Zahn blinked as the dawn’s coming light suddenly darkened and the elusive Two stood in the doorway. He silently cocked his head while studying the Player before beckoning with one hand and holding up a coiled rope in the other.

“You’re in on this too, Two?” The lowbie couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to be offended or betrayed at the knowledge when it was looking like everyone in the compound was part of the ‘hurt Zahn’ plan. He’d spent the night leaning against the altar and watching its colors and patterns fill with his enhanced eyes. Unwilling to leave the room and face whoever handled the night patrol he’d been warned about, he’d stayed powering the respawn point trying to come up with options watching the spellform gain colors. By the time the sneaky assassin arrived, his altar had not only filled in its resurrection spellform several times over but also stacked those completed spells atop each other like a document copier waiting to spit out new Players.

“Not exactly, no.” The rogue’s voice was the same calm tempo as when Zahn tried his hand at being the zookeeper for a night before the tournament. Before they slaughtered most of those captured Fodder creatures. “I was told to kill you repeatedly, but I’d rather spend my time walking atop a wall in the cold. So, here you are, unmolested. Alas,” the tan clothed man dipped into a short bow Zahn couldn’t tell if it was sarcastic or not, “morning has come and with it you’re set to die. I understand the mass consensus is that training against you raises one’s Weapon Skill level by at least two per day, provided they get their turns.”

The lowbie scowled at the reminder and grabbed at his belly, “And you just expect me to go along with it and let you tie me up again?” He stood from behind the altar and faced his attacker. “Not a chance.”

The sneak sighed before holding up the rope again. “I’m afraid these orders can’t be misinterpreted. Directly from the Ringmaster in his broadcasting alcove. You’re to be bound in rope and brought to the post once more, without delay. And that’s enough delay.” As he finished speaking, the lowbie saw the rope and changed and blinked to see he’d been wrapped and tied while the man spoke, with the remaining length of rope in his hand acting as a lead. While he spoke he’d somehow completely tied him up and walked back to his position. “Come along, no need to embarrass yourself with me.” He tugged lightly on the rope and Zahn felt his sudden binds tighten into a cinch.

“You fuckin,” he didn’t know how to end the insult as his air was pushed out of him with each tug and tried to send mana into his fire ability while he had it before the sneak was far too close. He reached out to tap the lowbie’s head with a finger, stabbing pain and knocking his head backwards on the flick.

-14 Health. Gladiator Two used Tap!

“I said, no. Walk with me or this will start to get painful. Move.”

Leaving the respawn room behind his captor felt like a farm animal being dragged to market and when the dawn’s light found them the arena’s sands were once again populated with warriors milling around and found his least favorite log upright and waiting. Being trussed up again to the same spot and watching a line of gossiping coworkers assemble was a surreal blend of office life memories and his current ongoing shitshow. The marauders eventually lined up as Zahn counted the seconds on his nerves and Two gave the go-ahead before vanishing in the early morning. The thugs marched forwards and began their ritual of performing the weakest attack they could to ‘train’ against his helpless form.

Twenty-nine hits to go.

When the Player felt gravity take hold of his body once more, he dismissed the notification without even looking at it in his rush to see if his plan worked. The clock in his HUD showed less than twenty minutes had passed, and a glance back at the altar showed him the mana levels had hardly even dipped for his rebirth. One of the pre-assembled spellforms had been spent but as he watched some of the glowing rock’s energy began to cycle through the spell’s pattern and reform the spent charge. I can come back faster, so how much faster? Turning from his refuge the lowbie marched out of the tunnel to find the masses of torturers ignoring him entirely.

Leaving the doorway he saw the huge wooden stage in its various parts and panels being disassembled and sorted into which section belonged where. Gladiators ambled around hauling wood rope and occasionally pushing canvas bags of counterweights for the pulley systems. He kept to the edge of the ring and walked as if he had a purpose greater than tricking everyone around him into thinking he was busy.

