True to his word, the Able sent mages for me to train with. By the time I was brought my dossier for the last 16 fight, three days later, I had been so thoroughly peppered with magical attacks from various arena mages. I hardly felt them anymore.
“Do you have a moment, Earl?” Estwin said, entering the gym door, leather binder in his hand.
“Sure,” I said, before turning back to the two arena mages with me. “You guys can go. I don’t think there’s much point in this anymore if you can’t hit any harder.”
Loral, the Velorian woman with the perpetual scowl, scowled deeper. “My attacks have been improving in force through this training. It’s not our fault you are defective.”
The red one, Marel, shook his head. “I, for one, will be glad to stop as I’ve lost faith in my offensive abilities after our time here. I have an overwhelming urge to attack someone just to make sure there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Only if I can watch,” I agreed.
Apparently not the response he expected, and with a look of disgust, he marched from the room, with Loral only a step behind.
As they left, Estwin approached and gave the space above my head an appraising look. “You’ve leveled again. What is your Toughness at now?”
Name: Earl Henshaw
Title: Pool Fighter of the Velkyn Arena
Level: 14
Class: Warrior
Stats:
- Toughness: 27 +5
- Mental Acuity: 16
- Harmony: 0
- Total: 43
“27. Plus 5 from my Warrior class. How much higher does that go? No one’s told me shit.”
“Warrior Path Level 20 will give you a plus 5 reaction speed in Mental Acuity. Level 30 will provide a Toughness boost in one of the main options. Speed, strength, agility, or further durability.”
I waited for him to continue, but nothing more was forthcoming. “Level 40?”
He shrugged his huge shoulders. “While there are certainly those who know, it is a well-kept secret. Level 30 and above is attainable by talented, hardworking Warriors. Level 40 requires a level of focus and ability very few have, and they guard whatever they learn at that stage. It’s likely just another boost to Mental Acuity.”
I nodded along as he spoke, then smiled at him. “Play your cards right, Estwin, and when I reach Level 40, I might let you know.”
He burst out in laughter at that. It was genuine mirth that brought tears from his eyes.
“Fuck you then. I won’t tell you.”
He wiped his eyes. “You are funny, Earl. I do not think you understand the extent of what is required even to reach Level 30. Now, about your dossier.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
He waved the file at me, and I snatched it off him. “Let me guess. My hardest opponent to date. A cool, calm killer with eight arms, ten cocks, and the speed of a cheetah.”
He raised a meaty eyebrow. “No, just two arms. Average speed, if we’re not taking into account his weapon choice. Very skilled and deadly and quite possibly your most difficult opponent yet as styles make fights. Perhaps you should just look at the file.”
I flipped it open to the first page for the overview.
Wisl: Level 20
Warrior Class (18)
Preferred weapons: Meteor Hammer
Fighting style: Harrier.
Elegant and swift, emphasizing speed, precision, and fluid movement with an aim to outmaneuver and outsmart opponents.
Last Known Stats:
Toughness: 25
Mental Acuity: ??
Harmony: ??
Race: Nyvren
Dimensions (Approx):
Height: 5ft 9
Weight: 150lbs
“Short-arse. That’s good. But what the hell is a meteor hammer?”
“A metal weight on the end of a length of strong, reinforced rope.”
“Sounds shit. And the fucker has got this far with it? Or have they used other things.”
“No, they have used only the hammer. They are highly skilled with it, and I suggest you don’t rest on your laurels with this opponent. They control the space like few others, but if you stay at long or mid-range, you will be at their mercy. Fighting someone with a meteor hammer is like fighting a tempest. If you let them build up momentum, you’re in for a world of pain.
“In my opinion, especially for one such as yourself, the key lies in disrupting their flow. Closing the distance fast and keep them on the back foot. It will be easier said than done, but this is not a fight to be cagey while you assess their strengths. By then, it will be too late.”
I whistled long and low. “Shit. This sounds like an awesome weapon. Where are they in the armory?”
“We do not have them. The degree of skill required means they aren’t ever required by the fighters of our arena. This weapon belongs to your opponent, and it will be a good piece. The Nyvren are a warrior race and invest well in their weapons. While your next opponent is barely an adult, they are incredibly capable.”
“So I can’t even see what one looks like. Well that’s just great. How do I prepare?”
“Follow me,” he said, turning and heading toward the armory.
We entered an area that I hadn’t been to before. It smelled of oil, metal, and leather, and looked more like a workshop. Estwin leaned under a counter, sorted through a couple of coils of rope, before pulling out a rope around the thickness of my pinky finger.
He placed it on the counter, before racking through a couple of drawers and pulling out a small metal weight about the size of my palm. He looped the end of the rope though the hole in the center of the disk and tied it off. Then he beckoned for me to follow back out into the gym.
“The weapon your opponent will have will be far better than this, and the disk will be a ball with a few slight ridges.”
“Still looks shit,” I replied, though I was curious.
Back in front of the dummy, Estwin started swinging the weight around in a tight circle. He glanced over. “Stand back. I have no skill with this thing.”
I took a few cautious steps back, and he let loose. The weight shot forward, smashing into the head of the dummy with tremendous force. It was enough to cause a section of the durable wood to splinter off.
The captain of the guard hauled the weight back, and got it swinging a few seconds later. I noted the gap with satisfaction. That was plenty of time to finish a fight.
He let go a second time, stepping forward on this occasion and letting more rope feed through his hands. The weight wrapped around the dummies’ neck area three times, tight enough to choke. Then he yanked on the rope with all his strength, and the dummy ripped from the ground, showcasing the captain’s enormous strength.
“That is my approximation of what a meteor hammer can do.”
“Fair play. That’s terrifying. Plenty of downtime as you correct, though.”
He shook his head. “Wisl has no downtime. You will have no time. You will have to weather the storm and wear enough protection to prevent him from caving your head in. His first two fights lasted less than thirty seconds.”
I looked from him to the dummy. “Might wear a helmet for this one then. And the neck armor.”
“A gorget.”
“Sure. Can I have a go of that?” I asked, putting my hand out for the makeshift weapon.
He handed it over. “Your fight is tomorrow. Good luck figuring out your strategy. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”