“HEAVENS! HE’S DONE IT! HE’S DONE IT!”

Even the announcer’s voice was trembling. “THE HERO IO DOWNS THE FOURTH-SEEDED PRINCESS IN THE FIRST ROUND!! JUST. LIKE. THAT!”

If Dorian thought the crowd had been crazy before?

They might as well have been monks in a monastery compared to what happened now.

It was like Dorian was some divine savior descended—it was like he truly was the so-called ‘Hero’ they made him out to be! The crowd hollering and screaming and chanting his name. They weren’t just on their feet. Some madness had taken them—men and women were climbing over one another, shoving down the stands, At first Dorian did his usual stuff—bowing, waving, soaking in the win. He was quite pleased with it, all told. He was surprised at himself, frankly.

How silly of me, he chided. He felt way too smug about the whole ordeal. Have I forgotten who I am?

Then his eyes widened.

The crowd wasn’t only shoving past one another. They were trying to rush the stage! Waves of men and women, taken in by some kind of hysteria, were cramming up to the very front and bowling over the hapless security guards. “Hero! Hero!” Prying hands reached out from all directions. There was a shuddering, a creaking of steel, then a low, ominous groan from somewhere high above. Oh shit—

Time to get the hells out!

As he scampered back, still smiling, he sensed a sharp aura drill into his back. Killing intent?!

His head whipped around.

There, standing at the edge of the arena, was the Rat-King. His eyes shivered in their sockets. He was staring straight at Dorian, fists clenched, lips set in a seething snarl.

What? Dorian blinked. What’s his deal?

Their eyes met for a split-second.

Then he dashed into the tunnels below the arena and vanished into the darkness.

***

Kaya was the first to rush up to him as he re-entered the competitors’ grounds. “How’d it go?!” she gasped.

Dorian shrugged. “Solidly, I’d say. Rough start, but I recovered well. I’d give myself about an eight out of ten.”

“I mean—did you win?!”

“Of course!” Dorian snorted, smiling. He ruffled her hair. “Don’t ask silly questions.”

Then he noticed that everyone in the room was staring at him. More than a few open-mouthed.

“You,” said Young Master Fang, one pencil-drawn brow raised. “You claim you beat Eudora Azcan? As a fighter of the mid Profound Realm? Really, now.”

“Impossible!” cried a Young Master behind him.

Ma Yun was slowly chewing on a big ball of dough. He turned his big head slowly to Dorian, still chewing, and blinked. “Huh,” was all he said.

Then the door opened up behind Dorian and in stalked the Rat-King. Dorian was frowned but the man didn’t look at him once—he just walked by, head held high, and the other fighters parted easily before him like water before the prow of a ship. …Alrighty then?

Pebble stumbled up behind him. “Spec-tacular!” he cried. “Why, I’ve never seen the Princess humiliated so brutally!”

He clapped his tiny hands. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Dorian absently. “Say—what’s up with your boss?”

“Huh?” Pebble scratched his head. “Oh! Right. So you seem to not know anything—not your fault!—and I shall from now on assume that some of the sillier things you do are due in part to ignorance rather than merely boneheadedness!”

“Very charitable of you,” said Dorian dryly.

Pebble brightened. “I know, isn’t it? Anywho. That was his girlfriend you just beat up!”

“…”

“So in one fell swoop you managed to offend both the Lord of the Oasis and its second-most-powerful man!”

“…”

“Don’t worry,” laughed Pebble. “He was real mad for a bit, but I managed to talk him out of killing you. He’ll be fine! He just needs some time to cool off. He can get this way sometimes.

….my plans of arming the Outskirters appears to be going up in smoke.

Dorian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

How was he supposed to know some random girl in an oyster shop was the daughter of the Oasis Lord?!

And of course she was tied to the Rat-King too. Of damned course!

Well, thought Dorian a tad miserably. If I had to offend both the Rat-King and the Oasis Lord at once… at least I got my money’s worth?

A smile was creeping back on his face. That was quite a nice shot, if he did say so himself. Weaving into the shadow, then holding it there—the timing? Frankly that was exquisite, even for him. That shot really ought to be sang about. There should be an epic poem written about it. At least a mural.

“Kaya Rust?” called a gruff referee. To Dorian’s side, she perked up. “Leo Ouyang? Sorry for the wait. We had—how shall I put this—a situation out there that had to be resolved. Now we’re good. You’re up!”

“Good luck!” said Dorian with a thumbs-up.

Kaya chewed her lip, her eyesdarting between him and the doorway. “Thanks…”

Across the room, Leo Ouyang smirked at them with the casual confidence of a man assured of his victory—Dorian could tell the only thing in his mind was how he’d go about it. He made a throat-slitting gesture at Dorian. Dorian mimed sloppy licking in response. Leo reddened. He mouthed something back—something like Just you watch, asshole! I’m going to @#($c her! Dorian didn’t catch that last bit, but he could imagine.

Then they were off.

***

Kaya came back not five minutes later, positively glowing. Literally glowing. Streams of golden light rose off her skin like steam, like she was a well-cooked crab.

