Dark and damp, fire and lamp, these together leave man a lamb. Bridge, ditch, cave, den, they come from the ridges, those liches, so crave and out of ken. Too, men have pleaded, yet their calls do naught, only catch and enthrall attention unneeded. Strong and lost, their place was wrong, their strength exhaust. But they fought not knowing that they were the reason, their power a beacon. For hungry powers long forgot.

- Script carved in the Rever Ice, 1st of the highest peaks.

There was a sureness to his movements, even in the simple act of rising. Less instinctive than the effects he gained through the familiar bond, less primal. It was cleaner, sterile, but in a good way. Precise. Precise in a way that was extremely organic. He couldn't describe it better any other way.

His hearing was... different. It wasn't that he could hear better. But more along the lines of him being able to focus better, to pick and listen to certain sounds. At the moment he could hear his breathing companions and the cheering beyond the walls.

His touch wasn't very different. He felt more aware of his own body that he had though. He knew his position, on his back, on the floor. He had given Ace the bed after all.

Smell was hard to determine. Being covered in blood the only thing he smelled was iron.

His vision was clearer, like the others there was a qualative difference, a small improvement and little more efficient, but nothing more. A dirt room, the one he had fallen asleep in. Saga was resting quietly, eyes still open, waiting. Ace gave Luck a glance, extremely more rested than he was before.

"Refreshing wasn't it?"

"Yeah, best sleep I've had since." Luck replied. Yawning, he didn't bother looking at Ace and instead stared at the ceiling. "How long have you been up?"

"Close to an hour." He answered. "I've never slept quite so deeply before. I figure it has something to do with using too much magic yesterday."

"Are you feeling better now? I don't really know if you can feel how much you got in you. Mana, that is." Luck said, still lying on his back.

"I believe i'll be fine." He watched Luck sit up. "You look terrible." was his response.

Luck tilted his head towards the bed. He followed his friend's glance and sighed. His clothes were a bloody mess. But, having nowhere to keep his things, they were needed for their pockets.

"Only two days and I already need new clothes," he said, "and they're my only pair too."

Luck reached into his pocket and pulled something out, then looked to Ace questioningly. "We might as well, we've got time to kill."

"Why not?" He shrugged after a moment, staring at the amber cards.

So two men played poker, just waiting for their turn in the arena. An arena that could very well mean their deaths, where monsters fought, men struggled, and beasts hunted. In a cell they could've left at anytime, all for the sake of helping a young woman who dared to dream. But these men had had full lives, lives they knew caused them to miss many things. And they had regrets. Helping a woman dream her dream would not be one of them. It was never brought up, leaving. Not a single word uttered to suggest such a thing. The men sat on the floor, playing with amber cards.

The first and second hand went to Luck with Ace winning the third. They had no chips, nothing to bet with. So anyone from their world would've been slightly confused at the sight of all the seeds lying around.

The game was one Luck played all the time, the movements, calls, bets, raises and holds were all ingrained into muscle memory. It was easy to let himself autopilot. So he did just that while he talked to Spirit, winning the majority of the hands even so.

Spirit remind me what changed?

The Deep Physical Integration allows me new perceptive inputs other than visual cues and audio. This also enables Pilot Mode, which surrenders control to the SI in dire circumstances. Aside from that, all unlocked inputs are slightly improved and fine tuned.

It's hard to tell, Spirit. Can I pick up certain scents now? Or hear more? With all the blood on me it's hard to smell anything else. And with all the cheering outside even more so.

Your physical perceptions are improved in another direction. Your senses are what they were before albeit with small improvements. The largest change will be in your ability to focus on what is within your perceptive range. A faint smell becomes easier to focus on, a quiet sound, a small blur, a strange taste, all those are degrees easier to center your attention on.

Then scan the room Spirit. Show me how you can use it.

Affirmative.

And immediately, green text wrote itself on the wall, listing its composite materials and properties. A mixture of packed dirt, plant matter, and a type of mud. The metal door at the other end of the room was iron, estimated at fifty years old when constructed. Additional boxes stemmed from the wall, they concerned the cheering outside, and as Luck watched words written in another language filled the box. Common, he realized. He had never seen it written before.

They were phrases he might find in a gladiator movie, ones wishing for death and gore made all the more unsettling given his position.

Pausing, he realized that on his own he could just make out the words. That was more detail than he could ever glean from such a plain room. There were even some things that stemmed from Ace and Saga, some new but not at all surprising. More accurate breathing rates for example, without the question marks that were there previously.

Impressive. Luck replied mentally, looking at Ace.

Losing a hand in the game, he asked him, "When did they start again?"

His concentration left the game for a moment as he focused on what Luck was saying. "I'm not sure they ever stopped. It was still going when I woke up."

Luck frowned. "You think we can do it?" He said, eyes on the cards, focus back.

"We can Lucky." He said, voice soft. "You know, I wanted to get out of my own life before. Live my own dreams. It never quite worked out, but we can be this girl's ticket to her dreams. It's not a big thing, but it's something Lucky."

