Raven sneezed, briefly earning her a shocked look from Forsythe as he turned his gaze away from the two people that were approaching them across the arena floor. Raven shrugged helplessly, “I can’t help it if people are always thinking about me!”

“You shouldn’t be able to sneeze at all. Can you even have allergies? This is the virtual world. Even if you have poor vision it would be 20/20 when you logged in. Glasses are merely cosmetic. In a lot of ways, it is weirder you sneezed. As your character statistics increase your eyesight can shoot up so you can actually focus hard and see into the distance like you’re looking through a telescope. Wouldn’t regular dirt, dust, and pollen be absolutely inferior to whatever monstrous immune system you have?” Forsythe blurted out, shocking everyone into stillness.

“Forsythe, please,” Raven giggled, her short hair bobbed and she shouldered the two-handed sword while she looked to the side and rubbed her nose with her other one, “you’re embarrassing me.”

Forsythe for his part, scowled, turning his back on the two that were standing motionlessly while they were being ignored. “Let’s not even get into your arm! Just because you have one arm in real life doesn’t mean you couldn’t have two in the game. You’ve been running around with one arm this whole time when you could have had two. Do you see my point now? How ridiculous it is that you sneezed? At least you have two now...”

“Geez, the arm thing again? It’s incredibly embarrassing to me that so many people are concerned about my armlessness, or my later decision to get an arm. Some of the people commenting on our videos talk about how I’m selling out the one-armed scene. Other people wonder if I was just going one-armed to feel special. But did anyone ask about my feelings? I struggled a long time to be happy with who I am, okay?” Raven’s face soured as she turned on Forsythe, also ignoring the two who had stopped to watch. She flipped her sword in an impressive and effortless twirl before planting it into the ground so she could point a finger at Forsythe with that arm. “Butt out!”

“Did people really say those things in the comments?” Forsythe paused, seemingly halting his verbal onslaught in light of this new information.

“It’s the ethernet Forsythe! There’s always someone taking potshots at you when you’re this cute!” Raven’s voice was rising.

“You’re… not that…”

“Swear to god Fours, I will cut you in half and then go kill these two people by myself!”

“Oh. I forgot about them.”

“...s-same.”

Forsythe and Raven both turned toward the two who were waiting for them, eyeing them up and down as they considered their presence… and the red Rebellion symbols next to their names.

The one standing a short distance away from Raven snorted and then laughed, pressing her hands to her hips as she barked a short derisive laugh. She was wearing heavy armor that was a sort of dull grey in color with golden fringes and red accents running up and down the legs in a weird sort of red blood stripe.

“Bonus points for being shameless enough to have that lover’s spat in front of so many people. I’mma look forward to crushing you and showing everyone how ill-deserved your fame really is,” she almost couldn’t finish, her voice seemed to be trembling as she tried to contain her condescending snickers.

Raven looked over to Forsythe. Forsythe was watching the woman with narrowed eyes but seemed to sense her gaze on him. He just shrugged in response. Raven turned her attention back to the woman and crossed her arms.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What?” Raven tilted her head.

“I’m the Golden Ranker Fanciful, part of the rebellion, are you stupid?”

The way she asked made Raven cock her head to the side and grimace slightly.

Emboldened, the armored woman laughed, hair bouncing on her shoulders and her obnoxious full lips made a little pouty face as she continued, “My stats are high in agility and resistance. I may be a mage killer in name and reputation, but I’m more than enough to smash you, little baby bird…”

Raven scratched her head and narrowed her eyes. “...why? Exactly?”

“You’ve been off running around for two years, yeah? It doesn’t matter where you went. There are some of us that have been leveling up twice as hard. Studying you. Getting the gear necessary to fight your golden generation.” Fanciful kept chuckling even as Raven kept blankly looking at her. “What level are you? I bet I’m higher. What’s your strength and agility before a boost? I bet I’m stronger, faster, and, well, better?”

“My level?” Raven asked her looking completely dumbfounded this time.

