Once afternoon rolled around, Sigmarus said goodbye to Grace after helping her through the process of learning to read better. She still hadn’t finished reading the book he already lent her, so he let her hold on to it for now. Not having to work as a foundation melder anymore gave him even more time to both pay off her debt more quickly and monopolize all the time she normally needed to work at the brothel, settling a lot of the stress he had built up over time.

As he walked toward the gym with his hands in his pockets, he felt that his steps were lighter than in the past, almost as though a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders. Of course, there were many more intangible burdens weighing him down, but knowing that he had taken a small step in overcoming his lifelong uselessness filled him with the warmth of satisfaction. He felt thankful toward the man who made the apparatus. Even if he were to one day discover the man had less-than-stellar intentions, he doubted it would change this feeling.

By the time he reached the gym, the warm feeling faded away, leaving behind his normal placid attitude. Bearing a stoic face, he calmly pushed the gym door open. Torin and Shad greeted him inside, one friendly, one mostly dismissive.

“You’re a bit early, but that’s fine. Shall we get started?” Torin suggested.

Sigmarus nodded in response, prompting Shad to lead the way downstairs again.

Once downstairs, Sigmarus glanced over at Torin and said, “Hey. I’ve decided. I’ll climb.”

“Huh?”

Torin raised his brows and stared at him with wide eyes for a few seconds. On the other hand, Shad sent a curious glance in his direction, but quickly lost interest again, stretching his arms and legs as he sauntered toward the boxing ring.

“What changed your mind so fast?” Torin asked, still staring at Sigmarus with unbelieving eyes.

“Nothing much.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“If you had explained more about the Sky Coliseum to me before, you would have convinced me yesterday.”

“Hmm?” Torin narrowed his eyes and asked, “Did someone else tell you about it?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“An old friend.”

“You have friends?”

“I don’t think we’re close enough to crack such jokes.”

“Right… Anyway, I’ll set that aside for now. What specifically changed your mind?”

“Your explanation made me think I’d only fight a few people. The person who explained more said I’d probably fight dozens. Is that right?”

“Well, yes,” Torin muttered, furrowing his brows out of confusion. “You don’t come across as someone who enjoys fighting, so I didn’t even bother mentioning it. You want to fight a lot then? Why is that?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, it looks like Shad is waiting for you in the ring. Get up there so he can actually test your current strength. We can talk more about the coliseum later.”

Nodding, Sigmarus joined Shad in the ring, also stretching along the way there. The moment he climbed onto the stage, Shad spoke to him in a nonchalant tone.

“Don’t do whatever you did last time. At least, not right now. I might knock you out unintentionally again.”

“Uh, alright?”

I guess he’s referring to what I did with my perception.

“Come at me,” Shad taunted, waving a finger toward him.

Sigmarus nodded and charged in, not wanting to miss out on this opportunity to learn about fighting.

Outside the ring, Torin watched as Shad knocked Sigmarus down on the mat over and over, but Sigmarus got back up every time without saying much. Torin couldn’t help shaking his head at how similar these two men were aside from some small differences. Surprisingly, Sigmarus reached the point of withstanding a handful of Shad’s counters before his guard broke and Shad knocked him to the ground.

Stopping in order to give Sigmarus a break, Shad leaned against one of the corner poles and asked, “You seem to know a little bit of boxing or something. Is that from upstairs?”

“Yeah. They make students join martial sports up there,” Sigmarus answered. Sitting down on the mat cross-legged, he occasionally groaned or winced at the lingering pain from heels, fists, and floor slamming against his body multiple times.

“Interesting. You aren’t very good at it, though. Is that the standard up there?”

Sigmarus shook his head and sighed before answering, “I was probably the least talented person up there. Dunno if it’s also because of the mutation causing my hair and eyes to lack pigment, but my body was really weak.”

“No wonder you got your wings clipped.”

“Right?”

A few moments of tense silence passed before Shad said, “That’s enough of a break. Get up.”

Thus, the sparring, or rather, the one-sided beatdown, resumed. Around the time Sigmarus got knocked down for the twentieth time again, Torin’s wrist-com beeped upon receiving a message. The further he read into the message, the more his forehead wrinkled. His observant smile quickly vanished.

“Shad.”

“What?”

“Bossman needs us.”

Halting the one-sided sparring session with a raised palm, Shad hopped out of the ring and Torin showed him the message. Even Shad’s face turned grim after reading it, and he sprinted off upstairs in a blur so fast that Sigmarus could barely follow him with his eyes.

So does he actually have a PSM, then? He’s way faster than anyone I knew upstairs. Then again, I mostly only knew students who weren’t old enough for physical augments, but he’s still fast.

“Sigmarus.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you stay here for a bit? You can rest for a few minutes or something or even train with some of the gear here while we’re gone.”

“...You don’t want me to go with you?”

“You’re not an official member yet. Since you’ve got stuff you need to do without others knowing you’re one of us, it’s better for you to stay here.”

“So it has to do with the other gangs?”

“Yeah. All five of the local groups got involved somehow, but it should get resolved quickly since it only involved outer members. If we’re not back by seven, just go home. I’ll send you the codes to lock up.”

Raising a brow, Sigmarus asked, “You sure you wanna give me those?”

“You’re one of us now, so it’s fine. Besides, we know where you live, so it’s not a big deal either way.”

