Our enemies are the whetstone upon which we hone our bodies and minds. Ever striving to reach perfection, until all that is left is only that which is required.

  — The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus, circa 520 AC.

  Repeating the mantra that this was just a game, I was able to suppress a blossoming panic that had taken root in my mind. Unlike the previous contestants, through some stroke of luck or the devil’s meddling, I knew who I was facing. And with my character sheet I was aware of my own abilities—I wouldn’t have to waste Mana on an initial Identify.

  I sped towards the center of the arena, eager to obtain the instrument of death that awaited me. With every step, my determination to complete my quest grew stronger. As I rushed, I stumbled slightly before grabbing a short infantry-stabbing spear. The polearm had a shaft length of just under a meter, with a long and wide-bded leaf-shaped metal spearhead. Whether it was my expertise in polearms or simply the need to feel secure with a weapon in hand, the spear was a reassuring and solid weight.

  Jongshoi cked the grace and calm confidence of the other Warriors I had witnessed bloodying themselves in the arena. He looked skittish, like an animal about to bolt. He made his way to the center cautiously, where I waited, now trying to exude an aura of calm, like a gazelle approaching a watering hole for the first time. But he was no lion, no roaring Warrior thirsting to prove himself by wetting his bde in the blood of his victims. The fear of violence could be seen in his eyes, and in another world I would have held no ill will towards him. But I was here, and he was merely a stepping stone for me to reach greater heights of power and the freedom that brought.

  The unblooded would-be Warrior was garbed in armor of heavy scale and pte. His hauberk bore circur scales akin to those of a monstrous fish, buffed to a shine that mirrored the high afternoon sun. Interlocking pted steel pieces draped over his shoulders and arms, and metal gauntlets with round steel nubs encased his knuckles. Thick iron leggings and greaves covered his lower half, and an intimidating plumed open-faced helm that depicted a roaring lion completed his ensemble.

  A spiked oval shield, reminiscent of the scutum, rested upon his left arm, while on his right he brandished a small straight-stabbing sword reminiscent of the Roman gdius.

  But despite his formidable equipment, the young boy looked out of pce, like a rabbit that had grown horns and fangs. For he looked untested in battle, and the weight of his armor and weaponry seemed to burden him more than lend him strength.

  Jongshoi was already breathing heavily, each exhale a ragged spurt in the hot sun, no doubt in part because he was suffering from some equipment penalties due to wearing such heavy armor. I, on the other hand, was only equipped with my initial robes and could move much more freely. A glimmer of a battle pn began to form.

  He came at me first with a tired, hesitant probing thrust that I was easily able to step away from. I returned with my own weak thrust to his center, aiming to preserve my Stamina. He blocked it easily with his shield, turning aside my blow, then returned with another thrust of his short sword that I was able to avoid with my greater reach. Since I was unarmored, I had to be careful, but he, on the other hand, looked like he could certainly take a hit or two.

  Piercing the boy’s defenses was proving almost impossible. However, he simply could not nd a blow on me as I darted backwards after one of my own failed attacks. Then something changed. After deftly deflecting one of my rapid jabs, Jongshoi cried, “Shield Bash!” before lunging forwards with his shield, breaking through my feeble guard. The spike of the “scutum” tore a bloody gash across my left arm, and my Health dropped by five points. Worst of all, I was left feeling stunned and disoriented, my world spinning as I struggled to gather myself.

  My enemy moved into his follow-up, a little awkwardly but deadly nonetheless. With a panicked fury, he struck at me, raising his sword arm, and screamed, “Power Strike!” Barely able to shake off my fugue, I raised the haft of my spear just in time to meet his down-coming bde. Strong sharp steel met the wooden haft of my spear, causing a sharp crack and sending splinters flying from the point of impact as his attack savagely split my weapon. His skill-enhanced blow continued its deadly arc, tracing a red line across my chest. A sharp pain blossomed within me, and my Health dropped by another thirteen points as I stumbled backwards.

  Jongshoi breathed heavily, barely able to stand on his feet and his sword arm faltering. Blood ran from his nose and mouth, as he had pushed his body well beyond its physical limits. I knew that feeling well. With the remains of my weapon in a death grip, I grinned savagely, knowing his desperate gambit had failed.

  He had likely depleted all of his Stamina with his continuous use of skills, while I still had a healthy amount remaining. And I had magic. I needed to keep the pressure on. Through the red haze of pain, I continued to throw jabs and light sshes with my half-spear and broken spear haft. My adversary was barely able to defend himself. And to add to his troubles, his exhaustion was probably draining away his Health.

  Using the Silent Casting, I cast the Heal spell and felt the energy spread through my body, like the warm touch of a lover. Surprisingly, my Health increased by seven points, and I absently concluded that my spell must heal a proportional amount of damage instead of a set amount.