The custom made it most of the way to the open door hosting the low-level common room when the formerly friendly Ethan parked directly in the doorway and between man and cover. The surprised fighter squawked his surprise at seeing Zahn and seized the lowbie at the shoulders with both hands, dropping his burden of mallet and pegs to haul the Player inside and around the doorway. Dropping him against the wall, the gladiator ducked his head back out to the arena for a survey before popping back inside and pointing a stern finger at his chest.

“How? No, wait. Stop. Why? No, really, back to how. How did you cheat the respawn system?” Ethan’s face was strained as he seemed to be fighting himself as he interrogated the lowbie, and Zahn watched the shifting expressions with more than a little confusion.

“I charged the altar with mana, why would you care? Thanks though. But really right back, what would it matter to you?” Trying to poke his own finger back showed Zahn in half a second they were indeed at least a Rank apart as he hissed and rubbed at a sore digit.

Ethan stepped away, tapping his lip as he thought rapidly. Half-turning back to Z, he cocked an eyebrow at his captive audience. “What’s up with the glowing blue eyes? I meant to ask yesterday, but. Y’know,” he trailed off with a shrug as he turned away once again, and for the first time in days Zahn felt a welcome return of his temper.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘but y’know’? Do you have any fucking idea-” He was cut off with Ethan’s hand slapping over his mouth and a hiss, the stronger’s scowl ignoring the complaints.

“You’ll get caught, retard. Shut up. Coming back to life faster just means more time for them to kill you, if the Ringmaster ever found out you can accelerate respawn timers then you’re really fucking in for it mate.”

The change in tone finally struck Zahn, his odd behavior shaking the simple image he was presented with. “Who are you?”

The blonde man rolled his eyes, “Told you, I’m Ethan. Spent some years in the Dungeon-”

“Yeah yeah,” Zahn waved away the rest of the story, “but there’s more than that. You talk wrong. Common isn’t structured like English, and you’re talking like me anyways. Who are you, really?”

“I spent years there. A lot rubbed off.” The gladiator was much calmer in the argument with his previous level of distraction seemingly vanished. “And I was right, again. Good job.”

Before the lowbie could ask what other vague statement he was being force-fed another body joined them in the room, and the silky voice of his least favorite woman chimed in. “I do hope I’m not interrupting?”

He glanced out the corner of his eye to see a thick dress’ layered gown filling most of the double doorway and a sinister silver crescent glowing just through the stone wall. Looking back at Ethan he found a cold gaze and flustered fighter glaring right back.

“Not at all. This one just found his way into the commons again, looks like he’s trying to pilfer more clothes.”

She popped a wide smile and gave a mocking gasp, “Ah, what a travesty! Theft, in our precious Collisae? You know we work so hard to keep a stellar reputation, don’t you dear Ethan?”

He looked to the floor as he nodded in reply, “Yes ma’am.”

Zahn felt his throat go dry as she turned her attention his way, the weight of her eyes taking up more and more of his field of view. “And how do we punish thieves?” One seemed content to answer her own question as the deadly silver weapon flashed again and the Player knew darkness.

The dim light of his respawn room was a slight comfort, and Zahn was becoming thankful to be back to the land of the living somewhere with shade. Rolling off the stone slab and sending mana to his head, he craned his neck while trying to summarize how to fix his plan. Filling the altar with power had worked and brought him back much faster than it had earlier, but he’d been almost immediately ousted by the strongest fighter in the ring. He paused as he reached the doorway, then turned back to the stone bed as his eyes lit up and the world gained color.

Staring at the flows of mana as they trickled in from the ground, he noticed they were moving faster than a few days previous and seemed to be brighter as well. Stepping up and placing both palms on the surface he tried to push mana into the spellforms through his arms. Straining at his gut was bringing back memories of his last meal but no power, and trying to picture cold in his arms wasn’t causing the immediate effects he’d been growing used to with Mana Sight. He tried to trace a path in his mind down each limb from his ribcage, and while he could draw the path itself without issue the image remained in his imagination and did nothing in the world.

