[Status Update]

  HP: 35 / 140

  Stamina: 62 / 132

  Mana: 88 / 110

  The death of the mothkin did more than thin the herd, it cracked the tide wide open.

  The moment the ash-swirled corpse hit the ground, Alistair felt the magical pressure lift like a curse broken. His throat loosened, his lungs drew in clean air again, and the heaviness on his limbs vanished. That damn dust had been clogging more than his lungs; it had been choking their entire strategy.

  [Status Effect Removed: Arcane Silence]

  [Spellcasting Restored]

  Brimma didn’t waste a heartbeat.

  “Finally!” she barked, green veins of mana flaring up her twisted staff. “I’ve been itching to hurt someone!”

  [Spell Cast: Thornbloom Totem]

  A twisted spire burst from the ground behind her like a coiled root given life. Its pink petals snapped open and began spinning, launching sharp thorns with a faint whirring noise, one every heartbeat. Each shot thudded into the rocky terrain, cutting paths between their attackers and scattering footing.

  Meanwhile, Alistair clenched his fists and hissed, “Darken Sight.”

  [Spell Cast: Darken Sight]

  [Shadow Surge Trait Activated – Spell Cost: 0 Mana]

  Dark tendrils of thick, writhing shadow oozed from his fingertips, latching onto the Tiefling. His eyes turned black for a moment, before they returned to normal. The hexslinger exclaimed and stumbled. For the moment he was out of the fight, giving Alistair a chance to assess the situation.

  Kael? Gone. A shadow in the trees again. Alistair didn’t even feel his location through the bond. Just a vague sense of motion, like a breeze weaving between the branches.

  “Where the hell did that little branch-humper go?” Alistair muttered as he ducked under a red-glowing blade. The half-troll bellowed and swung again, its arms practically as thick as Alistair’s entire torso.

  A second attacker flanked him, the Svirfneblin skirmisher, quick and silent, launching bolts from a shimmering crossbow. One skipped across his thigh. He snarled.

  [Damage Taken – HP: -12]

  [HP: 23 / 140]

  “Stop dodging!” the troll roared. “You’re ruining the rhythm!”

  “Sorry,” Alistair said, weaving between a strike and an exploding bloodlash, “but your choreography needs work.”

  The troll answered with a wide arc meant to cleave a tree. Alistair blurred sideways, boots scraping rock, only barely dodging the swing. It left the beast open, he lunged in with the Redcrystal Sword, slashing twice before flipping back.

  +34 Damage dealt [Bleed: Active]

  [Half-Troll HP: 118 / 200]

  A hiss to his left made him turn, Brimma.

  She was cornered now, the tiefling hexslinger lunging toward her. She spat a curse and unleashed a barrage of energy bolts from her staff.

  [Staff Basic Attack]

  -18 HP

  -22 HP (Critical)

  Tiefling Hexslinger HP: 86 / 160

  “I could use some help, you bedazzled mosquito!” she shouted.

  “I’m a vampire!” Alistair snapped back, even as he ducked under another bolt. “The glitter’s natural.”

  “Then get your vampire ass over here!”

  “Fine, but I’m billing you for emotional labor!”

  With a grunt, he activated his escape.

  [Ethereal Phase Activated]

  Mist curled from his body, and he vanished, reappearing five meters to Brimma’s right. The tiefling flinched at his arrival.

  Alistair spun his sword and activated a familiar move.

  [Ability: Imbued Strike – Active]

  The tiefling hexslinger staggered from the blow, his arm going limp as blood sprayed across the stone. Before he could recover, a bolt of raw energy slammed into his chest.

  Brimma cackled behind him. “Now that’s what I call a combo, leech-boy!”

  Alistair didn’t look back. “We make a great team. Like fire and chronic irritation.”

  The tiefling snarled and lunged again but Brimma wasn’t done.

  “Help me out or I’ll throw your pale ass to the spiders!”

  Alistair blocked a blade and hissed, “You're very violent for a woman with a walking stick.”

  “And you’re mouthy for a blood-drinker with thirty hit points!”

  Alistair rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright, I’m coming. But I expect cookies after this.”

  The redcrystal blade shimmered with volatile energy as Alistair brought it down in a brutal arc.

  [Critical Hit!]

  The hexslinger stumbled back, clutching a gash now leaking blackened blood. Brimma took the opportunity to slam her staff into the side of his face.

  “We rock!” she growled triumphantly.

  Then Alistair’s fangs throbbed. He turned, Kael’s panic echoed through their bond.

  “I only found two arrows!” the elf shouted from above.

  “Then make them count!” Alistair shouted. “Pick your prettiest and shoot!”

  Brimma raised her staff again but her aim faltered.

