“C-O-N-Q…!” Kotone lowered her fan, carefully thinking about her next words (or in her case, letters). “C-O-N-Q… Uh…”

  Morgan looked absolutely disgusted. “I’m glad you’re recovering nicely from your brother’s actions, but I believe [All-Machine Resonance] gave you brain damage.”

  My cheerleaders.

  It was time for the exhibition match, an appetizer for the open spot in Wing Team Determination. We had taken over Angels Arena at the back of HQ. It was constructed specifically for this purpose: an open-air combat arena intended for a modest public audience. A majority were excited spectators with no race in the competition: Slayers and general employees and a few outside guests I imagine. For the real lucky bastards, they took over the sidelines and stood just behind the barrier’s perimeter with the best seats in the house: the Special Task Force, Colossus and Determination, Stainless’s entourage, and other people I didn’t recognize or didn’t bother to recognize.

  So many people were looking forward to this fight, Christ. This arena could reportedly hold one-point-five thousand people, and a third was present. Guess everyone wanted to see the “star” of the Special Task Force in-person.

  As I stood on the packed dirt of the arena, jeers roared from nearby stands. Fellow Angels wishing for a humiliating defeat out of pride and a desire for a fatter wallet. On the eastern sidelines—that was enemy territory—a few of Stainless’s close friends mouthed insults and booed, making crude gestures.

  I ignored the hate and marched to the western sideline: allied territory. Everyone was here, ready to support me for my first public showing—

  “Rei, where the hell did you get that shirt?” I pointed at his white t-shirt. It had my codename emblazoned in tacky red fire across his chest. It looked cheap and not in the funny, self-ironic way.

  “Uh—”

  Kotone entered the conversation wearing the same shirt. “Chie and me—” (“Chie and I,” Morgan corrected.) “—wanted to roll out your first line of merchandise. I don’t know where Chie is, but after you win, we’re bringing millions to your name!”

  Chunhua, forced to wear my designer fashion brand, looked absolutely depressed in it. “Please tell her that we’re Slayers, not fashion designers.”

  “I’m…” I wagged my finger in Kotone’s face, not really sure how to respond. “I’m glad you’re using your downtime for something productive.”

  “I have a theme song in the works—”

  “I think hear Leo’s voice.” (“Wait, don’t you wanna hear a sample—?!”) “See you guys in a little bit!”

  A few meters away, I found the capitalist mastermind in question: Chie was proudly sporting my first and only line of merch while bragging about her entrepreneurial genius to Victor. Fortunately, he was too much of a proud idiot to be caught wearing that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one Chie was talking to.

  “Sage, why would I wear a t-shirt of a man I’m barely acquainted with? Besides, it looks like you cooked the design for five minutes in the office microwave,” said Lia, and I was definitely surprised to see her on the sidelines. “I—oh look, here’s the man himself.”

  Victor sighed in relief upon seeing me. “Hey, man. I thought I’d invite Lia. If she bothers you—”

  “I'm not gonna intimidate a man twice my height, but that's Stainless's job. I really hope you fulfill my carnal desire to see blood spilled on the dirt—” (“Lia,” I said.) “—what? My slave successfully persuaded me to bet money on you instead. Good luck. If I go into debt, I’m murdering you myself.”

  This was by far the strangest healer I had ever come across.

  Even Chie was looking at her weirdly.

  I said, “So… You’re not wearing a t-shirt?”

  Lia looked down at her habit. “I’m sorry, but you and your friends have terrible fashion sense.” (“Hey!”) “Truth is like medicine, Chie. That shirt is embarrassing even to clowns. If you want an actual successful launch, it has to be something people want to wear. Like…” Lia squinted at me. “Something cool, dark, and brooding. Something that appeals to twelve-year-old boys who think they’ll have a six-pack and a harem of women when they grow older.”

  Vic whistled. “I see the vision.”

  “No, you fucking don’t.”

  Chie was genuinely thinking about her suggestions. “I…didn’t know you were into fashion, Vita.”

  “Lia, and obviously. Look at my fucking adorable habit. If you want my advice…”

  I patted Vic’s shoulder. “I think I’ll take my leave—” (“No, wait—!”) “—good luck, dude.”

  Moving down the line again, I searched for my third reason to concede the match out of embarrassment—oh, motherfucker, I just found her. Of all people to wear that stupid fucking t-shirt, why did it have to be the Guild Master of Wisdom? Firstly, why the hell was she here? Secondly, why was she showing that thing off? At least Leo was entertaining her insanity.