“Wondering where my confidence comes from? C’mon, let’s get this over with and fight!” Fanciful held out a hand and a solid black cylinder two and a half meters long materialized in her hand. From the way it dropped in her hand toward the ground before she got a hold of it, the long black staff must have weighed quite a bit. Golden runes began to rune up and down the weapon as she got a good grip on it.

“OH!” Raven punched a fist into an open palm with a look of sudden understanding. “Forsythe! This is that lady Aidan was going to beat the crap out of in the first round! I’ve been trying to figure it out this whole time but I finally got it!”

“Seriously?” Forsythe’s mouth dropped open in an ‘O’ expression as he looked at Fanciful with renewed interest. “Did he already beat her? Is it okay if you kill her?”

“I didn’t even think of that! If I kill her, but Aidan wanted to kill her, do I absorb the grudge? Would he have no choice but to come after me to sate the bad blood between us?”

“Does… it matter? You sound kind of happy about it.” Forsythe frowned.

“Heh heh…” Raven’s eyes started to get a faraway look. Fortunately, her eyes sharpened and she grabbed her sword and pulled it up in a horizontal guard as the black staff slammed down with a huge force from above. She grunted as she was pushed back, choosing to let the end of the staff pass by her on either side as she began dodging at high speed.

Fanciful’s furious face was behind the attacks even as Raven began to back up in slow circling steps, dodging the quick jabs that the taller armored woman was sending her way.

Raven’s face began to swell up as she burst out in sudden laughter even as she continued dodging back and forth with complicated footwork and quick ducks and sways. “Oh! Oh! Look how mad she is!”

“You look like the villain with that face,” Forsythe pointed out. He gestured with his unsheathed saber in her general direction, making no move to move toward them and assist her. “Please try to think about your reputation!”

“W-what? We’re the bad guys! Forsythe just-- hey! Watch it I’m trying to talk to Forsythe!”

Forsythe shook his head and closed his eyes in a long-suffering way. After letting out a small breath of helplessness the warrior turned to face the remaining foe that had patiently waited for them to finish their verbal exchange, and then had patiently waited for Fanciful to get her verbal jabs in before committing to combat with Raven.

Forsythe considered the man in front of him for a long time. “Really? I would have thought you would be one of the last people to join the rabble.”

The man shrugged, spreading both arms wide even as a small one-handed short sword and an equal size one-handed hammerpick appeared in his hands. “I couldn’t resist? I respect the Rebellion and what it is trying to accomplish, but I thought the odds a little uneven.”

“Oh?” Forsythe tilted his head. “How so?”

“I just thought that… As much as I wanted to fight beside all of you once more, wouldn’t it be more entertaining if I got to fight against you?” The man had a wide smile that just seemed to grow wider. A familiar excitement began to spread outward, almost as if the man was generating some sort of shadow effect that was slowly licking over the dirt toward Forsythe.

“What do you think their chances are?”

“The Rebellion?” The man paused, lowering his weapons very slightly as Forsythe nodded. Then he smiled and lifted the weapons once more. “Much better with me!”

“Yeah.” Forsythe was forced to admit it. The person in front of him was troublesome. He grimaced and grit his teeth, he narrowed his eyes. “This is going to be difficult…”

“Oh? I am flattered. In some circles, you’re considered an amazingly frightening swordsman!” He smiled again and started to take careless steps toward Forsythe, weapons held wide on either side of him. “Still, I admit it is going to be quite difficult for me. Consider my position too, while you’re at it!”

“What?” Forsythe stared at him blankly not understanding.

“When I kill you, how am I going to face your daughter?” Khiafin, the smiling killer, the gentleman murderer, chuckled slightly. “We’re good friends and she adores you. I do not think she’ll understand!”

“I… almost want to hear that explanation myself.” In spite of his words, a smile didn’t appear on Forsythe’s face. “I’m sorry Khiafin. This isn’t one of those times when I can afford to play around with you.”

“I understand. Best of luck to you Forsythe.”

“Forgive me for not extending the same.”

***************

Raven frowned as Fanciful kept chasing after her. The armored woman eschewed skills from what she could tell. That big black stick was ridiculous. When she felt the end coming toward her Raven felt danger. When the thing came at her in a swing like a baseball bat, danger feeling again. When Fanciful jumped up and then brought the whole thing down in an overhead swing like she was going to plant a post into the ground with it? Danger sense off the charts.

