“Dad, why do people fight?” asked ten-year-old John while coming back home from boxing practice. He was riding in his dad’s sedan. It was only the two of them.

“You don’t want to box anymore?” his dad asked.

“I want to box. I just want to know why do we fight? I heard the guy on the news talk about all the fighting in America is bad.”

His dad sighed. “We fight because we want things to happen a certain way. If you find something that you want to keep safe or you want to change, you’ll feel passionate about it. Then you’ll want to fight for it.”

“Is that why the heroes in the cartoons fight?”

“You can say that. But some heroes might fight to avenge a wrong rather than to protect or change something.”

“Avenge a wrong?”

“Bring justice,” his dad said. “It might not change much of anything. But it could bring closure to those who have been wronged by a villain. It doesn’t always make sense, but not everything we do as people makes sense.”

“Huh.”

“So, let me ask you this,” his dad said. “Outside of boxing, why would you fight?”

John paused, asking himself the same thing.

“John, wait,” Xanhilt said. “Please be calm. We do not need to rush into this fight just yet.”

“I can’t just sit back and go fishing here, Xanhilt!”

John clenched the gloves in his hands. The material was foreign to him. They used stiff leather held together by thin straps that braced the forearms and knuckles. The gloves were fingerless and had the color of old blood.

“Someone died because of our safe harbor,” John said. “How could this happen?”

“Perhaps this has always been happening,” Xanhilt said. “Regardless of the safe harbor or not. It also harkens back to what Dolala said about everything has a cost. We needed this safe harbor, John, but now we must face the consequence of the offer.”

John fell to his knees with the gloves in his lap. “Being a hero sucks.”

“If you are saying that being a hero is an unsavory lifestyle, then yes, I agree.” Xanhilt bent into a crouch next to John. “With that said, I’m willing to follow you into another battle. I just wish to make sure we’re fully prepared.”

John sighed, nodding along. He was a storm of emotions, but listening to Xanhilt helped a lot. Besides, his boxing coach would agree with the saurian.

Emotions could get you far, but they could blind you to dangers set by the opponent.

Put your emotions into your fists when you know you got them! But until you know for sure you got them, you better keep your head on a swivel and stay discipline!

That was Coach Jackson, alright.

“I feel like once I put these on, I’m playing into someone’s hands,” John said, raising the gear. “And I hate being played with like this.”

Xanhilt stared for a few seconds. “Perhaps we are rushing.”

“I’m rushing into something I’m unsure of,” John said. “I’m rushing at full speed, too.”

“It is the same for me, John,” Xanhilt said, grasping the gloves gently. John let him have them. “But we’ll have to persist, anyway. Because you do not strike me as someone who’ll back away from a challenge like this.”

“I don’t feel like I will.”

“Do you mind if I conduct a saurian war ceremony for you, then?”

John blinked. That sounded like something his dad and other war veterans had talked about. Before going into a big mission, they would hold their own little ceremony.

Some people liked to pray. Others listened to loud music and hyped themselves up.

Before every boxing match, John had chatted with his last girlfriend to relax his nerves. Those memories with her were tainted now, but they helped John connect with what Xanhilt was requesting.

“Yeah, go for it,” John said, doing his best to ignore the hideous laughter from beyond the barrier.

“We were once worms squirming free from our eggs,” Xanhilt said raspily. “We were once fledglings who hadn’t left the nest. Now we soar on wings that beat thunder. We bare teeth that seek blood. Woe follows the foe that draws our wrath.”

By the end of it, most if not all of John’s uncertainty drained away. He glanced at the head of a girl Xanhilt had deposited on the creek’s bank. He felt numb for a moment. Then he felt heat in the pit of his stomach. It grew hotter and hotter until his blood felt like it was boiling. His skin became hot.

John took the cestus gloves back from Xanhilt and slipped them on one by one. As he tied the straps around his forearms, he felt an aura of energy seep into his hands and arms. It was ghostly and weird. Like a connection was being made with the supernatural, making his arms tingle. It was the enchantment plugging in, granting him + 5 [Strength] and +5 [Resilience].

Once he finished tying them, he got to his feet and turned to face a new series of message prompts.

Ding! You’ve equipped yourself with items that match the spirit of your Weapon Art. A hero can have the spirit of multiple weapon arts, but can only choose one to acquire Weapon Art Skills. Do you choose to be faithful to the Cestus Art? Yes or no?

“Yes,” John said.

Ding! Experience rewarded for choosing a Weapon Art.

[Cestus Art, Lvl 0] - There’s no other art that is more personal than thrashing your enemies with your own hands. You will be at the front where the danger is the greatest, but your toughness and confidence will see you through. Grants + 1 Resilience and + 1 Poise with every weapon art level up.

