by Jakob Tanner
He turned around to see the red-haired climber coming straight at him.
The boy leaped in the air and swung his flame katana over his head.
Tiberius blocked the attack with his mana blade and snickered, “You won’t be able to beat me puny C-rank human. Also, you’re the one who’s running out of time to plant the bomb. The longer you delay, the closer we get to victory.”
The red-haired climber shadow blinked behind him and Tiberius spun to meet another thrust of the boy’s flaming sword.
“I think you’re confusing who’s delaying whom,” the boy grinned.
What is the foolish boy going on about?
We have them! The match is as good as ours.
Unless.
Tiberius spun around to see the E-rank human girl had planted the bomb while they’d been fighting.
Damnit!
He could still defuse the bomb. He rushed the girl, but a cloud of black smoke emerged in front of him as the red-haired climber reappeared to block his path.
Tiberius used all his strength and sliced the red-haired kid’s head clean off.
“Enough of these tricks,” Tiberius spat.
The red-haired kid didn’t shatter out of his way. In fact, the boy’s head began to grow back into existence.
This kid is a monster, Tiberius thought. He’d borrowed the power of their E-rank member.
Still, even if the red-haired climber wasn’t out of the match, the kid still—at least, momentarily—didn’t have a head.
Tiberius kicked the boy in the stomach, knocking him out of his way.
Tiberius rushed the girl.
“Out of my way!” he shouted.
The girl lay on top of the bomb and wouldn’t move.
He didn’t have time to waste.
Tiberius had to defuse the bomb.
He stabbed the girl in the back and kept thrusting his blade into her over and over.
The E-rank girl cried out in pain, but she didn’t shatter away from the simulation.
Three seconds until the bomb went off.
Why won’t you die!?
Two seconds.
Tiberius stabbed the girl again and again.
One second.
54
A huge explosion went off and a set of words rushed across all the contestants retinas and the individual mana screens of the audience members.
The bomb has been successfully planted.
The human team has won the semi-final round of the United Floors Alliance Tournament!
All across the arena, the spectators were stunned.
Hermia nudged Regulus.
“Don’t forget you’re the host of the tournament,” she hissed. “You need to announce the winners.”
Regulus was still bracing from the shock.
The whole arena was.
It looked so clearly as if the human team was going to lose and then they completely turned the tables with a simple but effective strategy.
The bull-headed rush into the bombsite area was one distraction on top of another. First, Max had shadow blinked and caught them off guard. Then, came the reinforcements of Blake and Casey. Followed by the arrival of Harold.
By that point, both team’s numbers had whittled down, which meant none of them paid attention to the lone human E-ranker planting the bomb.
It was a truly magnificent performance.
Regulus wiped his eyes and sighed.
“Alright, where’s my mic?” he said, looking around. “Let’s go tell the world that humanity is heading to the final round of the tournament for the first time in decades.”
An oppressive silence filled the Caesarian team’s locker room.
They all sat there, drowning in the knowledge of their defeat.
Cicero pounded his fist against a locker.
“We had them,” he seethed.
The defeat was a bitter one. They had been so close, they could almost taste the feeling of victory. To have it snatched away so suddenly and violently was an awful and devastating sensation.
They all turned to look at Tiberius.
The captain.
The leader.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” hissed Hadriana. “We lost. To bloody humans too. We’re a disgrace.”
“We would’ve been fine,” said Marcellus. “If you lot had done your job.”
“Easy for you to say,” replied Cicero. “When you’re hiding out from a building away!”
The team was turning on each other.
Blaming one another for their loss.
Tiberius simply leaned his head and sighed, contentedly.
The harsh words of his comrades faded away as he thought over the round.
Part of him was as confused as Cicero was.
Why aren’t I more pissed off?
Had I received some form of brain damage during the fight?
He crossed his arms and—to his own disbelief—he couldn’t help but smile.
He kept playing the match over in his head.
The red-haired kid, the E-rank girl. The entire human team. They were fighting for each other. For those they cared about. He could see it in their eyes.
It was different from his own.
He had been fighting for those he hated. To prove those he detested wrong.
He found solace as he considered the human team.
Despite his teammates bickering all around him, Tiberius didn’t feel like a winner or a loser right then.
He felt like something that had been burdening him had finally disappeared.
The weight of years of pent-up and violent spite had exited his mind and soul.
Tiberius had the human team to thank for that.
He leaned his head against the lockers and sighed once more with contentment.
The human team was too exhausted to congratulate one another or celebrate.
They sat in the locker room, grinning to one another.
“Who knew a full-frontal attack with multiple human meat shields would work so well,” smiled Casey.