Growing more frustrated, he tried not to think about the reality of killers coming for him at any time and glared at the stone he tried to empower. Picturing ice cold winters from before he was even a teenager and trying to tell his body that cold existed now caused the slightest trickle of warmth in his chest but no results. He slammed his fists on the rock and popped onto his heels to try and solve the puzzle. Rocking back and forth he compared the ease he had sending mana into the earth Dungeon’s puzzles and tried to see what he was doing differently. Back then I just had to want it and try, the mana just flowed. Just yesterday I was sending waves of mana for hours, why can’t I just fuckin’ fill the damn thing? He turned back to the artifact already glowing to his eyes with power and knelt at its side.

Pressing his palms to the edge and wrapping his fingers over the top, Zahn closed his eyes and focused on the blue shapes and glows he could see through the lids in the world. With everything not part of the magic taken away, his focus on the altar and its magic settled into a rhythm that reminded him of meditation. Staring at the complete stacked spellforms he tried to draw the lines in his arms for mana once again, and this time he found some kind of result for his efforts. The thick veins he carved into his arms formed as pale, uneven lines with their edges soft and frayed like rotted cloth. Being able to see the shapes he’d formed shocked the lowbie enough to open his eyes and come out of the trance to an empty room quiet save the noise coming from outside.

Shaking himself to regain his composure he closed his eyes again and tried to dive back into the humming feeling he’d found before. Trying to grab the sensation was like gathering smoke between his fingers and left him agitated, growing more frustrated at his failings each time he couldn’t step back into what he’d done before. Gripping the altar’s hard edge tightly he could feel the unyielding stone bite into his flesh as he squeezed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

Thinking of the mass of warmer-than-body temperature in his chest, Zahn took a deep breath and tried to grab the mass in his mind. His mental grasp was nothing like controlling the invisible digit he used to steer through his menus and felt more like squeezing a jellyfish than meditation but as the seconds passed he felt something. A soft, squishy, slimy resistance to his metal pressure started to form against his grip, wiggling and slipping side to side. He felt his lungs screaming for release as he spat out an exhale and panted, gripping the slab as if he’d been running a marathon. With his eyes tightly closed he couldn’t see even a hint of the oppressive room or the threats that loomed outside it, but the glowing blue altar remained shining in the darkness.

Taking another deep breath and holding it, he grasped the tenuous hold he’d formed over the strange magical feelings that were supposed to represent his Core. Wrapping his idea and intent of grip around the mass of energy was proving to be more than just silly as the seconds ticked by and his air dwindled, and in a desperate effort he pushed.

With the mental image of himself gripping the slime cloud in both hands and forcing it downwards into a funnel, he pushed against the energy in him and felt something move. The pleasant warmth he’d been basking in with each cast of Fire Spit or Mana Sight had been something like the first time he’d ever gone to a southern beach. Growing up in Northmass he’d had plenty of occasions to visit the cold rocky shores, but the first time he’d stepped out from under the canopy onto the glorious Florida beaches he felt a kind of warmth that never took hold back home. A tingling crawl of relaxation and leisure had filled his body, instilling the craving to simply lie down in the sun-baked sands and let his mortal concerns subside with the tides.

Previously, casting magic had felt similar to his first real beach day and brought the Player comfort in this strange dangerous world. The heat he’d managed to summon now was quickly making him regret ever attempting the experiment. Eyes wide open and gasping for air Zahn pressed his body against the freezing cold altar’s stone and tried not to weep. From the center of his chest erupted a kind of pain he’d once tried to call heartburn before the idea of burning was too taboo to think about during the event. A blistering savage anger roared silently through his fragile flabby body, sending him into shakes as his brain overloaded into a seizure during the mana transfer. Each second he could feel more energy than he knew how to measure shunt itself out of his body like radiation, pouring straight through his organs, bones and skin into everything nearby. The dirty old wood forming the dark room regained its long-lost straight lines and grew chips back into solid panels before slowly thickening and fattening under the energy overload. Zahn felt like his body was being vibrated and cooked from the inside out as the timbers making up the room creaking and groaning with the new pressure, buckling against their mounts as every piece of wood did its best to grow.

