by Ryan DeBruyn
Azrael looked at Verimy. Something looked off about his eyes. “Where is Dara, Verimy?”
A shadow crossed Verimy’s face before he waved his hands in front of it. “Sorry, she isn’t dead. I am upset because she is in a different cell block from me. We worked together during our Battle Royale, and the Arena Master didn’t like that. Skewed the odds I guess.”
Azrael nodded and turned at the sound of a massive sucking-grating noise. The initial noise faded to reveal a slow clanking chain as the massive main gate rose into the roof.
“Good luck! Remember my suggestion,” Verimy shouted over the din.
The more confident combatants started filing out, while the others stayed put. Azrael hesitated, and Verimy added, “Don’t stay in here—they release mobs to force you above!”
Azrael hopped forward thanks to the warning. Verimy gave him a super helpful thumbs up as he turned to go.
The passageway echoed the din from the cheering crowd, amplifying it to a nearly overwhelming decibel level. The explosion of noise made him falter for a brief moment before he steeled his nerves and continued. He only needed to be one of the two hundred who survived. An approximate odd of one in five combatants.
At the top of the ramp, the pathway opened into a colossal Coliseum. The crowd had tiered seating encircling the sands. Azrael scanned the seating, seeing metal benches closely spaced on the lowest levels, that gave way to individual leather chairs and finally massively carved wooden boxes filled with important-looking people. Azrael scanned the outer rims of the construct and found screens everywhere, many filled with advertisements. Others proclaimed, ‘Battle Royale,’ in bold flashing letters. Directly above the center of the sands, a jumbotron dangled. Its screens currently read, ‘1104 Combatants Alive.’
That seemed like a large number. Still, Azrael recalled the change in Mur. He wondered, was Oberan forcing the enslavement of combatants to speed up Danu’s plans?
Azrael shivered, then shook his head. This wasn’t the time. He placed his hand on the nearest wall and continued to walk around the massive open space, reaching the side furthest from the entrance before he chose to stop. He agreed with Verimy. He should start somewhere like this—and work to clear a safe zone.
His observation revealed that all combatants had chosen to hug a wall. Over a thousand bodies currently ringed the sands of the arena. Everyone eyeing their neighbors warily, bodies tense.
He glanced at his neighbors; none of them stood out, but a few seemed to be assessing their current situation as well.
Azrael Analyzed them first, wanting to categorize his most significant threats.
The first sapient was an antman.
Cochtid Ferg
Apprentice-Spearmaster
Level 23
Moderate Analyze failed to provide additional information.
The next wary combatant was a rock giant.
Gurg Boulderhand
Journeyman-Mountain
Level 11
Health Points: 1100/1100
The final unshaking individual near him was a tiger beastwoman.
Dhalary Sharpstripe
Journeyman-Boxer
Level 8
Moderate Analyze failed to provide additional information.
The others he Analyzed and categorized but then ignored for now. He did see one combatant that made him smile, though. One of the individuals who had spat at him, when Papi and Torin had worked together to pull him out of line.
I will get to you, soon enough!
First, the three threats needed to die. He hoped that when the battle commenced, they wouldn’t all gang up on him. He had seen a few assess him but thought they might have dismissed his threat status due to his lower level. Perhaps that would save him off the first bell.
In a true one on one contest, fighters often dumped all of their skills or most powerful trump cards fast. Attempting to overwhelm opponents. However, this wasn’t a one on one, and instead people would try to conserve Ether to use on larger opponents. Azrael was lucky in some ways, as his skills weren’t particularly showy. Unless he released a ranged Soul Strike...
An announcer’s voice boomed over the crowds’ enthusiasm. “Today, we have a spectacular event for you! Another welcoming Battle Royale! Please join me… in saluting our combatants this day!”
The boom came from the entire arena, thousands of voices intensely chanting, “You are the brave, the strong, and the true. We salute you!”
Yeah, sure. You just want to see the fountains of blood as we die for your entertainment.