"Can I ask you something Ace?" Luck said, peeking his cards, a king and two.

"Go ahead." He said, revealing the flop. Two Jacks and a King.

"Why'd you come with me? Back in the church." His eyes were on his friend, and it was uncertain whether they searched his face for curiousity, or for trying to read his cards. "Why'd you believe me?"

Ace didn't reply immediately, matching Luck's bet, raising it even as he revealed the turn, a Jack. A full house for Luck.

"I was done with it." He said, it was an unfinished thought, but Luck inferred much in the long moment before Ace continued. "I was done Luck. Done with it all. I was going to visit the city one last time, visit the only guy I knew my age, then find somewhere quiet. I was done Luck. Then I find you in a church. And you spout fantasy? Luck Lockyer? The Amber Demon? Sure, it was possible you were lying to me. A deception. But it didn't make sense and I had nothing to lose. Why were you there all alone? And you were crying Luck, I don't know if you knew that. But your eyes had the look of man with a family that was alive."

He paused, flipping the river.

The former mercenary showed his cards, meeting Luck's eyes. On the floor in front of him, a pair of Aces. The last card, the river, the final card revealed, was an Ace. A full house stronger than Luck's own. He had won.

"And I thought, why not?" He said, concluding. Luck met his friend's gaze and shared in his smile. "Why not take that chance?"

Luck quietly took the deck from Ace, it being his turn as dealer. "And now?" He asked, dealing out the cards.

Ace looked on, replying only when Luck finished. "And now," he said, "now I think it was the best decision I ever made."

They passed the time in silence. Eventually, their metal door slid open. Saga had developed a keen interest in the game, likely due from the intrinsic trickery and deception that was core to the game. Luck didn't think the shar actually recognized human expressions and the same was true vice versa, so a game involving Saga wouldn't work out, even if he had thumbs. All three inhabitants looked at the opening. Luck's was a look of determination, Ace's was of focus, and Saga's was much the same as a housecat, calm indifference. Wordlessly, Luck tucked the cards in their case, Ace stood up and Saga padded outside, leading the way.

When they arrived Luck barely kept his jaw from falling off. "What the...?"

Ace had the same look. "I know she said tower... but this is something else altogether."

The field they were in was not standard. Once they exited a tunnel they found themselves in a something akin to a paintball field, playground and castle. He kept in mind that it wasn't paint he was seeing splatted across most of the cobblestone walls.

But what made their jaws drop were the sheer number of spectators. They went all the way up the walls, looking down. And if Luck had to guess, then just beyond the walls of his field were more just like it.

"Welcome challengers!" A voice blasted. "Prepare yourselves!"

Pay Heed!

New Quest

The Arena Fields

The Arena Fields is a tower that houses captured monsters and beasts, more dangerous as you ascend in level. With changing battlefields, betting spectators, powerful challengers, and strange beasts, it is a popular attraction. Often, adventurers bound for Ardun try their hand at the tower before departing, they almost always provide an entertaining show. Rewards are given based on success and performance.

Reward:

Variable

"I'm having deja vu." Ace said, mouth somewhere between a grin and a frown. "You don't think it's the same set up as my impartation do you?"

"Probably not." Luck replied. "I have no idea what to expect."

Ace grimaced, but his face went hard. "I find myself similarly clueless."

Luck briefly glanced to Saga, who had looked at him at the same time. The dark green shar had a confident poise about him. It wasn't that he didn't seem worried, only sure that they could overcome whatever was thrown their way. Luck grinned, feeling the changes made to his body through the familiar bond, all the more aware of them after the integration. It likely wouldn't matter but his body was improved in multiple areas by small amounts. Luck could only hope that together they would make a difference.

After a quick discussion it was decided that with his regenerative abilities Luck would make a splendid distraction. He really couldn't argue but the fact he still felt pain was disheartening. Saga expressed a desire to attack from up high so he positioned himself along the mock castle's ramparts. As the main damage dealer Ace would be the most useful up front, but since he had no surefire way of surviving he was put up on the ramparts with Saga.

That left Luck down below, alone with his thoughts.

Pain receptors can be suppressed. Spirit said suddenly.

Luck blinked. What?

Pain receptors can be suppressed, made available through Deep Physical Integration. Pain is a sense linked to touch and as such can be regulated. This feature is warned against for 98% of users. However, Troll's Blood and Exceptional Regeneration negate any risk associated with unfeeling injuries. Such a feature can prove itself very useful if activated. As of currently, it is highly reccommended to be activated. Especially so given imminent proceedings.

I didn't even think of that. Activate it.

Confirmed.

Luck frowned but added, Warn me if anything is about to fall off though, I can't regenerate lost limbs.

It was already the prerogative.

Have you analyzed the effects of Exceptional Regeneration? It was mentioned previously we'd have that capability given the Deep Physical Integration. Luck added as an afterthought.

Effects concerning the regenerative capabilities of Exceptional Regeneration need to be observed in real time.