“It seems odd to me that the two people in our team who can regenerate their flesh were not the first people to get sacrificed,” Blake teased.
“You gotta save the most prized sacrificial lamb for last,” laughed Sarah, joining in.
“Can we collectively stop referring to ourselves as human sacrifices?” said Max. “I feel like it can’t be good for team morale.”
“Says the guy who came up with the strategy,” snickered Harold, before changing the subject. “But Max is right. We have bigger things to think about.”
Everyone grinned.
“We’re going to the finals!” they all cheered.
Blake stood up and wiped his forehead with a towel.
“Alright, shall we shower and then go check out our competition?” said Blake.
Everyone agreed and went off to take a well-deserved shower.
When they were all dressed and ready to go, they stepped out of their locker rooms and asked one of the arena staff members where they could go and watch the second semi-final match of the day.
“Oh,” stammered the staff member. “It’s already over.”
“How can that be?” asked Max. “It’s been like ten minutes since we finished ours. Maybe fifteen tops.”
The staff member shrugged. “The rounds were decisive.”
“Who won?” asked Blake.
“Team Mercenary,” said the staff member.
The team went quiet as they took in this information.
It was confirmed there and then.
They now knew who they’d be facing in the final round of the tournament.
55
The next day, Max woke up and found the rest of the team sitting in the outpost’s common room around the coffee table.
There were mugs of coffee and a basket full of croissants and fruit.
“Morning sleepyhead,” smiled Casey. “Sarah and I went out and picked up breakfast for everyone.”
“They picked good,” smiled Blake, munching on a chocolate croissant. “This is my second.”
“I hope you saved me some,” said Max.
“Of course,” said Sarah. “If anyone was going to eat everyone’s breakfast it’s Toto over there.”
Toto was sitting between two couch cushions, gorging on a croissant. The gerbil was covered in crumbs.
“Sit down,” said Harold, lifting up his mug of coffee. “We’re discussing the best way to prepare for the final round of the tournament.”
Max sat down beside Casey and poured himself a mug of coffee and picked up a pecan pastry.
As he munched on his yummy food and sipped on his warm coffee, Harold explained the final round of the tournament to them.
“The final round of the tournament is a series of one-on-one matches,” said Harold. “Starting with the team’s E-rankers and working upwards towards the team’s A-rankers. It’s a best three out of five, so it’s possible to win the tournament with neither teams B-ranker or A-rankers facing off.”
Max gulped.
He was thinking through the different bizarre members of the mercenary team, trying to recall which one was their C-ranker.
The one he’d have to fight.
Then he grimaced as he remembered.
It was that weirdo, who wore a jumpsuit like he was a little kid, but was actually a deranged middle-aged man.
“I’ve gathered a bit of intel of the previous semi-final match for us to go over,” said Harold. “We’ll have to curate each of our training to prepare for our opponents.”
Max raised his hand and Harold gestured for him to speak.
“Your plan sounds good, Harold,” said Max.
“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”
“But,” grinned Max. “I have an idea for optimizing our chance at victory even more.”
“Go on,” said the old man, an amused smile on his face.
“So, my current stats have me currently just barely in C-rank,” said Max. “And I imagine quite a few of us are in a similar boat. Wouldn’t it make strategic sense to grow our stats to the maximum we’re allowed to have without being disqualified.”
“You mean like get as close to ranking up as possible without actually ranking up?” asked Casey.
“Exactly.”
“Bear in mind, guys,” said Blake. “That we only have a week to prepare.”
“Funny you say that,” Max grinned. “It’s not like we don’t have someone who can manipulate time on our team, do we?”
Harold smiled and nodded.
A new training regimen was about to begin.
Over the next few days, the human team traveled down to the misty mountain floor where Max and Harold had trained a few weeks prior.
There in the same spot where Max and the old man had traded blows within his temporal defensive radius, Harold followed a similar training regimen with all four members of their team.
Each member would gain at least a few days training within a ten-second period, while Harold was training all four of them for multiple days within a single hour.
Yet, the old man showed no signs of straining.
In fact, it was everyone else who was exhausted after their “ten-second” time loop with the old man.
As they switched on and off, they went over the opponents on the mercenary team.
The E-ranker was a bizarre girl named Winifred. Race unknown. She had long stringy hair that covered her face and she wore a long t-shirt that was moldy and full of stains. They were pretty sure she had the ability to control spirits.
The D-ranker was a boy named Kai. Again, race unknown, but he seemed to come from some kind of race of fish people as he looked as if he had gills on his bare chest.
Then there was the C-ranker, the deranged man known as The Toddler. Race and ability unknown.
The B-ranker was even more wrapped in mystery. The figure was completely cloaked. No one knew anything about them.
