Zalanir spent the next day and a half repeating the schedule again: hitting the dummies in the morning and attending the main area for the latter half of the day. A simple schedule, but worked for the time being. If he was to give his own assessment, he was no doubt the most hard-working fighter out of all who came to the training area.

  One could wonder how he could cope with this boring repetition day in day out, but for someone who once only had training and competing in tournaments for the whole year, this had become second nature to him. And he was fine with that.

  Near the end of the morning, a tall figure wearing a blue set of cloak and hood came to the training area and notified him that he would be in for the second fight of the day. He had been wondering about how the fighting schedule worked, but seemed like it was as simple as the bookmakers running around and telling them during the morning.

  Finally, it was time. Zalanir clenched his right fist. His heart was surprisingly calm, not beating too fast or loud.

  Four fighters were present inside the small barracks under the arena, including the guy with a red nose from the Invincible Gang, who had been in the group picking a fight with Ulken the other day. Zalanir suppressed his urge to laugh. Despite looking like a clown, the man returned only a question mark after Zalanir used Identify. Provoking him now would be unwise.

  With no intention of striking up a conversation with any of the fighters, Zalanir focused his attention on what was on the racks. The most common type was melee weapons, ranging from swords, spears, axes to smaller ones like daggers or even what looked like boxing gloves. Swords and spears were the two most abundant, accounting for at least 40% of all weapons here. As for range options, there were only eleven bows in total, so the options were really limited in that department.

  As for a weapon for a mage, Zalanir had no idea what to look for. Typical weapons were staffs, scepters, wands, and … what? Maybe books? Or orbs? For the last two, he took references from video games, but he didn’t know if such items were available in this world or not. To be honest, a mage walking around holding a book or an orb looked rather silly.

  This was a problem that he hadn’t thought about when picking the mastery. Would he pick the Light Warrior mastery instead? Probably not, but this situation would make the decision harder if he knew it in advance. In the end, because he already had Adaptability Bolt serving as the main attack, he picked up a buckler that fit his left hand and a dagger.

  It would be silly to go out there empty-handed. Two shields would be overkill. The dagger was small enough to tuck in his waist, so not like it would hinder him or anything.

  Now, where did Djaxinz find his cute hat? Zalanir got the current leather clothes and pants to replace his old ones from the corridor earlier, as they were provided for free for fighters to change into before the fight. However, all of them were the same, down to the materials and design patterns, so the hat had to be something either bought in the settlement, or that it was with Djaxinz from the moment he came here.

  “Aren’t you the nosy the other day? Hey! I’m talking to you, sucker.” Red Nose pointed his finger at Zalanir.

  “Erm … Do I know you? I don’t think we’ve met before.”

  “Yeah, right? You stuck your nose in our business by helping that old guy. From your look, first fight, huh? Let’s see how lame you are.” The man grinned while rubbing his sword hilt.

  Zalanir chose to ignore him. Seemed like an idiot who tried to be intimidating. If that man were his student, he would make him run and hit forehands down the line all day until the legs and arm gave up. Brats like him needed a whipping.

  To keep his mind sane from all the rubbish the man was spouting, Zalanir left the barracks and came to stand near a keeper, who he had spotted on the corridor earlier, patiently waiting for his turn.

  Shield? Checked!

  Dagger? Checked!

  Mana? Full!

  Stami—

  “Get ready. You go in two minutes.” For the first time, the keeper spoke to him.

  “Let’s go!” Zalanir shouted to himself.

  Passing through the corridor, Zalanir stepped into a wooden lift. So it would begin in just a second. He took a large intake of breath until his chest was fully pumped up, then let it out slowly, but it didn’t work as expected. Like a concrete breaker, his heart pounded faster and louder, with increasing frequency as the wooden lift started to ascend. Mumbles slowly filled the air. Sunlight graced the cage, showing off its power to the single torch hanging loosely in the ceiling and illuminating the surroundings.

  No matter how many times he had done this before stepping out onto the court, he could never calm his nerves. Adding the fact that this was a fighting area where he had to fight for his life instead, the pressures materialized, pressing him down onto the floor. Time seemed to slow down, and every noise from the moving lift was as clear as if he was putting on a pair of headphones.

