Two weeks after clearing out the Quicksilver Dungeon, Mike stood in the center of the pit surrounded on all sides by bow-bound hobgoblins. Some of the hobgoblins had started joining the scouts on missions and inevitably fought adventurers. That, combined with the always prevalent threat of going to the Arena meant that many of the hobgoblins had passed the Level 5 mark. These hobgoblins stood head and shoulders above their Level 1 and 2 counterparts and were very easy to pick out in the surrounding throng. From experience, the higher level hobs could draw more powerful bows which gave their arrows increased speed and made them harder to dodge. Preparing himself for the mental exertion that it would take to keep up with Damage Premonition under such conditions, Mike threw a blunt stud and the exercise began.

The immediate onset of impending pain points all along his body was enough to make him leap across the pit to avoid over 100 arrows. The few hobgoblin stragglers who had failed to join in the initial salvo released their missiles at his new position. Forming a Quicksilver ax, he prepared to cut the missiles out of the air, when a blaring interruption from Damage Premonition caused him to turn mid stride, just in time to catch his rebounding stud to the face.

[Congratulations! You have leveled up the skill Damage Premonition.

+2 Dexterity.

You can now distinguish which incoming strikes have the power to harm you]

Mike swiped away the notification and shook his dazed head while he lifted himself from the ground. A single arrow hit his sluggish form from the one hobgoblin who still had such a slow reaction time that they were just now catching up with all of the events that had happened in the previous 1.5 seconds. It was rare that the arrows were able to lodge in his body, but this arrow had hit him in the soft tissue between his upper shoulder and chest, and the extra skin gave it just enough purchase that it failed to fall out. As Mike turned his attention to the little soldier, the surrounding hobgoblins moved away from him, leaving the diminutive creature completely alone. Mike’s shadow completely enveloped the smaller warrior as he jumped out of the pit and landed before the now shaking creature. Using Analyze, Mike pulled out the arrow and gave it back to him.

“Good shot Creedo, we are going to need more of that when the villagers come for us.” Then he hopped back into the pit and prepared for the next round.

He could have used one of the Potions of Minor Healing that the more talented hobgoblins had begun producing en masse, but he had only been hit with a few arrows, and only one of them was more than a minor cut. The potion wouldn’t help much with the pain from his stud anyways, so he might as well keep training.

During the next hour of training, Mike got a better feel for his newly level skill. Most of the arrows felt like small pinpricks of damage as the skill warned him, with a few that headed towards his more vital areas being slightly stronger. His own rebounding studs continued to be the outliers for his skill, and he managed to not get hit by his own weapon again during that training session.

He ended his training when he reached exactly 50,000 hits by a sharp object towards Impervious skin. Having spent several hours a day over the last two weeks, he had managed to make rapid progress in Impervious Skin and Dodge, even if Hardened Skin had decreased in effectiveness with his new regimen. He was now reliant on being hit by his own thrown studs or the occasional arrow that was too blunt to count towards Impervious Skin. While it was sad to see one of his first skills fall by the wayside, he was pleased with the growth he was making.

Riding the wave of satisfaction, he headed towards the fishers to work on the kata some more. It had become his habit to train Aeromancy by these hobgoblins, their own work in the kata and Aquamancy gave him motivation to keep trying. Although the skills required different movements, their forms often requiring more fluidity where his had to be sharp and quick, his ability to allow nature to guide him was always increased in their presence.

Centering himself 20 yards away from the pond, he brought his hands together in front of his chest and began the exercise with the sharp jabs and punches that were universal throughout most mixed martial arts.

The dance continued, as he followed the kata one form further than he had ever been before than he had ever been before. He was finding that the movements required more and more flexibility. And while he had not initially been limited by what his body was capable of, that was changing the further he delved. The most recent edition started off with his left foot exploding outward, which immediately pivoted as it touched down. He then twisted as he brought his right foot high behind his back, his torso parallel to the ground while his arms remained tucked to his chest through the full motion. As soon as his right foot came back in contact with the earth, his arms shot outwarded, allowing him to increase his already captured angular momentum as bent his hands to the ground and launched forward into a front handspring.

As his feet shot above his head, he felt the wind stir around them, coalescing into a corporeal shield that cut through the air and sent nearby stalks of grass showering in every direction as they were sheared from their bases. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt before, causing him to lose his focus and fall to the ground for the second time that day.

He was a little surprised that he didn’t get a notification telling him that he had leveled up the skill, and went to check his Character Sheet. The skill remained at Level 1 even there. He had always thought that actually controlling the air wouldn’t start until he completed the kata, and the sudden revelation that it would be part of the Level 1 skill training caused him to begin again almost immediately.