  “Brace yourself!” she snapped at Alistair.

  The glow of magic swirled around him, and suddenly his limbs felt denser, like bark had wrapped around his joints.

  [Stonehide Bark Applied]

  Defense +25% for 15 seconds

  Incoming Damage Reduced

  The gnome's totem thudded another thorn into the Svirfneblin’s shoulder, staggering the masked assassin long enough for Alistair to shoulder-check him away.

  -19 HP (Blunt Force)

  “We’re not winning,” Alistair muttered through clenched teeth. “We’re just losing slightly slower.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Kael's next shot whistled through the air and struck true, embedding itself into the thigh of the skirmisher. The deep gnome stumbled back with a shriek, blood spraying from the impact. But the second arrow, Kael’s last sailed wide, clattering harmlessly off stone. The bow in his hand sagged slightly, and the elf’s shoulders drooped.

  Alistair glanced at Brimma, who was still hurling bolts of energy like an angry librarian armed with overdue notices. "You alright alone for a sec?"

  “Boy, I’ve been alone longer than your race’s puberty cycle!” Brimma grunted, then zapped the tiefling with a crackling bolt that made the champion yelp and stumble. “Go, go, kiss your boyfriend or whatever you’re planning!”

  Alistair didn’t argue. He activated [Ethereal Phase], his form flickering into smoke as he slipped through the battlefield. He rematerialized in a crouch and sprinted up the rocky incline, pushing off the ground with burst after burst of speed.

  He found Kael perched atop a jagged boulder, eyes narrowed, teeth gritted. His quiver was empty, save for the twitching roots of the Fangbasket. The wood elf looked like a man who’d run out of curses halfway through swearing.

  “Out?” Alistair asked.

  Kael looked over and nodded grimly. “Bone dry. You wouldn’t happen to have a magical armory tucked between your fangs, would you?”

  Alistair smirked and reached into his dimensional pouch. His fingers brushed across steel and scrolls until he felt the faint pull of wind mana. He drew out the [Ring of Airborne Might] and tossed it.

  “Catch.”

  Kael blinked. “What the hell is?”

  “Magic ring. Big boom. Put it on.”

  Kael slipped it on without further argument. Alistair gave him a sharp nod and turned to rejoin the fray but his knees buckled before he could take a step.

  A spike of pain shot through his chest like a dagger of fire.

  [You are affected by Bloodbind Corrosion!]

  [Damage Over Time: 9 HP/sec – Duration: 6 seconds]

  [Warning: Critical Health – 8 HP remaining]

  Alistair dropped to one knee, clutching his ribs, his vision blurring. His vampiric core pulsed erratically as the cursed blood spell writhed through his veins. A cold sweat broke across his skin.

  “Shit!”

  He fell forward, gasping. The pain was worse than anything he’d felt in the Arena so far. Worse than sunlight, worse than a blade.

  [Passive Resistance: Vampiric Fortitude mitigated 10% Blood damage.]

  Barely a consolation.

  And then came the wind.

  He looked up through hazy eyes as Kael lifted his bow hand. The ring shimmered with light, wind coiling around his arm like a serpent. A translucent arrow formed in the air, longer than a normal shaft, and humming with pressure. The wood elf pulled back and the wind howled with him.

  “Say goodnight,” Kael muttered, eyes locked on the blood mage.

  The arrow launched.

  A gust exploded outward as it flew, carving a rippling wake in the air. The blood mage turned just in time to see it coming but too late to do anything about it.

  The arrow struck him dead center.

  A shockwave blasted out, sending gravel and leaves flying. The blood mage was lifted off his feet, arms flailing, and then smashed back into a tree with a crack that echoed across the canyon.

  [Enemy Champion Eliminated: Level 15 Half-Troll Bloodmage]

  [Experience Gained: +3,422 XP]

  Alistair’s screen pulsed.

  [Bloodbind Corrosion – Canceled]

  [Health: 8 → 14 (stabilizing)]

  The pain receded instantly, like a chain being ripped off his soul. He gasped in relief, clutching his chest as the roaring in his ears faded.

  Kael was panting. “Holy shit.”

  Alistair let out a shaky breath and looked up at him.

  “Remind me never to mock forest jewelry again.”

  Kael grinned. “You’re welcome, bloodsucker.”

  Alistair lay back for a moment, not believing how close to death he got, before whispering to himself, “I’m not dying to a troll with blood magic.”

  [HP: 14 / 140]

  Alistair stumbled over a broken root, ducking low as a crossbow bolt hissed past his head. His limbs screamed. Blood ran hot down his ribs. Everything blurred around the edges. He was running on instinct now, agility, desperation, pure feral need to survive.

