by Noam Oswin
Winner Gets: [Contents of Inventory, Weapons, Spells, Personal Belongings, Relics, Artefacts, Independence, Bodily Autonomy, and Free Will] of the loser.
Loser Gets: [Owned]
Victory Conditions: [Opponent’s Health hits 0]
What the fuck?
PvP Commencing!
“Battle commence!”
Seventh Sense – Incoming!
A straight headlong charge at me was the type of strategy that almost had me cursing my breath in irritation. “Prepare to meet your –”
“This. Is. Alamir!”
A spartan kick. Straight, with the full force of my [Herculean Strength] behind my right leg. It connected with a sickening crunch that told me I’d more than broken a few ribs. Sophia folded in half like a commercial chair, spittle, and blood flying from her mouth and splashing my cheek.
She soared backward with more momentum than she originally started with, rolling against the ground and skidding past her initial starting point to a quiet stop.
Mosh Pit Beta was graveyard silent.
From my time spent at Sector One-Zero-One, I’d come to understand that the AAA was very different from a traditional military structure. In that as much as they were a group working together, they were also a group competing with each other. In the military from my world, there were no such things as heroes on the battlefield, and soldier A was not actively competing against his fellow soldier B to kill more men and do more feats. People who tried to run off and perform such stupid acts of heroics would be sharply reprimanded, if not dismissed from service. Here, in the AAA, personal glory and the sheer difference in abilities and powers meant that there could be heroes on the battlefield.
I understood that the AAA was a structure that valued power and accomplishment above all else. If you had it, you were promoted, increased in rank, and given the due respect. If you didn’t – then no one paid any attention to you.
Sophia did have power. She was the second-highest leveled person in the Lance Brigade. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter because nightmare levels and human levels were different. A Tier 3 nightmare was a hundred times stronger than a Tier 2, and a thousand times stronger than a Tier 1. Therefore, a basic Tier 3 nightmare was at about Level 1000 in human levels. A Tier 4 was a hundred times stronger than a Tier 3, and a Tier 5, which I was, was a hundred times stronger still.
Weakened or not, in one-on-one combat were no holy weapons were at play, I might as well be fighting a one-legged cat.
“Come on,” I baited her. “I know women are weak, but you can’t be that weak!”
There was a floating giant bar up above, which I estimated was the visual representation of our respective Health. Whereas mine was still green and full, Sophia’s had dipped tremendously down to the halfway point and was flashing an orange-reddish hue.
She managed to withstand that?
Sophia coughed, all eyes landing on her as she struggled, but properly rose to her feet. She clasped her hand over her injured chest, wheezing and panting as she glared at me harder than anyone I’d ever met, past life and present.
If looks could kill…
I hadn’t been holding back, yet, she was still able to stand up after that. Barely standing, staggering, and breathing hoarsely, but she was still standing. I was impressed.
I was so impressed I started clapping.
Everyone gave me weird looks. The audience, the referee, and Sophia herself. I didn’t blame them. They didn’t understand the full gravity of Sophia’s feat. She just survived and got back up from a full power frontal kick to the chest from a Tier 5 Nightmare.
That was damned impressive.
“Alright. I think it’s time I took this a bit more seriously.”
I gestured my right hand in a ‘come hither’ motion. Sophia charged.
She was fast.
Seventh Sense – Collision Imminent!
Unfortunately, we were in different leagues. My [Seventh Sense] was at this point, a form of limited precognition. I backstepped, and Sophia’s right leg blurred through the air where my face had been seconds ago.
Seventh Sense – Collision Imminent!
Another kick followed the first, rising from earth to heaven. I leaned back, the tip of her boot nearly grazing my chin.
Seventh Sense – Collision Imminent!
The same leg distorted in mid-air, changing directions, the high-kick striking like a viper towards my throat. I cartwheeled backward, out of range, skidding to a stop on the muddy ground as Sophia stood, panting, one leg in the air, still in the position she had sent it.
