I admit it; that was badass. Way more badass than my trying to emulate the Z fighters. Launching my Aetherblade with a force blast was a stroke of pure genius. Got him right in the eye. That's a weak point. Too bad it wasn't shining, so I could not spot it from a distance. That would have been a cool feature.

  Before I could ponder how to set up a weak point sense skill, I activated force attract and my weapon returned in a flash. The moment it exited the crazy troll's eye and settled deftly in my grip. I knew that this was the way. Force skills to throw my swords at people. Maybe I should get a bunch and launch them at everyone.

  "Oh, like Gilgamesh from Fate/stay night!"

  I would just need to get a bunch of swords. Wait, I have a bunch of machetes. A lightbulb went off in my head, along with an angry roar of a troll. I decided, screw it, let's try stuff until it works. I had time because I was implementing my other plan.

  A melodious voice struck out into the world, filled with such passion enough to pierce the heavens. Bring down the angels above and submit this world to their wrath. An ethereal orchestra, with every soul playing an instrument and pouring their will into the music, backed every lyric. If the performance didn't screw with their minds and summon ghosts, everyone would undoubtedly love it.

  Looking up to the realm above, standing atop the highest peak. There stood Marius the Great, like Saruman atop his tower, commanding the mountains to obey. Draped in his regalia, staff in hand and with a familiar feline atop his shoulder. He sang, oh, did he sing, and the world trembled. Well, that is an exaggeration, but everyone got a mild headache. At least I did.

  Alas, his great power had an even more devious effect. A strange swirling mist bathed the entire arena. That was new; I hadn't seen that before when he used his spell songs. Halfway between withdrawing a machete, I saw something in the mist. Strange figures of many shape or form, danced like ripples in water.

  Before the arena, it was a place of blood and battle. Now it was quickly getting gloomy, like someone turned up the cemetery meter to max. Letting my machete rest at my side, I looked around in awe. Somebody ranked up their skill, good for Marius. Or maybe it was reacting to all the death? I really need to study that weird undead.

  Soon the shapes unfolded into distinct entities, ranging from short, stout figures to towering beings, twice the size of myself. The familiar forms of Garathi and Volkaran were pretty obvious, but several others were a mystery. Maybe other trolls, ogres or orcs. I knew they existed somewhere on this planet.

  They were not living; that much was very clear. Composed of swirling smoke, intangible ghostly figures roamed the sands. What they searched for, only they knew. Eventually, the trolls' angry grunts ceased, and his remaining eye locked onto the figures surrounding him. He blinked awkwardly, one hand over his bloody eye.

  "Didn't I already make art of you all?" Mash muttered, perplexed as a troll could be.

  In response, the avalanche of ghosts all turned their gaze upon the wounded titan. I wasn't certain, but they seemed to have a hungry look in their eyes. They weren't about to eat people, were they? Do ghosts even have stomachs? As they advanced, I could still hear Marius singing along, his orchestra still going strong.

  Not wasting anymore time, I withdrew all my machetes. They clattered onto the sand in a small heap. And one by one I drew them up with a combination of skills. They floated just above the ground, shaking unsteadily. Fine control was tricky to do, and honestly, I did not know how I made that last shot.

  A thunderous crash awoke me from my intense concentration, drawing my gaze to the troll and his attempts to pulverise ghosts with a giant mace. Instead of splattering them across the sands, his weapon passes through them harmlessly.

  "Huh, is my brush broken?!"

  He didn't have time to ponder that as the ghosts descended upon the troll like a tidal wave. Using whatever the phantoms had at hand, they bit, scratched and sliced at the trolls' extremities. With every claw, stab and punch from spectral attackers, damage was done, if only minor.

  "Ow! That hurts!" He wailed, and the world shook with his terrible voice.

  Not letting this chance go, I looked around for my companion. Locating Xynthia easily, since she was streaking across the sand, her body was transparent and moving at speed. How fast she was going, no one knew. But it seemed she would reach the troll in mere moments. In her hand was the plundered sword, ready to wade into battle.

  Not wanting to be left behind, I quickly activated my skill, focusing with all my might. Projecting my aura was a simple feat, but directing it on several objects at once was a bit much. Instead, I pushed it around in a wide arc, and slowly the machetes rose in the air. Unsteadily, I mentally gripped them with ethereal hands.