Fantastic.

Luck sighed. He wasn't about to start cutting himself to find out exactly what it did. But there were a lot of injuries out there. And if he was being blunt, the best approach would be to expose himself to as much types of damage as possible. His body might be changed but he was still undoubtedly human, and that came with an instinctive protection against self-destruction. That meant the only way he was finding anything out was getting hurt in a battle, which he didn't want to do. So far he'd recovered from a stab through the heart and one through the stomach and in less than a few minutes, so he knew that any major organs could likely be recovered. He wouldn't have to fear shifting about if he got stabbed in such a way, but being the heart or lungs might impact his movement. Even as he told himself this, somewhere deep down, he knew that even through the numbed pain receptors some primal part of his mind would scream at him to sit back and recover.

Unfortunately, without time magic there really wasn't anything else he could do. He didn't have a weapon. If he was being generous, maybe, just maybe, he could call his cunning and wit a weapon but even then that didn't really help in an up front battle. He was skilled in hand-to-hand but the chances to fight a humanoid his size was extremely low. His train of thought was cut short.

"The battle has started challengers! Brace yourselves! You face a fire jorth!" The voice boomed again, coming from nowhere and everywhere. It was an announcer's voice that had to be magic, seemingly booming from above, and right beside him at the same time.

Luck did not like that. A fire jorth?

Spirit? He queried. Anything on jorths?

Jorths are physical beasts given elemental qualities. Strong and large, they are capable of high speed charges. Outside of their associated element their mental health tends to decay. Beware their charge and element. They are feared for their physicality and unapproachable nature, a field of magic surrounds them directly component to their element. As a fire jorth this poses an extreme risk. Troll's Blood's regenerative effects will be nullified should you find yourself burned or suffer any lethal cauterized injuries. Proceed with extreme caution.

Perfect, all I have to do is not catch on fire. Luck responded sarcastically, briefly wondering if the effort was wasted. Let me know if anything comes up, I don't see any other way to deal with this except stall for Ace and Saga.

Affirmative. At the expense of other processes complete focus on a single entity is possible, this practice devotes all processing power towards tracking a single target. There are dangers involved however, focus as concentrated as it will be, threats will escape notice easier, and will be unable to be warned against. This risks potential harm for any hazards that escape your own perception.

Activate it Spirit. Luck smirked. It should be the only thing trying to kill me anyways.

The word fire was forboding. He had no experience against it in combat, but fire was his supposed weakness. The regenerative effects from Troll's Blood would be completely negated in the case of burns, additionally, he would burn more easily too. Without a weapon, magic, or healing he was in danger. But Exceptional Regeneration didn't have a weakness to fire, so he would see what he could do.

His clothes were ripped. Zipping up the jacket contained everything on him easily enough but with fire in the picture he took his shirt and jacket off, wrapping his possessions in them and stowing them between some rocks in the side of the arena. They were just broken cobblestone and he doubted anything would really target some unassuming rocks. If he kept away from that side he should be fine. It was done in less than ten seconds but the battle was already upon him.

"Lucky! Behind you!" Ace called, unaware of Luck's very real danger. Immediately he felt the rumbling under his feet.

"And the fire jorth makes its appearance!" The announcer boomed.

Luck spun around, now shirtless, and spotted something coming out from behind a wooden structure. Large. Whatever a jorth was, it was clear to anyone it was a big beast. The type that inspired fear even at rest. But this was a creature of nature, wheter it was on fire or not. The first thing he did was try to communicate with it, but all he got back was rage. With hooves the size of Luck's head, it charged, bursting through the wooden structure, setting it alight. It hadn't even touched the wood before it burst into the flame, such was its heat. Around it the air blurred. And In the next moment wooden shrapnel, set alight, rained.

Immediately data sets sprang from the monster. Its temperature was upwards of four thousand fahrenheit, there was no way he was getting close to that thing. Every stomp rescrambled the numbers concerning its weight, until it settled on six tons, or there abouts. Height, age and other inconsequentials popped up, Spirit was pulling all the stops and Luck couldn't fathom how most of those were determined. One of them, Luck noticed, was that the heat spread around it, but not above it. There was no more time to think, it was coming.

"Keep it moving Lucky! I'll see what I can do!" Ace yelled.

It charged straight for him. Luck steeled himself, he couldn't dodge, the heat around the beast might prove fatal, but he was surrounded by cobblestone structures. He was a sitting duck.

The fire jorth screamed, and Luck felt something through his connection to him. He ignored it, even though he wanted to listen. If Spirit was to believed, then this jorth was probably already insane, kept in captivity for who knows how long. It pained some part of him, but he gritted his teeth, he would die if he let himself get distracted too long. A burst of lightning struck the beast on the side, pushing it aside and off course.

