The pair of Players ran their now-regular pattern around the edge of the arena, Zahn still struggling to keep pace with Ethan’s easy jog. Even with their constant training he was full ranks behind the Warlock in both stats and levels, which frustrated both of them for obvious reasons. With the lowbie so weak the resident Warlock was missing out on all the normal training he’d been enjoying for years, and with how much stronger the blonde was than himself Zahn was stuck taking pointers and listening to the ‘how’ without being able to practice against someone he could actually win against. The only duels he had a chance with were against someone near his own level, and the small group of single-digit Gladiators were slowly but surely creeping into the higher levels and leaving him behind. As he futilely chased after that annoying blonde bobbing head he began to hallucinate the curved dark stone wall and the weaving yellow orb before it, with a light curve to one side and lightening darkness on the other, broken only by the suddenly opening double doors in front of him.

Slamming into solid evergreen and iron, the lowbie rattled to a complete halt and snapped out of his trance to the ground in a heap. Zahn rolled around to his hip and hopped up to a foot to stand, chest heaving as he fought to regain his breath. He could hear someone talking from inside whichever commons he’d collided with. Leaning against the wall and straightening with a grimace, the Custom didn’t see who exited but their footsteps gathering around made it obvious which group he’d been dueling had finally woken up.

Looking around he found himself surrounded with six teenage boys in varying amounts of armor and with the same sneering smile on each of their faces. The door he’d suddenly met closed to his right, with Burnato smiling behind it. Even weeks after their one-sided slaughter fests, the chipper brute still seemed to have a special spot of spite in his heart for the low-leveled Custom.

“Good morning, little Player,” the Gladiator grinned as his team broke into light jeering for hello. The kids seemed energetic and downright thrilled to be living each day in the bloodsport arena of the north, trapping him in a half-circle against the wall with their postures. Glancing above the group’s heads Zahn found the half dozen sitting happily in double digits, and one was even a skull level to him. “We have orders from the Ringmaster for today, before the next Tournament starts. We’re to have practice duels with just daggers, and you will of course be taking the penalty.”

Zahn scowled back at him, “No, I have no reason to just put up with your fucking abuse anymore. I have a contract with the Ringmaster and I’m a Gladiator just like you.” The group didn’t move, or even glance at their leader for direction.

“And us,” chimed in one of the boys. “And we need to duel someone besides fodder or ourselves, like someone who has magic and isn’t that crazy geomancer.” More giggles rounded the group, a tad more somber at the mention of the ominous Shaman.

The lowbie rolled an eye at the gaggle of teens, flicking his mana into his vision to better examine the group. Despite their too-frequent practices, the gaggle of teens had yet to score a kill against him in the rings and it was starting to look like they were promised today was the day. Taking in the teens he could easily see nobody had magical gear on them, or even a weapon holding any enchantment. The weeks of practice with various weapons and facing off against Ethan or the Fodder had let him experiment with how much mana he needed to send to his eyes to get a good look at how dangerous someone was magically in a moment. With the group being ignorant to what Zahn could actually do, a blue light shining in his eyes was enough to send them stumbling back a step and looked to their leader like his mere glance was enough to put them off balance.

Burnato spoke up before their pissing contest could move beyond a first pass, “Enough, it’s not up to you. I’ll tell Ethan about the details and you’ll face off this afternoon.” The high-level brute nudged his group along to their drills, quietly scolding them about making a certain impression.

Zahn watched them leave, tasting something sour as he looked forlornly at his remaining levels. Why did I agree to be periodically de-leveled? It’s not even real training, and just now they’re making excuses for it… He sighed and looked over at his only ally being pulled out of his run and a certain muscled brute waving his hands and explaining something.

Rolling his neck and closing the other door, the Custom focused on his two new spells and tried to make a plan. Maybe shape up a spell’s form and shift it around? Fire-spitting carving? His own ability to spit fire was faster than the only active fire rune he’d seen, and he already knew he could launch his spell while swinging a weapon in either hand. Maybe I’ll just have to stick to launching flames when they’re open? Can’t be a six-on-one. Fighting against the team of teens so far had been limited to single bouts and matched weapons as the lowbies trained how to use each type. His thoughtful jog brought the Player to Ethan’s side as the latter leaned and drank from a waterskin. He handed Zahn the skin and motioned at him.

