Reborn as a Baron Lord (Light Novel) (A Steampunk LITRPG Light Novel Book 1)

by Han Yang

  The issue was resolved when Hudson himself paid the fee. Joana went to scream and Hudson did something amazing.

  “There was a male bear arctic cub and a female adolescent. He gave up both those opportunities even though he swore adding more bears to protect you would be worth it. I have faith in my new lord and I desire you, my Baroness to have her protectors. A bear infested Norn means a place bad folks will want to avoid,” Hudson said.

  Joana folded her arms. “Thank you. I… We’ll have conversations later, Bradley. Let’s get seats, Ginli.”

  Joana, Ginli, and Hudson left to catch up to Hudson’s family who was waiting on the ramp. We exchanged waves until a creaky steambot tugged on my pant leg.

  I was led down a damp musty tunnel that smelt of three day old fart.

  My steambot guide creaked with signs of neglect. I paused him to shimmy out a rock stuck in one of his joints. I guess margins were tight when you paid a contestant a ten to one odds.

  We arrived in a preparation chamber that held an assortment of weapons. A managerbot stood at a podium going over rules.

  “You're late. Do you accept responsibility for your tardiness? Say yes and enter or no and go.”

  “Yes.” I stepped into the room with seven other contestants. I filled my new Darcy with hydrox while the mangerbot continued.

  “In summary, your private arena will have you facing five challenges. Each becoming more challenging in difficulty. When all eight competitors finish their challenge a bell will ring and the exit will open,” the manager bot said, leaving the podium.

  “Uh, hey buddy, what's the weapon rules,” I asked the scared lad no older than eighteen. He was literally shaking with nerves. He failed to answer me. “Oye, what’s the weapons rules?”

  “You carry it in, you carry it out... unless you die,” a one eyed woman said, spitting onto the dirt floor.

  “So. There’s a bucket for spittin right by you, and why not get an augment?” I asked.

  “Daft pretty boy. I ain’t got the gems ta fix it. Hence why I’m risking me life. And do us a favor, knock that one out so he dinna dying,” she said.

  She clearly wasn’t from here, or anywhere close, with her yellow skin and hints of orange in her eyes.

  Two men went to deal with the lad who literally had teeth clacking. I held them at bay.

  My smack across his cheek stung my palm. “Wake up! Stomach your fears, find your resolve, and show your courage!’ I shouted into his face.

  It worked. Enough that the other let him be. I went to the weapons hanging from a wall with a purpose, stripping off my tunic.

  “By the blessing, not a scar on his body. Damn pretty boy, you need to get in more fights,” the woman taunted.

  I set my tunic down, loading a few melee weapons, two sidearms, a long rifle, and strapped dual daggers onto my calves.

  My guestimation we were in a time crunch was off. I was able to attach both sidearms and sling the long rifle before the manager bot said, “Times up. Follow your designated bot to your partitioned arena.”

  I scooped up two more spears, and hefted the bundle wrapped in my tunic. I got the same steambot with all his creaky problems. The others were actually in decent repair. Maybe this one was a problem child or something.

  There wasn’t much time to think about it. My time in a preparation room was rushed.

  Apparently, I was crazy for bringing extra weapons. The rest of the competitors were veterans with large scars, mean scowls, and worn weapons. Well, except for the kid who was back to being nervous.

  I turned away from them all, being led down a side tunnel.

  “Pick. Open. Be fine,” the steambot said in a crackled voice.

  I wanted to reward him but couldn’t because my arms were laden with weapons. The steambot led me up a ramp, revealing a portcullis streaming light through its holes that brightened the inclining tunnel.

  The metallic gate lifted and we stepped into a box no larger than a barroom bottom floor. A lazy guard picked her nose until we were noticed. She held us back, eyeing me with skepticism.

  The pit held a mini jungle on the left and a watering hole on the right with muddy tracks deep at the water’s edge. At the back end was another gate for the foes I’d be facing. I heard an announcer, barely audible over the roar of a bored crowd ready for a fight.