Still it came, and Luck did the only thing he could. He looked around for a way out. There. A hole in the wall. Any normal opponent would have left Luck with more options, but the nearest clear opening was towards the charging beast and Luck didn't feel inclined to figure out how much heat he could take before dying, even if he didn't feel it. He dived through the hole in the wall, passing between nearly two feet of solid stone. He rolled to a sprint behind the cobblestone wall and kept going, his intuition screaming at him to keep moving. His instincts were right, the beast blasted through the wall, destroying it completely.

"A mage! It seems this set of challengers has a lightning mage in their midst. But the man on the ground, what is his plan? It seems the challenger is simply running!" The voice commentated. "But that tactic just won't do! Not against a jorth!" The crowd screamed profanity and death wishes.

"What kind of fire jorth has no fire!" Luck yelled, not for a second wondering if it understood. By the time he finished taunting he was already moving. If the calculations were to be believed it was reaching nearly sixty miles per hour, the number fluctuating even as he read it, accelerating. Luck was only managing to stay ahead everytime a wall broke its momentum, he took as much corners as he could too.

He ran, looking up at the ramparts of the short castle walls, almost twice the height of the fire jorth. Saga was up there. He could feel it. He knew exactly where the shar was. But his familiar was observing, unable to do anything but watch. Ace was further down the wall, and Luck could see a glow coming from that part of the wall. A concentrated blast? Luck didn't spare a moment more to think further, turning a corner, he could feel the heat on his back. But somehow Spirit could tell just how close the jorth was. A number popped up on his bottom left peripheral, easily focused on. That far? And he could feel the heat even now? He probably would have died if not for the natural heat shields the walls provided.

His legs were being pushed as far as they could, but he wasn't tired. They were straining as much as was possible, and yet he still kept his breath. Were his regeneration traits assisting his stamina? If he didn't have that where would he be?

The wall beside him exploded, flames raking his back. He was knocked to the side, but he kept his feet under him. He felt nothing. Was he blacking out? No. Spirit had disabled his pain receptors. His back was burnt, almost completely. The jorth had shot something like a fireball. Except it was heated air. That didn't stop Luck, but his movement was impaired.

"And there you have it! The explosive surge of heat only a jorth of fire can pull off! But, oh? What's this? The challenger stays on his feet completely! Ignoring his burned back! We're in for a show today folks! Hold on to your seats everyone! How long can this man stall for?" The announcer, whom Luck found extremely annoying, spared not a moment to chime in. "Does he plan to stall for his mage? Or perhaps the familiar seen stalking from above? Nonetheless! To stand from that blow is amazing! Keep watching folks!" At that the crowd cheered, some even hoping Luck would live now. It seemed he had earned their favor.

Luck glanced over his shoulder at the beast, not letting the announcer bother him. It had just as much stamina as Luck and was terrible at turns. Luck gathered that much. Instead of rounding a corner the jorth just angled his path and decimated the whole wall. Luck was running out of walls. The debris were enough that the jorth couldn't roast him all at once. Luck was sweating, and from the heat was likely dehydrating extremely fast as wel. He was still running, even now. The jorth followed, keeping itself on a collision course with Luck, whether there be a wall in the way or not. But the number at Luck's peripheral stopped shrinking, and began to grow. Luck glanced backward, the jorth had stopped.

It shook its head, angry, puffing out heat that blurred the air near its head. It was massive, but all that mass was muscle. It rippled as it charged, a movement that looked heavy and slow. Anyone who thought such would probably have died in the next ten seconds. Luck had seen enough nature shows to know that when a rhino charges, it charges.

"The jorth prepares to charge... and there you have it folks! The infamous fire jorth charge!" The jorth's destructive launch was punctuated by the commentator.

Another wall was destroyed sending glowing rocks flying, some smaller ones melting into Luck's arm, superheated as they were. Luck pried them out, stomach slightly turning at his melted skin on both his fingers and arm. The beast was covered in rocks that were sliding off of it, melting right off of its skin. It had just narrowly missed, bashing into the first wall it veered off course and collided with a second wall near enough that Luck felt his hairs singe. Luck was already moving, leading the beast around and to Ace.

It was preparing another charge, foot scraping the ground, ramping up for the movement. Luck felt Saga clearly tense through the bond. The shar was above him, on the ramparts, he had been jumping between ruined walls, keeping track of Luck, waiting for an opening. But there was no opening, not with the heat that came off the beast in waves. And, looking around him, it didn't seem there was a physical one either. Luck was cornered, the only way out was running back to the jorth and turning left at the last second where there was a spot in the wall he could squeeze through. He would have to get very close to the jorth's field for that, and from the distance he felt the heat at earlier, it would likely be suicide. He wouldn't make that window. Not even close. The walls around him were probably the only ones in the whole arena that were still in tact. He had made a mistake. A fatal one.

"This is it folks, it seems our challenger is next on the menu! With nowhere to go what will he do? What can he do?"

His breathing sped up, more from adrenaline than actual exhaustion. Fear also. Everything was sharp, clear, not from any help from any powers, but from evolution. Millions of years of biological tweaking. Fight or flight. His body was deciding how to survive. How to live. To escape.