John relayed the information to Xanhilt.

“A separate level-up system with more AP would improve us at an increasingly faster rate,” Xanhilt said.

“The resilience will help,” John said. “Not sure about the poise, but whatever.”

Quickly, he moved on to the skills.

Please select two Weapon Art Skills.

Before John scrolled through his options, another head splashed into the creek. The laughter continued.

Xanhilt hissed. “They are making a mockery of our plight.”

“They’re going to get what’s coming to them,” John said through gritted teeth.

Focusing on his selection, John saw that he had five options to choose from. He went through the list one by one.

[Basic Prankration, Rank 1] - go all out against your enemies with foundational wrestling and fist-fighting techniques. You’ll find it easier to lift, thrash, and use a combination of grappling and boxing while in close-quarters with a foe.

John understood some greek, especially when it came to fighting. If he thought of his experience in Urmatia as an alien death world, he would’ve found the use of a Greek word strange. But since this place had a personalized gaming system, he figured they somehow made everything understandable to him regardless. Which made it easier to dismiss this WA Skill since he had no interest in grappling.

[Advance Boxing, Rank 3] - you show high proficiency using your fists alone, adapting your style to abnormal situations. When you fight enemies using your fists and string together uninterrupted combos, two effects occur. Your stamina consumption is reduced significantly. Your striking power increases gradually.

John nearly took the skill right then and there. He held back because he wanted to check on the others before he made his decisions. This one was plain good, and it was rank 3. That was beyond his own racial rank, which meant the system recognized his skill as a boxer. The heat in his body warmed up further as he anticipated the fight to come. Before he got too overeager, he checked the next three.

[Dash Step, Rank 2] - accelerate with a lunging dash to get where you need to go quickly. Bracing yourself to charge up the dash increases the distance and speed. Will consume greater stamina with each successive use without a minor break.

A movement-based skill was pretty handy if John’s limited gamer knowledge was anything to go by. But it would draw a lot from his stamina, and from what he understood so far, he was already fast enough to avoid certain dangers. Choosing this would be great if he was in a hurry, but John wanted more firepower.

[Juggling Punch, Rank 1] - Strike an enemy with a rising punch and launch them a short distance into the air. Your magic will suspend them momentarily if your Intellect is greater than their Poise. An enemy already suspended by this skill can’t be affected again until they hit the ground.

John shook his head. Given the opportunity to sit and think about it, he might’ve considered this one further. It sounded fun. But it was playing with an attribute that he wasn’t strong in⁠—[Intellect]. On top of that, it was a gimmick power that would take away from what he wanted right now⁠—simple ways to hurt monsters.

[Rapid Blows, Rank 2] - By expending more stamina, you can double your punching speed and add a slight boost in striking power to every hit that lands. You need firm footing to generate the max output this skill can give you.

Yup that’ll do it, John thought.

John chose [Advance Boxing, Rank 3] and [Rapid Blows, Rank 2] as his weapon art skills. Immediately, he felt a greater understanding that applied to these skills. It was as if his selections were filling in the blanks in John’s head. Blanks he didn’t know he had. It was enough for him to use them as soon as he needed them but not enough to make him an absolute expert. He needed practice for that. Thanks to safe harbor, he could⁠—

Another head hit the creek.

John told Xanhilt his selection and that he wanted to get going soon.

The saurian cleaned up the camp. He packed away their loot into the single burlap bag. Then he tied the bag’s top into a knot on the side of his waist. He separated stones into smaller pouches and handed some to John to distribute around his waist.

As Xanhilt got ready, John ripped off his tunic. It was ruined, and it wouldn’t do jack anything for him. He was already sweating profusely from the tension of what was to come. Some of that sweat was getting into his eyes. Taking a strip from his top, he wrapped it around his head. It became a makeshift headband, the ends tied in the back.

John skipped around. He threw out some punches. He felt out the change to his skill set. His punches were crisper. His movements were lighter. His approach to boxing had loosened further, letting go of what made sense in the ring.

His old boxing brain wanted to tell him he was doing it wrong. He was moving wrong. He was not being disciplined.

He was unsure if this new gamified part of him was right or wrong. He was unsure how the system could make him change so quickly after selecting a few skills. It almost reminded him of when Dolala mentioned that he was 99% himself.

Maybe the other 1% was what the system had done to him to make him a hero. Many questions needed answering, but first, he had some vile monsters to put back into the dirt.

Ding! Cestus Art leveled up from Lvl 0 to Lvl 1. Experience rewarded.

Another reason to wait, the weapon art could go up in levels with practice. But John was sure it would go up even more against real opponents.