Azrael felt his skin crawl as silence descended after the unified chant. The combatants around him breathed into the hush it left, making goosebumps rise on his skin.
It was about to begin! His heart began to steady and his mind sharpened. It was always this way for him during combat exercises. Nerves before, but ice cold during. He activated his Soul Cloak.
“Begin!” the announcer intoned, and he saw one of his neighbors’ fists glow red as it attempted to sucker punch him. His cloak warned him of the approach as well.
He smiled wickedly—his first attacker was one of the idiots who spat on him.
He brought his hand up beside his head and turned. His elbow connected with the elf’s wrist and deflected the skill-infused sucker punch away from his face. Azrael used his other elbow to swipe upwards and connect with the chin of the combatant. He watched the elf’s pretty eyes flutter, but not extinguish.
Not so weak and vulnerable now, am I?
Azrael followed up his advantage by leaping off his plant foot, performing a flying knee. He felt the crack of his quad on the elven sternum and watched the body of his foe topple to the sand. Azrael landed astride his enemy’s chest, finishing the fight by crushing its heart with the pressure of his knee. He rolled off the dying elf instantly as his Soul Cloak warned him of a strike from behind.
His other neighbor had hesitated at the ‘begin’ signal, but once the Troll saw him engaged, it attempted to strike him from behind. Its haymaker cross swished through the air where he had just been. Azrael regained his feet.
He turned to face the Troll and in that short spin, assessed the nearby fights. He had been right in his earlier assessment. Two of the three he had marked were laying into opponents. Other small patches of combat existed, but many more chose to hug the wall, thinking it might save them. Azrael shook his head in disappointment. He wasn’t kind enough to allow that, but first, the Troll.
Trolls often had health regeneration skills and increased inherent Ether. Based on this Troll’s lower level, it may not possess an offensive skill. Or it might be holding it in reserve.
He waded forward, shooting out a quick jab and a shoulder fake meant to look like the second in a one-two combination. The Troll reacted, slapping down his jab and overextending a block for his fake right straight. Snarling, Azrael retracted his jab and launched it again, scoring high on the larger creature’s shoulder. The confusion of the unseen blow caused the defense of the Troll to overextend to its left side. Azrael stepped into the opening that made and torqued his abdomen. His right fist dug painfully into the hard, gray skin and connected just over the kidney.
The rocklike texture cut Azrael’s knuckles, but the damage caused his opponent to crumple to a knee. Azrael swung his leg over his opponent’s head and locked his hamstring and knee under the Troll’s chin. His other knee pressed firmly into the cervical spine. The Troll’s body began to glow and Azrael made a jerking twist with his lower body. The action broke his foe’s neck, and he released, rolling over its dying body.
That Troll would have been terrifying if it had been higher level.
He came to his feet and stared at Dhalary finishing off the dying elf. It obviously thought the elf hadn’t been dying fast enough. He met eyes with the tiger beastwoman as it stood back up.
It exposed its fangs and taunted, “You shouldn’t leave your prey unattended, cub!”
Azrael didn’t bother to retort. Jibe
s were for a spectacle or to unsettle an opponent. He didn’t expect either here. The Boxer closed the distance with him in a skill-assisted dash, and Azrael pulled his sword out of his ring and layered a single Soul Strike onto the blade. He had left it there for just this type of surprise, and as Dhalary’s glowing fist ascended in an uppercut, he swung down using Headman’s Bloodletting.
His technique required a triangle step, a pivot, and a backstep. He performed all three actions using his Soul Cloak to help avoid its wild skill-assisted uppercut and felt his own skilled steel bite into the fur of its elbow. His downward chopping strike combined with the reciprocating Soul Strike removed the limb at its elbow, and the blink Dhalary made told him of its surprise. He didn’t let it recover and reversed the blade, spinning into Wind’s Etching to sever its spine and end its life.
He moved on, hoping to come back and loot the bodies later. He wasn’t sure what he would receive, but noticed many of his opponents wore gear far less revealing than his scratchy loincloth. His next few opponents were those who had chosen the wall. He mercilessly cut through them, not wanting to leave potential enemies at his back. Or free Etherience for others.
