Nestled in a lair deep at the heart of the Kilothses mountain range, a bright white square flickered to life in front of a surprised set of glasses. The flat panes reflected the words back, shifting as the owner tilted their head and hummed assessment.
After a few moments, two options were presented beneath the urgent action required notification, and with a tag to track the source’s further progress the trigger was resolved and the window blinked away.
“I wonder how they made that work,” a bemused voice echoed off the walls of the cave, unheard by the outside world.
* * * * *
Zahn blinked at the foremost window flashing in front of his eyes, seeing a stack of waiting squares even with his eyes closed. The first window looked almost purple instead of its normal shade of blue with a giant crimson window waiting behind it and shining through. Shallow breaths against the cold sand nearly choked the Player, blinking to try and see around the notifications as he rolled onto his back. He could feel mana slowly trickling back into his body, which was far too cold against the burning sand. The idle warmth swirling its way through his chest was taking far too long, and only served to remind him that if he ran out of mana like this again he’d be as cold and weak as he lay now.
Mentally dismissing the first window, the next shone from behind due to being almost half again as big and lined with an ornate gilded pattern on its border.
Immediately after he’d read the second window, still spitting sand from between his teeth, another screen replaced it with a short diagram showing the spell’s change. A massive stone mural darkened the sky behind it, looking like a grove of tall branching trees carved of lighter gray stone against a black shining obsidian backdrop. At the second tree in from the left, a blazing flame erupted at the base and Zan’s perspective on the mural pulled in close to examine the base of the picture more closely. It resembled a thin tree, its many branches curving around one another upwards from a sphere in two directions with each new destination branching into two or more options with empty sockets for choices in almost every branching point save the one at the bottom. Though composed of dozens of interwoven branching points, the curving pattern of the tree arched back around over itself many times to remain within the width of its segment in the greater mural. The uppermost options were nestled together densely compared to the spread out and sparse choices near the bottom. The starting spell looked like a fat arrow mid-flight, coated in flames. The bottommost paths held the left-hand branch’s color fading with an image of an exploding ball fading into grayscale, while the right-hand choice lit up bright red showing an extended version of the arrow, twice as long with the fires concentrated at its tip. Zahn had only glanced at the next options, splitting into three hazy branches before another series of popup windows took over his vision. As the popups arrived, the massive Fire skill tree carving faded away to expose sunlight anew shining through the windows.
Bright sunlight bore down on the Player from behind the stacked translucent screens. Each new window sprang into life the moment Zahn read the last, looking like the only time he’d tried to get free music on the family computer as a child. Shaking his head to clear the memory, he saw the multitude of screens minimize and shrink down to the bottom right of his HUD and slowly blink a number under his Notifications button.
Before he could even roll over to stand, a shadow crossed his sunlight as a familiar outline stared down at him.
“Bravo!” whispered Two excitedly, reaching down to help him up. “Well done indeed, little Custom Champion.”
Grasping the offered arm, Zahn groaned as his body insisted on laying prone. The surge of level-ups had left his limbs tingling, his resource pools full and even his post-combat jitters had calmed down, but he felt mentally spent as if he’d just spent hours on grueling tests instead of fighting for his life. Independent of his filled mana pool, the magic power slowly gathering in his body was only a mild warmth against the day’s chill, leaving the Custom nearly shivering. He squinted against daylight as he failed to get up on his own and directed more magic from his core to fill his body again. Threads winding around inside his torso warmed as mana filled them and the blissful energy felt like drinking liquid sunlight. As the wiry man hauled him to his feet, the Player took stock of his surroundings in the too-bright glare.
Where he’d stood was blackened, crude glass embedded into sand glinting dully in the sun. The Ringmaster’s corpse still smoldered, his shield enchantment evaporated with his life and once-intricate robes a charred drape over his shrunken form. Each of the four who’d stood with their master remained where he last saw them and didn’t look to be moving far anytime soon, even as their groans and sobs made beautiful melodies across the sandy ring. Ethan was jogging closer from their shared dorm, laughing and skipping over the battle debris. Self-pitying moans reached his ears from the fallen warriors, downright musical compared to their previous snarls and jibes.
From behind the dead Master, doors were opening around the Arena’s edge with a few sheltered gladiators peeking out into the arena. Leaving his own living quarters, Jadfbug began striding towards the middle where Zahn shakily stood, the Chief’s face set in a grim smile with furrowed brows. As Two patted the victorious Player enthusiastically on his back, some of the sunlight beaming down coalesced into a gilded parchment scroll in the sneak’s free hand, startling him before his grin grew wider if possible.
“This is it,” came his usually gruff voice, sounding downright melodic. “This is usually read as you pass through a double line of cheering fellow gladiators, but something tells me you won’t be getting such a rosy reception on your way out.” He brandished the scroll and let it unfurl from one end, “I’ve never been the one to read one of these before. The ink’s quite pretty.”
Ethan slugged Zahn’s free arm, causing him to lurch and half-fall to his knees. “Brilliant! But I gotta say,” he pulled the scowling Custom back to his feet. “When you crawled out of that metal wall like some kind of fucked up fiery demonic birth I actually thought they were right to lock you away. It was fuckin’ gnarly my dude.”
Zahn glanced back over his shoulder to his former prison, and found the seal still shining in the sunlight with a blackened, melted hole through the middle. Approximately where he’d drawn his contract sigil, an oblong opened ripped its way outwards and seemed to be reaching for him even now, the edges were slag and slowly dripping down to look like a massive shell had punched through, leaving grasping fingers of melted steel dragged away from the center.
Before he could give feedback on his impromptu art display, the Barbarian leader reached their trio.
“Indeed,” Jadfbug’s deep voice sounded somber. Facing forward again Zahn found his stern eyes boring into his own for long seconds before he had to look away, lest he trigger another Mind Battle. “I wish you had not resorted to such dark methods to gain your victory, young Zahn. I cannot deny they were effective, and yet…” His voice trailed off as he looked up, over the stands and into the deep blue sky past the Player’s head. “I wish I had the foresight to teach you a better way than to lean on the power of the dark.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Ethan’s cheer couldn’t be dampened by the serious old man. “Sure, you looked like hell. Still do. But you won, and your voice stopped being all echo-ey and possessed before the fat man sang, so far as I figure you’re the one who came out on top.”
Two released Zahn to punch Ethan’s shoulder. “Enough of that. Let the man breathe.” Stepping between the chief and Custom, he pushed on Zahn’s shoulder to tilt his head back, gazing into his eyes lit by daylight. “How are you feeling? You’re pretty quiet, even though you won. You won, Zahn.”
