"God FUCKING damnit!" I angrily bellowed, spiking my Wakizashi against the jagged stone wall I always meditated by after fights. 32 fights had passed since openly dismantling that sadist of a Rogue sporting chained daggers. No matter how hard I studied or honed my forms, I'd yet to reach another skill breakthrough. Though, a part of me felt I might've been spoiled upon scrolling over my stat sheet to my skills list.
Name: Tom Murphy
Race: [Human(H) - level 1]
Class: Rogue
Profession: None
Strength: 12
Agility: 16
Endurance: 13
Perception: 10
Vitality: 8
Toughness: 12
Wisdom: 15
Willpower: 8
Titles: None
Skills:
Duel Swordsman (uncommon) - (+2) agility (+3) endurance, proficiency for duel short swords
Water stance (common) - (+3) agility (+3%) perception when in perpetual motion using this stance, (-6%) debuff endurance
Lightning Strike (common) - Wielder is able to add Lightning mana into an attack, amplifying its speed depending on the total mana spent while using it. User gets a (+4) agility when using this strike.
Water Step (common) - your devotion to your style has awakened your body to what your mind and spirit have already known as a fundamental law, allowing you to channel your affinity into any step omnidirectionally so long as you're in Flow, further connecting your physical body to your mind and soul. (+3) agility while active.
Pride began replacing my frustrations at reminding myself we'd already gotten 4 skills, 3 of which I earned through trial and contemplation. I'd also brutally eliminated 68 other opponents without seeing level 2, though there was another notification other than my own progress.
In fact, my notifications began dinging after my 50th fight so damn often, I had to figure out how to turn it off. Frustratingly enough, I nearly gave up seeking a 'mute' button until realizing it only took focusing your intent to do so. Supposed 'Gods' of all shapes and affinities had been messaging me, some even going so far as to request an in-person meeting. Naturally I took a few up on the offer, finding myself teleported to a new place each time, all wildly different in grandeur and…feeling.
Unfortunately the subtle differences were drowned by a sharp, splitting gut response to each God and their realms put a damper on attaining a Patron. I would arrive before some supreme Being that felt like different flavors of living nuclear reactors, and immediately the feeling of not belonging overwhelmed my thoughts accompanied by immense pain, with no logical reasoning to back it. One entity in particular who referred to themselves as Florstrum, called it out the moment I stepped foot in his chambers.
"You, human, do not belong to me." They proclaimed through a voice that sounded as if it came from the twisting, writhing foliage that surrounded me. Clenching my and teeth clutching my stomach, I grumbled angrily.
"What do you mean by 'belong'?! I'm no one's possession." I shot back in protest.
"Watch your tone, mortal." The endless vines that practically consumed every square inch of this strange place quivered, shaking the ground underfoot. A thick green miasma emitted from his body above his throne of vines, wafting its sour scent toward me in a cloud of ethereal smoke.
"You will learn respect little on-"
Suddenly the person-shaped bush paused, looking at me with I think surprise, though it was hard to tell given his bark skin covered in vines and various plant life. A thick strip of vines shifted upward above where a person's eye socket should be.
"You…how are you still standing? What trickery is you this, mortal?! Is this another one Beloris' childish games?!" The god angrily demanded, physically repulsing away. Even still, countless vines rose at their sides, snaking menacingly like grassy serpents.
"Look man, I'm in some real pain over here. I don't know who or what you're talking about, but please…if you won't help me, send me back." It was as I glanced up from the ground still clutching the stabbing pain in my gut to say my price that I noticed his little smoke screen had surrounded me entirely, leaving everything in a green hue.
"Tell whatever God that sent you, I will not take petty pranks lightly, mortal." They replied, before feeling my body being yanked underground by hundreds of twisting vines. Just like that, I botched another interview. At least my stomach stopped feeling like I'd swallowed a dozen acid tipped razors now that I'm out of there. Still, that 'Florstrum' thing mentioned I didn't 'belong' to them. Didn't that imply I did belong to someone else? The problem is, I hadn't signed any contracts or agreed to any form of loyalty to any Gods yet. And I'd know, as I certainly tried.