With nearly six hundred fighters left, these ones would die either way. This way at least they help me.
Once he cleared the wall, he turned to find four battles raging in his safe zone. It was time to make it as reliable as its namesake. He chose Cochtid, the antman, next, marking the rock giant and its smashed foes as a possible stumbling block. He checked his stat page and saw he had gained a level. He placed the skill point into Soul Storage and attempted to ambush the antman.
The creature somehow sensed his approach and kicked sand backward into his path. Through the sand screen came two tiny balled insect arms. They attempted to hit his face and shoulder simultaneously. Azrael had seen four appendages on the creature and chose to roll backward. He regained his feet in a back handspring and saw the two unaccounted for limbs wrap around the air where his feet had been. Clever.
Good thing the Spearmaster is without a spear!
He darted forward, performing Boulder Roll, reversing his blade with each steady step. The antman moved well, dodging each strike by inches. It attempted a sideways step and fired its top limbs in simultaneous jabs. Azrael’s Soul Cloak warned him and he performed the ‘Roll’ of his current technique, sliding his heel in the opposite direction. He adjusted his weight, letting his other leg’s forward step become a balance, and spun. His sword swished over the ducking head of the ant and Azrael ‘Bouldered,’ crunching his core hard and headbutting the hard chitin forehead of the Spearmaster.
Both he and his opponent reeled from the collision. The strength of the chitin had been stronger than expected. Azrael recovered first and entered Dancer’s Finale, attempting to pierce the chest of his opponent with a thrust. The point of his blade clicked into the chitin then twisted out as the antman’s skin glowed dark black. Azrael growled but changed his blows to Troubadour’s Act, which contained large actions. Cochtid easily dodged each swing, and began recognizing the timing of Azrael’s technique.
Cochtid stepped into one of Azrael’s backswings, its mandibles clicking excitedly and all four appendages firing forward as if they were spears. This was a skill. Instead of worry, Azrael felt the corner of his mouth pull upwards as he pulled his feet together, removed his hand from his pommel, and placed it on the blade as he released his Soul Strike skill into its ranged version. This action doubled or even tripled the speed of his strike, and his departing skill sliced Cochtid’s skull in half. The four blows lost their Ether but still connected with Azrael’s chest, and his hand was cut badly on his own blade—but he had beaten his foe.
Had his Soul Cloak redirected those attacks slightly?
He checked his debuff bar to find he had broken ribs and was bleeding. He struggled to take the deep breaths his body insisted on and stepped back to his cleared wall to recover. He glanced at his hand and saw white bone in the cut—that wasn’t good.
Unfortunately, just as he made it to the wall, the rock giant crushed its current foe like a water balloon filled with blood and bone. The stony face turned to regard him.
Azrael glanced around and found no other opponents or distractions remaining for the massive giant. He breathed through his nose while simultaneously forcing his injured hand to close on the sword pommel with clenched teeth.
Azrael fell back into his training and controlled his breathing to purge the pain as he entered a fighting stance.
Chapter Seventeen
Azrael stepped out from the wall, not wanting to be between concrete and a rock giant. They squared off, but a stumbling form in Azrael’s peripheral vision drew his attention. He tilted his head and took a deep stuttering breath through his nose. That blue-skinned, bat-eared blind thing practically fell directly into the combat angles between Azrael and Gurg. Azrael seriously considered letting the rock giant stomp over the creature during the fight, but the thought made him feel sick.
Get over it. Wait, maybe you can use the thing? ‘A chess master uses all pieces to their best effect.’
It was already a miracle that the poor creature had lasted this long. Should he use it to force Gurg’s hand? He should get it to move at the least. “Over here, this way. Go towards the wall,” Azrael called.
The sad pitiful thing began crawling towards his voice. Azrael Analyzed it.
