AA. 86 (Patreon)

“Nil!” Adam beckoned Nil over when he arrived at Wilson Ludus Wembley. It was the day of his match, and it wasn’t until four in the afternoon. So, he had arrived after a long morning of exercising and cultivating. The latter left him reinvigorated instead of tired, and he could feel his Finesse attribute on the verge of a breakthrough.

“Fancy seeing you here, Adam,” Nil said, shaking the giant brute’s hands. He had tiny bony grows on his knuckles and elbows. He also spotted tiny white growths along his lower jaw. Nil guessed they were products of his power’s ascension to Iron Realm. “Do you have a match today, too?”

Adam nodded, grinning. “I’m going for my fifth Gauntlet of Ten win. Big rewards. Big advertising deals.” The taller man scanned beyond Nil. “Are you here alone?”

Nil nodded. “I haven’t had the time to befriend the other Irons at my ludus, and Lily is taking it slow with the ordinary point system. She’s nowhere near Bronze and in no hurry. What about you?”

“Selia is around here somewhere,” he replied, shrugging. “She claimed she had some work to do and disappeared. Her ability and general Selianess make it difficult to keep track of her. She’s been following your arena career and all the vids, you know?”

“I had no idea,” Nil stated. He scanned their surrounding for her, too. The last time he encountered the woman, she stated that they’d be living in the same ludus soon, suggesting she, too, worked for the Nexus. He guessed her claims and experience with Symbiotech made her a valuable agent and hire. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the time to check out anyone’s matches. I really should if we end up facing each other in the arena.”

“With an entire multiverse of opponents out there, that’s unlikely unless you specifically challenge someone. You’re chasing the Gauntler of Ten, aren’t you?”

Nil nodded. “Match number four. I’m feeling good about this one.” His hand gravitated toward his navel. He had brought Meatball with him and had no plans on using her. She was still a newborn and didn’t seem to have any combat abilities. It felt wrong to throw a baby into a life combat scenario even though she wouldn’t die as long as he lived. However, her presence reassured him. Nil didn’t feel alone. Unlike the visage, she was a warm, reassuring presence, not just a blank, empty existence. “My body is near Bronze Realm. So, I expect the foes to get harder.”

“It certainly was a big jump.” Adam nodded. “I achieved my body ascension just after my second match, and things got significantly harder. The third was close, and then I almost lost the last one. The last couple of quests helped me get a handle on my new sub-ability. So, hopefully, this one won’t be terrible.”

“My last one didn’t go particularly well either,” Nil said. “I was pretty sure I was going to lose. My understanding of my abilities has improved significantly since. Hopefully, that’ll help with this one. I don’t want to sound too confident and then get proven the fool.”

“I learned that lesson from watching Iqbal. She had two amazing wins. It wasn’t even close. Girly absolutely destroyed her opponents and even had a couple of sponsorship offers.” Adam sighed. “Then, she got absolutely wrecked in her third match and almost died.”

Nil’s phone buzzed. It was an alarm. “I should get going,” he said. “It’s time.”

“Go on, mate. I’m rooting for you.” 

Wilson Luduses took full advantage of their vast property and had lounges dedicated to viewing arena matches. They had attached bars, cafes, and even a food court. Nil walked past them to the more private section for people who had pre-registered for matches. After a short wait, he was teleported to the backrooms of Apocalypse Arena.

While the Nexus's interior reminded Nil of photos of the Taj Mahal or Hagia Sophia, the backrooms gave him More of a gladiatorial feel. Schema prompts directed him toward his personal dressing room while narrow corridors full of weapons, armor, and other tool rental merchants beckoned him. Other Summoned walked by, but none made eye contact with the other. Cries of pain echoed from an infirmary, and a slamming door cut them off abruptly. It was a far more stern environment than anything Nil had encountered before.

Your belt and its contents have been approved. Your match will commence in thirty minutes. Please use the time to equip yourself and prepare for teleportation.

“Look where you’re going, fuck face,” a skinny man just in front of Nil snapped. A behemoth of the person stood before him. The strips of cloth wrapped around their face, neck, forearms, and hands covered every bit of their skin, hiding all identifiable features. The size and bulging muscles didn’t seem to discourage the smaller individual. “What? Not going to apologize?” A ghostly blade materialized in his hands. “Gonna say something, bruv? Or do I—”

A wall rose from the ground between them as he stepped forward, and a humanoid entity of stone stepped out of it. “You will stand down or be disqualified,” it said in an inhuman voice as a voice formed. The eye and mouth holes emitted light so bright it was like looking directly at the sun. “Pick your next words and steps carefully.”

The skinny man’s face contorted into an expression of rage, teeth bared, jaws clenched, and knuckles white. Then, he took a step back. The blade dissolved, and he grinned. “I was just playing around.” He turned on his heel and walked away, heading to one of the armor-renting stalls. “Just tell the dope to look where they’re going. I was nice enough to ask for an apology. A Scourge Champion might chop them to bits and ask questions later.”

When the wall melted away, Energy Instinct highlighted the Cursed Energy seeping through the cloth strips covering the giant. It was far more dense than what Fatima had contained. In fact, the purity and density of it reminded Nil more of the Scourge Champion and what Symbiotech had stored in their secret room. It was likely the mouthy idiot and just pissed off the wrong person.