First it was a Warrior God, Khathorn, who was admitted something out of my wildest dreams. Sectioned dark plated armor two curved short swords in hand glowing a bright white hue along the blades, and Gold illuminating stones at the center of each hilt. Not to mention she was undeniably the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She even offered me some badass swords for after the tournament ended that would increase my agility by 8%, a massive boost with even larger implications once I can start adding points to my stats with level ups.
The goddess explained I couldn't receive any direct boons from any Gods before the tutorial hand in hand, but that didn't mean arrangements couldn't be made in advance, along with some not-so-secret tips and loopholes such as 'titles'. One free tip she gave was even mentioning the leveling system won't activate until later, when the tutorial finally began.
I think she actually liked my company too, which made the excruciating aching in my stomach all the more bitter. She inevitably deemed I was not meant for her coveting as a Chosen as well, though I did express my intent on other forms of bonding once I reached her power level. She shook her head with a disapproving sigh, but never gave an affirmative 'no' to the idea.
The next God was no different in terms of instant internal suffering upon arrival, but luckily they were also far less interesting. They droned on and on about the duty of man to justice, right from wrong, good versus evil, yadda yadda yadda. Honestly, if his horse was any higher I think he'd escape the infinite vacuum of space, and ascend to a new plane of self righteousness entirely.
"Maybe our integration just triggered because he finally got laid." I thought to myself, which judging by his contorted grimace he apparently could hear too. In a blink, I was back in my meditation spot free of stomach pain. Truthfully, I held no regrets in rejecting that guy. Sitting down, I'd barely began opening up my third-eye when once again I felt the floor change below me. By now the arena's much smoother surface was impossible to miss, indicating it was time for fight number 69.
Nice.
The stature of those I'd fought the last few fights had changed from generally middling on average to borderline olympians lately, and this brick of a man was no exception. Annoyance tickled at scanning over my opponent, standing at probably 6'10, 290 pounds of pure muscle that made his heavy plating look like my light armor.
He held two hammers with comically large rectangular hammerheads, adorning a thick, oval shaped metal helmet with curving bull horns sticking out the sides. His long dark beard and mustache, along with his eyes and jaw, were all that could be seen through his metal helmet that even covered the bridge of his nose. This guy was utterly massive.
"You're Tom, right? My patron warned me about you, said you got a tummy ache and hit on her before getting sent back empty handed. Care to explain?" The man bellowed, twirling around one of his hammers. After letting my heart break and mend itself at the news, a grin creased my lips.
"No, no not really. If she sticks with you after this though, be sure to let her know I'm open to an apology in the form of dinner and some drinks by the fireplace. Show her R&B music too, save me some time." I shot back, hoping he was the sensitive type. Besides, it's 'all in the eyes', and hers were totally glowing. Then again…they might just do that, but you never know.
"Alright smart ass, do your little dance so I can kill you quickly, slots for the top 25 are closing up quick." My burly opponent grumbled back with a twitching nostril.
Top 25? We're almost done?!
Maintaining composure, having suffered plenty unpleasant surprises by now, I responded confidently.
"Relax meathead, you have to win to get in to the cool kids club." I joked, with a brief chuckle.
"YOU relax pencil neck. They've been blipping BOTH fighters mid-battle lately. I just saw a pair of snoozers get erased over at the Pugilist arena like 10 minutes ago. What they get for pulling guard on each other at a fucking striking arena." The towering warrior growled, his eyes trailing off to the stars above. Clearly, the red faced fellow needed a venting
Concerned was putting it mildly, as the news of expedited matches incited a renewed sense of urgency in me. I shuttered realizing I was still 6 fights away from my own 75th match, probably filled with warriors similar to this absolute unit. My only hope was that everyone got an even 100 matches in total to prove themselves. Evidently, I'd been lallygagging. I had to focus up now, having exhausted all the time to feel sorry for myself.
"Best not waste time then big man, show me yours I'll show you mine." I replied, entering my fighters stance. The sound of metal boots clapping against the ground crescendo's with his aggressive approach. The weight of his heavy footsteps created low rumble that quickly grew to a roar. The warrior exploded up in the air, aiming an overhead double hammer slam for my skull.
Air whistled through my hood Water Stepping back, narrowly evading the large warriors smash attack. His left hammer slammed into the floor, shaking my vision due to the impacts thunderous pop. By the time my vision refocused, a hammer sat alone within the crater it created.