  Let’s just walk by and hope they didn’t notice me—

  “Conqueror!” Fuck. “Don’t walk away from me, I know you saw my new addition to my wardrobe—”

  “Why are you wearing that?” I asked as I stood next to the princess who thankfully went without the shirt.

  Sophos laid a hand over her chest, framing the hideous graphic design. “My brilliant student created this shirt herself, so why shouldn’t I support her hobbies?”

  “Okay, but why are you here?”

  “First of all, don’t glare at me with those contemptuous eyes. I’m here because I have plans with your esper later in the day.” That made sense despite my personal feelings. Sophos was in charge of creating Kotone’s new [Psionic Pylons]. “I also wanted to support you. Though, the rest of your team aren’t willing to openly share their support.”

  Leo hummed. “As much as I would love to join you guys, wearing stuff like that isn’t my thing.”

  “Speaking of.” I nudged the princess. “Where’s Aiden? I haven’t seen him yet—” (“Ditched.”) “—of course he did.”

  “Ah, on the topic of support, I did notice Jin Tianyou in the crowd somewhere.” Sophos searched for the cultivator-bastard but none of us could spot him. “I was speaking about that thing with Celestial Empress before you came along. Much like the rest of us, he’s quite fascinated by you.”

  Wasn’t surprised that he caught wind of the match and paid a visit, but at least he wasn’t actively pestering me. I said, “Let’s not intentionally seek him out. He can watch us from his lofty throne, I don’t care. I have to focus on not getting blown up by a rune.”

  Sophos smirked. “You should’ve consulted me for runecraft theories, my star pupil. I’ll tell you the strengths and weaknesses of that boring magic system, but let’s begin with the history of runecraft—”

  I patted Leo’s shoulder. “Keep her entertained.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Wait, I still need more screen-time! A thousand more words at least! You can’t leave me like this—!”

  Already, exhaustion was getting to me and the fight hadn’t even started yet. Finding the next prominent group ahead of me, they guaranteed I’d be carried onto the arena in a wheelchair: Stainless was chatting up Lyressa fey Suntear. He thickly laid his charm like he had with Leo a few days prior. He had the smile, the pose, and by God he had the muscles. His [Loadout]—how should I describe it?—it was like a Western shinobi and a male stripper got married. “Hey! Look at my biceps and pecs!”

  His palms, however, were covered in red clay: [Runemold], the other half of his long-knife [Stainless Steel].

  Lyressa was unaffected by his muscles and searched for an out. That’s when I came along and light filled her eyes. She was unreasonably happy to see me here despite having visited the apartment last night. “Alexander, there you are.”

  “Pointy-ears, glad you could make it.”

  Stainless was speechless, looking at me like I murdered his dog or something. “She’s here for you?”

  Elven ears pointed downward, and displeasure was obvious in her usually sweet gaze. “Who else? I’m supporting Conqueror after we spend the night together at his apartment.”

  “Really now.”

  “What?”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Hearing her blunder, she coughed sandpaper and hastily elaborated, “M-Mind you, he exhaustingly entertained myself and Celestial Empress all of last night!”

  “Lyressa.”

  “He did what?!”

  “N-No, I…” Lyressa physically pinched her cheek as her pointy-ears flicked up and down. I thought Vic was terrible at wording but he had the gift of gab compared to this woman. “We spoke for hours on end about how Conqueror will demolish you in this match! That’s all! We did not do anything unbecoming as we’re all great friends!”

  “I’m…” Her ears were distracting me, so I backed away. “We need to have a long conversation about word choice after the match.”

  Stainless slowly nodded. “Yeah, uh… I think the match will start at any second, so...”

  Strangely, Stainless and I were in sync as we left Lyressa to…handle whatever she was handling. We crossed the perimeter and walked onto the pristine arena; in a few moments, we would dirty the ground with our blood, sweat, and tears.

  My opponent turned to the light splattering of clouds above our big heads and released a loud breath he’d been saving.

  I raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you—?”

  “Conqueror.” Stainless held onto my shoulder tightly, yet the [Runemold] on his hands didn’t paint my [Suit]. “I have several things I wanna say, but I’ll give you this: you are the luckiest bastard in this Worldline, and for that reason, I’m beating the heck out of you.”

  “Cool.”

  “Have your last words settled?” Colossus said, entering the arena with Overseer. It was quite the contrast seeing a seven-foot man stand side-by-side with my uncle. “Conqueror, Stainless?”

  Stainless placed an arm across his chest, patting his heart a couple times. “I’m excited, sir. This will be a good exhibition.”

