Earl Rave

  Renton was furious. That damned System Champion had humiliated him. Instead of Kaotaoing, as any sane man would before a noble of his station, the Champion had scorned him. Mocked him. Even threatened his life. And the worst part was that it hadn’t been an idle threat. Renton had felt the man’s power when he’d demonstrated it.

  The Champion had the power to kill him. He was no stranger to the fact that there were more powerful fighters in this world, but unlike the others, this Riven seemed to care little for the consequences killing him would bring and why should he, after the tournament he would leave this world as all the past champions had done and be untouchable by anyone from this world.

  The look in his eyes alone had been enough to freeze Renton’s blood, like he was hoping Renton would strike first, just so he’d have an excuse to end him. And another Champion had stood at his side, silent but based on what he witnessed, no less dangerous.

  Renton paced his imperial suite in the Third Ring as he thought of this problem, feeling cold despite the roaring hearth. He breathed out in frustration as he took in his accommodations. It was lavish, with imported carpets, carved pillars, and a balcony overlooking the arena, but none of it warmed the chill gnawing at his spine. He had stacked the board against the Champion expecting him to snivel, make excuses and bow out of the tournament so Renton could deny this man who had slighted him further glory, but from what one of the combatants who had been in the room and his men had bribed, the man and his friends had laughed at him and told him to bring it. He had called in a favor from his brother and promised him unwavering support at all future council meetings for the next twenty years.

  He had spent a small fortune subsidizing every innkeeper in the district, trying to run the Hungry Dragon out of business to toss Riven out on his ass so all knew he was in disfavor and anyone who gave that man a place to stay would soon be out of business themselves. But none of it had worked. The damn tavern owner had changed her entire business model overnight, and that cursed new drink had swept through the city like wildfire he had caught one of his own knights with the drink earlier in the day, and he had beaten the men half to death with his own hands as a punishment for the betrayal, it mattered not that the soldier had no idea what he did. All his efforts had been wasted. His purse was lighter, twenty years of subservience on the council to his noble jackass of a brother down the drain, and he still had gotten nowhere.

  Renton clenched his jaw thinking of the Champion. The man was powerful, far beyond the usual crop of System Champions he had known in the past. Lee Don had been a waste of an artifact; Renton saw that now. Even stacking the odds four to one might not be enough in the coming rounds. Level seventy-five warriors wouldn’t scratch this man. Not even a dozen of them. So, what could he do? He stopped pacing, finding himself out on the balcony of his suite. He let out a long sigh as he rested his arms on the balcony’s railing. His gaze drifted to the statues lining the arena. Lifelike stone effigies of past Champions, their faces captured in perfect detail.

  He had watched many Anchor Tournaments over the years and knew some of the champions depicted in those statues. Some Champions had been exceptional. Some had risen far beyond their initial strength from their tournament days, climbing well past level one hundred and becoming beacons of the country's might as they served the emperor directly now. A thought stirred. A dangerous one. A costly one. But perhaps… the only way he could accomplish his goal. Renton stood up straight, walking back into his suite. The thought that had been circling him like a vulture finally descended, talons sinking in. His breath caught, and for a moment the only sound in the room was the crackle of the hearth.

  Only a champion had a chance to kill a champion. The statues along the arena came into greater focus as he stared out his window, as the idea solidified. Renton swallowed hard. The cost of what he was considering would be immense. His brother did not give favors freely. To ask for a past Champion and for the rules to be bent even further. To have the emperor Task one of his few, precious, cultivated prodigies to intercede on his behalf was to ask for a debt that would shadow him for the rest of his life.

  A debt he would never escape, was that really worth destroying one man? But the image of that arrogant System Champion flashed in his mind again, the immense disdain he had looked at him with, the image of after him leaving, of him laughing at his decree. The power radiating off the man like heat, the way he had looked at Renton as though he were already dead. Renton’s fear twisted into something sharper. Resolve mixed with hatred. He crossed the room to his writing desk, the polished wood gleaming in the firelight.

  His hand no longer shook as he pulled out parchment and ink. He sat straight, straightened his back, and dipped the quill. The first stroke of the letter felt like a blade being drawn. He would beg. He would bargain. He would sell whatever pieces of himself were required. Because watching that man fall, watching him crushed, broken, erased, would be worth any price. A slow smile crept across Renton’s face as he began to write.

