Markus rushed from the pillar to meet the horde.

As he assigned himself as the brawler, an outline showing how far he could stray from the pillar appeared in his vision.

Huh, nifty.

He stopped about fifteen feet from the border. They’d come to him.

Green shields were already flying out, blocking and tripping all over. Micheal’s friend sure was something. The sheer volume of shields he was throwing out was absurd, though Markus had noticed that he never had more than three out at a time.

But with how quickly he could dismiss and resummon them, it almost didn’t matter.

The first challengers crossed over the barrier. Markus grinned. In a contest where no one could die, this wasn’t a brutal fight for survival.

It was fun.

~<>~<>~

Steven’s world was a storm of green.

His Skill boxes pulsed in his vision until he could almost hear them, and every shield felt effortless.

He tripped a man before he could throw a spear at Micheal, then deflected a hand axe

aimed at Clark.

This was it.

More shields. Call. Dismiss. Call.

A shield blocked a fist before it could land on Markus.

The blow shattered the Hand-Shield, but even as his vision whited out with pain, Steven didn’t stop calling.

There is a fire bolt headed for Micheal. Block it.

The agony faded from between his temples, and as his vision returned, he saw Micheal was unharmed.

His Skills pulsing grew louder.

This was his purpose.

Steven felt a sudden sense of dread fight against his elation.

It was an alien pressure that pushed against his head and crawled over his skin.

The pulsing of his Skills quieted but didn’t vanish.

Steven grit his teeth and, like when he overclocked his shields, pushed against the pressure.

It broke, the pressure vanishing as if it had never been. But he could still feel something, a sense of danger, like knowing that you were inches away from a cliff.

Luckily for Steven, everyone around the pillar had frozen simultaneously, and he was one of the first to shake it off.

He searched in the direction he felt the danger, and his mood soared, tension and worry that he hadn’t let himself acknowledge falling away.

Margie. She sprinted for the pillar, Buford and Noodle at her side and a man Steven hadn’t seen before jogging behind her.

“Let the dog lady through, Markus!” Micheal yelled.

Some people tried to attack her as she ran by, but most hadn’t shaken off the pressure, and Steven and Buford blocked those that did.

They reached the pillar, and Steven realized the sense of danger was coming from the man with Margie.

She gestured to the man. “Quinton. He just feels scary.”

Steven blinked but couldn’t question it further. People were starting to shake off whatever Quinton had done.

Steven still had a job to do.

“Sorry it took us so long. We got a little sidetracked. …Huh? So the guy out there is our brawler…the System didn’t mention if dogs could go out and help him. But it seems as far as the System is concerned, they’re extensions of my Class.” Margie smiled.

“Go play, boys.”

Wait, boys? Was she- Margie pressed a glowing black hand to Noodle.

Darkness seeped over the basset hound, covering him like an inky cloak.

It rolled to every corner of the dog, spreading his legs before rushing over his face. It lit up with two yellow points for his eyes.

The Skill Margie had gotten after the Mad Doctor.

Shadow Doge.

She hated the name, but Steven and Micheal thought it was hilarious.

Noodle shook his head, and his flapping ears left trails of darkness behind.

Margie let out a sharp whistle, then pointed to Markus.

The dogs took off, and with a start, Stevenrealized that Noodle was faster than Buford. The little basset hound blitzed across the snow in a dark streak Stevenfound hard to follow.

Jugger-Hound was strength, endurance, and durability.

Shadow Doge, on the other hand, was speed, stealth, and, if Steven’s guess was correct, piercing.

The dogs crashed into the line of attackers with Markus, and the battle turned into chaos.

~<>~<>~

Markus had always been a fan of dogs. They were reliable old friends, always there to brighten your day when you needed them. He found that he liked magical dogs even more.

The massive malamute, red light flowing around him like mist, crashed into the attackers with him.

And the basset hound darted around, biting ankles and slamming into knees.

Whatever the woman’s Skills did to the basset hound, it affected its bite, as its teeth tore through shoes and armor Skills as it darted through the fight

Even with the two dogs, Markus would’ve quickly been overwhelmed if it wasn’t for the shields.

As if the man had a sixth sense, Stevenjust knew when Markus needed a shield or when he had a block covered.