  “And in the eighth pit is… this can’t be right. Who’s tryin to have a laugh. Marty go smack the messenger. Bradley of… smack him real good… no Ocarna boys are sub twenty out of that city. In the eighth pit is Bradley!” the announcer said to a giggling crowd.

  Maybe it was common to get Bradley from fartsalot and such. Probably not too common to Baron Lord at a subpar ten rating. It is what it is.

  I stepped forward rushing to dump the weapons near the back walk. I whipped my shirt on, finishing in the nick of time. A steam horn burst out a signal.

  The crowd shouted.

  Three… Two… One!

  The portcullis across from me rose. I hefted a woodaxe, running forward. A wolf charged out, snarling with a bark.

  With its route predicted I hurled the axe.

  End over end the tool rotated. The lineup was perfect, the speed too fast to dodge.

  The damn tool hit facing me, the wood shattering against the wolf’s collarbone.

  SNAP!

  I trotted back, securing a spear, and heard the crowd roaring. The wolf back pedaled the best it could with three legs.

  I bull rushed waiting for it. The yellow eyes of my prey spoke volumes, this was a wilds creature. I waited for the… there, the desperation flared in the gaze.

  It lunged, attempting to latch its jaws onto my thigh. I used my enhanced knee to spin in place.

  As the wolf sailed by me, I thrust down, burying the tip of the spear, and ended its flight. There was but the slightest of whimpers.

  I didn’t revel in the moment, I dove the spear down to finish the kill.

  I yanked the spear out that had pierced the heart. That wolf was skinny, sure, but there were wilds in his eyes. Not a domestic animal by any means.

  I dug the tip of the spear into the dirt, fishing for the orb of hydrox.

  Unfortunately, that is exactly what I extracted - a meager orb. I tossed it into my fine leg, only now noticing the crowd. I grew sad when a single set of bleachers emptied. Either someone quit or the lad died.

  Instead of dwelling on those thoughts I prepared the arena better. I stacked weapons on the wall, hid a second spear against a tree, and partly buried a dagger in the muck by the water. Even stuck a section of the wood axe to remember the spot.

  I then waited, and waited, and waited. I turned to the cage attendee since the interior wall was too tall to interact with the crowd.

  “What's the matter?”

  The guard whittled a wagon. She glanced up with disdain and said, “Kids climbed up a tree. In that one over.”

  I groaned, throwing my hands up. “How long does he have?” I asked.

  “Oh, no time limit. You can swim under if you want. Probably get a tip from the arena officials. They get desperate and pick up randoms they -”

  I was gone. I kept new Darcy on my back, grabbed the javelin instead of the spear, and ran for the water. For some reason I knew not to dive. Never dive into mud. Belly flop.

  I winced in anticipation as my flattened jump was coming to an end.

  Smack!

  I grunted, sinking deep enough to swim. The crowd was roaring at my antics when I gulped in air at the wall point.

  My submersion was only deep enough to get under the wall. I swam into the lad’s pit until my hands found muck.

  When I surfaced, I faced a replica of my mini area. Except his trees and water were reversed. A crazy wolf was baying at the tree the kid clung to.

  Honestly, we were probably the same age.

  I let the enraged wolf stay distracted. The crowd had silenced to watch the scene unfold with bated breath.

  I used slow movements to tr
ansition between the thick muck, and where the gritty arena met. The process was tedious.

  Luckily the kid saw me at this point, getting lower to keep the wolf distracted. When there was solid ground again, I burst into a sprint. Mud flung off my body from my exertion.

  The wolf never saw me coming. He heard though.

  The neck spun just in time for my javelin tip to crack against the side of the canine’s skill. The weapon didn’t puncture, ruining the eye, and sliding high.

  I didn’t hesitate. With the wolf stunned and me still running, I barreled into the wolf with a shoulder check.

  Thud!

  The wolf tried to kick at me and raise its head, but it was half conscious. I shimmed, to loom over the slow to recover body.

  My enhanced fist raced down, caving the skull, and ending the fight.

  “Thank the heavens… mister,” he said, scurrying down the tree.

