by Wolfe Locke
“Going somewhere?” Blackthorn asked. He pointed, “The bathroom’s that way.”
“Oh,” I said. “No, I’m not going there. I’m going down to the Arena.”
“Autographs?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I want to fight.”
The goat-man’s jaw dropped. “You? Fight? You’re joking, right?”
“Nope.” I wish I was.
Was this a bad idea? The expression on Blackthorn’s face was telling me that it might be a bad idea.
“With what weapon?” he asked.
I held up my trusty bat in response, tapping it against my shoulder. “Napoleon is handy too.”
“You can’t bring a pet into the Arena.”
“Oh,” I said, a little deflated. I was used to fighting with Napoleon at my side. “Will you watch him, then?”
“You’re really doing this?” he asked, looking as though he considered me dead already.
“Yeah, I don’t have much of a choice,” I started to explain. Catching myself, I just simplified it. “I have to talk to that True John guy.”
“You’re going to die,” the goat-man said, no question of whether what he said was right or wrong in his voice. “But sure, I’ll watch the Mimic.”
“Buy him some popcorn?” I asked. The goatman looked like he was gonna refuse, but then I pointed toward his own bucket. “I think he really wants some of yours.”
With that, I jogged down the stadium steps and toward the guard who was standing at the edge of the Arena, keeping fans out.
“Hey,” I said, waving. “How do I sign up?”
“For the Games?” he asked as he looked me up and down.
“Yeah.” To be fair, I would question myself if I were in his position.
He looked puzzled. “I don’t know. No one’s ever tried to do that before. You’d have to be crazy to volunteer.”
“Well, maybe I’m crazy.” No maybe about it. “I want to compete. I think I can win.”
He looked me over and chuckled. “Your funeral, buddy. If you want to go up against these guys, I’m not going to stop you. Might be entertaining.”
The guard stepped aside, and I looked at him blankly.
“Jump over,” he ordered, sounding impatient.
“Oh, okay then.” I lifted myself over the side of the Arena with difficulty.
My gut got stuck on the wall for a second, and the guard snickered, “Going to win, huh?”
“Yep, believe it or not, I’ve got a chance.”
“Sure. The rest of the fighters are through that gate, resting up. The next fight starts in about twenty minutes. Head over that way and join them,” the guard informed me.
I jogged through the gate he’d indicated. This was great. I could get in, talk to the True John, persuade him to join up with the Crusaders, and get out. I might not even have to fight at all. Honestly, I was getting a little sick of fighting at this point.
The warriors were all inside a dark and smelly room doing push-ups, sit-ups, all the other kinds of “ups”. It was kind of like what I did with the Crusaders in training, except they were actually good at it. The True John was the only one not participating. He was lying on a bench at the end of the room, staring at the ceiling with his hands clasped behind his head. I walked up to him.
“Hey,” I said, approaching him, “True John.”
He looked directly at me... and promptly ignored me. I already didn’t like this guy, and he wasn’t making a great second impression.
“True John,” I said a little louder. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
“After the battle,” he growled back.
Chills ran down my back. “What?”
“We can talk after the battle. I don’t speak to anyone before I fight. It throws off my game,” he explained.
I pursed my lips, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on.“But with what I have to tell you, you might not have to fight at all—”
“Silence!” the True John bellowed, and I backed off. Some people.
I moved over to the wall and sat down on the floor, watching everyone else train. This meant I had to actually join the battle though, and I wasn’t keen on doing that. On the other hand, maybe I could get something out of it. These guys were better fighters than I was. Maybe I could trail along behind them like a hyena, picking off the dying monsters that they’d almost killed. It would be easy pickings. I could probably power level myself pretty easily if I did that.
The war horns blared again, and everyone stood up at once.
“Time to go,” the True John snapped. “You too, new guy.”
I looked around. I didn’t have any armor. I didn’t have my Mimic. I didn’t have anything but my bat. No one was offering me any additional weapons, either. Well, that just meant it was time to put my master plan in action.
I followed the rest of the Armored Brigade out into the Arena where a group of gnarly looking lizard-monsters were already waiting for us. I squinted. Blinding lights flashed in my eyes as the announcer bellowed our names. I continued to squint.
The Black Tournament hadn’t had this level of production value. Why did the demi-humans get all the bells and whistles?
They fanned out to attack their opponents, each warrior choosing a monster. The True John picked the monsters’ leader, naturally. Ugh. That guy. I backed up against the wall of the arena, trying to stay out of the way.
“What’s going on, man?” the same guard who’d let me in asked. “I thought you wanted to fight.”
“I do want to fight,” I said, looking around at the arena. I waved a hand toward him. “I’ll start in a minute.”