Raven, despite her agility and the respect she gathered from everyone for her ability to move and react in ludicrous situations, was actually more of an offensive fighter than a defensive one. A small grimace once again pushed its way briefly onto her face as a surge of irritation flared up inside her as she was forced further away from the middle of the arena.

The dark haired warrior spared a glance just in time to see that Forsythe and Khiafin were crossing blades. A thin line began to form on her mouth. She didn’t think Forsythe would lose really, but there was something about Khiafin that had always unsettled Raven. The feeling that he could walk right up to you and be your friend and then stab you in the same breath. That wasn’t something that Forsythe would be good at fighting.

A black blur caught her attention, forcing her to bend and lean backward to avoid getting swiped across the jaw. When the staff didn’t immediately swing out of her vision Raven chose to keep falling backward and pressed with her toes so she launched herself backward in a slide on her butt. When her butt hit the ground she somersaulted backward and came back on her feet, already patting the dust off with her free hand as she yanked her sword up. “Geez, learn to enjoy yourself a little lady,” she grumbled.

“Like I expected. This isn’t even worth enjoying,” Fanciful muttered. She seemed mad that Raven kept sneaking looks around and running instead of putting up a straight fight. “It doesn’t matter. Haters will always cry. When I beat you, you can just say you weren’t taking this seriously and some losers will believe you. I get it. Everything for fame right?”

“Hey lady, I don’t know what beef you have with Amelia, but I didn’t even know who you were before about five minutes ago.” Raven considered for a moment, squinting after a second. “I mean, I still don’t know who you are? Rebellion? That’s weird and I don’t understand it yet. Golden Ranker? I guess that’s cool. I don’t follow the rankings. I’m more excited fighting people in real life, you know? Here, I’d rather fight big monsters or impossible foes. I mean, this one time there was a cloud monster. I was trying to figure out how to kill it but I eventually had to run. It was trying to get in my lungs and it tasted seriously bad. Like the very first time that Forsythe tried to cook here.” Raven started to look off to watch Forsythe and Khiafin again but was brought back to attention when Fanciful snorted and started smashing toward her with that same ridiculous elephant strength she seemed to possess.

“You can always just stand and take it then!” Fanciful seemed to be breathing harder now, looking a little frustrated that Raven was so easily conversing with her in the middle of their fight; still, her lips peeling back in excitement. It wasn’t lack of breath making her pant. She was just so eager. “You can't stand against me with the level and stat differences! I can already tell your weapon is the same as it was in the Void fight! I wasn’t there, but I’ll acknowledge back then you were powerful! Even with Growth, I don’t believe it’s better than my weapon! Hey, when this is over, what say I rename it ‘Murder of Crows’?”

“Level again… Tch…” Raven swept her foot back behind her and spun, trying to circle back toward the middle of the arena. Fanciful cut her off and started pressing her toward one of the walls once more, earning a second ‘tch’ from the shorter girl.

“It isn’t just level! It’s skills! I have more passive skills! More boosts! Better armor! Accessories! I can feel how much stronger I am than you!” Fanciful shrugged her shoulders, eyes tracking Raven’s hyperfast movements and reactions with seemingly little effort.

“That sounds nice…” Raven smiled slightly, every second barely avoiding bludgeoning strikes and quick jabs. There were a few times when Fanciful had started to hold her breath anticipating a deadly strike when the smaller girl would suddenly surprise her by just squeezing out of the way. “Do you want me to tell you a secret about being strong here?”

Fanciful’s assault slowed for the faintest of instants. There was a guileless naivete in the question. An innocence that suggested Raven wasn’t being insulting or deceptive. Then Fanciful began swinging harder, grunting in response. Her lips curled. “There’s no need. Just watching those videos was enough to prove to me that all of you just had this fall in your lap! First to find the quests? Maybe! It’s really just lightning in a bottle! You were all lucky enough to get noticed and the networks spread your accomplishments before everyone else, that’s all! There are plenty of strong people out there in the world that are creating new skills and finding out new things all the time. Did you think that your friend Aidan was the first one to figure out Profound abilities? Please, even someone like me can do that!” Fanciful planted her feet and shimmered.