Then Luck saw it. A moment of crystal clarity. It was all around him. The walls. Of course, why didn't he think of it? In the same instant, the beast exploded forwards, leaving a trail of glass in the sand. Luck lived in the city all his life didn't he? He did. So why was he running on the ground? Parkour was a skill he used almost daily, why would it not work on cobblestone? It was the only way. There was no time. He had to act now or it would be too late. He bursted into movement.

Luck sprinted forward, kicking up sand as if to meet the jorth head on, to which the beast charged forward even more eager. His expression was a grimace, he gritted his teeth, aware of the ramping heat.

"What! He charges forward! Does he fancy taking the beast head to head? What surprise does this challenger carry?" The announcer bursted into commentary, almost like he stood right out of his seat. If Luck was paying attention he would've saw the crowd do the same.

Instantly, the amber-eyed man turned on his heel and ran straight forward, as if baiting the beast.

"He turns! The man is absolutely crazy! What purpose could that possibly serve than taunt the jorth recklessly?" He yelled, utter shock in his voice. "Is he out of his mind folks? Or could he actually be a genius?" He yelled. The whole crowd was in uproar.

The jorth came closer than it ever did, bloodthirsty, enough so that Luck felt the heat acutely across his whole back, even if he didn't feel the pain, more so than he ever did before. Its weight on the ground threatened to throw his balance, but that sense was enhanced from his bond with Saga and helped him just enough to stay on his feet. He could hear the charge, the heavy breathing from the beast, too close for comfort. The number at his peripheral was shrinking drastically. His nose was filled with burning flesh, the only scent; the sweet smell of burning meat. He could see his destination, and he pumped his legs. The focus would never have been possible if he was experiencing the pain he should be.

And then he was there. His foot met the wall, and he shot his weight up, leaving the heat almost immediately. If Spirit didn't keep track of it, Luck wouldn't have known where its field ended. He had just cleared it.

A cool washed over his back, more from the difference in temperature than actual cold. He ran up the wall four steps, taller than the jorth, and kicked off, pulling off a move he knew he was capable of but was never stupid enough to risk given the inherent injury. He backflipped off the wall, shooting horizontally, his added muscle strength from his bond and physical awareness aiding in the movement, making it smoother than he could've normally pulled off. His body arched, following an arc to the floor behind him.

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible! You've seen it here folks! The man just backflipped up off the wall!" The crowd roared. "Dodging the jorth and narrowly escaping with his life! Who is this challenger?" He boomed.

And the jorth barrled past, a blast of wind across Luck's back. Plowing into the wall. Sending melting rocks flying. Luck was still in the air, escaping both the spray and collision. He rose a little higher than the ramparts. He met Saga's eyes for half a second, who seemed to just stare at him in disbelief. But the shar's focus was back almost immediately, his eyes tracking the beast below like the predator he was, something had changed.

"And the jorth passes under him! The challenger pulls it off! Narrowly escaping with his life! Who is this challenger?" He boomed.

In the next half moment, the world was white-blue and burning flesh was replaced with the familiar smell of ozone.

"There! The mage unleashes a blast of lightning blinding all in the crowd!" The announcer screamed. "I had almost forgotten about the mage! Pay attention folks there's still another challenger in this set of three!"

Luck was almost fourteen feet up in the air. He caught himself against the ground, rolling backwards almost four times. He recovered in time to see Saga leaping for the fire jorth's back. Its back was charred black, and the thing was wobbling on its feet. If either from the bolt of lightning that struck it or the near solid wall it crashed into was hard to say.

"The third member leaps from the ramparts!" The announcer shouted.

What was important to note was its current temperature. It wasn't hot. The air around it was normal, hot yes, but not unbearable. The number above the jorth that indicated temperature was at a hundred fifty fahrenheit, a paltry number compared to before. Somehow the beast had drastically dropped the temperature around it in a few short moments.

Luck was the distraction, Ace was the punch, and Saga was its death.

"And sticks the landing!" He finished, yelling enthusiastically.

Spirit what just happened? Luck asked. That didn't seem right.

It is likely the jorth ran out of mana or sustained enough damage that keeping up its magic field was too much of a drain. In that short instant the temperature dropped dramatically. Spirit replied. Cancelling single target focus. Reverting to normal processes.

Huh. I'll just chalk that up to some property of magic I don't know then. Luck responded, watching Saga.

His familiar clawed into the creature, a burst of heat came from the fire jorth, which was pushed onto its back, but Saga only hissed and scraped deep into its neck. Luck could clearly hear claw against bone, a sickly screeching. Even then the jorth struggled, keening. Weaker waves of heat came, Saga hissing all the way, but the shar bit into the jorth and wringed its neck. Then there was an audible snap and the beast lay still. The shar paused a moment, watching the corpse, almost expecting it to get up, but ultimately gave a huff and turned around. The breathing rate of the jorth, as observed by Spirit, stilled.