The whirring 40 pounds of steel swung towards my temple, catching me off guard and forcing me to block instead of dodge. Twisting my Wakizashi to sheath the hammer head at an angle, my hopes to minimize the force quickly crumbled. The hammer was too blunted and wide for my blades to deflect properly. Blood trickling from my ringing ear down the left side of my neck, shakily gathering my bearing's 8 feet away from where I was struck.
Okay, so you're quick too.
No amateur could close the distance so fast, meaning he must've been trained. If not in fighting, the body control alone to pull this feat at his size was nothing short of incredible. I also had a feeling his sum of strength and speed outmatched mine, indicating I wasn't going to just athlete my way through this one.
"Not bad, big guy. Hope you got a few more tricks, being quick isn't exactly novel." I jeered, blinking through a splitting headache. His eyes narrowed with flaring nostrils as he snarled, "You should be dead already."
"Didn't know you were a doctor too. Got any nutritional advice while I'm here?" I sarcastically shot back.
"Are you making fun of me?" The warrior shot back with a growl, sounding genuinely offended.
"Is that a rhetorical question, or are you genuinely that behind?" I asked in reply.
"You callin' me slow?!" He shouted, taking one aggressive stomp closer.
"No, I literally just said you're quick." I answered with a chuckle. He seemed to relax a bit.
"I also asked if you're fucking stupid, you being totally lost was a good enougj answer though. Poetic you kn-, oh sorry, so poems are like songs. Y'know, 'A B C D-'" I began, clapping my hands in rhythm with the song.
"SHUT UP!" bellowed the mighty man-baby through bulging bloodshot eyes.
"I've had QUITE ENOUGH bullies in my fucking life to spot one. People like you're why I wanted strength in the first place, before all this." The enraged giant of a man hissed, his nostril twitching. Such a beastly person might've truly intimidated me, had they not just accused me of being a fucking bully.
"The fuck did you just call me? You think I got like this from winning all of my fights? Only here, buddy." I shot back, as memories of Korbin's fists, knees, and feet barreling toward my head, ribs, and calves came flashing through my mind. By all respects, I was being bullied on a regular basis, albeit voluntarily at that. The large warriors eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"Oh? Then you understand. The monsters of our world cannot be allowed to attain the power we seek, Tom. We must purge the problem before it manifests in the first place." The towering man proclaimed in a far more affable tone. Yet, nothing he said made me resent his stance any less.
"Hold on, what's your name big man?" I asked, internalizing my frustrations enough to learn who this truly misguided monsters name for after the tournaments sake.
"Name's Freddy, my friend." He responded with a slow nod.
"Okay, Fred. Explain to me slowly how exactly you're going to sunder the assholes before they do anything?" I asked.
"Simple, follow the power. They are either of the same mind, or the very sickness we seek to cleanse. We cannot continue without honorable men and women, not when true Godhood is in our reach." Freddy rambled, giving me way more than an answer to my question.
"Yeah, sure, bad guys are bad. But you're telling me if they don't agree with you, they're the bullies? How exactly does this not make you the same stain on humanity you want to purge so badly? You're essentially planning on playing God." I pointed out, Freddy's angry demeanor quickly returning as I spoke. A toothy grin grew across is face before her responded.
"Being a God is doable now, Tom. You really ought to start practicing." Freddy responded, before leaping at me with a wild hammer swipe. My feet shuffled to the side, dodging it easily due to his attacks telegraphed nature. Freddy immediately followed with a flurry of violent swings, contorting his body aggressively leaning fully into every attack. My blades quickly pierced through his alternating lead shoulders between each heavy whirring swing and slam, though none seemed to slow the beast of a man.
Being outmatched physically had more than its unfair share of disadvantages, no question about it. The thing is, I'd never been the most athletic guy in the gym. Not the fastest, nor the strongest, but I refused to be behind in anything I had a say in honing. Particularly my skill levels, seeing mediocre as failure. Consequently, the majority of my skill based activities, from sports through my early years to fighting, involved facing somebody either more gifted or further developed physically than I.
Repeatedly, I'd follow the same recipe that they were given. And time after time I found myself coming up just short. It wasn't until I decided to develop my own tactics that didn't rely solely on being quicker, faster, or even better than the other person.
