not killing him.” One of the guards said.

“The merpeople would’ve never forgiven you for that.” The second added.

“He seemed like a nice shark.” Pete didn’t believe himself when he said Finnegan was nice. In reality, he didn’t think Finnegan was nice…not by any metric. Even so, he’d won the fight, and it was important to be a good sport.

The first guard wrinkled his forehead. “Bull sharks aren’t nice. They try to eat you.”

“Right,” Pete agreed. “I meant that he seemed likable…by bull shark standards.”

“Ah, yeah…” the first guard relaxed his expression. “By bull shark standards…that makes sense.”

“You did great in that fight.” The second guard joined the conversation. “I understand why those watermelons you slapped never had a chance.”

Pete hoped someday he could clarify what he meant when he brought up watermelons. For the time being, he chose to leave things as they were. “So I passed the test?”

“Sure did,” the first told him. “Follow us back to the king’s chamber. Aside from an adventurer’s pass, he has a surprise for you.”

The two guards began back toward the hatch, and Pete followed. As they entered the tunnel, the hatch closed behind them, leaving them inside a dark tunnel. As his adrenaline waned, Pete took a relaxing breath, and his nerves began to calm. Then a thought came to him, and his panic returned. If Finnegan the bull shark was this difficult to defeat, how much worse is Charybdis?