  My opponent’s eyes widened in surprise as I stood a bit taller, the bleeding now stemmed by magic, my weapons sure in my hands. The crowd grew bestial and wild, shouting epithets at us. In my own desperate bid for survival, I charged him, as the crowd above gasped in surprise that I still yet lived.

  Raising my broken spear haft like a club, I started raining blows on his shield. I threw a jab with my left weapon, which he met with a weak parry of his sword before I called forth the Power Strike skill, the energy of its release like an arrow from a war bow.

  My blow skidded across his hauberk, ripping out a few scales, and went upwards to savagely cut his face. His youthful, innocent features were now made into a vision of horrible deformity. He screamed, crying out in utter animal pain as he dropped his sword and reached for his face.

  My own breathing was starting to come heavy and ragged, and I knew I had to press my advantage and finish this quickly. Tossing aside the broken spear haft, I bull-rushed him clumsily to the ground. His face was a gory mess. He tried reaching for a sword that was no longer there before blindly swinging at me, punching at me with his pted gauntlets. His blows scarcely registered across my trunk as we were simply too close, and he was barely able to cause a single point of damage despite his superior Strength.

  Nevertheless, his blows still caused me pain, which kept my blood hot and angry. Grappling him with my right, I raised my half-spear in my left like a knife over the remains of his face and used another Power Strike. The spearhead hammered down, punching through teeth and bone in an explosion of crimson.

  Suddenly my opponent was still, his blood staining the pearl sands like vermilion ink on fresh snow. A great hush fell across the arena. I recovered my half-spear from Jongshoi’s mangled face. It came out with a sickening sound, the spearhead covered in blood and pink viscera. Just as I did so, a long list of notifications fshed across my mind—my reward for committing hot murder.

  You have sin Jongshoi Aigiam 100 experience gained.

  You have gained 1 Strength.

  You have gained 1 Dexterity.

  You have gained 1 Constitution.

  You have gained 1 Wisdom.

  You have gained 1 Intelligence.

  You have gained 1 Luck.

  You have learned Dual Wield (lvl.1)

  You have learned Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.1)

  You have learned Power Strike (lvl.2)

  You have learned Endure (lvl.2)

  You have learned Dodge (lvl.2)

  You have learned Polearms (lvl.2)

  Quest Complete: Kill Jongshoi and Survive the Blooding

  200 experience gained.

  You have reached level 5.

  6 unassigned attribute points.

  2 unassigned skill points.

  As soon as the countdown began, I assigned all of my points into Constitution. Unarmored as I was, I needed to be able to take a hit, and an increased Constitution also granted me greater Stamina, which allowed me to train my other physical attributes. As for my skill points, I needed to focus on the spell that seemed to be my main advantage: Heal. Some people prefer to py their character as a jack-of-all-trades—and the temptation was certainly there—but with pain and potential death as my constant companions, my focus was on survival. I quickly checked the changes to my character sheet, confirming them with an exhausted nod.

  STATUS

  Calling: Gilgamesh Level 5 Acolyte of Avaria

  Strength: 13

  Dexterity: 12

  Constitution: 25

  Intelligence: 16

  Wisdom: 12

  Charisma: 8

  Luck: 12

  SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES

  Pain Nullification (lvl.1)

  Power Strike (lvl.2)

  Endure (lvl.2)

  Stealth (lvl.1)

  Rest (lvl.1)

  Backstab (lvl.1)

  Dodge (lvl.2)

  Polearms (lvl.2)

  Dual Wield (lvl.1)

  Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.1)

  SPELLS & MAGIC

  Heal (lvl.4)

  Rust (lvl.1)

  Identify (lvl.2)

  Silent Casting (lvl.1)

  GIFTS

  Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.

  Experience to next level: 550/743

  Health: 24/78

  Stamina: 6/37

  Mana: 5/11

  Through all of this an explosion of hushed silence filled the arena, as if a profane and bsphemous word had been uttered in a sacred temple. Then I heard the wailing of a woman somewhere up in the stands, her grief smashing the fragile silence with its anguish.

  So piercing was her ment that my eyes were drawn to her, a slender form with gold circlets woven throughout her hair, a counterpoint to the strands’ raven darkness. Even at this distance, I could tell her features were wracked with overwhelming sorrow.

  The official who presided over the event was still, like a statue frozen in bronze, his face through his plumed open helm a picture of shock. I surveyed the crowd and found in my questing gaze a group of robed women rattling bone effigies about them like mantles. There amongst them stood Navigator Oi, who stared at me with her sharp gaze, a cold bck ocean of daggers.

  The men came for me then, sure in their stride, my fate now written in the characters that spelled sve. Bare muscur chests glistened bronze in the afternoon light as they held long man-catcher poles and cruel barbed nets. I offered no resistance, as I had already pyed my part. As it was in my old world, the powerless were, even in victory, never truly winners.

  They led me away. But before I was swallowed up, I noticed that one of Bogurchu’s men, the pockmarked man who had tried to y hands on me, was staring at me with hate-filled eyes.