Her knuckles were bloody, and she grinned from ear-to-ear. Dorian cocked his head. Oh?

“I won, Io I won! I really did it!!” she cried, bouncing about with childlike glee. “Only…” She pouted. “I really hoped he’d last longer. He was no fun!”

Honestly, Dorian did not see this coming. That Leo fellow must be weaker than I thought…

Ah well. It’s nice she’s had a win.

She’d almost certainly be knocked out next round—it was a miracle she’d made it this far, given she was a transplant from the backwater of all backwaters!—but at least this way she’d feel she gave it a valiant effort. Losing in the first or the second really made no difference at all results-wise, but he knew mortals needed these little things.

The door to the arena opened, and out streamed a referee and two workers with a stretcher. On the stretcher lay a whimpering boy who had more bruise than skin on his body—he was one big lump of swollen, bleeding purple, cringing head-to-toe. Goodness me. Dorian blinked. The boy would’ve been done long ago, but whoever he fought hadn’t let him quit. That life-saving treasure must’ve been stretched to its breaking point. Dorian was no stranger to playing with his food, but even to him this seemed a bit much…

Wait. Dorian squinted. Is that Leo Ouyang? …Surely not.

He glanced at his sister with a frown. “Um. Did you—“

“Next up!” said the referee. “Io of the Heilong!”

Whatever. Shrugging, he climbed to his feet and stretched himself out. This round he’d been given a more sensible pairing: some Young Master he’d never heard of. Which was a relief, since he still felt the phantom pains of those steely silks ripping at his joints.

He grinned. Let’s get this done with!

***

The terrain this time was an ‘icy tundra.’ Before the fight they’d used Artifacts to coat the floor in a layer of ice. Then they’d studded the grounds with icicles.

The crowd was much more warm to Dorian now. A cheery chant even rose up, spreading across the arena, thundering “IO! IO! IO!” Things were growing rowdy before the fight had even begun. People like a winner, I guess? He wasn’t complaining.

“Begin!” cried the referee.

The Young Master—Young Master Yun, apparently—sneered at him. He opened his mouth to spit an insult.

Then Dorian fed him the Heilong Javelin.

As it turned out, not everyone was Eudora Azcan! In fact most people didn’t have the wherewithal to so much as flinch before the Javelin carved them up. And this poor boy was only in the early Earth Realm. It was almost sad.

The fight lasted less than three seconds.

It took them longer to prepare the arena.

His next round went much the same. This time it was in a mountain terrain, with shadows everywhere.

This round lasted less than one.

And just like that, he was through to the second and final day!

***

Now this was shocking.

“I won!!” cried Kaya, sweeping him up in a hug.

“You did?” Dorian hmm’d as she wheeled him about. Must be that contract. I thought it was a communications thing—some way for Nijo to contact me through her, and give me an offer. I guess he’s actually investing some power in her too.

But why? It didn’t make much sense to him. Is he trying to get on my good side?

He wouldn’t know until Nijo finally decided to get off his ass and arranged a meeting, he supposed.

Then the door opened, and her opponent, a dazed-looking, scarred, massive hulk of a man stumbled out. He took one look at her, shrieked like a baby, and ran off.

“Um. Sorry!” cried Kaya after him. “No hard feelings?”

Dorian blinked. …Okay. Weird. But not weird enough for me to care! Moving on.

“I’ve got some meetings to get to,” said Dorian. He wriggled free of her with a wink. “See you back at camp, alright? We’re moving tonight!”

“Huh? With who?”

“The Grand General Bin Heilong and the Head of the Artificing Guild. If all goes well, we’ll be in mass production before the day’s through!”

In other words—we’ll finally start manufacturing the most important weapons we have against the Ugoc en masse. And I’ll be raking in a sweet per-Stick commission too, of course!

Just imagining how filthy rich he was about to be had Dorian’s mouth watering.

The words seemed to float right over Kaya’s head. “Oh,” she said in a daze. “Okay—we’ll talk soon?”

“Good luck on your third round!”

He left.

***

“Remarkable,” whispered Father Zacharias, peering at the crystal globe. “Simply remarkable.” It showed a battle scene: a girl wreathed in gold beating down a fiery spearman, laughing hysterically all the while.

“I’ve seldom seen an initiate draw so much from the Mark.” A bald man in Priest’s garb, stroking the thin white wisps of a beard. These were the two highest-ranking officials in the Azcan Branch of the Church of Jez.

“I agree,” said Father Zacharias. “It’s unearthed such a ravenousness to her soul… by Jez’s light!”

“Of course. It is the persona, not the body, that matters,” said the Priest. “The simpler the mind, the purer the desires, the better—and she… well.”

He winced as she ate a spear to the gut, laughed, yanked the spear to her and delivered a nasty headbutt to its wielder in one fluid motion. “Say what you will—it’s pure. Pure sadism, perhaps. But that is for Jez to judge, not I.”

“Mm.” Father Zacharias swallowed. “Perhaps it is time to bring her into the fold. There is so much she has yet to learn, and there are hardly two moons before the Great One arrives…”

The Priest nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”