It let him fight more freely, taking risks he never would’ve dared if he didn’t have his own guardian angel.

A man lunged at Markus, the air trembling around his hand. Markus caught his wrist, avoiding the shaking air as he wrenched the arm straight.

He felt a little bad as he broke his arm, but after a sweep and a stomp, the man vanished.

Well, his broken arm was healed now, anyway.

The malamute crashed into a man with orange plates covering his shoulders, elbows, knees, and knuckles.

Despite his side being open, when the malamute hit him, the plates on his shoulders and knees lit up, and the ghostly outline of more armor appeared on his side.

The force was still enough to stagger him, and the basset hound didn’t hesitate. He rushed in and clamped his jaws on the man’s calf.

The plates flashed again, but the inky darkness covering the dog punched straight through.

He screamed, and then a shield slammed into the side of his head.

He started to topple, and Markus’s foot caught him on the way down.

Amazingly, he didn’t vanish.

The plates flashed again before three of them shattered. The man rolled and started to climb to his, but then the malamute was on him, its jaws crackling with yellow light.

The System vanished him.

Markus felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Something he’d been glad to have lost but that a part of him had missed all the same.

The joy of a good fight.

Markus laughed, Micheal’s buff coursing through him, making him feel a decade younger as he skipped around a hurled icicle and then blocked a punch from a stout man with a red aura hanging off him.

His eyes shining, Markus threw himself back into the fight.

~<>~<>~

Margie was not pleased.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. It was wonderful to be reunited with the others, but now that she’d made it to the damn pillar, all she could do was sit and watch.

Her active Skills were used; Buford and Noodle were tearing it up with the other old-timer. Which left her doing… Nothing. “I want my goddamn guns back,“ she grumbled.

A man appeared with a flash of turquoise light, stumbling right in front of Margie.

He was in his early twenties, with short brown hair and light brown skin currently covered in gold confetti.

What the actual fuck?

The guy didn’t bother to look around before running, his breaths coming in frantic gasps that puffed in the winter air.

“Shit, shit, shit!” He swore. “Come on! Refresh you stupid Skill!”

He ran a dozen feet before more turquoise light exploded out from under him.

But instead of teleporting away, the snow underneath him surged up, rolling him into a giant snowball.

Before Margie could register what the hell was happening, the snowball catapulted into the distance.

“Wha-“

A woman appeared where the man had in a burst of gold confetti.

She was short, with long black hair, pale skin, and a wide smile.

She also didn’t acknowledge Margie or anything around her as she charged forward. She shouted as she ran, cupping her hands around her mouth. “You can’t run forever, Jorden! Your luck’s gonna run out!”

She reached the crater the man’s snowball had left and stopped. She started tapping her foot impatiently.

“Cooldowns are a buzzkill.” She said with a groan. After about fifteen more seconds of foot taping, the woman cackled and vanished in another burst of gold confetti.

Margie stared at the confetti-covered crater for several long seconds.

“What the fuck?”

~<>~<>~

Lights flashed almost constantly as the System scooped people out of the battle.

But despite the shrinking number of opponents, the fight grew more intense, if anything.

The people left were better, stronger, or luckier than everyone else.

Steven turned his attention away from Markus and the dogs. They had that side covered for now.

There was a group of three trying to flank them from behind.

Steven‘s group had a few things going for them. For one, the pillar was on top of a hill, so people had to climb to reach them, giving Steven plenty of time to wail on them with impunity. And secondly, it wasn’t like they were against another team.

Sure, everybody wanted to kick them from the pillar, but they weren’t working together. Plenty of teams were backstabbing the others as they rushed for the pillar, adding to the mayhem.

The group trying to flank them all had medieval weapons. A polearm, a long sword, and a short spear. They all had a dark glint to them, making Steven think they were the results of someone’s Skill.

So a weapon maker and two unknowns.

Steven called a Hand-Shield between one of their legs and pushed it to the right. At the same time, he called one in front of another member and the last behind the head of the third.

The first shield hit home, tripping the guy with a spear and sending him stumbling into the sword user. Unfortunately, that caused the shield aimed at his chest to miss. And the guy with a polearm ducked the shield, racing at him from behind.