Blinking rapidly and diverting his gaze again, Zahn let his eyes wander over the nearly empty stands. “Yeah,” his voice sounded shaky to his own ears. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Faking a cough and stepping to the side, the Player left the immediate group a few steps and tried to keep his head straight without stumbling over his sandy glass artwork. Lowering his right hand from the cough, he twitched and stared at his palm in a double-take before closing his fist and keeping it at his side.
“So!” Pitching his voice in a false cheer, he faced the great big exit doors. “How’s this part work?”
Behind his back his three friends exchanged glances, before Ethan made a shooing gesture at Two and took his place again at Zahn’s left side. “You get to leave, buddy.”
Two and Jadfbug shared a small smile as they stood to either side of the path to form a two-man archway. Two held his scroll dramatically before him while the massive chieftain gestured towards the now-open doors that had been Zahn’s prison for months. With a snap of his wrist, Two extended the scroll of parchment into a rolling tumble that glittered with gold sparks as it unfurled fully and nearly reached the ground.
“Ahem,” the beastmaster began, clearing his throat. “Hear ye, one an’ all present! Before ye stands the newest Champion to our here Collisae! Make merry and be well in his name!”
Zahn paused in admiring the open exit to eye his friend, slowly turning his head to quirk an eyebrow.
With a chuckle the sneak snapped the scroll again and began to speak normally. “Ah, gotcha. Let’s skip some of the flourish, shall we?” He twitched the parchment between his fingers to scroll past the unneeded pleasantries and found the relevant details. The large print on the heading glittered in green ink as the scroll’s top flopped over in the bright daylight. “Here we are. Ahem. ‘Let it be known today, and from all days forward, that we stand before the Champion of the Collisae in all his glory. May his name, Zahn of Unknown, be spread far and wide on the winds of victory.’ No seriously, that’s verbatim,” Two tried to assuage Zahn as the Player rolled his eyes at the flowery words. “Swear to the Light.”
Zahn kicked at the sand to shake his still-tingling legs before setting off towards the exit at a stroll. Jadfbug and Two kept pace on either side of him while Ethan trailed behind, their little procession being watched from nearly every doorway in the great circular wall around them. Zahn’s eyes rested on the door to his former dormitory, briefly considering if he’d left anything behind. His mind flickered to the meals shared with Ethan and his excellent cooking, the nights spent in meditation and more recently the guided meditation under the imp’s direction. I haven’t been reading enough, he admonished himself. I think I’ve only read a few chapters and it’s been months. If I want a handle on magic I really need to finish that damn thing. Especially with this ‘mastery’ business being in my fire magic now, what the hell even is that?
Two continued reading through the scroll while Ethan waved obnoxiously at the other gladiators watching from the wall. “This victory is recognized by the Collisae and grants the following privileges with its Mark: The Champion may declare any individual conflict to be a Duel, with all the according conditions and restrictions applying. The Champion qualifies to participate in any Arena match as ordained by a prevailing Town or higher. The bearer of this Mark may declare themselves to be the Collisae Champion without penalty.”
As their walk reached the massive double doors, Zahn finally got a good look down the hallway he’d only glimpsed before as wagons bearing beasts returned for delivery. The hallway was long, looking to be at least double the depth of the stands, and was regularly lit by yellow flames the size of a fist settled into bronze brackets. The walls were carved, and from his outside perspective it looked like the torches were breaking up a story into various ages.
To Zahn’s great surprise, the old Shaman hobbled out from his tribe’s doorway to slowly join their little group. Brouhaman’s face was as set as the stones he commanded as he leaned heavily on his staff, seemingly far older than he had been just weeks before.
Two held out a hand to stop the procession a step from the doors, his eyes still on the scroll. “As a reward for completing the Trial by Combat, the Champion is awarded the champion’s purse. You gain ten percent of profits earned since the last Champion of our establishment, with additional multipliers awarded as per your accomplished feats. You have mastered the following schools of combat: None! You have learned the following schools of combat: Steppe Hung Gar; Goris Kwan Do; Beast Handling; Noblesse Karate; unnamed street fighting. You have mastered the following weapon types: None! You have learned the following weapon types: Spear, Polearm, Sword, Mace, Dagger, Thrown, Flexile, Dual Wield. You have mastered the following schools of magic: Fire Magic! You have learned the following schools of magic: Earth Magic, Chaos Binding Contracts. Behold! A Precedent set down by the First Champion has been broken! Magic and not melee combat has been used exclusively for the duration of the Trial!”
Two’s face broke into a wide grin, his eyes dancing as he held the scroll up over his head and nearly shouted the last lines. “As magic has finally bested melee combat, the Collisae is lifting its ban against magical adepts entering its ranks! No longer will magical combatants be limited to their physical prowess, but all combatants may wreak havoc using the fullest extent of their ability. The Collisae officially qualifies for the ninth Rank promotion! Assign a new Ringmaster to begin the promotion process.”
While Two admired the scroll’s proclamations, Zahn felt a heavy hand gently grip his left shoulder. Looking up, he met Jadfbug’s gaze as the large warrior gave him a concerned look. “A word, if you please,” the man insisted as he turned the Player away from his inevitable exit. The Shaman had joined their celebration and stood at Jadfbug’s other side, his intent stare boring into the Player.
“You just can’t stop yourself, can you?” Came Brouhaman’s voice. “You haven’t even been here four months. Haven’t allied yourself with any of the factions or powers. You simply destroy.”
The large chieftain ushered them to the side, his tone admonishing. “Now now, be nice about it. Hard to make friends when everyone knows you’re a Player and already had their turn at stabbing you.” His large hands mostly blocked their view of the rest of the arena, and Zahn could hear the muffling effect of a Private conversation. “Aside from that, you shared some Earth magics with him yourself, one can hardly call that a fair assessment. You had no problems making a profitable deal with a Player, you can hardly weigh your judgement on him for making another.”
The old man’s face contorted from stern to furious. “Be nothing of the crop!” He lifted his staff and made to strike the huge man, but set it down with a huff. “I made fair bargain, and left him to his peace! I had nothing to do with this, this,” he gestured broadly, finally stabbing at the compromised metal wall on the far side of the coliseum. “This mockery!”
Zahn followed the conversation, waiting for a hint about how the tantrum affected him. “You’re mad that I broke out? Sincerely? I was suffocating in there, and just barely won!”
Both locals turned to him, faces heavy. “It is not your victory, young Zahn, that causes upset for our friendly spirit guide. It is your methods.”
Looking from a grave face to a furious one, the Custom mentally shrugged and tried to keep a straight face. “Okay,” he ventured slowly as if speaking to an irate wife. “And what specifically can you tell me?” He tried to keep his expression still, but the absurdity of being yelled at over how he killed a man hung over their chat.