Luck felt a profound sadness. That creature didn't deserve to die here, not out here, not out of its habitat. It was a beast of nature, a complete natural occurence. So Luck felt a connection the beast. And if he was being honest, he felt there were some points in the battle that past the madness he could make out a faint restraint. As if the beast hesitated for a very small moment in attacking Luck. Something spoke to Luck then, a feeling immensely primal and vast. It was vague, extremely so, but something in his head clicked and before he knew it he was speaking another language.

The words came flowing and whimsical, yet deep and profound. It was a feeling embodied, something he didn't think he could manage if he wasn't Omnilingual.

"To the hearts of fires, ember to the pyre. Return friend, to the fire send." His voice was strong, powerful, and Luck didn't even have to do anything. It was the language itself that did the work. An effect that came from its age and sound.

Almost immediately there was a clear sense of thanks and rest from the body of the jorth. And it was better. The whole situation was just a little bit better. He didn't know what he did, but it felt right. Like giving a man his final rites. Druidic it was called, or Drood, the language was known as both and Luck knew it all.

He took a moment to appreciate that. It was another way he could cope anytime he came across something like this. He couldn't expect himself to save every beast from this place but he could at least do this. A way to respect nature in places where it was trampled upon. Small concessions like that were inconsequential in the larger scheme of things, but it was peace for a guilty mind and tormented soul. Especially one so in tune with nature.

Saga padded over to Luck, looking over his shoulder and baring his teeth, before sitting down like a dog, alert. But immediately Saga found Luck's injuries and stood up in alarm, the wave of concern that washed through him was heartwarming, a heat the Luck welcomed. Luck was still staring at the body of the jorth, but a content smile passed his face and he turned to his familiar, smirking to show he was fine.

"There it is folks! The fire jorth defeated by the team of three! A spectacular show! Simply marvelous!" The place erupted in a loud cheer, people shouting and screaming in languages Luck couldn't keep track of.

Ace lowered himself from the ramparts, taking his time getting down rather than jumping off as Luck would have done. "Jesus." He said hesitantly. "Are you okay Lucky? Your back is melted, your arm... it doesn't look good man. How are you standing?" Luck's things were still stashed off to the side so his whole torso was exposed.

If he could've glanced at himself he would've been unsettled. His hair was burned, splitting at some places, splitting at most places really. His eyebrows were nearly gone, and the rest of his facial hair, what little he had, was burned off completely. His right arm had divots in it, dents that marked where rocks had sunken in, burned black. His left hand looked the same, the tips of his fingers melted during the time he took to pry those very rocks out. And his back. His back looked like a pink mass of flesh that had no structure to it. It was raw, and you could clearly see where flesh melted together. Blackened sections of skin shadowed unnatural lumps on his back, formed from melted flesh.

Exceptional Regeneration effects catalogued. As we speak, burned skin is being purged by the body, eventually this will allow the magical properties of Troll's Blood to take over and complete the healing. This type of process is unnatural for a normal human body, but yours is acting in the same way it might to cancer, killing off cauterized cells, and at an accelerated rate. You will recover, albeit slowly given the level of your burns. Spirit interjected. Your movements involving your back and arm will be restricted in the meantime.

Acknowledging that, Luck responded. "I'll live Ace." He smirked, amber eyes unaffected by the damage. "As to how i'm standing. Well, we both have our secrets don't we? You're the one who said we could keep them." His eyes, dancing with mirth. Luck didn't see it, but Ace had the face of man who had seen too many miracles. A half-hearted attempt at disbelief, lasting only a second, before a reluctant acceptance settled in its place. It didn't come from recent occurences, but rather a culmination of the many things Luck had pulled off in the past.

Spirit we can keep the pain receptors suppressed indefinitely right? Luck asked almost immediately after speaking.

Yes. Though that is generally not reccommended. There should be no harmful effects, but pain is a natural process and is unhealthy for any being to go without for long periods of time. For this injury an exception can be made however.

Good, I was worried I might actually have to feel these burns.

Ace shook his head, groaning at Luck's evident lack of worry. "I think I'm regretting saying that." He eyed Luck's back as he moved to get his things from behind the rock he hid them behind. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure. I just can't move as well as normal. But it will heal, of that there's no doubt." He smiled, looking at his companions. "Now, both of you stop looking at me like i'm gonna die."

At that, both Saga and Ace shared a look. Luck laughed. It was such a pure sound that it dispelled even the most deeply set doubt that both his companions felt. It didn't escape Luck's notice as to how Ace and Saga both released some amount of tension, unwinding just a little more.

"Challengers! Please make your way to the marked exit!" The voice boomed once again. The crowds uproar had died down but it was replaced with a louder applause.

Holding his bundle of stuff, Luck did just that. Ace and Saga were not far behind. They passed through many stone walls, heading in the general direction of the exit, which was marked quite obviously. They entered into a short hallway and followed it until it emptied out into a small room.