“Drink up, we still have to stretch and get some weight training in. Once we’re finished with our ‘silly bard practice’ you get to face off against the new crew.” His voice pitched to mock a certain rumble he’d grown to hate and the Custom smirked along. Ethan’s own smile faded as he continued, “Because of their level differences, you’ll face two at once twice then solo fights. Then they’ll repeat this cycle until you die enough times to get down to level two before our Tournament starts.”

“Just want to point out that’s bullshit,” Zahn chimed in as he lowered the empty waterskin. “I was too stupid to make a deal, there has to be some law about minimum requirements.” The blonde warlock’s cocked eyebrow was his only answer, so he plowed on. “Anyways, what kind of shit is that? All those little snots already out-level me, and I’m already down a full level since yesterday when king douche decided to start culling me early.”

Ethan shrugged, “You’re the one who made a very stupid deal. In hindsight, without you taking some kind of ongoing punishment I don’t think the master would have let you stay at all, but really. Volunteering for that shit? Come on, man.”

The Custom tried to come up with an answer and failed, staring up at the mercilessly beautiful blue skies with another sigh. “Any tips for facing off with multiple enemies several levels higher than yourself?” A bird coasted on currents into view over the top of the walls, its white body starkly contrasting the cloudless day.

The warlock patted his shoulder, jostling him off-balance. “Find a trick and stick to it. You’ve been picking up a little of everything, yeah that’s great. But like your magic, you spit fire wads like it’s not disgusting and you even pull it off mid-fight. Do that with a weapon. Well,” He reached into his own belt’s bag and pulled out a pair of small knives. “With these, anyways. Your official Tournament weapons, until the Ringmaster changes them. Lowest ranking, newbie weapons of the highest order, and the only official things that will sit in a single-digit classless fighter’s hand.”

Zahn took the blades, noticing the main weapon was thicker and longer than its pair and bore a crossguard. The off-hand weapon was shorter, just over a foot long, and split into two blades like a letter V partway down. The split was reinforced with thicker metal and the fork bent to remain parallel. He’d already handled the weapons during dual wielding training, and was familiar with the uses of the blade-catching offhand weapon with a sword to pair it with.

“So, a blade catcher and a Rogue weapon? Seriously?”

Ethan grinned back at him, “Technically it’s a spellblade’s dagger, and you can cast from your Grimoire in your off-hand while wielding this as your main weapon. But, you’ve been classed as a dual wielder, so.” He shrugged again before opening his mouth dramatically wide, “If only you had some way to surprise them with magic enhanced by that weapon that didn’t take casting out of a book like literally everyone else. Huh, I wonder.”

“And what about me gets me classed as a dual wielder? My fucking spellbook?” Zahn looked at the weapons again, empowering his Mana Vision to get a better look at the daggers and note the intricate magical patterns woven into the main hand’s hilt. One of the patterns was crooked and damaged, while another seemed to be missing a section entirely, but the weapon remained serviceable and seemed eager to take in his rich blue mana. Pushing a pulse through his palm, the Custom felt his weapon heat before the energy ran along the broken and bent shapes within the blade to finally emerge at the edge. Holding up the dagger with a glowing blade, the lowbie cocked his eyebrow back at his companion. “Yeah, this’ll totally hide. More like, it’s gonna broadcast for anyone watching, ‘Look at me! Look here! I’m gonna stab with this!’ Seriously, this is garbage.”

Ethan pulled an iron weight from his bag, tossing it to the sands. “Or you could use it like that on purpose. Distract, maneuver, disengage, strike from the shadows.”

Zahn nodded along as he looked around the area, avoiding the spot where number five and his six goons swung swords in sync. “Oh yeah, totally. From the shadows. On a flat sand arena, with a magical wall keeping me in the ring. Makes total sense.”

The Warlock scowled as he tossed a sand weight at his pupil, “Then stop bitching and use your brain. Figure it out, now you have tools to use. Swing that ‘round, maybe loosen up those flabby arms.”