The Shaman’s glare didn’t relent. “You are foul. You truck with evils. You have no respect for tradition, you care not for the precedent set forward by your betters and act only in your own self-interest. How can you stand in the Collisae and care nothing for the generations of hard work that built this establishment?! How dare you -”
The heavy hand of Jadfbug fell between them, the spade ending the argument before it could gain steam. “Hold, good man, hold.” He held up a thick finger in Zahn’s face, “And don’t start yet, he doesn’t mean the vitriol he speaks with.”
Zahn was ready to begin Round Two of his duel, glaring back at the old man behind Jadfbug’s paw. “Then he’d fuckin’ better rephrase his bitching before there’s problems! The fuck you mean, ‘I’m foul’? I’ll send you right after the Ringmaster you-”
“I just said don’t start,” came the chieftain’s sigh. “You don’t understand his view, and he doesn’t understand yours. Please.” His bulky body kept their confrontation from the rest of the fighters slowly trickling into the Arena, but the fact they were fighting was clear.
Already breathing heavily, the Player eyed the big man and tried to keep his temper. Out of everyone in this deathmatch prison, the tribe of eager fighters had been fair to him. He didn’t recall if any had joined in the conga-line-killing, but his brief memory of that day was already faded enough for the point to be moot. Focusing on how the tribe of large friendly murderers had taken him under wing, the Custom tried to keep his emotions out of the apparently important conversation. “Then speak,” Zahn growled out while unclenching his fists.
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UnderJadfbug’s stern glare, the old magic user took a deep breath. “Your deal with the demon. The act itself is evil.”
“How did you expect me to-!” Zahn’s immediate outburst was cut short by interference yet again.
“Let him speak, Player.” Jadfbug’s tone bore no room for negotiation. “You haven’t left the Collisae yet, and he is still our Advisor.”
“Indeed,” the old man looked smugly satisfied. “I speak only the truth, little reckless immortal. I recognize you felt the desperate need, which is their methods. Demons, all denizens of Chaos, they seek to corrupt through bad options presented to desperate circumstances. You were tricked. Your deal is false, the demon you have contracted will only betray you.” He pointed a long wrinkled finger at Zahn’s right hand, the unerring digit seeming like a spotlight on shame. “At the hour of your contract, you shall lose your body to the Will of your new Master. It matters not what your deal is or why you felt the need to make it, what matters is you are now a slave to-”
Impatient and annoyed, Zahn cut him off. “The deal failed. He didn’t kill the Ringmaster for me or get me out of here. He just broke the wall and weakened my opponents.”
The pair of locals exchanged a glance, eyes unreadable. Jadfbug cocked his head to the side, “You mean to say the contract failed? Yet you bear the Mark. The design on your flesh is proof of bargain made.”
Turning his palm skyward, Zahn examined the new tattoo for the first time. His palm bore thick black ink, starting at the base of his thumb and tracing a line just inside the calluses he’d grown in the past few months. The points resembled flames, while inside the border several characters in magic script filled the gaps. He could recognize a few of the shapes, but the total of eight symbols bent around one another and warped to fill the space making them difficult to read. More than one rune looked folded over, as if it had been made physical and wrapped around something. “So this is proof of a contract then?”
The old Shaman roughly gripped Zahn’s hand from beneath, turning it side to side as he examined the Mark in the daylight. “It is not complete,” he finally judged. “There are three shapes within the Mark that depict the contract you’ve been tricked into, yet only one is intact. The remaining two are…” he trailed off. Gesturing vaguely at the open door, he started again. “You said the terms include your freedom? As you leave this place that term will be fulfilled. Incomplete, your Mark is incomplete.”
“Yet still damning,” Jadfbug gently covered Zahn’s hand with his own. “Any who see this Mark will know its meaning, and any holy warrior seeking demon worshippers will see and know you for what you are. Especially if you take steps to conceal your hand, as the Mark of a Chaos Lord is always on the palm.” His mournful gaze turned hard as he glared at the Shaman, the latter turning away from admonishment.
“Good to know,” Zahn tucked his hand back behind him. He nodded towards the Shaman, still addressing the chief. “So why the hell is your Advisor so damned cranky about it?”
The old man’s red face turned mottled as he whipped back around, choking back a snarling reply. Visibly composing himself, the Shaman coughed and started again. “Your soul! You have gained the victory of the day, at the cost of victory forever! Enmity will follow for all of your endless days. You can never be cleansed, your actions are permanent! No amount of deaths can cleanse your mistake, Champion and any other glory you earn be damned.”
Rolling his eyes at the drama, Zahn started back towards the happy duo waiting for him at the doors.
Jadfbug’s heavy hand stopped him yet again, his grip gentle this time. “I know this is not what you wish to hear, but there is more to be said, Champion.”
With a loaded look at Two and Evan, the Player dragged his feet turning to face the Shaman again. “What?”
The large chieftain gestured broadly before him, his wave encompassing the gate out of their prison. “The world is vast. The Map is so great one cannot see its breadth within a lifetime, even one so long as yours.” His eyes were lit by the sunlight, shimmering golds emerging behind brown wisdom. “The challenge you conquered today will not be the last you face. And yes, there are dark forces in our world which will seek to kill you or worse - corrupt you, turn you to their side. You must be wary not only of those who would confront you, but also those who would endear you towards their ends.”
Zahn was ready to roll his eyes at the obvious warning, but the old man spoke up before he could express his snark.
“You are powerful,” the raspy words sounded like they caused the Shaman pain to admit. “You were not meant to learn all you did from such simple earth spells, nor were you meant to access Chaos itself from simply living in proximity to a Warlock. We all know what he is.” The withered face held onto the shadows cast by the day, the rivulets and laugh lines wearing into Brouhaman’s face like roads on an ancient map to secrets. “You were not meant to learn magic in this place, but you have already learned to bend the sands to your will, to craft great spears to slay foes. Your ability to gain power cannot be overstated, and every enemy you leave alive will abuse this.”
Not understanding where the elder was going, Zahn was fixated. “What do you mean? How can learning quickly hurt me?”
With a weary head shake, the Shaman continued. “Knowledge has power, and some is dangerous. It is called memetic, an idea that is itself alive. Psions, damn them all, have birthed many memetic threats before and no host has survived. Any foe who learns your mind has no barriers will cripple you with insanity, a disease you catch by learning its name. Alas,” the old man leaned heavily on his staff as he stretched his back and glanced over his shoulder towards the partially melted metal seal. “Your potential includes Chaos. Now that a pact has been struck, the heart of your magic is contaminated. You have opened a gateway to endless punishment, and the other end of that path is embedded in your chest.”