  “Grab your prize and go. Next time I won't save you,” I said, barely heard due to stomping cheers of the crowd.

  Knowing the water depth now my return was smooth. I dove under the water, gliding to my side. I was just out of my own muck when the horn blasted.

  I was expecting a countdown, but no, the crowd shifted from the kid’s arena. Most came to watch me, packing my section of stands.

  Unable to do much I went to the wall and rested. A balding man in a fine suit came up to our gate. “I need to check him, Sabrina.”

  “What for?”

  “We can't have a Baron Lord dying in the fudging pits you daft wench! Open the -”

  A new bell rang.

  The countdown started.

  Three… Two… One!

  Too late for me to be checked. Two clacking crabbots about knee high waddled out with silver mechanical legs that hissed steam.

  The pistols on my thighs were freely charged at a minimal level, not enough for these shells.

  I was confused as to why they’d allow expensive silver into the arena when I saw they were tin legs. I quickly thrust the pistol back into the holster.

  The double headed greataxe was difficult to heft. This was the second time I felt my low strength being a deterrent.

  Noodle arms were great for… well, not much, but make lemonade when you -

  Something happened. I froze in place. My head swooned. I became lost. Memories fought in my mind at the worst time.

  I shook my head clear when the clacking neared. Orientating myself to the threat, I lined up the greataxe, and let gravity take over.

  The heavy weapon arced down for the first crabbot. I wasn’t shocked when there was a crunch sound.

  The thick blade sliced into the shell with a crack, killing the crab. I heard the crowd roaring for me to fight in the middle.

  “In the middle!” Over and over.

  I dodged a claw, snatched a spear, and ran to the middle. With a confident trot, I turned, giving a bow that was met with applause.

  Every one of the onlookers warned me of the oncoming machine hybrid.

  I put on a show, sparing with a pincer with my spear. The tease was momentary, and fleeting. Like swinging a club, I smashed off four right side legs.

  An overhead, hard swing, cracked the hard shell, and echoed over the arena - eliciting a roar from the crowd.

  Another violent smash down resulted in the death of the crabbot.

  I collected the limbs of both bots, hurling them one at a time into the crowd as souvenirs.

  Yeah... this got even more fans to my side. I wanted to search for the hydrox but went to the gate. There was a confrontation happening.

  A team of steambots were blocking the open gate.

  “Hey, let him in,” I said and they moved.

  The manager rushed for my hand. I told the balding man with his monocle to use my leg. He removed the cover, inserting the Gearnix readiness checker until there was a whirl and a flash.

  “By the gods it's true. Get out at once,” he demanded, waving for the exit.

  “And if I don’t?” I answered.

  He opened his mouth and shut it. “I was rash, dear Baron Lord Bradley. Gentlemen don’t fight in the pits.”

  “Gentlemen… I’m not one of those. Well, okay, maybe a smidge,” I said, finally spotting Joana, Ginli, Hudson, baby Bonnie, and her parents, Harvin and Desrie. We exchanged waves.

  The steam horn tooted. Locking me inside when the gate slammed down. The stupid manager was in here with me.

  “Well shit,” I said with a smirk. “Grab that rifle, don’t shoot me in the back. Actually, shoot only if you have to.”

  Three… Two… One!

  The adjacent portcullis rose, revealing three leopards. These were fairly standard looking large cats with yellow coats with black spots.

  The out of shape balding manager ran to the wall, grabbed the long rifle, and raced to get his back into a corner.

  I went for pistols this time, pulling the weapons out smoothly. I strode forward with confidence.

  One cat burst forward for a tree, scurrying onto the trunk.

  I tracked the feline, not firing as it acquired a perch.

  The distance was far enough away that I wasn’t bothered. The next cat went for the water to drink.

  The second one stalked low to the gritty arena floor, as if it were fooling anyone. When I neared the drinking cat it was oblivious.

  It lapped the water greedily, not seeing the approaching human as dangerous. There was a confliction here. I was about to kill an animal that didn’t want me to die. I doubted there was a morality clause where I could ask for a time out.