Dropping his daggers into his bag, Zahn grumbled as he scooped up the light weight. “It’s still stupid.” Going through the motions of his morning warmup, he swung the weight around and took a balanced stance. After a few minutes they moved up to warming their limbs with squats and pushups followed by an endless amount of sit-ups. Each time he made the mistake of looking around the sands he would see more fighters starting their day and inevitably the dreadful gang he’d be facing that afternoon.

Hours into the practice he was feeling ready for a real meal for lunch when the chipper brute himself appeared at Ethan’s side to pull them back in. “Sorry, don’t need you tough guy. Just your little helper, to help some of my friends.” His easy grin spread across his face as he dropped a thick arm over the lithe caster’s shoulders, “You wouldn’t want to go against the big man’s orders would you? He’s just a level six.”

Zahn watched with a sinking gut as his only ally shrugged off the load and stepped into their commons without a glance at him. Being left with his tormentor once more, the lowbie settled into a fighting stance when the chipper thug noticed.

“Hah! You really think? Nah, you little shit.” The smile waned as the big man chuckled out whatever train of thought he was running on. “No, we finally get to put you to good use. See, I have a little bet with Two about how well my team will be doing tomorrow, so they need to practice their kills on a willing target.”

The Player stared down the taller man, “And just what makes you think I’m so willing to let your crotch goblins gang up on me, douchenugget?”

Burnato nodded up to someone past him, “Yeah, talk talk. Whatever.” Zahn blinked as a mostly transparent film snapped up between them, and a sharp glance down showed he was inside a ring of stones. Before he could use this knowledge, a foot landed in the sand behind him and he felt the back of his shirt pull.

-32 Health. ??? used Backstab.

Alert! You are disoriented!

Feeling the weapon pull free from his kidneys felt like someone had reached into his body and tugged on something important, twisting and grinding that something until heat and wet pain joined forces to radiate out from the impact. Falling to his knees and gasping for breath, the lowbie felt the magic field against his cheek tingle innocently as it blocked his escape and his mana core began to send a very different heat through his chest.

Staggering to one foot, Zahn looked over to see three of the thug juniors standing around the small duel arena with a single bloody dagger dripping onto the ground. Outside the ring stood the other half of the mini crew, without a single neutral fighter to witness the gang kill. Pressing a hand against his lower back as he demonstrated epic personal prowess and stood, straightening up and recalling the last time he’d held the same posture. A little over a week before his dive into virtual reality, he’d stood from his comfortably cushioned desk chair to stretch and work out that pulled muscle in his back, griping about the hellish conditions he slaved in to keep the damned company running. The moment of air conditioning and food on demand left, bringing the lowly Player back to his current life and death against a triple teen threat.

Letting his hands fall, Zahn tried to stay calm and focus against his opponents. The trio still stood calm and relaxed against him, their obvious mockery of his pain leaving two of them miming instead of fighting. Focusing on the third, the quiet one whose blade still dripped with his blood, the Custom considered reaching for magic but found his daggers instead. Pulling out the blade-catcher, he left his main hand free and held the tool in a backwards grip in his left.

Sinking into as low of a stance as he could, Zahn tried to ignore the pain demanding attention and stared at the novice sneak. This mini thug seemed to take the bloodshed more seriously, and he clapped one of his teammates on the shoulder without breaking eye contact. As the group moved in, Zahn tried to keep an eye on the distance between them while keeping his back to the curved wall of force so nobody else would get a surprise backstab on his ass.

With the three facing him at once he couldn’t avoid presenting his side to one of them, so he opted to take the path of least resistance. Warmth continued to rise in his chest and fall down his back, giving Zahn the fierce impression of time running out when he moved to strike. Lashing out with an open hand at the right-most, he found the kid ducking backwards and away as the far left moved in to re-bloody his blade.

