Bart’s wealth had increased dramatically after he set up shop in the Arena. Whether entering the Arena and needing supplies or leaving the Arena and needing healing potions or a celebratory drink, most parties stopped by his booth everytime they came to the Arena. And since the Arena handed out awards like a mayoral candidate hands out candy at a parade, they were willing to pay the extra that his store charged. Of course, his store was still on par with, if not cheaper than, the competition, owing to his high leveled Shop License. It was just that he no longer had to make his goods much cheaper than his competition because of his excellent location, increasing his profit margins.

His store was no longer his main source of income though, loan sharking had easily outpaced the profit he made from his wares, or at least it had until two days ago. At first, everyone had good naturedly paid when they lost a bet, the crowd jeering and catcalling those who lost, and friends cheering and congratulating each other when they scored big. But then Gregorvich, a level 8 adventurer that had been imported by the System, had refused to pay when he lost close to 1000 silver coins. Bart had tried to make a scene and peer pressure him into paying, but Gregorvich had merely waved his hand behind him as he obstinately walked out of the Arena. On seeing one person get away with this, others began to as well. Since they hadn’t ever stolen or hurt someone else, the System did nothing to punish them. And since the System had been the only ruling power up to this point, its lack of punishment was seen as a sign of moral acceptance.

Just today, Bart had tried to change up tactics, being loath to see his main source of income dwindle to any degree. He had hired a few thugs to help him claim his money, but that hadn’t been successful for two reasons. The first was that the System prevented his goons from physically assaulting anyone, so the most they could do was annoy and follow his debtors around, but that didn’t accomplish much. The second problem was of a different nature–size and physical strength were no longer as important as they had once been, when even the smallest of men could lash out with devastating force using a secret skill or ability. So though he found the biggest lackeys he could, they were wary of those they followed around, neither party truly knowing which was stronger.

As Bart lay awake, staring at the ornate ceiling of the local in above him, his double-stuffed goose comforter and mattress cradling his body, he thought about how he could remedy the situation. He needed a way to get the System to back his actions and agreements, only then would people be truly forced to pay up. Opening up his interface with the System where he bought goods (he had finally advanced his Shop License far enough that he now had a mobile interface rather than needing to go all the way to the town center), he scrolled through the various pages of goods. Despite searching through all the items, he couldn’t find a piece of clothing, food, or weapon that would compel someone to take an action. And even if there was, it wouldn’t be economical.

That is when an idea hit him, could the solution to his problem be as simple as a contract?

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The Arena was already bustling, though it was only 8 o’clock in the morning. The Arena had proven to be the best means of skill advancement, monetary increase, and widespread entertainment since the System integration. Only a few months ago, these same villagers averaged over 8 hours a day watching light move on their small handheld electronics, and the jump to spending the same amount of time watching others fight to the death had been easy when the alternative was wandering the woods and fighting monsters, though some still chose the path of adventuring.

Bart had just opened up shop when Grawl approached his booth.

“Two hundred that the next batch makes it past round 5.” Grawl said loudly, slapping his hand on the booth's countertop. Bart’s assistant, who he called Bartholomew, looked at his employer for help.

“That isn’t one of the current offers.” Bart replied, trying hard not to roll his eyes. He wondered if the hairy man even knew how to read sometimes. “And even if it was, why would I do business with you when you didn’t pay up yesterday?”

Sighing, Grawl reached a hand into his alcohol stained pants pocket and pulled out some money. “Will this cover it?”

Looking over the small pile of coins, Bart decided the man probably didn’t know how to count coins either, it was way more than he owed. “It will have to do. But just to make sure there isn’t a repeat of yesterday, I am going to need you to sign this contract for me.” He said as he slid a document between them.

Grawl seemed agitated as he stared at the paper. “It says here that the loser of the bet will pay up immediately. And that if they don’t, the System will compel them to do so.”

“That’s right.”

“Well great! I doubt the System will actually do anything based on a piece of paper, so I agree.”

“Ok, if you wouldn’t mind putting a drop of blood above the line marked Lendee.” Bart said, even as he pricked his own finger and put a drop of blood in the position allocated to the house.

Grawl did so, and they proceeded to document the remainder of the bet. Bart had created a series of checklists that users of the contract could mark, indicating the exact limits of their bet. He even went so far as to leave a blank space to write down the odds, since the odds he was willing to offer changed depending on which group of adventurers was entering the Arena. After agreeing on a 1:1 odds that the group on deck would make it past round 2, the paper suddenly shone with a blue glow, even as the edges began to warp and fold, until the paper no longer represented a document at all, but a blue crystal.

