Another slash went past Derb as he lodged his sword into another man’s neck, the feeling felt sickening and he was glad they disappeared right before he could see the result. He saw Jack pummel another person, not bothering to use magic. Connor was flying around and taking fire, shooting magic hexes at the passersby beneath. They’d been at it for a while now, wiping out around 4 groups. One had been slow enough to allow another group to enter, after that it’d been a bloodbath. There were almost five groups in the midst at this point, each trying to take the others out while not losing members.

Derb had continued to be the most aggressive, he was too dumb to consider any conservative tactics, instead choosing to attack any group closest to him. He was lucky he had so much stamina, even now his hands were starting to shake. He thanked Deitre for the grip enchantment, he would have dropped his sword a while ago otherwise. He pierced the dirt in front of him, kneeling under it as six arrows flew at him. The sword blocked most but one hit him right in the abdomen, denting the armor and muscle there.

He looked for the culprit, another group in the background was shooting him as he took care of one group. No one seemed to attack them, so it seemed they were only focusing on him. He cursed, picking up the sword and activating his cloak to make himself harder to hit. He wished Connor would shoot them but he was already being turned into a pincushion by the team in front of them. Another volley of arrows came. He tackled the man in front of him, pushing him in front of him to block them. He sighed in relief as the man poofed out of the arena, not a single arrow touching him.

He looked over to Jack and almost let out a laugh in the chaos. The towering demon was full to the brim with arrows, though his movements weren’t impeded in the slightest. He took out the warrior, or victim, he was pummeling to death, turning towards the group firing the arrows despite his eyes being lost in the fight. As a larger incentive, he told Jack to go all out on them, there was no time to be holding out now. Instantly the clicking started, Jack went from a raging behemoth to completely still. It’d been scary had it not been for the arrows jutting out of both his eyes and littering his face.

One of the archers fell, and then another. The rest only seemed to get headaches. Derb couldn’t see anymore as three massive warriors came out of nowhere. He tried blocking the greatsword of one but the strength behind the swing had him barely holding on. He activated the rabbit to lighten himself, using the force of the swung to throw himself back. He crashed and rolled into the ground looking like a man who’d fallen down the stairs. He jumped back up just as quickly though, ready to take on the three.

One had a greatsword, one a giant mace, and the other simply had a longsword, which looked tiny compared to his massive frame. Derb almost chose to run when he saw the three, they seemed rather competent. The hesitance became his downfall as one swung their mace at him, barely giving him time to duck out of the way. With a pivot he brung the sword down at the warrior’s neck, only barely being shoved out of the way by the other warriors. He cursed and swung again, greatsword meeting greatsword.

He was soon going to get attacked so he brought his metal boot down on the man’s kneecaps. He activated snake eyes just as the other two swung, turning just enough for the man whose leg he broke to fall forward. He grabbed his armor and shoved him forward, taking the mace right into his head. He was only able to stop the mace, though, and the sword went right into his side, going a good four inches inside him before the armor stopped it. The man whose head was clubbed in poofed out soon after, leaving Derb wounded and outnumbered.

He cursed, punching the man with the sword stuck in him with a fist enchanted in dark mana, the warrior dodged and shoved the sword deeper inside. Derb yelled in pain, this asshole wasn’t letting up. He expected the one with the mace to swing but it seemed he was hesitant to use the mace again while the two were so close. Derb grinned, it gave him just enough time to take this one out. He encased both hands in dark mana, gripping his shoulder and stomach, and squeezed down as hard as he could. He could feel the crunch and tear in their stomach and shoulders. Instantly the mana rushed into him, warming him as the person in front of him died.

He got too caught in the feeling and didn’t notice the huge mace rushing towards him. A huge blow to his right shoulder reminded him of it, sending him hurtling to the side. The mace user seemed to have regained his confidence, anger pouring out at the sight of his companion, shortly before he poofed out. The massive warrior roared, running towards the culprit who was still gasping for air. Derb rolled over and saw the horrifying scene, just before he was turned into paste Jack came in out of nowhere, tackling him with a terrifying speed. They didn’t even hit the ground as the warrior was sent out of the arena.