Finally, there was the team’s A-ranker and leader. It was the old woman known as Mother. Once again, her ability unknown.
“Well, this is great news for Sarah and Casey,” sighed Max. “They’re the only members whose abilities we truly understand and can prepare for.”
“Yes, this team has played the tournament with great intelligence,” Blake observed. “They made sure to use as little of their abilities as possible as a way of not letting their next opponent’s gain any advantage over them.”
A huge gasp of air emerged as Sarah collapsed on the ground in front of Harold.
“Next,” shouted the old man.
Max walked up to face the man and continue the training.
“Will you be okay, Harold?” asked Max, readying to spar with the man.
He smiled. The man had been training what for him must’ve been days, if not weeks, and he didn’t even look like he’d broken a sweat.
“I’ll be fine,” Harold smiled. “Besides with the training you’re getting, we might win the tournament before my final round.”
Max wasn’t sure if that convinced him, but then he wasn’t sure what to say either. This had been his idea for training, but he was beginning to worry about the toll it might take on the old man.
Harold took a fighting position.
“Stop wasting time,” said Harold. “Those stats aren’t going to raise themselves.”
Mother sat with her team in a penthouse suite at the edge of the Caesarian capital.
The rest of her team stood around a table, silent and brooding.
“Why so somber, my darlings?” said the old woman. “Everything is going according to plan. In a few days time, we’ll have achieved so much of what we’ve been working towards.”
Kai, the team’s D-ranker, crossed his arms.
“I’ve received intel on the human team. They seem to be training harder than ever. Do you think they’re going to get in the way?”
Mother shook her head. “They can train all they want. It’s already too late. They’re done for. All of them.
Mother leaned back in her chair and smiled to herself.
It was all coming together, she thought. I can’t wait to see all the petrified faces of the different tower races when our plan comes to fruition.
They’re so weak the members of this alliance. They’ll be shown how complacent and pathetic they’ve become.
They won’t know what hit them.
Max collapsed on the ground.
His body ached. He was sweating. He wasn’t sure how much more training he could take.
“Don’t worry,” said the old man, looming above him. “Check your stats. That should do it.”
Max gasping for breath called his profile and looked them over.
Name: Max Rainhart
Rank: C
Trait (Unique): Mimic. Unleash the last move you were hit with at double the power.
You may choose to retain five abilities you’re hit with, adding it to your arsenal of attacks at double the power.
You can now fuse two abilities together to create a new ability. You're able to test and see the new ability, but once gaining the ability you lose the original two abilities in exchange for the newly created ability.
Ability Slot: Shadow Blink (Rare)
Ability Slot: Chain Lightning (Rare)
Ability Slot: Phase-Out (Uncommon)
Ability Slot: Flame Katana (Rare)
Ability Slot: Temporal Defense (Unique)
Strength: 70
Agility: 70
Endurance: 70
Mana Affinity: 70
Passive Skills:
Kokoro (Warrior Spirit)
Max looked at the stats with amazement. They were all one stat point away from ranking up to B-rank.
It was incredible.
At his current levels, he could bend mid-level magical weaponry with his bare hands. His punches could rip through the flesh of D-rank monsters with ease. At top speed, he could move with the lightning quickness of
a bullet.
His body ached and throbbed.
At first, he thought it was because of the pain from all the training.
But that wasn’t the case.
His body was aching due to all the new strength and power coursing through him.
On the evening before the final round of the United Floors Alliance tournament, no one in the capital city of Caesaria had seen the human team.
Orders had come from the highest levels of the Caesarian administration that all civil servants and guards on duty must report a sighting of the human team at once.
They wanted the final round tomorrow to go off without a hitch.
The humans having completely disappeared for multiple days did not bring them any relief.
Two guards stood by the arrival teleporter of the Caesarian floor.
“You think the humans ran off?” asked the first guard. “Scared of that mercenary team.”
“Nah,” said the second guard. “If they disappeared it’s because someone killed them. Murdered them in their sleep.”
“That would be disappointing,” replied the first guard. “I put a bet down on the human team.”
The two guards sighed and stared out at the setting sky across the capital city.
BOOM!
Both guards jumped in fright and turned around to see five people had just emerged from the arrival teleporter behind them.
The five members of the human team.
Their clothing was torn. Their faces were covered in dirt and scratches. They looked ragged all over and yet they were also emitting a palpable level of determination and power.
The guards looked at them, stunned.
Like they were witnessing monsters hatching from eggs.
The humans all looked significantly more powerful than they had when they first arrived a few weeks prior.
Was this the same scrappy human team that had clawed their way to the top?
The human team nodded to the two guards and walked out into the city.
“Well, they look ready to fight,” said the first guard.