  Creak. Creak … Creak. Thud.

  A surge of adrenaline spilled forth, Zalanir jumped up, shattering all the invisible chains of pressure around, and stepped into the area. First win. There was no way he would lose this fight.

  At that moment, all the murmurs and hums died down. No one spoke a single word. Then came the announcer.

  “The very first moment someone walks into the arena is always special. Are they going to be the best, or just another meal for the monster that lurked on the other side? Can they ride the hype and punch above their weight, or will they succumb to the pressure? From up in the mountains in the north, an ambitious young man comes to us, looking to bring in the storm. Does he have what it takes to become a star? Please welcome our newest edition to the pit … Zalanir Forthernnnnnnn.”

  Contrary to the madness of the crowd yesterday as Djaxinz’s fight, only a few giving Zalanir some claps, but it was enough for nerves and doubts vanished, leaving the stage for the thrill and determination. This was already much better compared to his debut at the Challenger Tour where the only audience was his coach and families. Here, strangers were clapping for a greenhorn like him, and he couldn’t ask for more.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Oh, how I missed you. Hello again, my friend. Zalanir smiled at the notion of competing under the gaze of thousands of spectators and then twitched his fingers.

  The gate opposite him opened soon after, then came his adversary. A gray ape knuckled forward on its front limbs with increasing speed. Its height was up to Zalanir’s upper chest, but he had no doubt that if it straightened up its posture, it would actually be taller than him. With his being 182 centimeters tall, that ape had surely crossed the two-meter mark.

  A quick Identify showed that the ape was level 8. He still had no idea how strong a three-level difference provided. Testing it would be easy though.

  Zalanir threw an air bolt that he had prepared the moment he took to the arena. This bolt took more attempts to grab, so he would open with that. He could miss the training dummy, but there was no way he would fail to hit a freaking big ape. The bolt struck the ape in its right shoulder and actually staggered the beast for a short moment. However, it stood its ground, seemingly unfazed by the attack.

  While Zalanir was preparing another bolt (an earth variant this time), it growled and forward-galloped at an even faster speed than before. It was like a car coming at him at full speed. He jumped to the side, barely dodged a slam. An explosion of dirt and dust shot into the air, covering the beast in the center.

  A deafening roar paralyzed him on the spot, right when he was about to turn away. That last slam had told him everything he needed to know. Staying in melee range with the monster would be foolish.

  But here he was, with a pair of legs unable to move. It was like he had several bricks wrapped around his ankles and weighed them down. It would’ve been fine normally, but a raging ape was right in front of him, with a fist as big as his trunk high up in the sky.

  He erected the buckler just in time to receive the punch, but wow, it was heavy. He almost lost his foothold and had to take eight steps back after a brief moment of having his body in the air just to stabilize himself.

  If not for the belt attached to his left arm, the buckler would likely have been blown away already. But exactly because of that, his left arm was almost done for. It was partially paralyzed and kept on trembling despite his mind telling it to stop.

  However, luck appeared to be on his side. Right before the ape hit him, the earth bolt was ready, and he just threw it out rashly. He had no idea where it had hit, but considering that the monster was currently grabbing the left arm using its right one, it wasn’t hard to find out.

  “You are not as tough as your savage appearance suggested, huh?” Zalanir thought.

  Both of them were basically losing an arm, but unlike the ape, which relied on its physical strength, Zalanir remained calm and focused. Having his left arm unable to move sucked, but not that he needed it to cast the bolt. One hand was sufficient.

  After his legs recovered somewhat, Zalanir ran away while trying to prepare for another bolt. He would need to up his speed of grabbing the affinity. The current downtime of four seconds for a single bolt was a bit long.

  The ape chased after him, but its speed had obviously slowed down quite a lot. Not that he was surprised. Without being able to hurl one arm freely, he doubted anyone could run with full speed, let alone a beast.

  The battle had now turned into hit and run — no, hit while running — for Zalanir. He had a clear advantage in the range department, so it would be foolish to not kite it out.