“Point taken.”

“See you later.”

With that, Torin also ran off, leaving Sigmarus alone in the large echoey hangar. He scratched his head and looked around at all of the equipment. Since there was nothing else to do, might as well practice a bit. After all, there was still a skill he hadn’t tried out yet.

Once he felt he had rested long enough, he climbed down from the ring and ambled over to a corner filled with punching bags of various weights. He chose one of the lighter ones and tapped his knuckle against it as a test. It rattled a little on the chain before settling back in place.

This is higher quality than the ones they made us use back in school. Interesting.

From there, he closed his eyes and contemplated the usage of the unused skill, freedom palm. Although the skill name implied that it was a palm strike, the description within the pages of the Freedom Technique described it as more of an augment to any attack executed through the hands. His own comprehension of it had obviously been aided by the tattoo before since it felt as familiar within his mind as writing his own name.

Opening his eyes, he glared at the sandbag and pulled back his right arm. Then, he thrust. Origin energy coursed through his spirit veins in a flighty manner and into his fist. His fist stopped a few centimeters away from the sandbag, but a resounding thump still echoed around the empty hangar.

It really does feel weird to actually use it, Sigmarus thought, staring at his open palm.

As another test, he punched the sandbag directly. Another thump echoed around him. Then, through his perception, he felt the sand within the bag shuffle as though his fist had entered into the center of the bag.

Damn, that’s scary. If I hit a normal dude with this, couldn’t I crush his organs?

From there, he decided to test the last useful function of the skill. He threw another punch, but completely whiffed past the bag. However, a thump still echoed throughout the hangar once again. His origin energy still smacked the target with a similar force to his initial punch exactly where he wanted it to, even though he completely missed the bag. Unfortunately, he already felt tired. Expending origin energy through the skill more than doubled his rate of exhaustion.

It’s tiring, but also scary. I’ll have to figure out how to use it without thinking, though. Not sure I can focus enough to use it in an actual adrenaline-fueled fight.

Sighing, Sigmarus sat on the floor and looked at the ceiling. He pondered about what the coliseum would be like. He thought about all the crazy events from the last couple weeks. He recalled the dismal life he lived until picking up that laptop. A smile appeared on his face and he chuckled to himself.

“I guess my life isn’t boring anymore,” He said to himself. Then, he raised his hand toward the ceiling and mumbled, “Get ready, o’ skies. This fool is coming for you.”

Suddenly, the energy in his body rumbled, and his tattoo lit up slightly without him noticing. He barely felt anything and took it as anticipation.

* * *

Far away, in a distant world, a man dressed in sky blue robes accented with white embroidering sat straight with a regal demeanor in a throne-like chair before a large, rectangular table. His long white hair and beard displayed his age, and his pupiless white eyes his wisdom. If Sigmarus had been there, he would have recognised him as the creator of the Universal Apparatus.

Across from him, a man with rippling muscles who was dressed in a sleeveless shirt which looked like red chain mail and tight-fitting black pants made from a material similar to silk sat in a similarly regal throne-like chair. Short black hair sprouted from his head as though leading into a triangular spike above his forehead. Nobody could say whether he combed it that way on purpose or if it just did that naturally. His eyebrows were thick, bushy, and angular and the deep brown eyes below them focused deeply on the task in front of him. Red sparks flashed around his irises like flames at all times. His nose and jaw were sharp, giving him an unmatched air of authority.

The man’s brows furrowed deeply as he extended a hand made from origin energy to move one of the pieces on a four-dimensional game board with several layers of small platforms. The game piece was made from the mixture of a strange dark blue metal and an unintelligent spirit. Midway through moving his piece, a negligible ripple of energy tickled his acute senses, interrupting his actions. His eyes immediately leapt up from the game board to stare at his opponent with a wary gaze. The old man had a satisfied grin on his face which annoyed him. Perhaps he wouldn’t have cared about such a tiny ripple of energy on any other occasion, but this wasn’t any other occasion. The problem was that he had felt ripples of similar wavelengths nine times before over the last three-hundred years.

“You undying bastard... tell me you aren’t doing this again.”

“What might you be talking about, I wonder?”

“That last pawn of yours caused three massive wars in this realm alone and took one of my fingers before I could punish him. You really think I won’t do anything if you make another one?!” The man roared, his powerful and imposing voice crumbling a few of the decorative statues within the small parlour in the process.

The older man simply chuckled and ran a hand down his beard as he replied, “You won’t need to worry this time. This one chose the Freedom Technique and even has the Attributeless Freeform spirit root. He’s even from a locked mortal world which once belonged to the Unnamed One. He might not even reach a low-grade world in his lifetime.”

Suddenly, the fierce-looking man asked, “The Freedom Technique? You actually gave that to a pawn? Won’t that interfere with what you’ve been trying to do?”

“Nothing changes for me. He might just be lucky enough to live, unlike the others.”

“Fine. As long as this pawn of yours doesn’t cause too much trouble, I won’t interfere.”

“No need to pretend. There’s no disgrace in being too afraid of me to do anything.”

The man sighed out of frustration and turned around to leave without saying anything.

“You’re not going to finish our game?” The older man asked, still smiling.

“You’ve already won. There’s no point continuing. Besides, I have a world to take care of, unlike your lazy ass.”