A man stood there. His clothing stood out the most of his features, though that may have just been a consequence of Luck's own taste. He was wearing a light brown leather upon his shoulders, trim and sharp. The rest of his clothes were a sturdy material that didn't look at all flexible, but hugged him all the same. The result was a stiff, but professional looking outfit. Luck withheld judgment, he didn't know the trends here. Was fashion a perception of the individual or the populace?

Despite his mystery attire it didn't take long to figure out who this man was. "Challengers! That was a most spectacular show out there! Absolutely amazing! I have no idea how your runner managed to survive those burns but it made for some good show. The people wil talk of the that battle for weeks!" His voice boomed even unamplified.

Ace was the one to answer, apparently having made some progress in Common. "We have our secrets." It came off as stand-offish but Luck didn't complain. It was true.

"And I can't argue that. A mage, familiar and a runner. What an odd team. Intriguing!" His hands moved around with every word, as expressive as his face. "But! That's only the first round friends. If you want better rewards you'll have to keep fighting!" It didn't seem like the really cared how he was talked to.

"I think we're good stopping here." Luck cut in. He was eager to start the journey to Ardun. That meant handing these seeds to Madam Savs and teaching her daughter bartending.

Pay Heed!

Quest Completed!

The Arena Fields

The Arena Fields is a tower that houses captured monsters and beasts, more dangerous as you ascend in level. With changing battlefields, betting spectators, powerful challengers, and strange beasts, it is a popular attraction. Often, adventurers bound for Ardun try their hand at the tower before departing, they almost always provide an entertaining show. Rewards are given based on success and performance.

Reward:

An Item from the First Reward Room

The man frowned, but conceded that it was their choice. "Then please." He waved. "Choose your reward." His hands indicated the room around him. Suddenly, items shimmered into place, weapons, armor and more. Bright casks, plain looking artifacts, bottles, even sheets of paper.

"Just one?" Luck asked, already moving towards some items that caught his eye, taking their sudden appearance at face value.

"Yes." He said. "Generally, after your first match available rewards are somewhat basic. However, you managed to defeat a fire jorth, which is on the higher end of our available opponents for first matches. Not only that, you managed to do it in an entertaining way, which is extremely more important during these fights." He grinned greedily. "After all, that's what brings in the silver. Because of that, everything in here should be worth about a single gold piece. There is some variance though."

"Tell me if you see anything you like Ace." Luck said, hands roaming over the interesting assortment.

"Alright." Following that Ace began to investigate the room as well.

There were a lot of swords piled up into one spot, so much so that Luck wondered if they were factory made. Apparently, the announcer, whose name Luck still didn't know, saw him.

"The swords of failed challengers. If you die your possessions go into the reward rooms, as incentive for more prospective contenders. Of course, not all of our stock are from the dead, many of them are donated by sponsors." He remarked.

Information sprang up from the bottles dotting the place. Some were glowing, but the majority had the tell tale sparkle of wine or drink. Beer, wine and liquor apparently. Quality alcohol from the looks of it. Sometimes a look at the bottle might nab all the information regarding it, other times a whiff of the liquid was needed to determine its strength. Spirit wasn't all knowing. There was an included general information package but this was a great example of how broad the term 'general' really was. Maybe five percent of all the items in the room had sufficient data for Luck to decide right off the bat whether or not they were useful. Everything else required more in depth investigation or simple guesswork.

There were stone masks that Luck felt were maybe historical, rubies and gems, staffs and wands, the list went on. Looking around it was hard to say what exactly would be the best thing to grab. He didn't know the worth of anything, and he only roughly guessed from what the announcer said earlier that some derivative of gold was used as currency. And even then, was that a universal currency? He recalled death tokens as the prime method of transaction in Dersoc. He'd have to delve in to any mentions of an empire or something equivalent to determine that.

Staffs or wands were beyond Luck, he couldn't even access his time magic let alone mana. That was indeed a problem he'd need to address, without access to his mana he couldn't enact Deep Magical Integration. Staffs or wands were thus crossed off the list, Luck assumed they acted as a focus for magic just from general knowledge. Rubies and gems, again, useless, hard to sell those things when you didn't know how much they were worth. Luck didn't really fancy getting swindled, nor was he inclined to get scammed. Off the list. Glowing potions seemed likely to be useful, but again, Spirit couldn't determine what they were, so they might as well have caused instant death.

Honestly, Luck was leaning heavily towards grabbing a bottle of the finest wine he could find. He could expect some rest after winning this match. After all, he wasn't expecting a reward. He didn't really need one. So a glass of wine and some relaxation might be the way to go.

Nayah would annoy him, but ultimately he didn't mind teaching her bartending, it was fun to do for him.

Mr. Ark had given Luck a large respect for that, teaching. He remembered his father telling him the amount of people Mr. Ark had trained in the past, and the stories of how they were trained. An older man he once knew claimed his time with Mr. Ark was the most terrible, but rewarding of his life. Another might've called him the most patient man he knew. They all shared a common theme, they had taken something from the lessons. Luck passed in a quiet moment, he wondered what his old mentor was doing now?