Bat
Apprentice-Sonar
Level 8
Health Points: 40/60
Now if Gurg took the bait he would know which direction his opponent would attack from and he could counterattack. That was why he was helping. “The only reason I am helping,” he mumbled to himself.
Gurg blinked slowly. Its bulbous head looking at the skinny blue-skinned rat thing and then to Azrael. Finally, realization crossed its stupid face. It attempted a grin, showing its square stone teeth. The action only accentuated its stupidity.
Think you have it figured out now? Or do I need to draw you a picture?
Azrael came at it from a blind angle.
He charged his Soul Strike on the edge of his sword and struck at his ten-foot tall opponent. rock giants had abnormally high inherent Ether—higher even than Trolls—and Azrael knew that without the skill, he would likely never injure it. Using Wading Bull, Azrael jogged by his opponent with his blade out and braced against his chest. The sword clicked and rattled off the blueish-gray stone skin, yet his skill split a few large rock protrusions.
Azrael heard a roar and a crash behind him. He instinctually activated Soul Cloak during his stop and turn. He couldn’t afford to get hit by this opponent. A single strike could crush the impact point, likely leading to Azrael’s death, in all painful cases. He hoped if a blow did land that it was a critical strike and instantly fatal. He would prefer not to die in a slow, pain-filled way.
His depressing thoughts caused him to scan up to the jumbotron; a count of three-hundred and eighty still lived.
He dropped his eyes back onto his enraged opponent as it got back to its feet. It was now facing him and ignoring Bat.
Smarter than your average rock giant, I guess.
He could try to bait and run, kiting the creature, but that tactic could lead him into other areas with even stronger combatants. Better to stick with the known quantity his safe zone presented.
Azrael inched forward, his knees springy and loaded. It was a good thing, too, because the giant leaped twenty feet into the air, probably using a skill. It began to descend right on top of him. He sprinted and dove, both feeling and hearing the impact behind him.
He slid to a stop and turned again. Gurg was in a sand crater smiling at Azrael. The stupid grin was back. As if big stupid expected him to be intimidated by its show of this skill. Quite the opposite, the action told him just how much his opponent underestimated him.
Azrael checked his Ether and found it to be three-quarters full. His sword still had a charge on it, and so he doubled the Ether, adding an a
dditional stack of Soul Strike. Time to get serious.
He rushed forward, attempting to keep Gurg in its self-dug pit. The depth was probably only two feet, but that made the ten-foot-high head of the creature more accessible.
Sliding to a stop a foot back from the loose sand, Azrael entered Dancing Flame, sword held vertically above his head. Gurg blinked and stood still, unused to prey coming to it.
Do you think I am going to jump into your mouth next? Attack me already.
It reached out a massive stone-encrusted hand, trying to crush Azrael. He countered by slicing his sword down the palm of the beast. Two stacks of Soul Strike parted hardened skin, and Gurg roared. It pulled its hand and waved it around as a gray sludge leaked from the wound.
Azrael returned his blade to the top of Dancing Flame as Gurg clenched both fists and its eyes went wild. It swung its uninjured fist in a boxer’s hook. Azrael countered, striking down at the back of the wrist and swaying back.
Again, the strike drew blood, and Azrael returned to ready. For the next scant seconds, Gurg swung wildly at Azrael, and each blow he met with Dancing Flame. Gurg became wounded all over its hands and arms, but finally used its tiny brain and took a step towards Azrael, which forced him to abandon this tactic.
Azrael shuffled backward, but a different type of shout exited the giant’s mouth, freezing his feet in place. In horror, Azrael watched a debuff float onto his interface, a stun debuff that lasted two seconds.
2
Gurg laced its hands together above its head and stepped out of the pit. Its arms stretched even higher as its back muscles elongated fully, and it smiled triumphantly.
1
Come on! I don’t want that dumb face to be the last thing I see!
It took another step forward, its front foot now only a few feet from Azrael. Its bodyweight shifted, and its upper body followed the foot. Azrael watched its abs contract, reversing its elongation for the killing blow.