[Congratulations! You have learned the skill Soul Contracting.

+3 Intelligence.

You have successfully dipped your toes into the art of compulsion.

Continue testing the limits to see how far others can propel you.]

Bart indulged himself in a small smile, a 3 point increase to Intelligence in addition to a new skill was more than he had bargained for. As he placed his hand on the small crystal, the details of the agreement appeared in front of him like a System message, making the crystal even better at recording information than the original document.

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Bart watched eagerly as the adventurers exited the Arena after only the first round. Being paired against a group of fire lizards so early was unlucky. If it hadn’t been for the single experienced adventure finishing off the reptiles, the rest of the group would have been doomed, consisting of only low leveled laborers from the town.

The moment of truth had arrived and Bart turned his attention to Grawl. The man seemed to fight each movement as he slowly stood up and rigidly nudged his way out of the stadium seating. His face was perfectly blank as he walked to Bart’s stand, although his eyes betrayed the indignation he felt with every step he took. Pulling some coins out of his pocket, he set them on the counter, his eyes burning with fury. Only once Bart reached out and took the coins did Grawl seem to gain control of himself.

“Thank you, Grawl!” he said in an overly pleasant voice.

Yelling loudly, the man spat in his face, “This is the devil’s own instrument.” His hands clenched in rage and years of bar brawling seemed to swell inside of him. He abruptly deflated as his eyes tracked the space in front of his face, clearly reading a System notification, then he turned and made his way out of the Arena.

“Do come back tomorrow!” Bart called, reveling in the enjoyment of a successful plan coming to fruition.

A venomous glance backwards was the only reply he got, but he paid it no heed, his head already spinning with the variations of contracts that were at his fingertips. It was time to get revenge on everyone in Noobtown that had wronged him.

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Mike slowly made his way into the dark opening of the mining cave, the torch causing grim shadows as it flickered. After the first few feet, he stopped abruptly, something felt off. It took a few moments for him to realize that he sensed no wind nearby. Something that hadn’t happened since he first unlocked the Aeromancy skill over a week earlier. Even during the oppressively hot and muggy days that had transpired, he had been able to detect the faintest whispers of wind. But now, only 20 feet into the small tunnel, and he felt almost blind. It was a similar feeling to when he had had to live on the blandest of rations for over two months when he had been captured on a mission 40 years earlier. By the time he and his remaining squad members had escaped, he couldn’t remember what it was to taste. He would never forget the sweet explosion of flavor as he had cooked the small lizard they had captured later that same day.

Shaking off the memories, he continued deeper, his frame being forced to crouch as he quickly made his way past what he had helped mine and into the territory that had been dug by the hobgoblins alone. He expertly managed the small feelings of panic that sought to dilute his thoughts as the space around him closed in. Learning to respect warnings that his body gave him while still managing to function was one of the first things that Navy Seals had to learn. Besides, he had had the forethought to bring two pickaxes with him when he left the camp, which means that as long as there was room to dig, he probably wouldn’t get completely stuck.

He was impressed with how far the tunnel went. He estimated that by 50 feet in, he could no longer see the entrance to the cave, the shaft veering slightly as it went deeper into the mountain. By 150 feet, he began to see small cavities that marred the edges of the tunnel, evidence of where the mining teams had pulled out ore and blasting rock. The cavities made it look like the tunnel wound back and forth, the light of his torch being unable to penetrate the haphazard angles from which they broke off from the main shaft.

He remembered the warning that some manner of beast lurked within this cave, causing him to decrease his already slow pace as he carefully maneuvered his way deeper. He softened his footfalls, knowing that it was pointless when he held the only light source in the area, but doing what he could to maintain a semblance of control.

His torch sputtered, its lifespan exhausted by his slow progress and lack of moving air. He had made three, hoping that it would be enough to at least find the monster, but now he worried that he had underestimated the time it would take to fully explore the work the miners had done. Taking out his second torch, he deftly lit it off of the first one, satiating his immediate need for light.

Twenty minutes later, he stared at the uneven surface of a wall in front of him. He had reached the end of the mine. The hairs on the back of his neck crept up as he realized what this meant, if the beast wasn’t in front of him, then it had to be behind him.