With that in mind, John pulled up his interface and spent his available MCP. Now [Ratel Rookie] was MCP 13, which would make it more powerful and boost his resilience, strength, and stamina. Even though he had no idea what a ratel could be, the transformation magic helped a lot.

He was going to need that aggression.

“I think I’m ready,” John said.

“You don’t need any more time?” Xanhilt asked.

“No,” John said. “If I wait any longer, I’ll end up going crazy.”

“They will surely have an ambush prepared. Perhaps we can outsmart them.”

John raised an eyebrow. It sounded like the saurian had a plan. That was a good thing because John’s head was filled with visions of taking the direct approach.

Curious, John listened to Xanhilt’s idea.

John stood at the edge of the safe harbor barrier. Looking to the side, he saw a warning prompt.

You are leaving the safe harbor. Go any further, and the safe harbor will conclude.

“It’s about time we got going anyway,” John said with a huff. Turning away from the warning, he looked out into a world choked by mist. It was denser than any fog he’d ever seen, and he hadn’t seen much. It was like staring at a wall of cotton packed close together. He could barely make out a tree beyond the barrier.

So, not only are we faced with monsters that want to mock us, but they have the homefield advantage.

John could feel his [Inner Compass] pointing toward the direction he assumed was the way to actual safety. It could be a town or village or a way out of this game. Whatever it was, they planned to get there today.

But first, they had some monsters to clear.

Peering closely, John noticed a figure coming closer to the barrier. When they got barely three feet away from John, he saw its horrible identity better.

It was tall like the mauling shambler, but it lacked the former monster’s thickness. Instead, it had a thin body paired with long arms. In one of its hands, it held a rusted cleaver as long as John’s forearm. A monstrous grin stretched wide on a face that had buttons stitched over its eyes and a jester’s crown nailed into its skull.

It was a [Jesting Shambler, Lvl 16], and it held a boy’s head in its grasp. The shambler raised the head by the hair and shook it around. Its grin spread wider, cutting its face open as it emitted a horrid laugh.

John’s vision grew hazy. It pulsated around the edges. He tried not to look at the head, but it seemed to fill his entire vision. His whole body felt like a rod of steel as he tensed up. He stood there, enduring the monster’s taunting. He waited as if it didn’t affect him, giving the evil creature his best poker face.

The [Jesting Shambler]’s smile shrank. From the mist, another monster appeared, a [Jesting Shambler, Lvl 15]. It held a person’s arm in one hand while branding a cleaver in the other. It threw the arm at John, but the barrier pushed it aside and forced it to hit the dirt away from John. They could taunt him, but they couldn’t hurt him directly.

He continued to act unphased.

More tall and lengthy shamblers appeared until John had nearly a dozen in front of him. They howled with laughter, waving around human body parts to shake him. It was working, in a sense.

John was deeply shaken. He felt sick. He was about to lose his breakfast. But he endured the grotesque taunting until he was sure he had most if not all of the monsters right in front of him.

John bolted forward, breaking the safe harbor. He threw a looping haymaker that sacrificed sharp technique for windmilling power. It shouldn’t work.

His fist crunched the shambler’s face in and stumbled it back. The opportunity to follow up and wail on the creature presented itself. His anger and frustration welled up inside, ready to blow.

It took incredible willpower for him to turn away and make haste instead of letting himself go wild. As he retreated, more than a dozen [Jesting Shamblers] chased him at the edges of a mist tsunami.

At the same time, the wind picked up. The temperature dropped. Storm clouds swirled overhead.

John Wright, Lvl 15

Race: Outerhuman, Rank 2

Weapon Art: Cestus Art, Lvl 1

Blessing: One Good Punch, Rank 2

Total AP: 201

Resilience: 21 (+5)

Stamina: 30

Strength: 56 (+5)

Agility: 20

Perception: 17

Poise: 10

Intellect: 9

Soul: 28

Unspent: 0

Talents: [Relentless Fighter, Rank 1], [Decisive Spirit, Rank 1], [Identify, Rank 2], [Urmatia Linguistics, Rank 1], [Inner Compass, Rank 1].

Weapon Skills: [Advance Boxing, Rank 3], [Rabid Blows, Rank 2].

Magic Cores: [Ratel Rookie, MCP 13], [Brightlight Orb, MCP 2].

Available MCP: 0

Items: [Deadman’s Cestuses, Good], [Leather Boots, Poor], [Trousers, Poor)], [Rope Belt, Poor], [Makeshift Headband, Poor], [Small Pouch, Poor/3], [Vitality Stone, Poor/10], [Stamina Stone, Poor/10], [Mana Stone, Poor/5].