The bandaged face moved, and Nil was sure the behemoth was now studying him. He ignored them and followed the Schema interface to his personal changing room. It was a significantly larger and better-furnished space than what the Pits organizers had offered him during his first outing as a Summoned fighter. The space seemed to get bigger and better furnished with each win.

It featured a shower with no head. Instead, it rained from the ceiling when Nil stuck his arm in. There was a small pool full of scented water, too. A variety of clothing ranging from camo pants and t-shirts to shirts and kilts, and even karate gis hung in a closet. There was also a small lounger for resting, and there was a table of fresh fruit next to it.

Nil didn’t have time to avail any of the privileges. Instead, he swiftly changed into his battle outfit. Originally, he wanted to wear nothing but cargo shorts and his belt. Most clothing didn’t survive once the battle started. The durable shorts he wore were from a store in Wilson Ludus’ lobby. He had purchased it after his standard sportswear all but fell apart during his first match. The garment still struggled to hold up under the effects of Expend, and it was his third and last piece. 

The cargo shorts came down to his knees, and Nil fastened them with the belt he received from Symbiotech. The buckle carried their symbol, but he hit it with his vest. Nil saw no point in wearing a top. It would inevitably get shredded during combat. He only did it at Festus’ insistence. 

A good chunk of viewers liked it when Nil’s clothing ripped during combat, especially when he released an explosion of energy from his torso using Expend. Susan joked that he looked seamy after the act and probably got a lot of women all hot and bothered. Nil doubted it was true. Visually appealing abilities often excited the audience, and Nil believed it was just that. 

Once changed, Nil let Meatball out to explore. Luminous plants decorated the room’s border. They grew out of rectangular patches cut into the marble floor. Dark, damp soil filled them. The Ironroot Whelp made a beeline for the plants and played in the dirt while Nil cultivated.

“Stay close,” he told the whelp. “We’re not going to stay here for long.”

Energy Instinct told him that the plants emitted Qi the same way the new flora in his room did, but the energy in the backrooms was purer and denser. The tiger had a considerably easier time wading through the obstacles created by them. However, its strength and ability to cut through the reeds seem to have increased. It didn’t help that the obstacles regrew whenever they passed through his navel. Nil circulated until the timer was just about to hit zero. Nil returned his spirit companion to his core just before the teleportation.

The arena construct dropped him off in the middle of an old temple courtyard. The architecture was similar to that of the estate in his last quest but appeared made of stone, metal, and ancient materials Nil had no means to identify. It had the standard luminous flora of a world ravaged by a magic cataclysm, and rain pelted Nil within seconds of arrival. Instead of a dome, a cylindrical barrier surrounded the battlefield. Nil stood in a similarly shaped beam of silvery green light, and another stood in the distance. Unlike his, it had a pretty blue hue.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!”

The familiar announcer’s voice filled Nil’s ears.

“Two new Iron Gauntlets favorites facing off? Exciting, isn’t it?”

Nil found it fascinating how the arena construct controlled what information reached the fighters and was nearly omnipotent. According to Andrew, the Pits organizers used hidden cameras and drones to record and broadcast matches. The arena construct used no such tools. Instead, it provided multiple views to the viewers outside. There was the classic top-down and point of view of each participant. Then, people could see a third-person view from over the fighter’s shoulder or behind them.

Before becoming an arena fighter, Nil only ever saw the curated and edited recordings posted online. Seeing all the available data and discovering how much Festus had to dig through to put together the cinematic pieces that he showcased on his channel won the man Nil’s respect. It was far more work, skill, and talent than Nil imagined.

“We have Nil Roy, the explosive pugilist in the green pillar! He had a close call during his last match but surprised us all with a crushing victory. The construct tells us he has grown considerably stronger and more dangerous since his last match, but that’s yet to be seen. Standard physical fighters like him don’t seem to have much of a chance, so finding decent opponents for him is an incredible challenge.”

“In the blue pillar, we have none other than Francesca Ricci, Daughter of Venice, Chosen by the Tides! This is her second attempt at the Gauntlet of Ten, and it's her tenth match. She’s on a mad winning streak but almost fell during her last match. The talk in the backrooms is that her last win was pure luck. Will that prove true? Will Francesca Ricci complete the Gauntlet of Ten and move on to the Bronze Gauntlet, or has she met her match? Get your bets in, folks. This is going to be a good one!”

The beams disappeared as soon as the announcer finished her spiel. The rain splattering against Nil’s clothes intensified. He was drenched through his vest straight away. Fortunately, his belt and shorts proved waterproof. After his first arena match, he had chosen to fight shoeless and, for the first time, regretted it. The courtyard's stony floor was wet and slick from the rain. He took a moment to wiggle his toes and get used to the feeling of the ground under his feet before taking off running. Nil kept Absorb on and didn’t bother supercharging. At a Spark of Iron-Eight, Brutal Battery’s stores were massive, but he refused to waste any energy. A combatant in their tenth Gauntlet of Ten match was bound to be formidable.