  Outskirts of Kaelith

  Shane

  Shane leaned forward on the couch, careful not to disturb his wife where she slept with her head resting in his lap. With his index finger, he tapped the projection crystal and rewound the recording for the tenth time. The image shimmered back to the moment the Wind Mage came down from the sky to attack. Even after eight replays, the Talent the Champion displayed still made his breath catch. He had never seen anything like it.

  The Champion had suppressed his real power throughout the entire fight. Only exposing it at the exact moment he struck. He had no idea how strong the guy really was. He rewound it and watched the strike again. It could be a boosting ability, but that level of boost would shatter your soul tree in a heartbeat. The champion had to be suppressing his power somehow; his level being well below level seventy-five was a dead giveaway of him hiding his level.

  But no matter how many times he watched it, he couldn’t figure out the guy’s true power. And that armor and weapon… Shane narrowed his eyes. Soul-bound, flawless System craftsmanship, this guy’s natural power mixed with those defensive and offensive capabilities where something to behold. He would bet every credit he had that this guy was going to steamroll the other cities’ combatants. Ironically, only the guy’s own city's combatants might give him a decent fight. That lightning mage and other champion were the only other standouts of the tournament.

  Eight years ago, when he’d taken the championship himself, he doubted he could have beaten this man. Not with power and gear like that. A quiet laugh escaped him. Shane couldn’t help but compare himself to the Champion. Hell, even now it would be a dogfight if they clashed, he thought.

  He had enjoyed his run on the tournament, hell he missed those days greatly if he was being honest with himself, the roar of the crowd, the weight of his dagger and gladius in his hand, the thrill of pushing himself against the strongest fighters in the kingdom. He felt his blood stir just thinking about it.

  He had been a marshal for the Emperor ever since. It had been good, honest work too; enforcing order and law across the kingdom did not come without its dangers. But his life had changed. His class was Eternal Gladiator in name only these days; all he truly battled was his four year olds willpower when he tried to make her eat her vegetables.

  Most criminals, when they saw him, threw down their weapons before he even spoke. He hadn’t had a proper fight in years, and his level had barely budged because of it. It was a peaceful, predictable… almost dull life. He glanced down at the woman sleeping peacefully against him. His hand drifted through her raven hair, slow and gentle. It wasn’t all bad.

  At level 125, living a quiet life in a quiet village, there were worse fates. She shifted in her sleep, curling closer, her warmth seeping into him. Not bad at all. Still, as the projection crystal replayed the Champion’s impossible burst of power, that old itch stirred in him.

  A sharp knock at the door jolted his wife awake and snapped him from his thoughts. Shane eased her upright, murmuring an apology, then rose and crossed the room. “I wonder who that could be at this hour,” he muttered. He opened the door and froze. Several well?dressed men stood on his porch; cloaks damp with the night’s mist. At their center was his city’s Guildmaster, a man who normally wore a smile as easily as a badge of office. Tonight, his expression was carved from stone. He held out a scroll with the emperor's seal upon it. “May we come in, Shane?” the Guildmaster asked, voice low and heavy. “This… isn’t a matter we can discuss quickly or in the open.” Shane stepped aside, a knot forming in his gut. “Come on in, sir.”

  Riven

  I sat with the usual suspects around our table at the Hungry Dragon, the air thick with roasted meat, spilled ale, and the kind of laughter that only comes after a victory. Chu’s arm was now fully healed. Wren and the rest of his family crowded around him, fussing and teasing in equal measure. His boys were the loudest, throwing sloppy punches at the air as they reenacted their father’s match blow?by?blow, each retelling more dramatic than the last. Mei was all smiles as she threw out a kick or two of her own, laughing. I’d already told Chu what I needed to tell him about the Earl and, true to form, the man took it in stride.

