Chapter 31: Unwilling Gladiators– Part 1

Tristan: Tristan vs the Harghuz

Colosseum, unknown Elven Realm date and time

At first, a pull tugged at his body, then stopped after a few seconds. As a Void Knight, Tristan had huge magical resistance. Hostile spells were countered after Tristan was exposed to them only once or twice.

A minute later, two elves dressed in full plate armor arrived to escort Tristan into the Arena. It took five minutes to get there, through a series of gates and tunnels. The guards pressed the button on a remote control, opening a passage in the force field, shoved him through the door, then threw his spear after him before closing the energy protection and the access. The public roared.

"The first match is between a Dark Knight and a harghuz."

Dark Knight? Don't they see I'm a Void Knight now?

"This particular type of mimic has the ability to copy its adversary's form and skills," a commentator said. "The monster is inherently hostile to any form of life except for dungeon dwellers."

Really?

Meanwhile, the announcer continued: "The King had decided to throw in a surprise gift for the Earthling bracket. The winner of each match will be granted a wish, as long as His Majesty deems it reasonable."

Jane had warned him about the latter announcement. He had omitted to tell Sam, because the Duke would have tried to persuade Tristan to ask for their freedom, and that was sure to be rejected.

"The match begins now!"

The harghuz suddenly materialized in the Arena, charging at Tristan from thirteen feet away. It was identical to Tristan, in the smallest details, even the engraving on the shafts. That made Tristan's heart pulse with hope. He used Shadow Jump to avoid the attack, but not before allowing the mimic's spear to cut him. There definitely was some Mana and Health loss, a similar siphoning skill to his.

The monster followed Tristan in the same shadowy spot, and they crossed blades, dancing around each other. The speed of the attacks matched his, but the patterns didn't. The Harghuz had a mind of his own.

"Dude, do you have the Dark?" Tristan asked in a whisper.

"Dude, do you have the Dark?" the monster answered.

Guess that mind of yours is not so bright. Let's find out.

Tristan's dark tendrils, evolved after a bit of training, no longer depended on the Dark. He manifested one, making it crawl over his spear. It wasn't reflected by the monster. The explanation was simple: the Harghuz could only mimic a first-tier Dark Knight, not the evolved class.

Too bad…

If the Harghuz had the Dark, then escape would have been possible. If the monster followed him, Tristan would have broken the first barrier, killing as many spectators as he could to instill panic, then extract Maverick, and break the perimeter, hoping the rest of his group would take advantage of the diversion. The guards would have to divide their attention between him and the monster. Without a second Dark, the escape was not worth it, and he decided to stick to the plan.

Sending a second dark filament to grab the Harghuz's spear, he thrust his own weapon into the monster's chest, while sending the first filament inside to rip any organs, if there were any. The monster deflated and fell to the ground like an old coat.

Easy enough.

"The winner is Tristan von Melk, Dark Night," the commentator said. "Express your wish."

"My wish is that the sisters' game be non-lethal," Tristan said.

"Granted," the king yelled, less than a second later. It was what Tristan expected. If he had refused, Karoperos would have looked like an asshole in front of tens of thousands of people. Saluting, Tristan returned to the exit where he had come from and handed his spear to the same guards. Ten minutes later, he was back in the cell.

"Good thinking," Sam said.

Tristan shrugged, coming to the window to see the next match. Maverick was not in the cell, which meant it was her turn.

Sam: Pops vs Maverick

A heavy discharge of Mana hit Sam's senses, coming from nowhere. The flat surface of the Arena faded, replaced by an irregular landscape: a low hill with a steep wall surplombing a lake, and trees. The fake king had advertised the feature to Sam and the entertainment companies: several natural settings, ready to be teleported to, like stage props.

The forcefield encompassing the field changed shape, becoming lenticular, magnifying the view. Sam could swear what lay inside was bigger than the whole stadium. A space fold of sorts.

The commentator almost yelled the announcement. "The next fight will pit experience against ambition, age versus youth. Master Wu is a Shaolin monk specialized in wind magic. Kiki the Maverick is an unorthodox Jack-of-all-trades with her own style. Due to her being underage, all her matches will be non-lethal. A damage dampener has been installed over the battlefield."

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"The movie company insisted on it," Tristan said, next to Sam. His body language, turned away when he spoke, signaled that he was still hating the Duke. "Money matters even for a mad king."

The contestants appeared on the top of the hill, ten feet apart. Pops bowed, putting his hands together. Maverick drew two wild-west-type revolvers and fired all shots in short succession, while somersaulting and plunging into the lake behind her. A loud splash of water followed seconds later.

Sam's first instinct was to worry about the girl's safety, but judging by the announcement, he assumed she was okay. Next came the realization that a thirteen-year-old was using real guns. Pops looked unharmed, defended by an air shield, but one of the bullets had missed him and broken a sapling in two.

"Who the heck gave guns to a kid?" he asked aloud.

"Her parents."

"They're Americans?"

"Swiss, gunsmiths."

"The fuck were they thinking? It's illegal!"

"It's not."

"I'm sure it is," Sam sneered through his clenched teeth. One of his first decrees was about what was and wasn't allowed for the underage. Guns, drugs, and drinking were definitely on the list.

Tristan's hand came to rest on his shoulder. It was heavy, and the squeeze strong. Painful, even.