All I needed was one real good shot, and their superiority in all regards are rendered irrelevant. No one could train their brain to keep you awake after suffering enough trauma. Meaning there was a limit. No one was perfect, infallible, and because I grew a propensity to win more often, no one was special either.
Our dance of stab until he was too spent to initiate, forcing me to insult his intellect and revive his fiery ambition went on for a few rounds cycles until he finally went ballistic. Slamming his hammers on the ground beneath him, I saw a strange dim-blue hue puff into the air surrounding his tantrum smashing that gave me pause. The hammers fired like pistons for a solid 8 seconds straight before he stopped decimating the ground, rising to a seething stance with blue mist all around him.
No words. No quips. Deep blue eyes now terribly bloodshot, vessels protruding in patterns similar to a lightning bolt. No, there were far too many crossing patterns, it was more like webs. Sweat beaded off his face, his beard soaked in a mixture of said sweat and saliva. Blood covered the length of his shoulders. No-Face did this guy dirty by not giving him big enough armor. Then again, he was a bit of a mouth breather. How else could one fall for the same thing over and ov-
POP!
My vision abruptly cut out, the crunching sounds and ringing ears settled in only after I bounced across the arena in a rag doll. I tried to pop up, but the only 'popping' happening at this moment in was my ankle, and jaw bone whenever I tried to move it.
Hah, Karma.
Delirium faded, and I shifted my thoughts from whimsy to damage assessment, applying weight slowly onto my bad ankle.
"I can't believe you're still fucking alive. What are you, some kind of rodent?" Freddy shot out sounding both annoyed and amused.
Easy buddy.
Strolling over twirling his hammers, the towering warrior gloated, "You know, I come from nothing. I grew up a nobody, on a farm in buttfuck nowhere, with nothing to do but work and fight. I used to run away from guys at those schools who picked on me for being different, just like you." Freddy exclaimed, lifting me by armor like a kitten's nape in his hand. My head screamed in pain opening my eyes to meet his gaze.
"That was until I got a little older, and just kept getting bigger than all of them. Then? They were the ones running. But I was faster, too." He said with a wild look in his wide, bloodshot eyes.
Great, another fucking psychopath.
I had to think quickly, think back to my training for anything I could do here.
"Everyday, before all of this? I had to be careful who I hurt, no matter how mean they were. But now I don't, the creepy farmhand said so." Freddy continued, foamy spittle spraying from his quivering lips.
Fucking think Tom. What would Korbin say to you right now seeing you like thi-
Of course.
"Hey asshole, you gonna make me listen to your stupid bullshit all day or kill me? Frankly, I prefer the latter." Words flowing freely from my swollen face with a viperous tone as he held me hovering a few inches off the ground. He headbutted me, breaking my nose instantly. His head felt like a goddamn stone but, heavy is the head that wears his prey.
"Oh I'm gonna find you after this, you little shi-"
"Oh haha, you must not have understood. Me no want listen. Me rather die than care to hear you make dumb-dumb." I interrupted, trying to speak in a way he might understand. With that, he reared back his arm to complete his little execution ritual. He also made it abundantly clear when he was going to swing as soon as his hip twisted, sending force up his lats and arms providing power for his wind-up. The flow in Freddy's movements were exaggerated, especially when he moved this slowly. His hips snapped back, and my peripherals felt ignited with energy, as I focused all of my will into finding just the right spot.
Following the Flow from his shoulder, it worked its way in a U-shape following his swiping strike. Time felt like it slightly slowed as Water Stance activated, increasing my agility and perception, giving me my window to track the energy diligently. The hammer was nearing contact with its insane width all the same, so I had to time this perfectly. Finally, it was about to pass his bicep over into his elbow, when I kicked my left leg back and right leg forward, twisting my hips into a right handed palm strike into the pit of his elbow with all of my might.
His elbow flailed out as all the energy that traveled down his arm flipped on itself, sending it in the direct opposite path it had come from. He clearly had zero expectation to meet any meaningful resistance, watching the sudden shift in balance buckle knees before collapsing beside me. Without hesitation, I snatched up a Wakizashi and rolled into a full mount on top of him with my knees pressed on his elbows the moment he hit the floor, thrusting down my blade anywhere I saw cracks.