  The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the competitors. All of Veyra’s remaining fighters except for my friends had bowed out. Some had told Aaron thank you for the opportunity; others had blamed me and my existence for their early exit. A few just said it was a fool’s errand to continue. Aaron had looked disappointed but thanked everyone of them for their effort and hard work over the last six months. A hundred hopefuls had filled the brackets this morning. By nightfall, only four remained: me, Chu, Balt, and Jase.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  I leaned back in my chair, letting the warmth of the tavern soak into my bones as the noise swelled around me. Despite the Earl’s nonsense, today had been a good day. All my friends had advanced, and ironically the Earl had done me a favor by shortening the tournament. I looked over at my buddy to see Balt trying to impress one of the serving girls. He was launching into an overblown retelling of his “heroic performance” in the arena. I tilted my head, listening in on the “retelling.”

  “So I stepped forward,” Balt declared, raising a hand dramatically, “and with a single gesture just one—BOOM! The whole arena gasped. I mean, you heard them, right? They were chanting my name.” The girl blinked. “I… don’t think anyone was chanting, Master Balt.” “Metaphorically,” Balt corrected, waving her off. “In their hearts.”

  In the middle of the story, I watched Tucker strike. He appeared at Balt’s side and launched a devastating sneak attack on the mage’s cup of mead, lapping it up enthusiastically until Balt finally noticed his drink disappearing. Balt lurched to his feet to strike out, only for Tucker to burp directly in his face before darting away.

  The serving girl clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking. Balt froze, eyes watering, looking like he was about to lose his dinner right there on the floor. I laughed so hard my sides began to hurt. My buddy’s face turned to me. It was turning a shade of green I didn’t know humans could manage, and he made a rude gesture my way. Which made me just laugh harder. And then Tucker delivered the finishing blow, another wet lick across Balt’s cheek. Balt yelped and flailed; the serving girl finally broke into open laughter.

  I couldn’t help grinning. Balt could face down the best this floor had to offer without blinking, but one enthusiastic wolf-bear and a pretty girl turned him into a flustered mess every single time. After a few more hours of celebrating, we all retired to our rooms, and I slept the sleep of one who had been training for months and finally got to sleep through the night. I woke up before dawn and had just got done brushing my and Tucker’s teeth when someone started knocking on my door.

  I walked over and opened it to see Mei there. “There is someone here to see you.” Her face was stoic, but her tone gave away her worry. I tilted my head curiously. “Who?” Mei’s eyes flicked down the stairs before she answered, voice low. “One of the girls recognized him at the door waiting for us to open to let him in. She let him in and seated him in front of the hearth. She says he’s Shane the Gladiator. The champion from the last tournament.” Her expression stayed perfectly composed, but the tightness in her shoulders betrayed her worry. “He asked if he could speak with you. If… you have time.” I exhaled slowly. “Well… let’s see what he wants.” Tucker padded beside me as we headed downstairs, claws clicking softly against the wood. I kept my guard up, ready for anything. No way was this guy here just a casual conversation before dawn.

  The common room was dim, lit only by the hearth’s orange glow and a few mage lamps turned on low as the girls worked behind the counter getting everything ready for the inn to officially open for the day.

  I spotted him easily enough, dressed in dark leather armor, sitting comfortably in front of the fire, one leg crossed over the other, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Broad shoulders, relaxed posture, not a hint of hostility. Which somehow made him feel more dangerous to me. He looked up the moment I stepped off the last stair. His eyes sharpened with recognition, and he rose smoothly to his feet.

  I braced myself, ready for anything. Instead of the hostility I expected, he smiled, warm, easy, like we were old friends meeting by chance. “This drink is amazing,” he said, lifting the cup slightly as if toasting the room. “No wonder you stay here.” That threw me off more than any killing intent would have. He extended a hand toward me. “Riven, right?” I hesitated for a moment, then reached out anyway and clasped his hand, my grip firm but cautious. His grip was steady. Friendly even. “Sorry to just show up unannounced like this, but something interesting happened to me last night as I was home watching your fight with that wind mage. My name’s Shane, by the way. I nodded.” I was told by Mei, the owner of this place, that you won the Anchor tournament eight years ago, no small accomplishment that.”

  He smiled and then gestured for me to take a seat. Seeing no reason to be unkind myself, I did; Mei came over and brought me my usual drink and gave me a look like, should she wake the others? I just shook my head slightly and focused back on the man.

  Shane leaned back slightly, eyes drifting to the massive shape at my side. “That’s a beautiful animal you’ve got there,” he said. “Mind if I give him a treat?” Before I could answer, Tucker sat down with a heavy thump and nodded his head up and down, an exaggerated, excited gesture with his tongue lolling out.