"I couldn't help but notice you Outworlders have a propensity for laws," Tristan said in a cold tone. "Let me bring you up to speed. Laws that cannot be enforced are no law. No one cares about your Outworlder shit, Sam."

"But—"

"But nothing. Caterina says you have to tone down, or you'll become a joke. Now let me watch the fight."

Snorting, Sam looked back at the match. The girl was floating inside a small lake, eyes open, throwing water jets at Pops, who was answering in kind, launching wind blades. None were managing to hurt or even annoy the other.

"How the heck can she breathe? Is she a water mage?"

"She lured him close to make him spend his Mana, then ambush him," Tristan said. "Watch the hill."

On the ridge above the lake, two more girls appeared, identical to the one in the water. One touched a fallen branch, instantly transforming it into a wooden javelin, a second one appearing in her left hand from nowhere. The other girl leaned to pick up a rock from the ground, which took the same form and also manifested in both hands.

The girls threw the javelins one by one. All four impacted square in Pops' back. Startled, the old man turned face up, invoking an air shield to defend himself. The first Maverick jumped from the pond, wrapping her arms around the Chinese, pulling him under. The man began to thrash his arms and legs, trying to free himself, visibly panicked.

"He's done," Tristan said. "She's really talented."

Pops' head emerged from the water, gasping for air. He hurried to swim to the shore, panting, looking around to search for Maverick, who had disappeared.

Tristan patted Sam's shoulder, pointing to the hill. Maverick had joined her clones, or whatever those were. A girl launched herself over the edge, spreading her arms and legs to control her flight.

"Incoming!" she yelled, then started to laugh manically.

Pops tried to duck, but his heavy robes were soaked, and he failed. His air shield flickered and went off under the impact, knocking him onto his back. The girl rolled and pinned Pops to the ground in a nelson. The second Maverick arrived legs first, landing on Pops' stomach. The third headbutted the old man in the face before vanishing in a cloud of sparks. Pops fainted, then was teleported away.

"The match was won by Kiki the Maverick," the announcer said.

"She can triplicate herself, and duplicate any weapon she holds," Tristan explained to Sam, who could only slack jaw. "Elemental affinities too."

"State your wish," the commentator asked.

"I want to fight!" the three Mavericks roared in unison. "This was so much fun! Please, let us fight some more."

"Very well," the king yelled. "This is the attitude we look for. Hear my decision, Kiki the Maverick. If you win the Earthling bracket, you will progress into the Orc champions bracket. Your freedom is granted anyway, and you will be invited to compete in the next tournaments."

The three girls reunited into one, who began jumping up and down on her toes, clapping.

"Yey…"

Her yell continued into the cell, where she reappeared.

"Good job," Tristan fondled her hair.

"Pops is good," she said.

"But not good enough, apparently," Sam said.

"He let me win, duh!" the girl rolled her eyes.

"What?"

"Are you an idiot?" Tristan hissed. "Don't bother to answer; it was a rhetorical question. Her matches are non-lethal. Whoever fights her next gets to live."

"Oh…"

"Stupid," Tristan muttered under his breath.

I got them into this. Can't blame him…

"You think they'll make us fight?" Tristan asked.

"Not until the final," Maverick shrugged. "They'll put you and the winning sister together, and make sure you kill her. Drama. The king didn't like it when you asked their matches to be non-lethal. Then you'll fight Isolde."

"Yeah, Dorian's not a fighter. Hope they'll admit his… kind of dying as a loss, or we'll be here for a long time."

"Then I'll fight whoever wins the swords duel, and we see each other in the final."

The two exchanged a high five, which annoyed Sam extremely. He understood the need to pretend to lose in front of her, to save lives, but she shouldn't be so cheerful about it.

"Say… how do you think you'd do in a fight against me?" he said, almost not believing himself for asking a kid that, and in those circumstances, most of all.

Soul Resonance+1

Interesting…

"Hm…" Maverick grabbed her chin. "Now? I'd win. I worked hard, invested only one point at a time, and developed the stats I have to their maximum potential. I can speed myself up enough to keep up with your Time is of the essence; I won't let myself cut, so no Time Dilation. Warp Dash is single target, and I'll spread my clones far enough so To be and not to be takes out only one of us. You're neglecting your Intimidation, which would increase your Mana and damage, and your Soul Resonance is weak."

"H-how do you k-know all my skills?" Sam stuttered.

"She sneaked into Caterina's office and read her notes," Tristan said, ruffling the girl's hair. "A little devil, she is. Makes me wish to have ten kids like her."

"I like fighting," Maverick said. "One must be prepared to counter everything. You have interesting skills."

"What are they doing?" Tristan asked, looking out the window. "They fight like they really want to hurt each other."

The next game had begun, and it was that of the sisters. Shapeshifted, Dragon launched flames across the arena, which was back to its original shape. Zappy ran in zig-zags, her speed enhanced, and shot lightning bolts up.

"They figured it out that whoever wins will face you, and they're terrified," Maverick said. "Each one wants the other to lose, so she would live."

"I won't hurt any of my friends," Tristan said. "If they rig the match to be to the death, I'll escape and take the sister with me. You got your freedom granted anyway."

"Did anyone say escape?" a voice asked.

In the middle of the cell, the ground collapsed into a sinkhole, revealing a bald head. Struggling to fit through the opening, Aldric crawled into the cell.