He watched as the disappearance only made Jack madder. He pounded the ground in rage, whipping around to find another body. Derb sighed, he’d already tried explaining that they wouldn’t die. The stupid demon seemed to have taken that as a challenge, and Derb had to order him to calm down. Now that that order was thrown out the window Jack was tearing through everyone he could find. He was about to start fighting the others until the familiar voice narrator started speaking. “It seems that there’s a problem with the ritual, all fighters please return to your rooms while we fix this issue. Your designated helper will be there to assist you shortly.”

What the hell? You can’t just have people fight to the brink of death like this and “have a problem”. He felt a knot in his stomach forming as he walked back to one of the giant doors. He was met by the short man soon after. “You! Come here right this instance!” He was stopped stock-still by an incredibly potent magic, his body pushed forward against his will. He was forced into a crouch right in front of the small man. “What are you and how did you ruin six wizards!?” Derb couldn’t speak because of the magic, so he assumed it was rhetorical.

“Whatever, come with me, we’ll have you explain yourself to the ritual users. If this is blatant sabotage then you should understand what will happen to you, yes?” At the end of his words, Derb crumpled to the ground, losing all feeling in his arms and legs. It was gone after a second, the small man looking at him grimly. Derb tried to swallow but his throat was too dry., it was one thing to have someone beat the crap out of you, it was another to not be able to fight back. He nodded furiously, his throat too tight with fear to say anything.

He was picked up with the magic and brought along, like a puppet on strings. By the time they’d made it to where they wanted to get to 20 minutes had passed. They’d gone up a couple of floors, into a hallway full of rituals and symbols. They entered something that looked like a library, and Derb saw a rather unnerving scene. A massive ritual circle was placed in the middle of over 30 mages. At least, he thought they were mages by the sight of all the robes thrown aside. Half were collapsed on the ground, shirtless and gasping for air. It looked like a scene after a football game, not a ritual.

One was sitting on a bench, chugging a blue liquid from a glass vial like his life depended on him. He took one look at Derb before he realized who he was looking at. In a fit of rage, he threw the rest of the half-full vial at him, crashing into Derb’s still mind-controlled head, breaking on his helmet. “You! Do you know how much you’ve screwed up everything!?” He walked over at a fast and threatening pace. It wasn’t until he was a foot away that the puppet magic was taken off. Right before a fist flew out and clocked Derb right in the jaw.

The fist had some power in it, sending Derb into a wall. The man cursed and ran to him, pulling him aside and carefully making sure the wall wasn’t hurt, or more specifically, the rituals. “Damnit… you, what did you use to siphon so much magic out of our rituals?” The ritualist asked, still glossing over the wall. Derb was still seeing stars, the punch had more strength in it than any of the participants. The ritualist saw his state and groaned, placing a hand over Derb’s chest. A second later and his mind cleared up, no longer ruined by the effects of a concussion.

“Oh… god, where am I?” Derb said, almost forgetting everything that happened the past week. He saw the angry face of the ritualist and backed off, remembering how deep in shit he was. “How do you know it was me, anyway!? I don’t remember doing anything!” The man just laughed, covering his face in his hands as if this was the worst day in his life. “Every person with a spiking mana cost told me which bastard had killed them. ’a black knight with a cape’ ‘a dark knight with a large sword’ ‘a scrawny knight with a big sword’ ”.

The ritualist pointed at him. “Every single person you’ve killed requires the mana capacity of four people to bring back. Four!” The man groaned as Derb’s face stretched in horrific realization. He continued. “That would have been fine if you died before you killed over a dozen people.” He walked off to grab another blue vial, Derb suddenly noticed how many replicas of that exact vial were strewn all over the floor, all empty. The ritualist drank half before looking at the bottle, then smashing it once more into Derb’s helmet, sending him flying again. “What did you do!? My mages are dropping like flies out here!”