Translating the warnings into his own understanding of magic, Zahn saw the connection he didn’t realize he’d crafted. “You’re saying there’s a gateway to hell in my mana core.” He blinked slowly, trying to feel where his magic came from but there was no difference in his mind. Somewhere behind his sternum, deeper in his body than lungs or heart was a font of power that had been steadily filling all his cells with directed energy - yet now he learned it had a taint, a vulnerability leading to Eight’s domain. “How do I close it?”
Brouhaman’s smirk held no mirth, and Jadfbug’s gaze turned sorrowful at his question. “One does not. You struck the bargain, Player, and now you are bound to your word and name. So long as you have yourself, your name is on the list of debtors. You will have your ‘gateway to hell’ for as long as you draw breath.” He planted his staff in the ground again, emphasis for his point. “It can not be undone, and now twice a day or more you risk losing everything, all for only a scrap of power today. Utterly foolish.”
Zahn felt his scowl set as he growled out his reply. “Fuck you.”
The pair of men stared back at him, plainly waiting for an actual response.
“I was going to die. Die outside of my gladiator contract, suffocate in a metal and stone tomb, but you,” he jabbed a finger at the Shaman, “did nothing to help. You could have waved your hands and melted the walls of my prison away but no.” The irritable elder opened his maw to retort but Zahn cut him off. “Nothing! You did nothing to help me and yet you’re going to stand here and bitch and moan about how I saved my own life? Fuck you and fuck your judgements.”
Zahn was turning to stalk away when the large chief's somber tone stopped him.
“I did not permit him.”
Being furious at the old mage who didn’t help was one thing, but betrayed by the cheerful giant? Zahn’s turn back was slow, his eyes searching the bigger man’s face.
“If you must spread your anger, Player, it falls upon me.” The jolly barbarian gazed solemnly, his face could have been carved of stone. “When I was made aware of the plans last eve, I forbade any from my tribe from helping you. If we had, we would have forsaken our position in the grand Collisae, and all the Steppe lands would be lesser for it. I knew the division of faction, I knew the line my people could not cross and I spread that message clear. None of my people came to your aid, young master, and it was my decision.”
Looking between the locals Zahn only saw resolute conviction, the old Shaman unflinching even as Jadfbug admitted his betrayal.
“I chose between our friendship with you, a powerless Player of no renown, or the long-standing relationship between my tribe and this proving ground. And if I had to make the same choice tomorrow, I would choose the same again.”
“You left me to die.” His complaint felt hollow, his voice weak even as he said it. What could they do? A dozen men against a metal and stone cage? He didn’t know what he expected, he didn’t know what they might have done to help him, if they could even break open his personal jail. Some irrational, boyish part of his mind insisted they could have done something about his injustice, anything that he couldn’t do himself. Surely, this group of united and powerful warriors would have been able to take some action, do something about the awesome magical power of the yellow-robed mage whose work had sealed him away.
Jadfbug sighed, reading his face as much as hearing him. “I do not relish the choice. I must act to protect my people, defend our way of life, and move forward towards our prosperity. Something I am certain you will face one day, given your own path.” His eyes were shadowed, seeing something beyond the Player as he gazed into Zahn’s face. “One day far from now, you will be forced to choose between your own friendship and the well-being of your people, and I can only hope you too will be strong enough to make the decision you would not choose.”
Looking between the men, Zahn felt something warm and sparkling in his belly spiral and die. He wanted to be angry, to latch onto that brief fury that had felt so righteous. He wanted to spit flames and vent wrath. He wanted to make the old man hurt for being so willing to let him suffer as he had.
He only felt cold, the day’s sunlight no longer so warm against his skin.
* * * * *
Ethan and Two were patiently waiting a few steps from the great doors, a small crowd of fellow gladiators gathered nearby. The group was all his barbarian peers, several fighters he’d seen in passing but nobody he recognized as an enemy. Or a friend.
“So, what were you in trouble about?” Ethan’s light laughter reminded Zahn of just how happy today should be.
He stretched, planting a hand against his back as he turned side to side as if he could hardly wait to start running. “Oh, you know, the usual.” Zahn gestured vaguely, encompassing the Arena as a whole. “The usual. Reckless Player, deals with demons, stupid choices and inevitable consequences. Bore me,” his casual grin tried to hide the very real concern growing behind his sternum, but that was a problem for later. Maybe in eleven hours.
The Warlock returned his cheer with enthusiasm, “Damn straight! Can’t let ‘em get you down. Alight Two, you crotchety zookeeper, let’s get the rest of this party going!”
“Right,” continued the enscrolled herald. “Let’s see, what else we have here…” He shuffled the still-glittering document, the golden paper sounding like tinfoil as he shifted it around. “Yadda yadda, magic is allowed - that’s going to be a trick - and, aha. Ahem. ‘Once the reigning Ringmaster has been assigned and promoted, the upgrade to confirm The Collisae to its ninth Rank can begin. The resources needed,’ yeah I’m not reading all that part, skip skip skip, here. ‘As the Champion to join magic with our grand traditions, your rewards have been increased. As the first Champion to achieve Mastery over a school of magic while in attendance of the Collisae, your rewards have been increased. As the first Champion to fail to achieve mastery over a single martial school, you have brought shame to our establishment and your rewards have been decreased.’ Rude. ‘As the reigning Champion you have claim to the entire champion’s purse and its proceeds since the last Champion. Due to your feats, the reward has been increased. Due to your feats, the reward has been increased. Due to your…’ It’s repeating. Ethan, what does that line mean?”
The blond leaned in to read over Two’s shoulder. “Oh, that’s fun. Zahn, you broke the quest. Ahem. ‘Error.ParseTotalValue: SHRT_MAX exceeded (9);’ That’s a new one, you are more than the maximum shirt. Odd.”
Zahn’s eyebrows shot up, his mind whirling back to real life. “Wait, let me see that.” Neither friend turned to show him the scroll but he remembered his conversation log and checked it to verify he’d heard Ethan correctly. “That’s a ‘short’ limit, it’s a type of variable. It caps out at thirty-two thousand or so. Who would store a currency reward as a short? That’s just stupid, unless the reward is normally so small that -”
Interrupting, Two jumped in with missing information. “The normal winner’s purse is one hundred gold fat.” Next to him, Ethan whistled appreciatively. “The typical message about ‘rewards increased’ has meant double, so two hundred. And buddy,” he looked back to the scroll and ran a finger down the text, “you have a lot of messages. Nobody has overturned a founding precedent in a very long time my friend.”