If he hadn’t had the presence of mind to lay on the altar the experience would have continued for far longer, but the combination of luck and ignorance saved him. With or without the crude paths in his arms the mana would have flowed into the power-thirsty artifact, and with the amount of mana he tried to force out of his body at a time the mere physical barriers of flesh and bone did nothing to slow the wave of energy. Inches apart from one another, his Mana Core dumped power downwards into the waiting spellform and supercharged the structure. The amount of mana sent into the altar per second was more than twice the quote needed to bring a single Player back to life and the more excess energy poured in beyond what the spellform could handle the faster the pattern spun.

Zahn lay panting and gasping as he lay across the altar’s surface, shaking and drooling as he tried to move his arms. Splayed out around him, the spread-eagle position had him feeling more vulnerable than his normal naked alone and surrounded, but the helplessness didn’t last long.

“My, oh my.” One’s sultry voice curled around the room as she stalked out of the hallway, heavy blade trailing her into the room. “Having a fit, little Player?”

He couldn’t turn to look up at her, but not being able to see her glow bothered the lowbie. He’d already gotten accustomed to seeing the silver death coming for him, but the stupid amount of mana he’d opted to feed the altar was so bright he felt blinded to the rest of the magical world. “Nnnrrrrgh.” His stalwart attempt at communication took so much effort, Zahn felt cheated at the result. Shaking and drooling wasn’t on the top of his list of ways he wanted to die, but as far as he cared that list was empty anyways.

“Aren’t you sweet.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as her weapon sung through the air. “But you’re spitting on my dress.”

The dark ceiling let him breathe, but Zahn wasn’t about to make his next death too easy. Rolling to the right in an effort to be different, he heard the whoosh of displaced air pass overhead and knew he’d guessed correctly. That bitch just won’t leave me alone! Rolling in the darkness he found the wall with his elbow when the mana vision kicked on and he regretted everything all over again.

Until now his mana sight trick had let him see what others couldn’t and give him sneaking insight to the deeper workings of magic. As he stared into the concentrated force of half a dozen mages stuffed into a coffin-sized box, the shining light made him think he’d been blinded and knocked his head back into the wall, dazing him.

Trying to track the position of a faded blue triangle and its white curve friend was a nearly impossible task while staring right next to a white rectangular star. The light coming off his altar was so bright he could see glare lines arcing off the corners and edges, with the beautiful and complex spellform that first inspired his experiments lost in the stabbing glow. Trying to squint his eyes against the magical brightness did nothing, and he couldn’t think of anything better to follow the crazy woman’s attacks in the darkness.

He heard the scrape before he saw it, trying to shield his eyes from the bright box. She’d stepped on one of the fattened planks in the floor just to his right, between himself and the exit. Zahn reached out with a hand trying to gauge the distance when he heard her speak again. “That’s just pathetic.” He waved an arm at the sound in jerky motions before the whoosh of air passed too close and darkness met him once again.

The evil creature’s foul rebirths were coming faster and faster, and One couldn’t understand why.

Waking up and landing, he rolled to the left again and found a mouthful of rags. Spinning in the dim light had seemed better than blinding himself with folly but someone had rearranged the room on him. Trying to roll the other direction proved useless when a cold hand grabbed his face in the darkness, violating all concepts of his own personal bubble.

“Charming, you came right to mommy. How are you returning so fast, pest? Speak!” Gripping his cheeks and shaking him, One tossed the weak Player off his table to the ground. Her other arm waved and summoned her scythe, weaving the blade between them. “Do you think you can keep anything from me, pest?”

Feeling the solid wall Zahn struggled to stand, still dizzy from the casual toss and wound to his dignity. Facing the direction he assumed she stood in, the lowbie tossed a mocking laugh into the darkness. “What, can’t ya guess? I thought you lot were all about this whole respawn thing.”

He grinned and opened his mouth to mock her more when she spun her weapon and removed his upper jaw, sending his skull flying and causing another squat grave to appear in place of a corpse.

She scowled at the reminder and looked back to the slab as its intricate patterns began to glow once again. From just under the smooth surface a drawing that was something reminiscent of an ornate picture frame was rapidly filling in and gaining brightness. The altar coming to life wasn’t something anyone in the Collisae had known to plan for or expect, and the Ringmaster had already wasted more than a day in the records trying to learn how to disable the damned thing.