Steven was starting to hate sensory Skills.

But, defending the pillar had made something finally click with Steven.

He kept getting into fights where he was pressed on the back foot or had to constantly catch potshots aimed at his team.

But when he had nothing to distract him, and he didn’t have to bother with protecting himself, Steven could really put on pressure.

The spear user ran his hand along the flat of its blade. Sword guy coated his weapon in yellow light. And polearm guy shifted his stance.

Before they could do anything, Steven called more shields.

And he didn’t stop.

~<>~<>~

Markus moved to the right, leaving the dogs to handle the other side of the hill.

There weren’t as many people rushing them as before, but that didn’t mean it had grown easier. The people coming at them now were pushing Markus, forcing him to fight with every ounce of focus he could bring to bear.

He’d barely settled before two men ran at him from a clearing of trees.

One was stout, with tan skin, black hair, and thin features.

The other was a bear of a man, with arms thicker around than Markus‘s legs, pale skin, and a bushy red beard. He carried a woodsman axe in one hand and sprinted ahead of the other man.

“Sorry about this old man!” The woodsman shouted.

The stout one raised his hand and green light unfurled from his palm. Markus felt the ground shift under his feet and barely sidestepped in time as a thin sapling exploded from the snow. It was slightly thicker than his thumb but came up to his chest.

Gold light erupted over the big man’s feet and along the edge of his axe.

He closed the distance to Markus in a blink and whipped his axe out, the heavy weapon whistling through the air like it weighed nothing.

Markus jumped back, but the axman didn’t pull his swing. It hit the sapling, splitting it in two. The light instantly faded from his feet and axe.

What?

The stout man raised his hand again. Markus sidestepped to the right, but the man had read him. A sapling burst up to his side, and he crashed into it.

It only made him stumble for a second, but the axe man was already swinging, his axe alight and positively humming with power.

Markus dropped flat as the blade thunked into the sapling, once again cleaving straight through it.

The light vanished from the axe.

Does he…does he get stronger when attacking trees?

Markus rolled and then hurled himself to his feet in a move he couldn’t have managed without Micheal’s buff.

“Holy shit, you're spry for an old timer!” The woodsman said with a grin.

“Thanks. I try to stay in shape.”

The woodsman laughed and slapped his knee.

The stout man glared. “Focus, Gerald!”

“I am focused! Nothing wrong with a bit of friendly banter! Besides-“ Gerald cut himself off as he charged Markus. At the same time, the other man hurled a green ball of light.

Good surprise rush.

Of course, Markus had been ready for it, but it was still good execution.

He slipped around the green ball, which hit the snow and immediately burst into a snarl of roots.

Definitely keep dodging those, then. He didn’t need a new shirt that sped up his attacker.

Despite the root shot missing him, Gerald Skill still activated, and a heartbeat later, Markus was dodging a swinging axe.

Except this time, there wasn’t a sapling to immediately snap, so the man’s swings kept coming at a furious pace.

And even as he struggled to keep ahead of the axe, the stout man grew sapling after sapling. Some aimed at Markus, while others popped up seemingly at random.

He’s preparing the field, giving Gerald more targets to active at his Skill.

Markus ended up moving away from the current crop of saplings, and the man’s Skill turned off.

So he has to be actively attacking toward trees, or at least moving in their direction.

Unfortunately, more saplings sprouted a moment later, and he was back to dodging a flashing axe.

He dipped around one strike, blocked a backhand, then punched at the man's side.

Before he could connect, he had to dance back from a root shot, and then the lumber Jack was back on him.

As the blade came very close to bisecting him, Markus’s foot slipped on the snow. It was a small thing, but the man saw it.

The gold light on one foot brightened, and his foot slammed into Markus.

He’d managed to get his arms up in time, but the hit sent him flying.

He could feel Micheal’s Skill surge, dampening the blow, but he still hit the ground hard.

He used his momentum to roll to his feet, but his arms and back ached.

That really rang your bell, old man.

He shook his head, and as the man rushed toward him, Markus reached out to the box in the corner of his vision.

Inside it was a fist, inked and outlined in sketchy lines and wrapped in glowing amber roots.

For the first time since the contest started, Markus activated The Titans Advance.