Zahn thought back to the messages he’d dismissed a few minutes ago, and reached for a pouch he hadn’t used yet. When he had first obtained his very useful belt, he’d found the utility item had not only a spatial storage pouch on his left hip about the size of a canteen that could hold several slots of items, he’d also gained a rather empty coin purse bound to the belt just behind the storage. The available tool selection was limited, and the meager knife he’d been able to conjure as a crafting tool was utterly useless for combat, but he was still fond of the only piece of gear to come with him during his resurrections. If not for the belt and crude undergarments respawning with him, he’d have truly been naked during his trials.
Reaching for the coin pouch, he found the leather palm-sized parcel to be bulging. He teased the drawstrings open to find another pouch inside, noticeably higher quality and better made. Removing the larger prize, he found something just larger than his fist crafted from supple hide, the soft texture of the bag making it easy to feel it was filled with coins. The treads at the opening were a blend of gold and silver, with a rather large logo on the front bearing the same sigil as on his new Mark, a double “C” shape interlocking, woven in the same gold and silver thread.
The little bag was heavy, nearly weighing ten pounds, and Zahn admired its heft before prying open the top to peek inside. He got a line of text on his interface, the glittering money inside briefly making him consider the Arena and its imprisonment to be worth all the suffering involved. Glancing up to see his companions watching him with all sizes of smiles, the Custom grinned back at them and slapped the pouch to his waist. He felt the original coin pouch shrink under his fingers as he fitted the new one in place, the inferior purse dissolving into the belt as its slot was taken by the upgrade sitting proudly in its new home.
Currency: 3,280 Gold (F) obtained.
“I didn’t get any other messages about things being owed to me, is there more goodies coming my way?” Zahn joked as he looked to the pair guarding his exit. Ethan’s grin spread wide as the duo responded by framing the exit.
“After the mystery error, it just goes on about the glory that will be afforded to the arena after its next upgrade. And from me,” Two gave a hearty smile and a wink, “well done and bravo once again. I’m looking forward to seeing how the world reacts to magic finally living here of all places.”
Zahn ignored the scroll that re-rolled itself rapidly, eyes drawn to the beckoning hallway. Two and Ethan framed the doorway with knowing smiles, the pair watching their friend savor his first taste of freedom in months. He hadn’t even been trapped in the game world for a full year yet, but he still saw the digital world past stone walls as ‘outside’ compared to his more literal prison.
Walking down the hall felt hushed, reverent. The ground was large sandstone bricks coated in dust and sand, faint traces of paint still lingering in the corners to show the place was once treated with far more reverence. Under his feet the sand felt comforting, a companion in his physical trials, where the bricks were rough beneath his bare feet and seemed to grab at him as he carefully strolled along. The hall was lit by spheres of yellow flame no bigger than his palm, each resting a few inches above its own circular sconce in the wall. Unlike normal torches these lamps left no soot or smoke and were rather obviously powered by the magic his Mana Sight painted in glowing lines. The sconce was the magical part, the ribbon flowing in from the wall like a power socket to run laps around the circular case before bending on itself to return in a stream adjacent to the input. The ball of fire looked like a projection, as if the circular bases were shining light up into a Christmas ornament, with only a few reality-bound pieces left out. But Zahn hadn’t bled for months of training to merely examine the lamps.
Making a mental note to look into magic lights later, the Custom examined the walls he’d never had a chance to pour over before. The passage was divided by the lamps, each sconce on a pillar of smooth stone with a recessed panel between them. The panel was carved with stories, pictograms and glyphs surrounding them acting as carved storyboards with either details inscribed or the titles of each piece, either way Zahn couldn’t read the symbols. The left and right pictures closest to the arena were the oldest by far, the left side showing a large minotaur with prominent horns reared back with its face to the sky in a roar. The warrior’s arms held a longsword and polearm, with the spear embedded in a smaller minotaur’s belly as the loser bent almost in half with crude emotion depicting its humiliating loss. The loser was drawn disproportionately, with exaggerated pain and fear on its bovine face at the loss. The mural on the right showed a group of five warriors, the victor from the left panel shown prominently with four smaller minotaurs arranged on either side, the entire group holding up various weapons in victory shouts. The primary fighter had changed weapons to a net and spear, its armor more detailed even at a smaller size.
Walking down the hall and seeing each mural on both sides, Zahn slowly got a picture of the arena’s history. Single battles were on one side, with group fights honored on the other. From what he could tell, it was only after a gladiator won in single combat that they would then start being depicted in a place of honor on the right-hand wall. From the third panel on the right he recognized a one-horned fighter achieving victory on the fourth left panel, and went on to be the center winner on the fourth right-hand with the single-combat loser joining the winner’s team of five. The hallway was long, more than three dozen lamps and carving sets extending all the way under the stairs and out, the exit’s bright sunlight washing out detail past the doorway.
It wasn’t until at least halfway towards the exit when Zahn realized there were now more than bull-men in the murals. Humans, elves, and a large bulky race he didn’t recognize were among the losers, and occasionally even the secondary group victories. Every major winner remained a minotaur until nearly three quarters the length to the end, where the bovines vanished entirely and all the carvings from there on were the normal humanoids. Even the muscular bulky bald ones with pointed ears vanished, leaving tall and proud humans and elves. A scattering of small races were present in some shots, one showing a snarling elf woman spear three half-sized humanoids in a row on her glaive.
By the time he was squinting in the bright sunlight, the carvings on the wall were sharp and clean, with the right side blank and the left panel slowly growing new shapes as he neared. The details weren’t set yet, but the image of a human beggar with flames in his hands was clear. The fires were mounded like the image of a man had just tried to lift piles of sand on his palms with streaks of flame dripping down, and the relief’s face was twisted into a scream at the sky. Far from the powerful and victorious depiction back at the other end of the path, this Champion looked desperate and pained - it looked like someone crawling out of hell to kneel at the surface and wail at his own imprisonment.
Blinking away the impression and shaking his head, Zahn’s eyes traced the unknown symbols annotating the victory and wondered again what language they were in. I never even knew if minotaurs have their own language or not, but when I recognized elf script I got an update so it can’t just be bull-speak. He was pondering the mystery when Ethan spoke up, reminding the Custom he wasn’t alone.
“Admiring your handiwork, eh? You should be proud, adding magic was considered impossible before.”
Jumping and spinning around to face the duo, Zahn smirked and shook his head again. “Not really, just trying to understand everything. I didn’t know this place was built by minotaurs, I thought they were just Monsters like in the dungeon.”