The foul Player’s body appeared within the stone, a ghostly blue shape within the frame of magic she’d been watching for less than a minute - more than twice as fast as the last time. She stepped back and raised her weapon again as the blue ghost shuddered and was spat straight upwards out of the solid stone to reveal a mostly naked soft man with too much hair, spitting and croaking as he grasped new life once more.

She swung without speaking, removing the filth’s face and sending him away once more in moments. The grave appeared to the side of the altar, and the infernal glow began even faster than the previous life.

“This is fucking ridiculous.”

This is fucking ridiculous.

Coming back to life on repeat seemed like a great plan, but as it kept happening to Zahn he was feeling more and more like the days were being stolen from him. He’d been granted a kind of immortality when he joined the game world sure, but spending that endless time in a loop of pain and fear? Fuck this bullshit.

Landing on his back and immediately diving to the side, the Custom found himself running into something spiked that had been placed in his way. The obstruction was hard and unyielding, unexpected as it was sneaky and stabbed into the lowbie’s fragile gut before shaking and vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared. What kind of asshole traps someone’s respawn point? The indignation lasted as long as the train of thought as more noise greeted him than the usual blade dancing. Voices crawled towards him down the only exit to his room, and the lack of steps or death from behind made him think that someone had stepped out to take a call.

With a groan he ambled to his feet, lightly touching his neck and face in a subconscious effort to remind himself he was in fact intact. Rubbing as his aching gut wound, Zahn shuffled blindly in the darkness to find the various graves he’d been leaving behind. He’d made his way around the room in a lap before the voices sounded like they were getting closer again, and as the seconds passed he realized the tunnel was growing brighter too.

A glance at his clock showed him it was still morning of the day he’d thought he was clever, and the various deaths he’d already entertained that morning were already far too many for his taste. The approaching lights showed him the room again in detail, enough to see he’d missed a grave, and the number of steps that neared were making him imagine horror shows like the line from outside simply moving into his room.

Before he could muster the gumption to flee or fight, the first body walked around the curve bearing a torch and all fine details were lost as Zahn grabbed at his stinging eyes in the sudden pain.

“But why bring ten of us, ma’am?” The gladiator’s voice was someone he didn’t know, but the list of familiar people was short enough not to matter.

“Because your Skill has a one minute cooldown. Mount your torches, chop chop.” One clapped like a nanny as she ushered her charges around, the entire group seemingly content to ignore Zahn for the moment. He tried to peek out between his fingers at the room but more than one fire had been brought in and the relative brightness was blinding.

The sounds of footsteps getting closer made him tense, and he reacted with the only attack he had left while blind and naked. He cocked his head backwards, sucking in a breath of air quickly before spitting the fire spell forwards and hoping to make contact. As he fired the sounds of alarm and shock echoed between the fighters to be followed by chuckling and the sounds of horseplay.

“Ya almost got me there, Player. Scary. Easy to spot though.” Zahn tried to place the voice that spoke from before, but the man was too close for it to matter as he sunk his blade into the Player’s neck. “Slice.”

Air filled Zahn’s lungs as the far too bright room stabbed at his eyes, making him shout in pain and indignation before gurgling as one of the waiting gladiators sunk his sword into the man’s body. The Player’s shape vanished with a gravestone appearing in the same instant, landing and cementing itself into the ground immediately next to the altar. The vile creature’s body began to show itself again as a blue ghost within the stone, staying still just long enough to be recognized before launching itself in full color upwards and into the world to gasp for air again.

For the first hour, the group laughed and joked about how easy it was. The horrible monsters that are Players made so utterly helpless, and they even got to perform their execution attacks repeatedly. By the second hour everyone’s level improvements had slowed dramatically, and by the third nobody was laughing anymore. The bone-deep ache resonated in each of them, the unending swing motion wearing on their arms and bodies as the time passed. They’d been told the basics of what was expected when One found them before, but the task itself was becoming far more tiring than they’d been led to believe.

“Just think,” Jufuin muttered as he swung his sword through a fat neck again. “It’s only two more hours until we switch shifts.”