When he finally stopped squirming, I used the bottom of my hilt to strike the nose guard on his helmet, over and over again with all of my strength. Blood splattered more and more from his face with each strike, the sound of bones and metal crunching in concert. Finally, after his nose appeared completely inside out under his purple face, Freddy disappeared from my grasp. Now prone on my stomach, I placed my foot down to test my ankle. My eyes hadn't even opened yet from my desperate last ditch slams into Freddy's face, yet finding my ankle totally function was immensely satisfying. Around me stood the familiar few quiet challengers awaiting their turn at another round of ritual combat.
Holy shit, that was way too close.
Shuffling over to my meditation spot, my head no longer pounding yet spinning all the same. How did I win again? It was such a messy blur, I had to really sit down and place myself back into my own shoes of a mere 30 seconds ago max. It wasn't something I expected, though admittedly this wasn't new to being a person, but brain trauma's clearly fucking serious. Still, a single moment hung heavily in my mind, when I was literally strung up by my armor.
I realized something there.
At the time it was like I was half-awake, yet present enough to think. After some diligent meditation, I finally managed piecing together the end of the fight down to the winning strike. Instantly, it reminded me of my training with Korbin, after having trouble keeping my guard strong against his much heavier blows. It was the same technique I used at that very moment against Freddy. I tracked his flow through his body, until it reached a single Flow Point.
Oh, fucking DUH.
Flow Points are places in which flow is the most vulnerable to alterations, and are typically very easy to seriously injure. My ability to deflect Freddy's killing blow was a testament to the timing-dependent technique's value. He had over 130 pounds on me, yet my very quick hand strike with little to no marginal power completely cost him the match and, technically, his life there. Feeling stupid for having overlooked such a vital part of my training, I was determined to put this form in action again. Not long after fight 70 commenced, where I promptly spammed Flow Point strikes until the fellow dual wielding swordsman completely gave up all together. After the mercy kill, came the fight that finally brought what I was looking for.
He was a middle aged man, probably in his early 40's, sitting a few inches shorter than me with a square, clean shaven face. He wore the classical colosseum warrior outfit, with the Greek looking sword to prove it. Seeing my gaze fixed on his weapon, he lifted it to his face.
"I see you've taken interest in my short sword. It's Mycenaean, a fine piece of bronze craftsmanship. Allow me to introduce myself." He said, placing his arm bent at his stomach and bowed.
"I am Kota, Warrior of Will, and my spirit is infallible. I warn you, this will not go well for you, warrior. Please, do me the honor of knowing your n-"
"Tom. I-it's Tom, bro. We doing this orr…?" I interrupted, confused at this guys lengthy speech. Kota's smile was unwavering.
"Ah, yes, Tom! A pleasure to share an arena with you. Right then, shall we?"
Readying his stance, Kota appeared poised to strike at any moment. His eyes locked onto me, his focus palpably strong. Seeing his stance, how sure he looked in himself, the vigor in which he boasted his assumed class was truly…depressing. I really hated to be 'that guy', but already his stance looked terrible. Before I could fully pick it apart internally, he shuffled forward, nearly tripping on his own foot. Yet, before he planted his feet again, his body was suddenly much closer, prompting me to strike his shoulder, hitting a Flow Point and sending him tumbling.
Staggering to his feet, he fixed his helmet that had spun crooked on his head, and readied himself once more in his home-brewed stance. Once more, he made the first move of the exchange, this time leaping forward for a two handed downward strike. I considered blocking it, but thought better than to waste the opportunity to try hitting a flow point with my foot.
Raising my knee, I extended my leg, aimed for his hip. Immediately, his body sank in on itself as he crumbled, folding on his ass like a lawn chair. Wincing, he stood back up, a bit slower this time.
"You're fast, Tom. But you're not my first challenge here, and I would have it no other way. Without you, I'd have no opportunity to test my own Will. Because of foes like you, my skills have been put to the grindstone, my body mangled and thrashed. Arms broken, fingers lost, yet time and time again, I arose victorious. This will be no different."
"…uh, okay. Whatever dude."