She’s able to fight like that with her broken ribs?
I couldn’t tell how it was she was doing it. Either she had a ridiculous pain tolerance, or she had a conviction that burned hotter than any injuries could.
The cheers of the crowd were going wild. The sounds were so loud that it felt as though my eardrums were going to burst. Amidst the focus on the battle, I had almost forgotten that we were being watched by a large number of AAA soldiers.
“You’re… good.” I admitted. “No. You’re really good. You’re better than a lot of people here. And that’s truly comforting.”
“Comforting?” she growled out.
I noticed that the crowd’s cheering had died out as people were listening to our conversation. I sighed, shaking my head. “There are some cowards in the AAA, who believe that they don’t have to try their best because General Hoplite will always be around to protect them from danger.”
“Then they are naïve fools.”
“Exactly,” I said clapping my hands. “General Hoplite is amazing, there is no doubt. But, that is no excuse. There are a lot of nightmares out there – strong, powerful nightmares. And I never want to see the day, when any of them, any of them – defeat General Hoplite. So, I have to get stronger. I have to get stronger to ensure that it never happens. Strong enough that any nightmare out there who thinks of attacking him will have to face me. No one, absolutely no one, is allowed to defeat him.”
No one but me.
“So… come at me with your best, Sophia Alphaphilia.”
She didn’t respond, but she did nod her head. There was something different in her eyes now. It wasn’t the same hate and loathing, but I couldn’t identify it. Pushing it aside, I focused on my breathing, focused on my senses, and drew upon Neo’s muscle memory, slamming it down to my Ghilan instincts.
Smell.
I traced her by scent. My hands going up to block an attack that appeared from my blind spot. Her kicks had the feeling of being struck by paddles. They didn’t hurt. They barely tickled. I made a show of grunting, before grinning and grabbing her by her right ankle.
Light. She was unbelievably, inexplicably light. It felt as if I was holding a plastic bottle. The lightness threw me off, and she spun around, kick after kick burying its way into my face. They felt like being struck by paddles, but no one wanted to be struck by paddles on the face several hundred times.
I disengaged, gaining distance, while she dropped to the ground, panting and wheezing. The damage from my initial Spartan Kick was ultimately catching up with her.
She slapped her hands together, muttering a word underneath her breath. Neo’s Flair lit up, indicating that she was casting a Spell.
[You have been afflicted with the Status Effect: {Encumbered}]
[Your movement speed has slowed considerably.]
[You have been afflicted with the Status Effect: {Slow}]
[Your overall speed has slowed considerably.]
Oh shit.
Seventh Sense – Notification!
Flair: [Cursed Eye of Pattern Recognition] Activated!
[Pattern Recognized!]
Your opponent is using [Gravity] Magic.
Caution is advised!
My neck whipped over to Sophia’s direction, and I realized it was moving horrendously slower than it should have. My entire body was slow. Weighted down. Each action I made took far longer than it should have.
&nbs
p; She uses Gravity Magic? Like… Hoplite?
I grinned.
Perfect.
I had very little experience with fighting humans. The fact that Sophia used Gravity magic, the same magic as Hoplite, just made things more fortunate for me. I would take this battle as a test run.
Her speed increased fivefold. I knew the massive increase was due to my own slowed state, and also due to some Gravity shenanigans, but it was such that I couldn’t keep track of her when she rushed at me with –
Is that… a saber?
Seventh Sense – Collision Imminent!
If she ran me through with that saber, I wouldn’t die, because my [Barbeast Armor] would activate, and the saber would break. The problem was, it would be suspicious to everyone else if a saber clashed against my human skin and shattered.
I don’t have a choice.
“[Phantasm].”
And just when things were getting good.
Phantasm enabled me to do everything a ghost could. One of those, was short-range teleportation. The max range was about twenty feet. Enough for me to cover the distance between Sophia and me. She had not been expecting it in the slightest, and thus, had no way of guarding against the fastest thing I could think of to use and hit her.