  Overseer poisonously smirked. “Don’t underestimate my nephew, young man. Your first mistake is letting your commander pick Conqueror in the first place—”

  “I don’t think a former rifle should say anything about how a guild operates,” Colossus snarled, not even looking at my uncle when saying that.

  “What’re the rules?” I asked, wanting to avoid an unnecessary catfight.

  Colossus stink-eyed Overseer before finally moving onto business: “Anything goes. Time limit of ten minutes, but the match won’t get that long. Defeat is incapacitation, concession, or one of us decides you’ve taken enough punishment. Use any tactics necessary, use any [Skill] however you want. If you really believe in your own strength, then prove it.”

  “Roger that,” I said. About what I expected.

  “Easy,” Stainless followed.

  “Good.” Colossus looked toward the crowded stands, then at the far distance. “Seraph and Rector will arrive soon to watch your performance. I hope they made the right decision, Conqueror, for your sake and your team’s.”

  Overseer still had that scary smirk. “As I said, Colossus, do not underestimate my nephew.”

  ***

  “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, on this fine afternoon!” cried the announcer, a woman whose voice I didn’t recognize. It might be someone from Determination. “We have the much anticipated exhibition match to kick-off our competition today! On the northern side of the arena, you have the playboy who would flirt with a trash-can wearing lipstick, Stainless of Determination!”

  Cheers, cheers, cheers. I heard a few boos from the eastern sideline, but they were drowned out by literally everyone else.

  “Then, in the south, we have a special competitor! For many of you, this is your first time seeing him! For many of us, we hardly know a thing about this guy! Who is he? He’s a D-Rank Slayer, an ex-corpo, and a handsome mystery that will be unraveled today! Meet Conqueror of the Special Task Force!”

  Boos, boos, boos. Didn’t faze me at this point of my life.

  “Place your bets now, because only one is coming out of Angels Arena alive! Stainless, Conqueror, don’t disappoint the audience! Now…” The announcer deeply inhaled, the silent countdown ticking to an imaginary ringing of the bell. “FIGHT!”

  Let’s take stock of the arena first. For today, Colossus ordered a rectangular configuration of fifty meters down and thirty meters wide. The terrain was packed dirt—favorable to Stainless—but otherwise, no special features. Other than the hard barrier trapping us inside, of course.

  Twenty meters away from my position, Stainless opted for a slow-burn intro. Style over aggression. He sauntered toward me, his boots scratching shallow lines in the dirt. Underneath the autumn sun, the light dazzled his pearly set of whites then shot lower, giving the same sparkle to the flat of [Stainless Steel]. Drawing the blade sung louder than the breeze, and like tapping a microphone on stage, our audience became silent.

  In response, I marched ahead unwilling to summon any [Mementos]. Just me, [Forged Skin] and my own wits.

  Ten meters between us—

  [Skill Activation: Earthglide]

  Sneaky bastard. Watching him zoom on 4K resolution was different from experiencing his speed for myself—it’d take time to master the timing in my head—but in every video I found, Stainless consistently showed this behavior: just before he reached his opponent, he would briefly pause.

  My fist was already moving.

  My [Forged] knuckles clacked against a sharp edge, digging between my middle and ring finger. Wasn’t sharp enough to break skin, thankfully. Stainless vanished, but I didn’t need heightened perception to see where he went. The shadow on the ground was enough.

  “Damn!” Stainless exclaimed as another punch sent him sliding back a couple yards behind me. “Not bad for a newbie—!”

  Interrupted by five knuckles. He ducked underneath, laughing like I’d said a joke, and the knife followed. An upward slash cut a few strands of my hair and briefly our eyes locked. His [Steel] flipped into an icepick grip and plummeted down—got kicked out of his hand, went flying, and stuck blade-first in the dirt. Quickly another kick was sent into the side of his skull. Caught, pushed away, and Stainless powered a fist into my chest.

  A dull thump resounded throughout the arena, and Stainless nervously laughed.

  I shoved hard. The playboy crashed onto his back and rolled backwards just in time to barely block an axe kick. He locked my leg and we tugged like two dogs over a bone, but I was the stronger mutt. I stomped, grounding the trapped leg and bringing the asshat along; by the time he looked up, his cheek received an imprint of my fist.

  The audience ooo’d as his head conked off the hard dirt. Wasting no time, I grabbed his sleeveless vest and lifted him high enough to block the sun, then powerbombed the fucker down.

  Stainless sharply gasped as his body bounced a foot in the air, back arching—

  A thin carpet of red runes hummed a few inches from my feet. Fire spewed, burning a few eyelashes off and preventing me from throwing the bastard like a ragdoll again.