Kota lunged forward, attempting to outright impale me through my 'oh so worthy' heart. Once more, my foot smashed into him, this time onto the shoulder he intended to stab me on. His body spun in a full circle before his legs got tied up together during his cyclone-activities, and he fell to the ground once more, hard.
Groaning, he forced himself up yet again, his shoulder popping as he forced it back into place.
"Your defenses are impressive, but not impregnable!" He shouted, as he charged once more. For the next, if memory serves me, 18 exchanges we followed the same pattern. Kota attacks, I hit one of the myriad of flow points in which the human body possesses that their kinetic energy traveled, and he'd tumble wildly onto the ground. After a struggle, he'd clamor back to his feet, drop a self empowering monologue, and the cycle had begun anew.
After number 19, however, exhaustion began to win over his body, even if his mind hadn't caught on yet. Through heavy breaths, he spoke once more.
"I must…say, Tom. You are…by far m-…my greatest challenge yet."
I stepped back, straightening my posture and lowering my guard.
"You need a sec, Kota?" I offered the shaky warrior. He stood there a moment, debating inwardly, before hunching over placing his hands onto his knees.
"No no go ahead, take a breather." I said through a grin, feeling in the other shoes of my own trainer for a change. After some heavy panting, Kota inhaled deeply as he straightened up, placing his hands on his head.
"Alright!" He announced, clapping his hands and bouncing a bit before picking up his sword.
"Prepare yourself, Tom. Your cowardice ways of avoiding my attacks will not last lo-"
"The fuck did you just call me?" I said, angrily cutting his normal monologue short this time.
"I-I don't remember calling you anyt-"
"My 'cowardice ways'?! Tell me, how many times do you think I could ha-… motherfucker."
The concept of me being a fucking coward for not killing this self-help content creator of a dork was beyond insulting. That, and I was getting pretty tuckered out to be completely transparent. He didn't have to know that though.
"Look, how about this. You come at me, and if I block it again, I won't just stand still. Then you can show me the full power of your mighty will much sooner. Deal?" I offered, burying my rage in hopes it'll pass and allow me to focus. Kota gave a toothy grin before responding.
"Heh, your confidence will be your undoing To-"
"Whatever man, fucking deal or not?" I shot back impatiently. Kota nodded, and raised his sword once more. In now terribly typical Kota fashion, he dove at me with his sword, aiming now for my neck with a wide slash. Quickly locating where the power came from on his body, in this case his hips since his legs were in the air already, I tracked up where it ought to travel, landing on the now black and blue pit of his elbow. With another palm strike to the Flow Point now battered and abused, his arm cracked inside, causing him to shrill in pain.
The sound of his screams reminded me of the guy with chain blades, resulting in a twitch reaction sending my Wakizashi straight through his chest, piercing his warrior's heart. Kota looked up at me, utterly stunned by the completely inevitable and totally predictable outcome.
"This is not the end, Tom. Thank you, for showing me I've much room to grow, I will be seeing you so-"
With a second slash he was decapitated, having reached my limit for his willpower bullshit for one day. After teleporting out of the arena and finding my meditation spot, I spent a few moments reviewing the intricacies of the move I'd spent the last two fights almost exclusively using. Not long after, I was rewarded for all of my trouble.
*SKILL ACQUIRED*- > Flow Inverse (uncommon) - when activated, the user will respond to an attack with one of their own, as water needs no defense where it can simply fill where it must go. User strikes a Flow Point, reversing the Flow of his opponent's movements completely. Effectiveness varies based on % advantage in agility. +2 agility, +4 perception when active.
"Yes!" I silently celebrated at seeing another new skill. This time it not only boosted perception, a stat I'd yet to find any way to increase or really use. It was also an uncommon rarity. My very first uncommon skill, something I felt a concerning level of pride at achieving. I couldn't be more easily distracted from nearly dying several times over, or losing any hope at attaining a Patron before the Tutorial.
All progress starts with the first step.
Korbin's voice played through my head, spewing one of his favorite sayings. As annoying as it was, it especially rang true now more than ever. The stipulations here are a constant that's totally out of my control, which means they're irrelevant. My priorities should lay solely with winning, especially when I've come this far. Feeling emboldened once more, my thoughts drifted back to my many fights, scouring for any missed chances at growth until my next fight commences.
Only 30 more, how much worse could it really get from here?