  Shane barked a laugh. “I guess that answers that.” His anchor flashed at his wrist, a brief shimmer of light, and what looked like beef jerky appeared in his hand. He flicked it toward Tucker with casual precision. It spun once in the air before the wolf?bear snapped it up mid?flight. Shane grinned, clearly pleased.

  Tucker, glutton for dried meats that he was, settled down to chew contentedly. I felt some of the tension ease out of my shoulders; a man that was friendly to animals was usually a good sign of character in my experience.

  I still watched him intently; only a fool relaxed completely around a man like this. I kept my voice steady and neutral as I asked. “So,” I said, meeting his eyes, “what brings you here, Shane?”

  Shane leaned back in his chair, studying me with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “Funny thing,” he said. “I was actually going to ask you that question.” I frowned. “What question?”

  “Who was it you pissed off?” He said it casually, but his eyes were focused on me. “Because it had to be someone high up. for them to call upon a guy like me.” I tensed and let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. To answer your question, it was most likely the Earl of the West. Shane raised his eyebrow and gestured for me to continue. It wasn’t a secret, so I did. “I killed his son after he came at me with a local warlord trying to kill me and my friends.”

  Shane nodded his head as if he had expected something like this. I held up a hand, counting off his trying to run Mei out of business just because I was staying here. The Wind Mage I defeated was the Earl’s pawn. I suspect the artifact the kid had used was given to him by the Earl because he mentioned a benefactor in our match. Then I refused to bow to the jackass and threatened to kill him when he interrupted a tournament meeting with our Guildmaster.”

  I put down my hand and smiled at the man across from me. A smile appeared on Shane’s face too. “Yeah, that would do it. It’s a safe bet that the Earl is the guy, he laughed heartily. That guy was on the short list in my head that would have Tasked this of me. Only talked to the man a few times, but he was a real prick to be sure.”

  I returned the smile. To be honest, I kind of liked the guy. “Now,” I said, leaning forward slightly, “if you could be so kind as to answer my question now. What are you doing here?”

  He set his cup down. “I’m here because I’ll be representing Kaelith as a combatant as the first ever returning Champion to compete in the Anchor tournament.”

  I blinked. “You?” “Trust me,” he said with a dry laugh, “I couldn’t believe it either. But it was a direct request from His Majesty. And when the Emperor asks, you don’t refuse.” He spread his hands, palms up, almost apologetic. “I know it’s unfair to you and the others.

  Dropping a former champion many levels ahead of you into the roster like this. But even though it’s unfair, I wanted to tell you in person that I will fight you and all who I face with honor. But I will not hold back in any way, it's not in my nature.” His gaze sharpened, all warmth and affability momentarily replaced by the weight of a warrior’s bearing. “And for what it’s worth… I’m genuinely impressed by your fighting prowess. You, that other champion and that lightning guy would have steamrolled the competition in my opinion.”

  The fire popped behind him, casting shifting shadows across his face. Tucker snorted softly at my feet, still chewing his jerky. A voice entered my mind and Shane’s. “Maybe Riven and Jase would have steamrolled the others, but that lewd old bastard would have surely got his ass kicked sooner than later.”

  Shane's eyes went wide looking at Tucker. He looked back over to me, and it was my turn to laugh. “Tucker is more than he seems, to say the least.”

  Shane looked over Tucker with new interest, seeing his collar, and after a few moments, his eyes turned golden, and he smiled brightly. “That is putting it mildly, Outlier. What a wonderful surprise. I have never seen a wolf-bear in all my years. He reached out a hand, and I tensed, but he just patted Tucker’s head. “You’re a good boy, aren't you?” Tucker gave the man a lick, and Shane laughed. “Your secret is safe with me, noble creature.”

  I felt the last of my tension leave me. “So, it seems this tournament just got a lot more interesting.” I extended my hand, and Shane clasped it. “Thank you for the heads up,” I said. “And I still plan on winning, even if I have to kick your ass to do it.” He chuckled at that, then turned to leave. “Looking forward to our match. See you in the arena.” Tucker earned one last head pat on Shane’s way out, tail thumping happily against the floor.

  I watched the door close behind him and thought, I’ll be damned the man had really just shown up for a casual conversation.