Derb got up again, his head still feeling clear as rain. “Wait! Wait! You’re not giving me anything to work on!” He scuttered back, pressing himself as close to the wall and as far away from the guy as possible. What did he do for that to happen? Wait… “Oh god… I didn't kill anyone, did I?” The ritualist looked at him like he was a moron. “If anyone died in this tournament my head would be the first to roll, stop ignoring the actual situation. Wait… gimme a moment.” The ritualist chugged another elixir while a ritual came out of his hand, slowly enveloping Derb. Eventually, the ritual stopped and Derb stopped feeling like a million hands were groping him.

“No items… damn. Must be an inborn ability, Have you been siphoning mana from the rituals in the arena!? Do you know how easily you could have killed people!?” Derb shook his head, “No! I don’t have that kind of power! I can’t siphon mana from… people… fuck.” Derb’s shoulders sagged as he realized what was happening. “I… have this ability… I think it’s inbor-” *CRASH* another bottle thrown at his head. “So you were sabotaging!” The ritualist accused. Derb was getting more angry than scared at this point. “Damn it! Can you stop that!? I have this ability to heal myself whenever I hit something with Dark mana, ok? I had no idea it’d cause this many problems...”

The ritualist opened his mouth to speak but paused. He stood there in thought for a second, before angrily going for one of the empty bottles on the floor. Derb put his arms off to block but nothing came. “I suggest you stop hurting my client so blatantly, it might affect your reputation.” Derb saw as the small man beside him used the paralyzing magic on the ritualist. He suddenly seemed a lot more kind to Derb’s antics. The ritualist just scowled, releasing a blast that fizzled the magic out of the air and freed him. “Forget it, he won’t help you now. Kid, he’s being nice just because you're an inborn.”

That… sounded terrible. “What’s an… inborn? Wait, don’t answer. I already know.” That’s what people with special abilities were called? It sounded like there was something wrong with him. “So, how does that work? I was wondering why I felt stronger even though I wasn't killing people.” The ritualist nodded, pointing at the ritual on the ground covered by sweaty and exhausted mages. “The ritual doesn’t inherently stop death, it just works to reverse it. On a normal level, it’s already quite exhausting to use. An average mage could revive around 15 people, depending on the damage.”

He turned to Derb, jabbing a finger in his chest. “I take it your power has sometimes failed in healing you fully before?” Derb nodded, gently brushing the hand aside. “Has it ever partially healed you once this tournament?” Derb shrugged, he didn’t remember, the wounds came as quick as they were gone. The ritualist scowled walking back and forth as he monologued. “Let’s just say they do, it would mean that your power takes whatever remaining mana is in a body and saps it away. Because we kept applying mana into them to reverse the effect… we had to fully heal you before we could bring them back.” Derb nodded along as if he weren’t the cause of all this.

“Healing is about as mana consuming as the spell, and doing it at such a fast pace almost killed a few of our own. We’re going to have to ask you to stop using it.” Derb stepped back, that was his greatest weapon! “What? But it’s like the only reason I'm still alive, what if i-'' The ritualist laughed, and seven red chains pierced Derb’s body, keeping him in place. “I shouldn’t have said ‘asked’, now should I?” Derb scowled, they had no need to put him down like this. “Fine, fine. I won’t use it anymore. Is that fine with you?”

The ritualist agreed, pulling yet another blue potion out of a locker. “Yes, yes. Now, go along. I have people that need help.” Derb ground his teeth as the chains disappeared, rushing out the door with the small man hurrying behind him. "Don’t let him get you down, you have a special ability, something that most could only dream of! Say, if you really feel like you need a little help I could sponsor you, you know?” Derb was still fuming mad, it felt terrible to be treated by someone like that, he couldn’t even fight back. He looked down at his helper, this small man could paralyze him with just a thought.

He shook his head, he was sure he’d be at their level when he was their age. It was just a matter of experience. “I can’t. My master would kill me, hope you understand.” His teacher probably didn’t care but he just hated how fast this little shit changed his tune. His attitude did a 180 once again, no longer interested in him. “Shame, wait in the waiting room while I take care of your… mess.” Derb clenched his fist, reminding himself that this asshole could end him right then and there.

He was left in the familiar waiting room, his mind constantly replaying what happened. He wanted to get stronger. How else could he stop this treatment?