Finishing his feint the Player half-turned back to slam his blade-catcher down on the approaching knife, watching the surprised kid’s eyes as his attack failed. Twisting the handle to lock the blades with friction, Zahn wrenched it left and right before dragging the interlocked blades across his front and levering a solid kick at the boy’s belt. The novice released his dagger and fell with a ‘whoof’ before rolling into a fetal position on the sands. Snatching the bloodied weapon from his off-hand, the Player turned to the middle child as he struck with a short sword at Zahn’s belly.

He jumped back to avoid the straight stab and felt the shield wall resist his efforts just before he felt the sword’s tip punch through his limited abs. Growing at the pain and feeling another burst of heat from his Core, the lowbie jammed his blade catcher down at the sword’s hilt as he swung his won dagger in an arc to try and buy space. The fighter obligingly retreated, pulling back his blade to avoid Zahn taking it from him and leaving space for the first to return. He’d rounded his friend’s back and stabbed at Zahn’s now-open left, scoring a clean hit to the shoulder and leaving that arm mostly useless.

Continuing his growl at the ongoing pain, the Player felt heat rise to his eyes and fill his mind, taking the urgency of the pain away for blessed moments. In his seconds of clarity, Zahn saw both boys stepping in again as their downed companion nursed his jewels before the sight of two parallel overhead strikes made him want to laugh mid-fight.

Swinging both blades up and interlocking them, Zahn caught the double attack and stopped them cold with a loud clash of metal, before turning to the right and sending another kick into the left’s gut and stomping on the right’s planted foot in the return. Stabilizing his balance against the blades, he pushed further right to try and drive the swords aside completely before he was rewarded by his second kicked victim losing their weapon and falling next to his friend.

Facing off with a short swordsman one-on-one had Zahn feeling much better about his odds, cheating be damned. A glance at his health told him he still had another seventy or so hits left and the solo act he was staring down seemed far less confident than a minute before. Stepping in to punish his opponent, the Custom tried to keep pace as his prey stepped back and around to keep distance between them. He thought about sending a wad of fire at the lad, but without anything to follow-up with he’d just be wasting a distraction. And potentially a win, if they don’t know about the fire. Not knowing what Burnato had shared with his team left Zahn either assuming they knew everything or hoping they knew nothing, and neither option sounded like a good plan.

Limping with each half-step, he grimaced at the pain stabbing him again and again with each step trying to close on the last kid standing. It wasn’t until the kid in question found his back to a wall and smirked that Zahn realized he’d been led away from safety and into the middle - with two living opponents behind him. He tried to spin but moved far too late, both boys bearing short swords as they hacked into his vulnerable back and brought him down another sixty health.

-31 Health. ??? used Backstab.

-28 Health. Jufuin used Backstab.

He gasped and struggled against the pain, trying to stay upright on his few remaining health. The boy in front charged ahead with his sword held out like a spear, as Zahn tried to keep him in focus. Whose name was that? He found his thoughts slipping in the agony even as a threat bore down on him. Do I know that guy? Zahn found his thoughts foggy, clouded, like swimming through cotton-

Rage burned and roared, echoing through his chest and out his lips as Zahn railed against the weakness forced on him and stood, yelling his frustrations. He felt heat, blistering like the fires he’d been terrified of since his own tragedy, searing out from his eyes and scratching against the skin around his sockets. The charging child’s own eyes widened in fear, his mouth opening to scream as Zahn saw a dark purple light shining reflected in the boy’s tears, a cry never to form from his lips. In that moment, the Player felt like he had complete dominance, that the small mind before him would crumple against his might and the world would heed its newest master.

The moment ended abruptly as the child’s bared sword sheathed itself in Zahn’s chest, his roar ending in a gurgle and frustration and darkness. His body collapsed in on itself, leaving behind a square-cornered pillar tapering smaller towards the top, capped by an equally small pyramid. The boys stood in their circle, chests heaving as they stared at the sword fully embedded into the Player Grave. After moments of the only sounds being their own desperate breaths, the spell was finally broken.

Jufuin turned to his friend, “You totally pissed yourself. He scared the shit outta you.”

Indignation surged among the friends as the barrier fell, the group laughed and celebrated among themselves before their master Burnato scolded them into line and started to go over what opportunities were missed and what tactics were used incorrectly. The day had only begun.