Well, maybe it would take a little bit longer than a minute. The lizard-monsters looked poisonous. The last thing I wanted was to get a leg full of venom and spend the rest of the battle dying in agony as my flesh slowly disintegrated.
“Well, start soon,” the guard said. “You’re making me look like an idiot for letting you through.”
I looked up higher in the stands. Two other guards were glaring at us, arms crossed. They looked like my guard’s bosses.
“Yeah,” I said, scanning the Arena again. “I’m looking for my opening.”
Then, I saw my chance. One of True John’s armored guys had stabbed a lizard in the throat, then left it to die. I approached it, bat clenched tight in my sweaty palms.
“Kill it!” the guard shouted. “Kill it, kill it, kill it!”
I heard you the first three times! I glared over my shoulder. “I’m on it.”
I poked the lizard with the end of the bat experimentally. It hissed and raised its head, but it was too weak to attack.
Excellent. This was my moment.
I smashed it in the head, and it roared back, severely pissed off. It wasn’t dead yet, so I smashed it even harder. Then hard, and again, and again. Once more for good measure. Green lizard blood flew everywhere as I bashed its skull in. I could hear Blackthorn in the stands cheering.
“Go, orc, go!” he said, giving me a thumbs up. “First one down. Keep it up!”
Notification – Level Up
Details: Player has executed move “Fell the Fallen Foe” and gained a level. +1 Strength, +1 Agility, +1 Magic. Additional kills will level the player up further.
I didn’t love the name “Fell the Fallen Foe”, but I’d take it. I could feel myself get just a bit tougher and faster as Lirai announced my new level. With the lizard monster dead on the ground in front of me, I looked around for more.
It turned out that the Armored Brigade was pretty good at almost killing monsters, but they weren’t so great at actually killing them. I was able to pick up a few more kills like that and, with it, a few more levels. Was it just me or had my gut gone down by an inch or two? Maybe it was just me.
“Power level, baby!” I shouted, and the other warriors turned around to look at me.
“Why are you even here?” the True John said. “You clearly don’t want to fight with the rest of us.�
�
Ouch. He wasn’t wrong, though. I didn’t really want to be part of their little cool kids’ club.
“Are they ready?” the announcer shouted, as the Arena went dark again. “For the NEXT ROUND?!”
There were more rounds? I honestly thought we were done. Was I ever going to get out of here?
“How many of these do we have to do?” I asked.
The True John sneered. “Three. Tired already? What kind of warrior are you?”
“I never claimed to be any kind of warrior. I just came down to talk to you,” I stated again.
“After the battle,” he said, holding up an armored hand to stop me. “I can only focus on one thing at a time.”
“There’s a word for that,” I muttered, but I didn’t push him. If I wanted him to join the Crusaders, I still had to at least try to be polite.
The gate on the other end of the Arena swung open, and three centaurs galloped out. These weren’t like the centaur I’d seen outside of Live, Laugh, Love Home Goods, though. That guy had been tough, but you could reason with him. These were barbaric-looking animals with horse-like faces. Their arms were streaked with blood and gore, and foam dripped from their long yellow teeth.
Each of them carried a massive bow and a quiver full of gnarled-looking arrows. Immediately, they all started firing them wildly as soon as they entered the Arena. I dove to the ground and covered my head. The other warriors looked at me, disgusted.
“You have armor,” I pointed out, finding myself quite reasonable. “I’ve got nothing.”
Hey, it was true.
The centaurs’ arrows just bounced off the Brigade’s golden mail. I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky if I got hit with one of those things. I could always reincarnate, but then I’d just have to turn around and come all the way back here. I knew that Edgar wouldn’t be satisfied until I brought the True John to the Republic.
I did the same thing with the centaurs as I had with the lizards, ignoring the others’ judgmental looks. If they wanted me to stop killing their monsters for the experience, they should actually finish their work instead of leaving them half-alive.
Each time I took out a centaur, Lirai popped up in my head.
Notification – Level Up
Details: Player has executed move “Fell the Fallen Foe” and gained a level. +1 Strength, +1 Agility, +1 Magic. Additional kills will level the player up further.
I could feel myself getting stronger and faster with every level. I knew I wasn’t imagining it this time, either: I was definitely losing weight. Maybe I’d have that six-pack by Christmas after all. You never knew.
“Get it, orc!” Blackthorn shouted, and I could hear Napoleon cheering along. It felt good to know that my little buddy was on my side. He wasn’t mad at me for abandoning him with the goatman. I looked up. He had a bucket of popcorn in one meaty paw and yet another hot dog in the other. Blackthorn was taking care of him.
“Orc?” a dying centaur croaked at my feet. “You’re no orc. Who said you’re an orc?”