Two looked past him out the exit, his voice somber. “Not only built. You can’t see it from inside, but the Collisae is part of actual ruins. The building is just within the edge of the butte we’re camped on, and all around us is the dead capitol city of the Mino Empire. Lost back before the Devastation, when some wizard or another throwing magic around raised up this chunk of land far, far above the plains it was once a part of. Those became forests too, what with the settlements all pulled up and away from the farmland. It’s those ruins all around that we source a good deal of our Monsters from, streets and the forest that’s overgrown most of it."
“Does that happen often?” Zahn racked his memories for similar events, but didn’t remember the map changing at all over time. The series of mountain ranges he recalled all either snaked from point to point or ended as valleys against the mountains making up the map edge.
“Hah!” Ethan slapped his shoulder as he brushed past him. “Don’t go around fucking with the map my man, we don’t need more rogue wizards ruining everything. Last time we had the map re-arranged on us it was a good hundred years ago, but you can still see some of the damage.” He pointed off far to the south, well past the exit and a shadow looming in the sun in front of the doorway. “Once upon a time the land was flat and picturesque, but wizard duels have changed the whole thing into a fuckin’ forest. Every few miles you’ll find another column of cliffs reaching up to a plateau with rather confused animals trapped up top. I had a house on one that overlooked the seas, but there was a sky pirate battle and my little homestead looked like a good port, so that was that.” With a casual shrug the Warlock dismissed losing a home, and likely a family.
Zahn eyed his friend as he turned back to check the last right mural, to find it blank and smooth. Placing a hand against the clean stone, he suddenly felt a connection. Zahn’s mind twitched like a cat’s tail, brushing against the mystery connection again as if tasting it. The sensation was new to him, different from reaching into the mind of an enemy but also feeling like he stood at the edge of something vast, something large and strong enough to eat him whole. Leaning away from the connection, it broke as his hand left the wall leaving him with the impression something old and powerful lived just inside the rock facade.
He turned back to the pair to bring up the idea, but found the pair had already left the dim hall and stepped into the bright glorious sunshine. Squinting against the bright light, the Custom followed them outside and got a good look at the shape huddled in front of the Collisae’s entrance.
Ethan and Two stood before a great big statue, more than a dozen paces distant from the doorway, a minotaur wielding a great two-handed axe overhead while roaring challenge at any who would approach. The statue stood more than eight feet tall at the horns, perched atop a stone plinth nearly up to Zahn’s chest in height. The fierce gladiator wore intricate platemail over leathers and an armored skirt, its weapon held overhead while its fearsome roar showed far too many flat teeth for one mouth. The beast resembled the first victor, but far older than the last carving. The armor looked similar to the last set displayed in the duelist murals, but the weapon was new as if they replaced arms more than armor.
“Hey, that looks like the winner from the walls,” he pointed out as he walked around the beast to look up at its chin. “He’s got a new weapon though. Hey, about the walls-”
“Yeah, makes sense,” Two interrupted and gestured back towards the building. “This is a statue of the first winner, the first grand champion of the Collisae, but humans can’t pronounce the name worth a damn. We just call her Winnie. This lovely beast was the first Champion who lived long enough to retire, and the first Ringmaster to survive all her challenges. Back then,” his tone took on a storytelling tone, “the fights were basically all to the death. Back before this place was famous, it was just another fight pit in the capital of a city of warriors. But Winnie, here? She set the place in order, she established a precedent, that the Ringmaster fights the battles themselves and can set challenges for others to accomplish in order to win their freedom. That’s how the standard fare runs today, with the reigning Ringmaster setting a specific challenge in response to a gladiator bidding for their freedom, and if the challenger wins they get their gold key. You,” he turned to face Zahn fully, “have brought back the ancient tradition of brutally murdering the master and instating a new method of combat. The last one brought in ranged weapons.”
Zahn’s eyes traced the statue, something drawing him closer to it with each breath. “I’m a bit surprised, honestly. Not that they’re all warriors, but that all the winners are female minotaur. I would have guessed -” before he could continue his tangent, his palm touched the carving and two things happened simultaneously.
A window appeared in front of his eyes, the translucent screen politely informing him of something that looked relevant but was dismissed into his waiting icon immediately after as something far less polite gripped his mind firmly and pulled.
Darkness roared forwards, curling around from behind him like a smoke cloud as it rushed up into his vision out of where his hand met rock.
* * * * *
“I do not see why we must bend the knee, Ringmaster.”
The voice was deep, rumbling and smooth, but carrying a light tone that seemed to incline towards deference.
The reply was similarly basso, muffled and pitched lower as if the speaker was attempting to stay quiet. “It is a matter of need, Third. I would not press such a change if it were not absolutely necessary. Fear not,” light weakly filtered through trees, dappled shade parting as wind whistled overhead. The second speaker came into focus to be Winnie herself, with a canvas veil draped over her muzzle. “I do not see this as bending either knee. Rather, we are enriching our hunting grounds with fresh blood.”
The smaller minotaur huffed, sounding like a bellows with a tear in its side. “They cannot be gladiators. Having the males here is insult enough to our pride, but these beasts? They have not even tusk nor claw, let alone horns. These soft, unfurred creatures are hardly a qualifier for our gladiators, and they did not even send their females!”
Winnie huffed softly in reply, a twitching shake of her ears seeming to communicate something that caused Three to bounce her own head in a nod.
“My word stands. They will not start as fighters, but as fledglings. Only after their mettle has been proven, if such a case, would they even be moved to the dormitory stalls. Should you find their presence offensive, you need merely stay apart from the cages.” The larger fighter straightened, her curled horns reaching high into the sky.
The vision gained more light, sunshine filling the immediate area around her as if carried by her aura. The pair stood where the statue rested in modern day, watching as a line of humans and elves patiently filed in through the Collisae entrance. The building was smaller by half, and looked to be made of a crudely finished sandstone among similar buildings. The area had a few trees, lush grassy lawns, and cobbled streets stretching in long straight lines down each direction. The gladiators stood guard near a crude wooden sign marked in the same strange language that adorned the murals lining the entrance hallway, while the world beyond faded into foggy darkness.
“I am aging, Three. No, do not object,” she cut off her junior, whose nose was already flaring with agitated breath, “I know this to be true. I have lived and ruled as the Ringmaster for too long in my own time, far even into the time of the next Ringmaster. One is too scarred, and Two has taken the new fledglings under her wings. I cannot rule the arena and protect our traditions, and you cannot uphold the past where you stand.”
Breathing heavily, Three looked up at her Ringmaster. “I obey your will, great mother. I followed you here, we mourned my mother together, and I will follow you out as well.”
The larger gladiator made a face, and Zahn recognized it as a smile, as she reached a heavy hand to lay her palm on her granddaughter’s head. “No, you shall not. You will obey my word, young champion, and you will protect the Collisae. You will raise up the new fodder, and make warriors out of slaves. You will do this, not in my own name,” her voice shook with choked emotion, Three looking up at Winnie with wet eyes as the elder declared, “but instead you will carry this burden as the next Ringmaster.”