A meter in the corner of his vision flashed with amber light, and strength flooded him.

He’d been hesitant to activate it before. For one, he hadn’t needed it, but more important than that was the energy cost. He was already tired, and getting hit with the Skill cost might just drop him.

But the energy cost only hit when the Skill ended. And now, if his Skill ended, it was because they made it out or lost.

Markus rolled his shoulder, the motion smooth, powerful.

Oooh, I could get used to this.

Markus grinned, then rushed to meet the charging woodsman.

As he moved, the meter in the corner of his vision slowly began to fill with amber, and the power flowing through his limbs rose.

The axe swung like he was trying to cut Markus in half, gold light shining on its edge, and a sapling burst from the ground.

Markus slipped around the sapling and dipped under the axe, ignoring Gerald as he sprinted for the Druid wannabe.

The man’s eyes widened as Markus rushed him, and he hastily threw out a root shot.

Markus caught it on his hand, not bothering to slow down.

Roots wrapped around his fist and arm, but that was fine.

Markus reached the man, his meter almost a quarter full.

Power thundered through his body, and as he pulled his fist back and it seethed with amber energy.

The man tried to dodge.

He failed.

Markus’s fist connected with his whole body behind it, and the man’s face broke.

His body went limp, and before he could vanish, Markus was already spinning.

He found an axe hurtling towards his face. He dodged, but the axe curved down toward his hand.

With Micheal’s buff and his own Skill coursing through him, he had the reaction speed to jerk his hand away, but only just.

The axe tried to follow his hand but couldn’t turn fast enough. It blasted past him to crunch into the snow.

The big man had been charging behind the axe, and he reached Markus with a roar.

A swing for his face, a kick at his knee, and finished with a headbutt.

Markus blocked the punch, dodged the kick, then met the man’s headbutt with his own.

The guy had close to half a foot on Markus and the better part of a hundred pounds.

When their heads met, it was Gerald who staggered back.

Markus flicked his gaze to the side. In the brief seconds he hadn’t been actively advancing, his meter had dipped significantly.

That drain was no joke.

The big man shook off the hit with an impressive amount of gusto and charged back in.

Markus started to brace for the charge when he heard a whistle from behind.

He dropped flat as the axe whipped over him, passing right where his spine would have been. It smacked into the man’s hand, and he raised it without a sound.

Well, he might be big, but he’s not a dumb brute.

Markus shoved himself to his feet. He felt weaker. He checked, and his meter had almost emptied.

He couldn’t keep getting pushed back.

His Class's purpose was to advance. It was literally in the name.

Time I get advancing, then.

His opponent still had plenty of saplings scattered about for his Skill. He would be fast, and those swings could still kill Markus in one hit.

But Markus had gotten a feel for the man’s fighting. He was a scrapper, probably a real beast in a barroom brawl. But he wasn’t a killer.

Markus met the man’s charge with his own. The axe swung for his hand, aiming for the roots as if magnetized.

It was faster than an axe had any right to be, but Markus was faster.

His hand slipped around the axe and drove a punch into the man’s gut.

He grunted and gave a step.

Markus struck him three more times before the man whipped his axe back around, trying to force space between them.

Markus didn’t let him.

He slipped under the swing without backing up. He pressed closer, forcing the man to backstep.

The amber light seethed, growing denser by the second.

Markus casually blocked a backhand, caught a one-handed swing before it could gain momentum, then kicked.

The man blasted backward, flying off his feet like he’d been launched by a cannon.

He must’ve had a defensive Skill of some kind since he didn’t die from the hit. Instead, he rolled, coughing and clutching his chest as he climbed to his feet.

By the time he got up, Markus had closed half the distance.

He hurtled forward, the power still rising in his bones. The meter was over halfway full now and rising.

He closed in.

The man swung at Markus, his weapon flashing a brighter gold than before.

Markus jumped.

The snow blasted back from him in a small crater as he sailed over the blisteringly fast axe.

The man had enough time to widen his eyes before Markus’s knee, wrapped in a shroud of amber power, crashed into his face.

There was a flash of light, and the old man landed in the snow.

He blinked down at his hands and chuckled. “Well. That’s nice.”

He turned and ran back into the thick of it.