I beat his skull in with my bat. I could be an orc if I wanted to.
“Are they ready?!” the announcer boomed. “For the! FINAL! ROUND?!”
Honestly, I was ready. I didn’t care what the True John or his goons thought. I was playing the game the way I wanted to play it, and it was working out for me. I’d gained a ton of levels already, and I was set to gain more in this round. I could take on whatever the Arena threw at me.
The gate rolled open, and a pack of giant spiders rolled out. I screamed.
“Scared of bugs?” the True John scoffed.
“Just spiders,” I admitted. Their opinion was already as low as it could be, so I just muttered to myself, “Why did it have to be spiders?”
I hated spiders. They’d always creeped me out. I’d hated them when the big rat-sized ones infested my house, and I intensely hated these as well. There was a big difference, though… these were the size of ponies.
“Just wait for the rest of us to take them out,” he said mockingly. “You can swoop in and steal the kill.”
Seriously, what was this guy’s problem? He was needlessly confrontational. Was he going to try to take over the Republic of Dan when we got back?
Somehow, I suspected that I knew the answer to that question... and the answer was yes. Jackass.
I punched a dying spider in the head and imagined it was the True John’s face. It was satisfying enough, right until I hit my way through its exoskeleton and my hand ended up covered in spider juice. Ugh. Just my luck.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Shifting Priorities
* * *
We beat our way through the spiders pretty easily with the True John making most of the kills. I prowled around on the sidelines like an oversized vulture, taking out any monsters left alive. There weren’t many, but I made the most of it. Had to get my levels up somehow.
When the Arena was finally clear, the announcer bellowed out the score as a seizure-inducing light show flickered in the stands. I closed my eyes until the strobe lights were done. Those things always made me sick. Overall, though, I was feeling pretty good. I had some real achievements to show the other Crusaders when I got back. Something to be proud of.
“Can we talk now?” I asked the True John. He looked at me with distaste.
“Fine,” he growled, spitting at my feet. “What do you want?”
I kicked dirt on top of the loogie, shrugging at the weird look he gave me. Hey, I’ve got a job to do. You’re just making it difficult. “I talked to a prophet today, and he told me that you were our savior. Mentioned you specifically by name, if you would believe it.”
He looked surprised and pleased. Flattery is the key to a lot of things, I guess.
“Go on,” he said, wiping blood from his sword. “Who is this prophet you speak of, and who’s ‘we’?”
“I’m representing an organization called the Crusaders,” I started to explain, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.
Okay, so maybe I was exaggerating a little bit. I wasn’t technically ‘representing’ anyone. Edgar sent me to talk to the prophet, and then I went rogue. But I got the sense that the True John was the kind of guy who only spoke to people he considered important enough to be worth his time.
“The Crusaders,” he said, looking thoughtful. “I think I may have heard of them.”
“Yeah, well, they were all over the Black Tournament. I don’t know why they didn’t recruit you. They recruited me.”
“They recruited you?” he asked, his eyes squinting dangerously. “Why would they want you and not me? You’re... well, just look at you.”
“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging while letting the insult fade away. “Maybe you pissed the wrong person off? Maybe you needed to ripen in the other tournaments first? Who am I to know? All I know is that I’m here now, and I was sent to come get you. That is if you want to sign up.”
“I don’t know,” he looked around at the others nearby, picking something out of his teeth with his pinkie. Once he got it, he flicked it towards another fighter. “What does it entail? Because if it’s not something good, I’m going to have to refuse. I like the Games.”
“You like the Games?” I asked, incredulous. Stay cool, calm, and collected, Dan.
“That’s what I said, right?” He looked around, getting nods from other people. He started to hold up fingers as he listed off all the perks the Games had. “There’s a regular schedule, clean food, paleo, believe it or not, a good weight room, something to work toward… The list goes on,” he said, shrugging. “You wouldn’t get it, you see, because I can tell just by looking at you that you wouldn’t understand. You’re not the kind of guy. Though don’t take this the wrong way, tt takes all types.”
Oh, whatever. This guy sucked. He probably did CrossFit in his pre-apocalyptic life. Maybe, just maybe, he even ate Soylent for lunch and thought he was changing the world one shitty app at a time. He thought he knew me? Well, I definitely knew hi
m .
“Yeah, sure, it takes all types,” I said, ignoring the growing internal frustration. “Well, anyways, about the Crusade. You thought the Apocalypse we’re in now was the big one? Well, you’re wrong. This thing is just getting started. We’re in for worse, a whole lot worse, if we don’t get moving. The real apocalypse is on the way. The Crusaders are the organization that’s going to stop it.” I wanted to hold my breath, close my eyes, do anything but look at him. However, I kept my face straight and asked him, “Do you want to come along?”