The pair stood in emotional silence for a long moment, before Three bellowed a wailing cry and surged forward to embrace Winnie, the high-pitched wheezing noises coming from the pair making the humanoid applicants look over nervously. The new Ringmaster huffed and keened until abruptly stopping to chuckle, tears leaking from her eyes as she pulled away and dabbed at her face.
“Great mother, even in your final act as Ringmaster you accomplish much. The Collisae has earned a new achievement, for passing leadership bloodlessly. I shall honor your command, and reign as the new Ringmaster in your stead.”
Winnie smiled broadly down at the new Ringmaster, “And I shall be in the crowd for every tournament, my dear little one. Your mother would be proud, as proud as she was to lose to me. We shall carry on the honor of our Collisae, even as the gladiators change, until the times themselves end.”
* * * * *
“-dimorphic species, it’s basically the opposite of us humans. They don’t even have testosterone, and their women are almost three times the size of their men. I understand it’s an evolution around constant adrenaline production, and protecting a herd from males leading to breeding with smaller males less likely to cause a ruckus, or the like.”
Ethan’s voice came from far away, overlapping with Winnie’s goodbye as Zahn slowly returned to reality. Twitching his head in a spasm, the Custom fell backwards away from the statue and blinked rapidly as light once again shone on his face. The ruins he sat in looked sad now, compared to the glimpse he got of the road in the past.
“You can’t call them herds,” Two’s voice was admonishing, even as Zahn dizzily stared around at the fragments from the past.
“Why not? It’s not like they can hear me, they basically all died out ages ago. I’m pretty sure the only ones left are Monsters.”
A solid smack sounded out as Ethan earned the slap upside his head, the bickering between them fading to the background as Zahn tried to sort out his vision and popups. He remembered the moment clearly, the first bloodless transition of power within the Collisae, but the memory felt wrong, felt colored by opinions not his own. Remembering Winnie brought a surge of pride, a faint taste of blood, and pain in his left knee that never left after an old injury. Thinking about Three brought the warmth of a fierce hug, the prickling of tears in his eyes, and the smell of a comfortable hearth and bubbling stews. The vision’s sunlight seemed brighter, more yellow and warm compared to the harsh white light shining down on him. The arena itself brought to mind the feelings of aching muscles, hard-won victory, the satisfaction of driving his blade into the belly of a challenger, staking his claim and defending the title against all comers.
He blinked rapidly again, staring at the statue, trying to clear the last of the vision from mind as he pulled up his waiting notifications. The two recent popups shone for their own reasons, the first demonstrated why he had been a fool while the second lit up with its own ornate purple border with swirling pink clouds moving behind the text within the frame.
Closing the windows with a sigh, Zahn considered what it meant to have memories waiting for him, relics and places in the world that were going to respond to his touch and throw him into the past. Admiring the statue again, he could see the shade of the memory again in its place, and understood it was commissioned by Three specifically to celebrate the achievement the pair had earned and all her grandmother stood for. Strength, courage, determination, honor, all the noble values earned through battle displayed in a single figure, a single legendary Ringmaster to bear them all and show the world what a fighter could be. For a moment he wondered how powerful these memory seeds were, how long ago they could be planted to still show him history, what it would take to embed them into the world for others, and if they could show something other than a memory. If I were to make memory seeds on purpose, I’d use them for instructions. Nice magical toy, thanks for buying one, here’s how to use it. Nobody uses things for the obvious answer. And of course, Hindsight talks about ‘current level’ but it doesn’t even have a level. I need a psychic teacher, fast. Looking over his shoulder to see Two and Ethan had finished their debate, he was surprised to find them both looking back at him expectantly.
“Ah, sorry?”
Ethan chuckled, “That might be the first apology I’ve heard you make my dude, and it’s over zoning out. You couldn’t apologize for that first week telling me my soup was dogwater?”
“You literally used dogs,” Zahn snapped back, feeling heat flush to his ears. “We killed a few wild dogs for training and you brought one back to the pot, I am not going to take that back.”
“Hey you still ate your-”
“Get used to eating your kills, Zahn.” Two stepped between them, stalling any further cooking arguments. “Out there, nobody is going to feed you. And even if you stick to your training, there’s still a lot of you to feed. I can tell you now, if there’s a plant monster attacking you, it has nutrients you want just as much as it wants yours.”
The warlock scoffed, “It’s not like he’s going to starve, I mean-”
Two physically cut him off this time, clapping his hand over the blond man’s mouth. Zahn couldn’t see what face he was making, but Ethan’s silent communication with him ended in a nod as the men separated again.
Glancing between them for a hint, Zahn found straight faces and steady hands. He felt a sudden urge to run, to physically express his freedom, feel the wind on his skin and the burn of his legs after a sprint. “So,” he clapped his hands together brusquely, “any other steps we’re missing here, or am I good to finally get going?”
Ethan blinked rapidly as Two stepped forward, gesturing broadly to the ruins and forest heading south. “I know you’re eager to set off, heading down what’s left of this road south will take you into the woods, and past that you’ll eventually hit the water. There isn’t any established road to the lake from here, not since Winnie became a teleport point, but if you were to head east,” he pointed off to the left, the road that direction vanishing around a ruined bend, “that’ll take you a few days but you’ll reach the Earth Dungeon before a week is out. I suggest south, it’ll take you a little under a day to hit the water from here.”
“You’re forgetting something,” Ethan’s complaint was clear in his tone, even as Zahn didn’t know what he was getting at.
“I’m confident he can feed himself,” came Two’s half-joking reply. Looking back to Zahn, he gestured to the belt they each wore. “You have a basic knife and shovel in your kit, and while the blade is passable for skinning a creature you’ll really want an actual weapon before too long. Let’s call this a gift.” He reached into his own storage to pull out a forked blade, a long dagger with a split a quarter of the way up the knife, branching into two parallel thin blades until around halfway where the main blade continued on alone. “Recognize this?”
Zahn took the present with reverence, holding the small weapon across both palms. “A jitte, a blade-catcher.” He grinned as he took up the blade, blocking an imaginary overhead strike and delivering a low thrust in return. “Thank you! I only got to play with this thing a few times.”
The gladiator chuckled, “Probably because with your arms you couldn’t stop an actual strike if your life depended on it, but out there? Should serve you well, so long as you don’t just dive into dungeons to never come out.”
Zahn blinked at his friend, waiting for the punchline. “Are dungeons packed with mobs stronger than gladiators, or inherently dangerous to equipment? Is that why I wasn’t issued shit and just had to make do?”