  After the fourth bolt, the beast succumbed to its fate and fell onto the arena surface. A notification told Zalanir that he had passed the first fight with flying colors. Or so he imagined, as there was no such thing from the System.

  You have slain [Ironfist Gorilla — Level 8]

  Level advances to 6

  Zalanir took in the air to recover his breath from the exertion and curled his fingers inward to form a fist. His first win. The fight just now wasn’t as hard, but a win nonetheless.

  “Here we are. A great display of magical prowess from the newcomer. A clap for Zalanir Forthernnn.”

  The announcer didn’t seem to be impressed by his fight either, as his statement was rather short, but whatever. He had gone out, killed and survived. That was what mattered.

  Though some of the audience did give him their appreciation. More than those at the beginning of the battle? He would take that as another win. All the shouts and craze would come naturally after he had already made a name for himself.

  There was no medical treatment, prize, or anything given out by the organizer after the fight. No congratulations, even. He was told to just rest or go to the special seats on the ground section that were reserved for the pit fighters to continue to enjoy the other fights, but he chose to leave the pit. His condition and resources were still good enough, so he went straight to the training area. If his experience in tennis taught him anything, fixing problems right when the iron was still hot after a match was the way to go.

  Despite just netting his first victory here, he couldn’t slack off. The next beast would be stronger, so complacency after defeating one could very well mean lying dead on the arena ground in the next fight. He had to come prepared.

  There was also the hanging threat of the fighter-on-fighter bout that he was sure would come sooner or later. Winning the first fight was only the first step. If he wanted to keep winning, then there was no other way than grinding it out and putting in the effort when no one was looking.

  The first priority would be to speed up the preparation phase of the Adaptability Bolt skill. If he could fire off three bolts before the ape got to him, maybe he wouldn’t need to block using the buckler. That would turn the tide and save himself from having a crippled arm. Zalanir tapped it with his right hand. Hopefully, sleep will heal you later.

  After about twenty-five bolts, he ran out of mana, so he switched to hitting the dummy with his right fist. He would love to have an actual weapon, like the dagger he picked up earlier, but he had returned it to the barracks after the fight. He just didn’t feel like running back there, so his fist had to do for now. Then he switched to evading, running, jumping, and sprinting to mix up the action, as hitting a dummy with one fist got boring quickly.

  He was actually glad he did this, because he had learned that while running out of mana didn’t change anything, running out of stamina did hinder his movement. It was an odd feeling, as he wasn’t really out of gas physically, but his movement just became sluggish that he was running at a normal walking speed, while coughing and was on the edge of running out of breath. Stiffness and exhaustion washed over every tendon and muscle in his body.

  After pushing for another two minutes, he gave up. The effect of draining out the stamina was much more extreme compared to mana, making him wonder if he should invest some free points into Endurance. He had already put the new point he gained at level 6 into Constitution, so that would need to wait for the next level.

  ***

  Getting up from his mat and doing some stretching, Zalanir noticed that Ulken was already gone, or maybe he hadn’t returned since last night? He indulged himself in a sleep right after returning, when the pit was still hosting fights. Exhausting the stamina pool just made him so sleepy, which was also fueled by the fact that there wasn’t anything else for him to do.

  Zalanir dreaded the taste of the rice ball, but he just had no choice but to go there. All they served in the eating area was this small, tasteless, unattractive food that he was sure the fighting pit only provided to the fighters so that they satisfied some requirements of having a place called the eating area. Three days in, and he already felt like torture eating these things two times per day. Imagined living with it for several months or at worst a whole year? No, he had to find something else. Maybe somewhere out there in the settlement he could find better food.

  After the food was training time. He was the only one in the training area at the moment. His left arm did heal to 100% after the sleep, so he jumped right in with the bolt throwing exercise. He couldn’t just conjure the bolt with his right hand only. To avoid predictability and the possibility of injuring his right hand, he had to get the other one involved. Not only that, he also aimed to reduce the number of failed attempts in conjuring Adaptability Bolt. Succeeding in doing so would leave him with more options in a fight.