Raven’s eyes widened and she froze for half a second trying to get an idea of where the armored woman had headed. The barest feeling of danger behind her had her shift the two-handed sword behind her, guarding her from head to spine. The sound of metal hit her ears even as the full force of the strike transferred through the sword and onto her back. She flew and skidded along the ground on her face, getting up quick and whirling around, eyes still wide at finding that Fanciful had taken her back.

“What? It’s just a profound [Winding Sand Step]?” Fanciful sneered.

The shock vanished from her face, and Raven once again held her sword up in front of her. A coldness entered her eyes. “I despise people like you.”

“People who can put up a good fight?” Fanciful laughed, twirling her staff in front of her and enjoying the attention she was getting from people in the stands.

“People who are good and have enough skill but only know how to tear other people down. You hear from them all the time. Maybe you even became one because they infected you with their sickness.” Raven’s voice dropped a bit as bitterness entered it. “Emily you’re not moving faster. Emily, the piano should sing with your fingers! Emily, the watercolor you did was barely passable, yes, but it didn’t follow the assignment. Raven… Raven and her friends only got where they are because they’re lucky! If I was Raven or her friends I would do this! They don’t work hard at all. They’re lazy. They’re worthless!”

Fanciful paused, eyes casting the questioning look even though her expression was politely blank. “Wah, my life is so bad! Look at me I’m Raven!”

“I think you’re pretty strong Fanciful,” Raven said quietly. "...but you're not going to get what you want out of this."

Fanciful was immediately silenced.

“I’m sorry that people tear you down or you don’t feel like you’re good enough when you compare yourself to others. I hate that people can’t just exist without other people tearing into them. I don’t blame you really. You’re not doing it on purpose. But… level, stats, numbers, gear, accessories? I don’t have as many as you so I am no longer a human being? What about other people? Maybe they don’t have those, but suddenly you can just trample over them and their dreams? Maybe they don’t write as well, draw as originally, sing like people are supposed to!”

Raven took a breath and raised her sword straight up.

“Did you ever wonder why, when you were watching our videos, we never talked about our stats, or level, or our gear all that much? Why we didn’t compare sword skills unless we were funning around?” Raven’s eyes darkened. “Do you even remember why you watched them in the first place?”

Fanciful’s face was wilting a little bit and she was casting nervous glances at the audience. “Trying to lecture me with that high and mighty tone is exactly what I was talking about! You’re not better than me!”

Raven continued anyway, not moving. “In Aspiria there is level, skill level, and that something else. Lightning in a bottle! I like that! I like that phrase a lot, so I'll steal it.” Raven narrowed her eyes and tried taking deep breaths, but despite her best efforts they were coming faster. The air started to tremble even as the Maurader reinforcing enhancement spells began to activate around her, causing her to seem like she was suddenly more. Without the skill spoken. Profound activation.

It seemed so obvious to her now.

[Profound Beginner 1 - Combat Sense ]

Muscles that were the same size seemed to strain. The sword above her head began to look heavy. Far heavier than the lump of metal that Fanciful was calling a weapon. In fact, Raven’s two-handed sword started to emit a low thrum as if it were cutting the air.

“Amelia taught me those are what measure strength here, but honestly, Amelia is wrong. I can dodge your attacks so your damage doesn’t mean crap. I can use my gimmicks and you can use your gimmicks. You and everyone else forget, so focused on the numbers, the math, the exciting skill branches, that anything can happen at any second! Why would you even fight in the AA finals if you could just compare numbers? Might as well sim it and stay home…” Raven laughed hoarsely. “We never say our levels or talk about our gear because it doesn’t mean crap! There! That’s it, I said it! You rely on number shaving and ridiculous calculation while we’re the ones that stand in the dragon’s mouth and scream back!"

Raven stared down her nose at Fanciful, "so the real measure of power is lightning in a bottle, and lady, you ain’t got more than me!”