Rick contemplated whether he’d make it to the next tree before the combatant got any closer. His decision was made for him, as the figure in the distance stopped, then changed course in his direction.
The enemy was too far away for Rick to have triggered an automated attack pattern. He glanced behind, but there was no sign of the lightning ring yet.
Rick slowed his pace but didn’t change his direction. One way or the other, he’d have to make it to the tree anyway. The enemy quickened its pace.
As it got closer, Rick almost laughed aloud. Not all players had his or Sonny’s restraint when it came to cosmetics, as evidenced by the player’s outlandish combination of tattoos, a wild hair-piece, and shiny red shorts that fell to the top of matte black kneepads that brushed the stalky grass as the man—the avatar was male, whether the player was or not—strode along the plain.
The man slowed as he got closer, raising his arms and saying, “Yo.”
Rick nodded. It struck him as strange to have enemies that spoke so early in the match. He’d need to unlearn much of what he’d trained for. He raised his arms.
The man nodded. “I’m just winging for—”
Rick punched before the player could finish his sentence, knocking him back two feet. He followed up with left-right-hook combo, but the last punch glanced away, and they appeared to do only minimal damage.
“A head-striker, huh?” The man smiled.
Rick punched again, but the player dodged to Rick’s right and came back with a body hook of his own, that made Rick back off.
The man nodded at Rick. “You’re not wearing the spike. That’s weird.”
Rick frowned and threw a jab the opposing player blocked.
“The spike.” The man’s hair-piece disappeared, replaced by a single Demon’s Horn similar to Rick’s, but for the opposite side. “Never seen anyone with two—each is one of the rarest cosmetics in the game, man.”
Rick applied the Demon’s Horn to his own head. “Didn’t know. Not really a cosmetics guy.” He ducked beneath one of the opponent’s punches and came up with an uppercut, but the blow glanced off the opponent’s chin. He shuffled back quickly as his opponent—the name bar said “Electric 7”— tried to grab him.
“How’d you know I had it?” Rick asked.
Electric 7 shrugged. “There’s ways.” He launched a flurry of jabs, and when Rick dodged, the other man was ready with a hook around Rick’s block.
“Oof,” Rick said, then dodged again as the man’s knee came up. Rick spun, getting to the side and rear of Electric 7. He placed his leg out to trip the other man as he pushed with his shoulder, and his opponent obliged, stumbling forward.
The other man’s instincts saved him, as he turned the stumble into a forward roll, avoiding Rick’s hard right straight aimed at the base of the man’s skull.
“Shit, you’re good,” Electric 7 said.
Rick shrugged, then jabbed, but the man blocked both, and the follow-up kick met empty air as the other man danced away. Rick pursued, minding his stamina bar. Enough footsie. He threw a left hook Electric 7 ducked. Rick followed up with a hard body straight that would have normally hit the man’s solar plexus, but because Electric 7 had ducked, the punch landed square in the middle of his throat.
Electric 7’s eyes bulged, and he made a raspy, weak coughing sound as he dropped his head to protect his throat, giving Rick the opportunity he needed to land a hard left-cross elbow against the back of the man’s head as he raised his knee at the same time, trapping Electric 7’s head between the two.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The gaudily tattooed man dropped.
Victory!
A yellow, two blues, and an orange box materialized as Electric 7’s body faded away.
“You there, Alex?”
“I’m here.” She was breathing hard. “Headhunter was a son of a bitch, and now I’m racing to get ahead of the ring. What’s up?”
“I just beat a player who knew what cosmetics I had. How’d that happen?”
“There are programs for that, and since they don’t give anyone an advantage in the fights themselves, no one really cares. Technically, they break policy, but yeah…”
“He came after me because I have a left-sided item called a Demon’s Horn, and he had the right-sided one.”
“What?” Alex’s voice rose. “You have a Demon’s Horn!”
Rick frowned as the boxes turned into icons, each of the same color as the box from which they sprang. “Yeah, got it a while back, why?” Rick approached the yellow icon first this time.
“It’s worth a lot. The game usually gives you one or the other, but not both.” She sighed. “No wonder you’ve got headhunters after you.”
“Do you take the stuff away from them when you defeat another player? Gotta remember, I’m new to this.”
“No, they duplicate, but the game reacts by reducing their rate of appearance, which makes it really hard to get—”
He reached for the yellow icon and gasped. “Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“I have a matched set.”
“Holy fuck! My god, you’re lucky.
“How much is it worth? Maybe it’ll cover what I owe Hector.”
She sighed. “It takes too long to get a good price—do you even have an account on CosFind?”
“A what?”
“Exactly. It fetches a pretty penny, but you have four days, and at least half the bidders will be trying to scam you.”
“How much?”
Alex inhaled deeply. “Last matched set I saw went for $200,000.”
Rick let his head droop. “Yeah, that’s not even close.”
“How much do you owe him?”
He shook his head. “More than that.”
There was a long silence. “Do you trust me?”
“More now than I did. I mean, you’re helping me.”
“I have a CosFind account. Let me see what I can get for it and we might—might—be able to get the funds in time to add them to our wagers.”
He perked up. “That’s a lot of money to lose on a bet.”
“So don’t lose?” she suggested. “But you have to hand them over so I can create an empty account to sell, and I have to start right now.”
“How do I do that? Hand them over, I mean.”
“Say ‘party’ and wait for me to respond.”
“Party.” In his field of view, a window opened that appeared to hang midair. “Now what?”
“Put the items in the window. You can use your thoughts to move them into the window, but it takes some practice, so if you know how to get them out of inventory, you can manually place them in the window box on your side, then say ‘Give.’”
In a few seconds, the transfer was complete.
“I gotta go, but I should be ready for the next match. For now, you’re on your own. Try to get as far as you can. We need to get into the qualifier—it’s do or die.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Alex signed off, and he approached the other icons, the two blue and one orange. He reached for the orange first.
Boost Points +1
He placed the point into strength instead of stamina.
Strength: 2
Speed: 1
Stamina: 1
Experience had taught him he could find ways to manage his stamina, but if he hit an obstacle that required strength, that might make a shortcut impossible. Next, he approached the blue icons.
Active Skill Acquired!
Iron Fist: Unblockable Hammer strike that can be used alone or at the end of a combo. One minute cooldown.
Active Skill Acquired!
Dash: Nearly instantaneous dash in any direction. Can be used in the air. Fifteen second cooldown.
Rick headed toward the third tree once again, uncertain how it would be possible to miss the path Alex had mentioned earlier; the lack of trees or even brush meant all ways forward were open. How could a path be hidden in plain sight?
When he got there, he regretted his confidence.
“What the heck?”
It was just the tree. Ahead lay an ocean of brown and yellow grass.
He leaned against the tree. “Goddamn it, Alex—” He teetered as the trunk gave way under his weight, opening a hole in earth where none had been before.
“Fuuuuuu—” He dropped, then everything went black for a half-second.
The next thing he knew, he stood on solid ground, though his stomach thought he was still falling. He breathed through a wave of nausea before glancing down. When he did, he instinctively reached for the wall behind him, which turned out to be nothing more than a massive tree trunk. He gripped an edge of its bark as his vision swam.
Christ! It must be a hundred feet up… more than a hundred… He slowly forced his gaze away from the total lack of earth beneath his feet, aiming his eyes forward.