Two smirked, “No, from what you’ve told me about your one delve you were a sacrificial lamb who happened to survive several things meant to kill you. Thank that healer girl, she’s likely the only saving grace you had.”
Zahn started to nod as noise muffled, his eyes flickering as purple haze briefly shrouded them. Memories of the blonde flickered through his mind’s eye, showing not only the woman he’d been avoiding thinking about since arriving in the fight pit but also a group of holy women gathered around her in white robes and twirling weapons. They were talking about something exciting, muffled noises turning into a distant rumble as the vision of Sasha turned in his direction.
“Besides,” Ethan’s voice shook the image away, “you’re not exactly going to find anywhere to repair your gear except in an adventure town, and most dungeons only have one of those. So you’ll need at least one companion who’s equipped to repair gear and armor.”
Nodding at the advice, Zahn’s eyes traced the ruined road before him. He didn’t see Two and Ethan exchange another glance, or the older man’s smirk and nod in his direction.
Ethan took a breath and started again, stepping closer to the Custom. “So you have an important decision to make, what with all the dangers out there, and how you’re graduating the arena. You could even pick party members to help keep you safe, it’s not like we would fail our contracts if we-”
Zahn shook his head with a smile, feeling the warmth of fire magic curling through his body. “I think I’ll be okay, and if I’m horribly mistaken I’ll just respawn at the altar here anyways.” He turned back to look at the pair, “And you’re right. I do have an important decision to make.” He thought back to the popup window, explaining the lack of Ringmaster on hand. Glancing at Two, he double checked what he suspected. “You’re not interested in the position, right?”
The beastmaster let out another chuckle, “I’ve had my adventures. If there was a desperate need I could step up, but I am a lot older than I look. A lot older.”
Zahn nodded in return, stepping forward to place his hand on Ethan’s shoulder. The blond warlock looked back at him with a smile, completely confident in what would happen next. “I hereby pass the title in peace; Ethan, you are the next Ringmaster of the Collisae.”
Golden sparkles danced around them for a moment as a muted fanfare could be heard from the sands of the arena, Ethan’s wide eyes looked at the space between them, obviously reading a menu Zahn couldn’t see. He blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to parse the difference between his expectations and Zahn’s actions.
The Custom turned away, grinning at his friend’s gobsmacked reaction to his promotion as he heard something. He couldn’t name the sound, but it sent goosebumps up his back as the strange feeling of a noise almost echoed between breaths. Something calling, pushing, hovering just at the edge of his consciousness. Like a whisper borne to him on wind, just out of reach.
“Zahn, I-” Ethan started and stopped, coughing to clear his throat. “This is not what I expected. But, if I take the job, I can have my imp out all the time, grow my Class… I’d be a fool to turn it down, being honest.” He looked up at Zahn as the latter turned back to face him, nearly bouncing with energy. “I’m sad you won’t take me with you, but I suppose I could spend a few years running things before I go back to sleeping in dirt.”
Zahn hesitated, taken back at the possibility even as he felt the wild energy in his body building. “I didn’t even think about that. I was just trying to fill the role I emptied, but -” the almost-sound went off again, a breath against his ear, pulling his train of thought away as his gaze darted back south again. “Sorry, what was I saying?”
Two’s face was badly pulled straight, a grin trying its hardest to break through as he struggled to remain composed. “Well. Ringmaster.” He nodded at Ethan, his voice trembling with a choked laugh. “We can’t exactly keep our Champion forever, can we? Unless you’d rather give me the role?”
Ethan’s sharp glare back at him gave his answer, the duo turning to head back down the hall. “It’s fine buddy, next time you’re in the area I’ll show you everything we got up to while you’re gone. I even have a whole upgrade to supervise. It’s just-” He broke off, sighing as he looked down the ruined road south, before stepping forward to pull Zahn into a hug. “Just be careful out there you big dumbass. Not everyone who meets you will love you.”
Zahn hugged back briefly, springing away as he jumped from foot to foot. “Not worried! Learned long ago, ‘Don’t give a damn about those who don’t like you. Can’t impress them all, but ya sure can piss ‘em all off!’ Besides,” he gave a lopsided grin and wink, “what’s not to love?”
Zahn waved as he turned, jogging with the sudden energy. Since leaving the arena’s hall, he’d only felt the buzzing grow stronger in his limbs, energy that demanded motion. He made it nearly a ruined stone block before he looked back, seeing both of them watching him leave. With a final smile and wave back at them, he turned the bend and kept running. It felt strange to be running along without sand churning underfoot, the grassy cobbles giving some shifting motion to each step but far less than he expected. With each new stride firmer and steadier underfoot, Zahn found his speed increasing. It wasn’t even two blocks later that his trek took a sharp left and the ruined road ended at trees, the shrubbery doing nothing to slow him as he leapt a low wall and danced between building fragments scattered among the young trees. Before he could think to turn back and grab anything else that may be useful, the Custom found himself hauling across the forest with a pounding in his chest, a thrill in his heart, and a message whispering just behind his ears. Run.
Ethan and Two watched their newest Champion run around the bend in the road, their mixed reactions showing disappointment and satisfaction. The ragged, dirty Player had looked absurd as he sprinted away, barefoot and dressed in scraps with a glittering new moneybag on his hip. Two shook his head as he clapped Ethan’s shoulder, leading him back inside.
“If you had just asked, I’m sure you could have gone with him.”
Ethan sighed, “That’s not the point. Doesn’t matter. I’m the Ringleader now.”
Two patted him before letting his arm fall, his own sigh directed up at the building. “Eh, ‘at’s alright. He cares just not that way; you’re still pretty, Ringmaster.”
The blond scowled over at him, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the hall. “Drop it. Once I get to my new office I’m summoning Iengoris right away, telling him everything that happened.”
Two scratched his chin, “Isn’t the lil’ imp just chilling in your room about now? I’d think he already knows what went down.”
The warlock disagreed, “No, the different iterations of the demon don’t share memory until they go back to Chaos. Though, with how they’re unstuck through time it could be that the version I summoned is older than the one Zahn let possess him? It’s a stretch, I’m not going to pretend to be an expert on Chaos Chronology.
Neither of the pair were able to see the sky, else they would see the shadow pan over their dear Collisae as a humanoid descended into the ring. The being’s eyes tracked the burnt sand, the corpse of the ringmaster, and the melted hole in the metal wall across from the double door exit. The magic user entered the ruined passage towards the recently-used altar.
When Two and Ethan emerged from the Hall of Victory back into the upgrading arena, they were met with a pair of hostile elven eyes and questions they could not easily answer.