Teaching someone something they wanted to learn wasn't something Luck dreaded at all. He was a patient guy. And he liked seeing other people being passionate for what they loved. Truthfully, it was what caught Luck's attention regarding Ace. The man didn't seem at all to enjoy what he did. Because of that Luck learned his history and his real name.

"It's quite difficult to find anything useful." The man in question said. "How about on your end Lucky? Anything?" His gaze traced Luck's back again but Luck ignored it and answered instead.

"No such luck, nothing that-" But even as he began, something caught his fancy. An item, that, for a moment, reflected in amber irises. "Actually..." He said, already gliding towards the object.

Only one line of text sprang from the item, compliments of Spirit. It was the most interesting thing he had found. He had no idea if it was rare or not. He was drawn to it all the same. It was round, a burnished brown. A hanging chain dangled off the side, looping back to connect. It could probably easily fit into his pocket. It was different though, there were more spaces between the numbers than normal, and they were numbers, even if they written differently. It went by twenty, rather than twenty-four.

"You want it?" Ace asked, coming up to him.

Luck didn't want to get his hopes up, so instead responded with a question. "Nothing catch your eye Ace?" Luck attention was on the hands of the object, watching them move. It was classy. Stylish and timeless. "Nothing at all?" Luck said, making sure.

Ace chuckled. "I believe we've made our choice then." Then his friend turned to Saga. "The man can flip over a charging jorth but can't admit when he wants something." Ace laughed and Saga turned to Luck with an expression he recongnized as mocking, clear from the feeling that flooded the bond.

Luck frowned. "I don't have any problems admitting when I want something. I was just making sure you weren't getting the shorter end of the deal."

Ace only smiled. His expression was quickly replaced by one of mild interest. "Huh. Focus on it Luck."

So he did.

Master's Timepiece

Created by a master horologist, this pocketwatch is accurate to the millionth of a second.

The announcer spoke up. "Then it is yours. Through this hall is the lobby. I believe you have some business with Madam Savs, no? She seemed quite keen that you lose. But not even I could argue that you earned that match." He gestured to a passageway behind him.

"Thank you." Luck said, before placing his new find in his pocket and entering the passage with the rest of his things.

Ace and Saga followed close behind and soon they were back where they initally entered the tower from. A room with guards posted at all entrances and exits, a counter manned by a nicely dressed woman, and those thin curtains that seemed to mute the ruckus from outside. Luck's view on the decorations were slightly damaged by the knowledge of the room that the rug dumped into. The little golden figurines were the only thing he knew he liked, everything else was just barely making the cut. The paintings were nice, but not perfect for the style, the rug did little but cover the floor, the hanging ornaments were pretty but random and with no theme. In short, whoever decorated the room was an amatuer who may have perhaps made some good choices here and there.

In the middle of it all, Madam Savs. Surrounded by fresh guards, she was more heavily protected than before.

"You've won then." There was a brief amount of time that Luck was acutely aware of. Obviously, Ace was aware of the possibility. But only Luck could see it happening, unfolding in front of him in less than an instant. It was a choice, to betray the bargain, or honor the deal. It was over before anyone else could notice.

Nayah stepped from behind her, coming out of the guards like a nymph from a forest. Her eyes were as blue as the drink that Luck once swirled. It was nice seeing that. Hope. Happiness so blatant on her features. Luck was rather fond of those emotions. He chuckled, knowing that this came only from the knowledge that he would teach her such a simple trade.

Instead of responding Luck walked up to Madam Savs, her guards tensed despite Luck posing no real threat. Holding a bundle of his items in his left, he offered his right hand out. Brow raised, Madam Savs held her palm out, and much to her surprise, seeds fell from Luck's. "To feed the people of Peace." He said. "No city deserves to starve."

She was speechless for a moment, staring at the man. If one were really paying attention they would've heard an amount of audible ticks from Luck's pocket. It was after the length of five of those ticks that she finally settled on a response. "I don't believe I ever got your name." She said, looking at the seeds in her palm.

"Luck." The smirking man replied. "Luck Lockyer is what they call me."

She took in his name, regarding the man. Perhaps even trying to figure out what purpose this all served. Because objectively, he gained nothing, only the work involved to teach a young woman bartending. Luck only met her gaze, leaving her to guess on his intentions, because unbenkownst to her, Luck wasn't seeking any reward. And perhaps that was simply mind-boggling to a woman who lived in a world where one of the major all-encompassing forces sought to do just that.

Before Madam Savs could respond her daughter instead took the opportunity to talk.

"I'm Nayah." She said, Luck completely forgetting that, really, they had never been introduced. Faintly, he even recalled giving Ace a fake name in passing, for whatever reason it served.

His eyes left Madam Savs and caught a flicker of bright orange. "Luck." He said, offering his hand. "I'll give you my last name when you've served me a drink I can be proud of." He smiled. Names meant a lot in the business, they could be taken or overheard, but one given meant respect if you had it. And though Nayah had heard his name, he did not give it to her.