  The Tiefling and the Deep Gnome were closing in. One with a curved blade still crackling with hexfire, the other flitting between rocks like a damned mosquito with better aim.

  Alistair's breath rasped, teeth bared, and his fingers twitched. Not enough mana for anything flashy. Not enough blood left for mistakes.

  A curse rippled from the Tiefling. A slash came next, horizontal, cruel, aimed to gut.

  He ducked. Spun. Let the world fall into instinct.

  It narrowed to two things:

  Survive.

  Kill.

  The arena smelled like copper and ash. Every footstep was fire in his calves, every twitch a gamble between life and death. He was dodging like a lunatic now rolling, ducking, flinching sideways at the last possible second.

  "Just die already!" the tiefling champion screamed, charging again, blade coated in flickering hexfire.

  The Redcrystal Sword flashed upward, clashing against steel. Sparks burst, blood followed. He hissed. The gnome struck next from the flank, short sword biting deep into Alistair's thigh.

  The world tilted.

  [Warning: Critical State]

  The pain sharpened everything. Time slowed. The scent of blood. The flicker of firelight. The ragged breath of the gnome grinning through a porcelain mask.

  He saw their stance. Saw the weakness. And he let the pain ignite.

  Mana surged.

  [Searing Vein - Activated]

  Cast Mana Cost: 15

  Blood Consumed: High

  The agony became a weapon. Fire coiled through his chest, down his arm, and into his palm, a spiraling inferno of black flame, born of blood and hate and refusal to die.

  He roared as the spell launched.

  A jagged arc of fire erupted from his hand and smashed into the Tiefling's torso. It didn't explode, it tore. Skin blackened and bubbled. Bone cracked. The champion screamed, stumbling back as burning chunks of chest and shoulder sprayed across the dirt.

  [Critical Hit – Weak Point Targeted]

  +97 Damage

  Status Applied: Burn (Severe)

  Skirmisher HP: 36% → 0%

  Alistair dropped to one knee. Chest heaving. Vision flickering.

  He could barely move. Could barely think.

  [Enemy Champion Defeated: Level 16 Fiendblood Tiefling]

  EXP Gained: 4,890

  Bonus Applied: Redcrystal Blade – +567 EXP

  The gnome surged forward, blade raised, mouth twisted in something between fury and triumph. His boots pounded the dirt.

  Alistair couldn’t move.

  He’d burned too much. His stamina was gone. His body had nothing left.

  He tried to raise his sword...

  Too late.

  The gnome roared, leapt...

  And something barreled into him.

  A blur of fur and fury slammed into the gnome like a meteor. Something snarled. Something snapped. The impact was brutal, bone-snapping, dirt-spraying, world-shaking.

  A meaty crack echoed across the clearing as the champion’s body hit the ground hard enough to crater it.

  Alistair blinked.

  Twice.

  Then a third time, just to be sure.

  “What... the hell?” he croaked.

  A badger. A fat, pissed-off, battle-scarred badger, straddled the deep gnome's chest, jaws clamped onto their throat. Blood fountained. The gnome twitched. Once. Then went still.

  [Enemy Champion Defeated: Level 14 Deep Gnome Skirmisher]

  [Experience Gained: +1,422 XP]

  The badger growled. Shook the corpse for good measure. It released the corpse with a wet pop, turned toward Alistair... and winked.

  Then turned and trotted back toward the treeline, fur bristling, eyes gleaming.

  Green magic curled around it, twisting, reshaping.

  By the time it passed Alistair, it was Brimma again, wild-haired, scowling, and leaning heavily on her staff.

  She didn’t even look at him as she muttered, "You’re welcome."

  Alistair blinked slowly. Still kneeling. Still bleeding. Still trying to process the last five seconds.

  "...Was that your trump card or a fever dream?"

  Brimma sniffed. "Both. You were taking too long.”

  Then Kaelren's voice called from somewhere high up.

  "Everyone dead yet? Or is Alistair still making dramatic noises while someone else saves him?”

  Alistair looked up. “If you jump down and land on me, I will kill you. Slowly.”

  Kaelren landed lightly nearby a moment later, brushing off his sleeves. “You’re welcome for the assist.”

  “You missed your last arrow.”

  “I was building tension.”

  “You were hiding.”

  “I was strategically observing,” Kaelren said. “It’s called battlefield awareness.”

  Brimma snorted. “It’s called cowardice.”

  Kaelren held up a finger. “No no, elven cowardice. It’s classier.”

  Alistair, still bleeding, still somehow on his feet, just looked between them.

  Gods help him.

  He had a badger, a sarcastic elf, and 14 HP.

  This was his party.

  He let out a breath and muttered, “We're so dead.”

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