My head.
It was without a doubt the strongest headbutt I’d ever given anyone in my life. The impact ricocheted throughout Mosh Pit Beta. Sophia dropped her sword, standing frozen and motionless. I reacted quickly, tilting my head back, and once more for good measure, slammed it forward.
Sophia dropped to the ground.
The crowd was silent.
Then, all at once, like an explosion, the cheers burst.
“He did it!”
“Whoo! That crazy bastard!”
“NE-O!”
“NE-O!”
“NE-O!”
“You bastard…” Sophia’s voice came, as she staggered, slowly to her feet. I could neither believe my eyes nor my ears.
Blood dripped down from her forehead, yet, she stood, defiant.
“What in the world are you made of?!”
“I’m – not… made of anything…”
She was disoriented. I was also certain that she had a concussion. She staggered about blindly, but her HP had not hit zero. Her eyes did not have any light in them. It took me a second, and I realized with disbelief what was happening.
I waved my hands in front of her eyes, but they did not blink.
She wasn’t conscious.
She wasn’t conscious, but she was still standing. She was still standing, and she still wanted to fight. Her subconscious desire to fight and win was the only thing keeping her on her two feet.
…what sort of absurd determination…?
I was impressed. No, I was amazed. I was amazed, and horrified, and awed, all at the same time. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. I turned to the referee.
“She’s not conscious.”
The referee frowned, rushing in between us, and checking Sophia’s eyes.
“…You’re right.” The ref sounded as amazed as I felt.
“Then –”
“Unfortunately you two agreed to Winner Takes All rules. The match can only end when one person’s health hits zero.”
The chants were deafening. “NE-O!” echoed with such force that it shook the foundation of the very earth upon which I stood.
“You expect me to attack a person who’s unconscious?”
“Those are the rules.”
I had no words. I could instead hear the chant from the crowd change into something else.
“FI-NISH HER!”
“FI-NISH HER!”
“FI-NISH HER!”
I kept forgetting, time and time again, that Alamir was not my world. It was not earth, where violence was frowned upon, and chivalry and honor were respected. It was not a place where the act of beating a downed opponent got you scorn. No, they were like the bloodthirsty spectators at the Roman Coliseum, eager to see slaughter and carnage as a means to sate the boredom of daily life. As Adventurers with no TVs and very little designed for entertainment, the spectacle of Player Vs Player served as their Super Bowl and Grand Prix, their World Cup and Olympic Games.
I picked up Sophia’s downed saber. I rose it into the air, hearing the chants multiply a thousand-fold.
Then, without hesitation, I brought the sword straight down –
And plunged it into my chest.
The crowd went silent.
The referee stared at me like I had grown two new heads. I was tempted to spread my hands open and declare: Are you not entertained?
Instead, I allowed the bar reading my life up above to continue to trickle down, and down, and down, until finally, the meter emptied.
PvP Concluded!
Winner: Sophia Alphaphilia.
“Now,” I wheezed out. “Take us to your healers.”
Chapter 25: Juma Al Amir
The first time I got to understand the concept of “damage control” and “choosing the narrative” was in the weeks and months after my mother’s passing. The investigations and newspaper articles suddenly mentioned her history of ADHD and the fact that she’d enjoyed the occasional recreational drug or two in her youth. Her quirks and odd charms were all reframed as ‘symptoms’ or ‘signs’ of one behavioral disorder or another. Her family history, and the fact that my grandmother had possessed bipolar personality disorder was suddenly relevant to the conversation.
Choosing the narrative meant choosing the fallout of incidents. Guiding it until it reached the most favorable outcome, or at the very least, it met the least unfavorable one.
Avoiding the gazes and whispers of the people around me, I made my way to Mess Hall 7, walking around to the back of the building. Alhamis seemed to have a waste-disposal system that recycled unused garbage into other materials, all of it powered by another strange, green orb. I paid no heed to the sight of the orb collecting garbage, and searched for the door I was looking for.