By the end of the day, he had completed three additional forms. Only one interacted with the air in the way that the roll had, and it produced a ball of wind that shot out from his hand after a complex maneuver requiring him to be flat on his back and then launch upwards through the air and into a deep lunge, his arm extended in front of him. It would have pulled his back many times over before the System, but now it was completely plausible for him so long as he worked up to it through the proceeding forms. One form always wove into the next, building his speed and power with each movement. He was unsure how this would ever be relevant in battle, but he had seen the hobgoblins manipulate water without a complex series of movements, so for now he was just going to trust in the process.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Bart sat placidly across from Brent, the young adventurer Bart had slowly been grooming over the past few weeks. It had started with an invitation to an exclusive night of mob battling, a form of entertainment that most adventurers shied away from because it was so reminiscent of dog fights from the previous world.

The gatherings were straightforward: two animal types were revealed, and the attendees could place bets on which animal they thought would win before the two animals battled to the death. If they placed a bet after the monster types were revealed but before the actual mobs were seen, known as a blind bet, they stood to win 100% of the amount of money they put up for bet. If they put up money after they had seen the animals, they only one 50% more than what they had bet. There was also a double blind bet, where the gamblers could choose which door of the small arena the winning mob would come out of before the mob types were even revealed, resulting in a 150% win, but very few did this option often. The makeshift gambling house was always in a different location outside of town each night, keeping it exclusive and desirable for the elite villagers of the Noob Zone.

On Brent’s first night attending, Bart had had the word passed to Brent that blind betting on the underdog was the best way to gain wealth quickly, and for the first week, that had been true. He was one of the few victors the match when the dragonfly beat the lyrcat and when the fire lizard had lost to the hobgoblin, and the amount of money Brent had won heralded a fast escape from the Noob Zone, causing him to bet more and more money, until Bart began to rig the game against him.

Bart didn’t have Brent’s bets swap to losing all at once. First it was just his biggest bet of the night, then the biggest two bets of the night, until Brent was on a losing streak that he couldn’t seem to escape. Bart continued to asure Brent that his luck would change eventually, all the while his employees spied on Brent to see his blind bets. They would then communicate which creature Brent had chosen as victor, using relay signals, to the employees that managed the creatures, who could then damage the chosen creature and rig the fight. Thus far, no one had caught on to their hampering due to one employee's ability to hide the damage they caused with strong illusions.

For the first few days of his losing streak, Brent had been able to pay off his bills using the money he had earned. Once that ran out, he was forced to turn to his friends and party members. Eventually they got sick of helping him out, and he was forced to sign soul contracts with Bart. They had started off small at first, but he soon found himself impossibly tied in the shop keepers web.

Bart allowed a slow smile to spread across his face as he finished reminiscing on the previous weeks and began to speak. “I own you now. Your most recent soul contract specified that you would do anything I asked of you to pay the debt, and that you couldn’t communicate what was asked of you to anyone.”

“But, I didn’t… You said you wouldn’t…” Brent fumbled over the words as the true reality of his ill-begotten situation weighed down upon him.

“What I said doesn’t matter!” Bart thunderred as he rose to his feet and stood above the cowering man. “The only thing that matters is what is written in the contracts, and I write the contracts. I am the contracts.”

A sob escaped from Brent’s mouth in reply, and Bart rolled his eyes in annoyance. The weak truly weren’t worth the amount of attention he paid them. He couldn’t wait until he could delegate these kinds of duties without fear of reprisal.

“Relax,” Bart said as he adopted a comforting air, “your task is simple, all I need from you is to go find Gregorvich while he sleeps tonight and prick his arm with this dagger.” His hand flourished the dagger out of his robes as he spoke.

Brent Analyzed the dagger and fear filled his eyes. “But that will kill him and I will be punished by the System.”

“Your other option is far worse, you could accept the punishment I have assigned.” Bart replied as his other hand pulled out the soul contract. “What was it you agreed to? Oh yes, should you fail to follow through, you will be crushed to paste by the System. This process will continuously repeat itself each time you respawn until the 1000 years of respawn have run out. Surely being an outcast with a bounty on your head is better than that, right?”

Now Brent wailed in uncontrolled agony, a sound that grated on Bart’s nerves after only two seconds.

“Enough or I will make the task worse. I will make you kill all of your old party members too.” The sentence stopped Brent’s sobbing immediately and a resigned air settled on the man.

Bart handed the man the dagger as he slumped towards the door.

“Oh, and one more thing, when you finish the task and before you leave town, leave the dagger in the old oak tree just behind my shop, alright?” He couldn’t help the duplicitously friendly shop-owner smile that formed out of habit.

Brent didn’t so much as turn around, but Bart knew he would comply. He had no other choice.