  Realizing I had little choice, my aim adjusted, and I squeezed.

  ZING!

  A billow of smoke hissed out of the pistol.

  The single shot soared forth with a loud crackle that sizzled.

  Thud!

  The round dove into the chest, passing through ribs, and pierced two lungs. All the water it inhaled was vomited with blood moments later.

  I realized the pistol was out of energy when I spun to focus on the other threats.

  A roaring flare of anger growled out of the second cat. Instead of targeting me, it went for the high spot.

  For whatever reason the two cats wanted to hide from fighting.

  These seemed to enforce a lack of a wild aspect. I didn’t care much, but the arena might want to know they were sending in pets to fight.

  I walked to the back wall, grabbed a spear, and holstered the sidearm. “Probably safe for you to get in right now,” I said to the trembling manager.

  “They lock the gates until you kill the last two.”

  “These are pets.”

  “They shouldn’t be, we only buy animals from the wilds,” he stammered.

  When a ball of yellow and black crashed onto hard terrain, I burst into action. The biggest one had its maw on the throat of the other cat. There was an awful shriek I ignored.

  I felt my heart pound in my chest while the cats were distracted. The speartip lined up on the feline's ribcage, right for the heart.

  Crack!

  The weapon cratered ribs as it dove into the animal. I yanked the spear out, hearing a sickening slurp.

  The other cat struggled to breathe. I jabbed the spear tip into the esophagus, resulting in a crunchy death.

  After the cats stopped breathing the manager raced into the cave. To my surprise Corvo was there.

  “Hey kid. Those weren’t wilds, don’t bother tryin to get orbs,” he said leaning against the wall when the portcullis closed. “Like your style. Where’d you learn to fight? Ocarna?”

  “Nope. Just the wilds,” I said.

  He scoffed, shaking his head. “Thanks for being honest with me. You’re effective, but you’re rough. Why no sword?”

  “Wasn’t an option. The others took them all. Not sure I’d have wanted a sword. Steam sword sure,” I said with a shrug. “You follow me to the arena?”

  “Yup,” he admitted. “Wifey doesn’t get home for a few more hours. Figured I
’d see what trouble you caused. This… This is awesome. My status lets me watch from here.”

  “That guy thinks it’s less than awesome,” I said, pointing to the manager.

  “Him. He’s so fired. You’re supposed to be approved by him before getting into the ring. Which he probably told a subordinate to do automatically. How often do nobles enter these games?” Corvo said.

  The balding man handed over his device to the female guard who didn’t care when he sulked away.

  “This is fully charged,” I said, showing him his wife’s custom blunderbuss.

  He waved for the weapon. I handed it to him, he handed it back. “Interesting, where’d ya learn to tell it was full?”

  “Honest truth, not a clue,” I said. “Why you here at the arena? And why do you want to come to Norn?”

  “A general needs a purpose, I retired too early, and there’s no spot left here.”

  The reset bell chimed. I asked, “How many shots if I lightly squeeze the trigger?”

  “Five. Doubt you’ll have that much control, four is safe. Go wave to the fans, make our job easier.” Corvo flicked his wrist, shooing me for the spectators.

  I saw no harm in heeding his words. My crowd had grown in size until it spilled off left and right so people could barely see me fight.

  When the next chime went off I pumped Darcy with each number counted down. The crowd went wild.

  I spun on one, leveling the blunderbuss. A twenty foot snake slithered out. The eyes were fire red with hatred fueled hunger.

  I backpedaled nice and smoothly.

  With a calm manner I rotated my position until my boots neared the muck that would slow the massive snake.

  This snake was the size of a constrictor, but held massive fangs the size of my arm, and had a massive diamond shaped head.

  The flickering tongue of the slithering beast sensed the water, and when I stilled, the flickering stopped.

  The viper partially raised its head to smell for my odor. The eyes lit up with excitement as it homed in on my location.

  Fangs flared and the snaked reared, preparing to pounce. I tensed, prepared and -

  BOOM!

  The head exploded in a mist of gore that showered the jungle section. The crowd was roaring wildly.