The red door possessed a crude painting of a woman on her knees soliciting oral sex. I mused at it, before knocking three times in rapid succession. A slider opened, as a pair of dark, angry-looking eyes gazed back at me.
“What likes to pound on tables like a Midwarf, can’t accept a no like a Marisian, fucks like a Leporinian, and can guzzle down hot liquids like a Felani?”
My lips twitched.
“Your mother.”
The eyes narrowed sharply. “The fuck did you say?”
“Your. Mother.”
The angry eyes stared at me. I stared back. The slider shut, and the door immediately swung open. The riddle-giver grinned at me. “Welcome to tha Whimpering Sow.”
“Thanks,” I said, shaking his hand. “Interesting riddle.”
“I kno. Formed it maself.”
The Whimpering Sow was, to my surprise, what one would expect when the words: ‘Medieval Tavern’ were uttered. The key difference, was that the furniture present was of a significantly higher quality than what one would expect. Sleek black leather chairs and smooth, refined marble tables. The alcohol on display was kept in varying glass bottles of different shapes and sizes. The main bar table was long enough that if someone wanted to, they could have used it as a runway. There was also a pole on the table, which was what my eye latched on immediately.
“Is that… a stripper pole?”
“A what?”
I cleared my throat. “I mean, what’s the pole for?”
“You a dancer?”
I rose my brow. “No.”
“You like to watch people dance?”
I thought it over. “Yes.”
“The pole’s for people of the first category, to get money from the people of the second category.”
Succinctly put. I didn’t question it anymore, instead, entering further into the Whimpering Sow, where I found a familiar black-haired and purple-eyed boy waving at me. “Neo, over here.”
I took a seat
beside Juma, idly making eye contact with the bartender who was wiping down a glass, and nodding, ever so slightly at the barman, who gave me a small nod back in return, before going back to his business.
“You know, I think you like attention.”
I placed my elbow on the table. “What makes you think that?”
“Your duel with Sophia,” Juma said. He brought up his Godscripts, making it visible and turning it to me. “It made AAA Net’s recent events page.”
“It… what?”
“Listen,” Juma cleared his throat. “‘And in lighter news, two members of the Recruit-Centered Lance Brigade, Neo Saintarelli, and Sophia Alphaphilia commenced a Winner-Takes-All PvP at Mosh Pit Beta in Sector One-Zero-One. The battle, now referred to by many as the Duel of the Decade is said to have begun after Neo Saintarelli questioned the authority of Sophia Alphaphilia as the Vice-Captain of the Lance Brigade, hinting that her father’s position as High Eminent of Progress had a part to play…’”
“Duel of the what?”
“All doubts as to the young Alphaphilia’s battle prowess was put aside in a surprising, fast-paced battle where both had the opportunity to shine –” Juma continued. “Oh, let’s skip ahead to the good part. ‘At the surprising climax of the battle, Sophia Alphaphila displayed true AAA determination and grit by remaining on her feet even after the loss of consciousness, guided only by an overwhelming victory to win. In a plot-twist no one envisioned, Neo Saintarelli chose, rather than to finish his opponent, to stab his heart with her blade, and thus grant her the victory.’”
“I was there,” I said dryly. “You don’t have to read it.”
“‘When questioned on the motives for his absurd decision, Neo Saintarelli was reported to have quoted ‘Admiration’. Thus, many speculate that the entire purpose of Saintarelli’s actions to bait and draw Sophia Alphaphila to combat, only to, at the crux of the battle, stab his own heart for her, was a roundabout declaration of love for the object of his desire. As relationships are against AAA regulation, the only way Saintarelli could declare his emotions for the daughter of Sophos Alphaphilia, was to give his heart to her in the most literal way possible.’”
My lips twitched. I resisted, desperately, the urge to smack away Juma’s cocky, amused smile.