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  With a thought, I sent my deadly weapons to a very specific location in troll anatomy. Every single blade flew forward with pinpoint accuracy. Thrusting my hands forward with a monumental force of effort. I set about my task of retiring him from adventuring. Soon he would be a guard for some troll city and telling people he was an adventurer like them, but got a machete in the knee.

  The first machete completely missed, disappearing behind his leg. The last few landed soundly on his thigh and knee. I would have yelled bullseye, but my aim left much to be desired. Definitely need to build a skill with some aim assist. I don't care if it's hacking; this is real life, dude.

  As expected, he didn't notice the machetes lodged in his leg. Because a crowd of ghosts was hacking away at him as if he were a roast chicken and they were a group of eager dads. Therefore, he was not paying attention.

  Not wanting the momentum to end, I started launching everything within reach. Which included two recently deceased Garathi, now without blood. Whatever that contraption they siphoned blood from dead contestants was very efficient. Given how pale the corpses were as they flew like a sack of potatoes. Not sure why I thought of potatoes, maybe because im hungry. Eating mid-battle would be okay, right?

  Probably not, considering that it requires you to use your hands. And having them occupied would be bad. But how do soldiers eat in war? In fact, what about going to the bathroom mid-battle? So many questions, with answers I don't want answered. Let that go Joey, you don't want to go down that road. Stay focused on the task, considering how big this troll is.

  Getting out of that headspace, I decided it was time to kite the enemy like there was no tomorrow. From a distance, I narrowed my focus onto his remaining leg and started throwing force blasts like I had them in spades. Luckily, my decent stats meant I had a lot of stamina to draw from. Every hit was practically a tickle until that all changed as I slowly approached.

  Distance made my attacks worthless, but covering that distance increased the output. Less reach meant more power in each punch. Given I was running out of stuff to throw, I went back to going full Goku on this troll.

  "Ki blast! Have another Ki blast. Oh, you want some more. Here is another Ki blast!" I narrated as I thrust my palms over and over.

  I wasn't going all super speed like the Z fighters; I wasn't a pugilist. Which I could probably become one if I dumped most of my levels into a Qi infusion process. Which was a bad idea. Since I did not know how to use Qi energy, martial arts was never my speciality but I know how to mime out a Kamehameha. The moment that entered my train of thought, I tried it out.

  The warrior cups his hands, energy pulsing within his grasp, ready to be unleashed. Slowly he draws back, his arms bulging at the sheer strain of containing such sublime power. The ground trembled beneath his feet. When he finally drove his hands forward, the world itself split apart from the raw power of the blast. A searing column of blue light surged forth, vaporising the air itself. Streaming across the horizon like the breath of an angry god!

  If only it were that cool; sadly, it was just a slightly stronger force blast. It hurt the troll, to be sure. Once I thrust forward with my palms, I saw a good chunk of his thigh go bye-bye. Torn away from the sheer strength of the kinetic blast. It wasn't flashy, but it got the job done. That was until his thigh knitted back together.

  In fact, his entire body faintly glowed with an emerald light. As the aura descended, so did the trolls' injuries vanish. Cuts faded to pristine skin; flesh filled in like new. Wounds that accumulated over many attacks went away as if they were not even there.

  "Bloody troll regen!" I cursed.

  I should have expected this; he is a troll, and even my limited knowledge of the monster races included their healing powers. As long as they had mana, they could heal even egregious wounds and get back up to go all smash. And that is exactly what he was doing. Reversing every cut, every injury a horde of ghosts and two wannabe gladiators could muster.

  As the last of the troll's injuries vanished, he returned with fury and malice. He no longer had a blank look in his eyes. Yes, his eyes also regenerated, and rage filled both of them. They glowed crimson; the aura of a bestial monster spread from the orbs, down his neck, across his arms and into the mace. Glowing a sickly red, like a weapon wreathed in hellfire. The troll wasted no time in clobbering everything in sight.

  Instead of futile strikes, every spectre that came into contact with the glowing mace evaporated like smoke dispersed by a whirlwind. And in that moment I knew the power this beast contained and how lucky I was to have Jenny and her suggestions.

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