  On the other side, Stainless climbed to his feet and wiped blood off his lips. He flicked his wrist and recalled his long-knife. “Looks like you’re not all show, Conq! The preshow’s done, and you’re the main attraction!”

  Now it was time for [Skills]. Our little exchange was an introduction, seeing who we were without the fancy technology and phenomenal abilities. In our scuffle, we became boxers in a ring and I won the first round, but we weren’t boxers. We were Slayers. We were Angels. Our adoring fans bought tickets for a reason. Stainless might be waving around his [Steel], but they were here for his runecraft. I might be a “handsome mystery,” but they were here to witness [Memento Recollection].

  Our [Skills], after all, defined who we were.

  The fire-runes expired—

  A metal circular and paper-thin [Disk] about the size of my palm flew at me; in most circumstances, I’d be worried about the [Disk] itself. Not here. It literally was junk metal, shit you could purchase in bulk for pennies. Given enough practice, however, you could throw them pretty accurately. Combine that with finger-painting runes? Heh.

  The [Disk] exploded in my face.

  Stainless really was a Western shinobi. These [Disks] were his seals or talisman or whatever they used, and knowing how cheap and light these things were, he had more than enough for our match.

  Due to the explosion, the hot cloud of smoke obscured my vision and burned my nostrils. I was going blind against one of the trickiest fighters in the guild.

  A knife dragged across my left side, unable to cut through my [Combat Suit] and [Forged Skin]. I batted an arm in the general direction but the bastard was long gone. Hit-and-run tactics. Overwhelm his opponents through a combination of creative runes and well-placed strikes, what an annoying strategy to deal with. Annoying and effective.

  I flinched at a few flying metal glints. Again, I ate small explosions to the face that were more frustrating than painful. However—

  [Memento Recollection - Yuzhou]

  [Stainless Steel] uselessly clanged off my [Armor]. I heard a rise of voices from the audience but I ignored them in favor of a panicked shuffle of feet from the rear. Didn’t expect that, huh? Randomly slashing my back wouldn’t cut it anymore. Now, Stainless was forced to be more creative with his tactics.

  Until then, it was my advantage.

  I turned around and saw Stainless retreating far and fast. Concentration twisted his face as gears spun inside his deceptively intelligent brain. At this distance, a normal [Mana Impact] would come just short and probably too slow as well. But I had a new trick up my sleeve.

  [Skill Activation: Mana Impact, Chord/Discord]

  Yesterday, I’d experimented with Kotone’s [Memento] further. By focusing the repulsion power at my feet in conjunction with [Mana Impact] then releasing both [Skills] at the same time, I’d generate greater power.

  In a single bound, my armorclad boots left an inch-deep imprint in the dirt and I reached Stainless before he could say “Oh shit!”. His muscled arms caught a metal fist right in the meat, and he managed to smile through the pain.

  His speed [Skill] whisked him away but not too fast—I’d seen his max speed in videos—he wanted me to give chase.

  So I chased, with my own two feet and no fancy [Skills].

  Predictably, a [Disk] flew toward me.

  [Memento Recollection - Nightingale Shotgun]

  And I shot it out of the air. Better a [Shotgun] than a [Pistol] plus [Certain Shot]. Less drain on the body in the long run.

  The rune activated and unfolded into a stasis bubble that could comfortably trap a group of three inside. It wasn’t as advanced as Uncle Ali’s during the Scare; about fifty-percent effective unlike the near one-hundred he had. Stasis was stasis, though. Nothing to sneeze at. Too bad Stainless revealed the game, his smile twitching at his foiled plan.

  [Mana Impact]

  I was airborne, leaping over the stasis bubble to make a point, and found the bullseye in the middle of his chiseled chest. Trigger-pull, a shield rune, ricocheted magick bullets off the dirt, and a comfortable landing.

  Standing a few meters away from each other, we took a small timeout for no real reason. Well, maybe because I stumped him. If he tried throwing more runes, I would shoot them as soon as they left his hand. Knowing he’d use the ground next, I had [Skills]—and a [Memento] I hadn’t revealed—to keep me off. But he needed to punch through several layers of defenses.

  However, if I touch him, I’d be opening myself to all sorts of runecraft bullshit. Plus, he had more tricks under his belt like enhancing his own body. Whoever made the first move, we would accept the consequences and begin a new round with new strategies.

  I knew our fight would end up like this.

  It was a chess-match with swords and guns. Tactics, improv, adapting, counters, they were a part of the game and we were grandmasters.

  “Wanna call it there?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “We’re just getting started.”