So I can level up without killing?

  Zalanir was sitting in the cafeteria — yeah, he would call it this way instead of the dumb “eating area” — while checking the System interface. The fight just now seemed to unlock a hidden compartment in his belly, because despite the bland taste, this had been the third rice ball he had taken. Tapping his now slightly bloated but happy tummy, his mind wandered around the implications of the notification.

  He gained the level right after he stood up and stabilized after that wolf attack, so the System must've decided that he was the victor at that specific moment. Whether he delivered the killing blow or not wouldn’t seem to matter. Or perhaps he could have gained more experience had he chosen to finish off the Mohawk?

  Zalanir checked every nook and cranny of the General tab again just to make sure he didn’t miss a possible experience bar, but no, it was as clean as he remembered. This design made it really hard to tell how much he gained for the last fight. Was he close to leveling up, and that fight just happened to push him over the edge? Or did he get a whole level because of how difficult that fight went? If so, then his training must’ve rewarded some experiences as well, considering he always exhausted his resources to the bottom, or close to the bottom now regarding the safety aspect.

  Would he do anything differently now knowing this whole gaining-experience-without-killing stuff? Not really. But now he knew that he would miss out on not only improving fitness and techniques but also experiences if he slacked off for a day or two. Would it prevent him from doing so? Again, not really. As much as he liked to train and see incremental improvement, a timely sleep was just as enjoyable.

  Thus, his next decision after filling his belly with another rice ball was to reward himself with a long, early quality bedtime.

  The next day, when Zalanir was showering a target dummy with bolts of different colors, a certain man with an exquisite jade spear came for a visit.

  “What game are you playing?” The man ignored the greeting and went right in with a shout.

  “What? I’m firing the bolts. Oh yeah, FPS. I’m a shooter now. Unconventional, but still, technically, my hand is my gun.”

  “Don’t mess with me. Why didn’t you finish me off yesterday?”

  “Why should I? If you want to die that badly, go find a cliff or get a rope. I’m busy.” Zalanir was baffled by the stupid question.

  “But … Why? Why did you ask for the name of my attack? No. Tell me. What are you scheming behind Shinnya’s back?”

  “I don’t have time for your little simp game.” Zalanir sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t provoke them. “I have nothing to do with her, just a friend helping a friend. That’s all. Good enough?”

  Were they friends? Not really, but who cared?

  Zalanir threw three other bolts before swirling around. The man had suddenly become silenced, and that was annoying as hell.

  “You’re good? Then leave. It’s bothersome with you just standing there.”

  “Is it true? You have no filthy desires toward her? Swear yourself!”

  Zalanir wanted to punch that face just because of the nonstop nonsense he had been spouting.

  “Why would I swear? Will I gain anything from doing it? Give me some money, then. Otherwise, I have—”

  Zalanir was dead silent when the man actually plucked two silver coins from inside his leather armor and pressed them forward. He fixed his eyes on the opposite man’s. Weirdly, Zalanir didn’t think this was a joke or a ploy to annoy him, due to the Mohawk being a sore loser. No, the man was serious.

  “How much of a simp are you?” Zalanir sighed. “I have nothing to do with Shinnya. That’s the truth. We just happen to go together on a little mission.”

  And just like that, the Mohawk threw Zalanir the two silver coins and came over to tap on Zalanir’s shoulder.

  “Great! Name’s Lithma. Let’s get along together.”

  What the fuck is happening? A 180-turn of attitude just like that?

  Zalanir still took the coins, though. Never said no to free stuff.

  “Zalanir.”

  “You are strong, aren’t you? Those bolts were something else, especially the translucent ones. Hard to spot those coming.” And just like that, all the sudden he became friendly.

  “Ehh … Thanks.” Zalanir took a bit of time before deciding to play along. Whatever happened, happened. “Now can you tell me about that wolf attack of yours?”

  “It’s called Wolf Strike. A pretty good skill for a spear wielder like me. Help me get a bit more range for my attacks.”

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  Zalanir didn’t think Lithma would actually answer. That was just a random question he threw out to look cool.

  Zalanir resumed his training, but after firing a bolt, he was once more interrupted by the Mohawk.

  “How about a quick spar? Unless you are afraid, and yesterday was just dumb luck?”

  Now, that was an interesting offer that Zalanir wouldn’t say no to. A moving target for him to practice? Couldn’t have asked for anything better than that, especially considering how close their last fight was.

  “Ready when you are.” The buckler wasn’t with him at the moment, but that didn’t matter. Energy Barrier would work just fine.

  Zalanir erected a barrier to thwart the thrust. It had become more natural for him now after finally having some attacks going his way. He had more than once asked other fighters for a spar together, but they all seemed to be quite conservative. Everyone just came here for a few hits at the dummies and then left. As good as the dummies were for his shooting training, they became useless for Energy Barrier.

  After one hour, Zalanir had also learned to parry with the barrier, as it sometimes survived an attack from Lithma. It was still hard to match the time and placement to fend off an attack perfectly since the shape of the barrier varied between each use, but he was getting there.

  He had to give his partner credit. His spear attacks weren’t that quick once Zalanir got the hang of them, but the power and especially the precision of the strikes gave him so much trouble dodging and blocking. His body was covered in cuts and bruises. There was even one time that Lithma timely changed from a thrust into a swipe at the last second, otherwise his chest would have a hole in it right now.

  The Wolf Strike was actually more problematic and cool than his initial impression. He had dodged, blocked, launched bolts at it, but the wolf just braced and continuously sought him out until it landed on him. It was as if the wolf had marked him, and once it did that, it just refused to go away. Zalanir could see the smirk on Lithma’s face whenever he failed to counter it, which meant … every single time. That attack was just impossible to dodge. And he hated it — both the attack and the owner.

  Lucky for him, just as he suffered from that particular attack, the Mohawk also had no answer to his air bolts. The man was desperate enough to even start shouting out loud the angle and point of contact whenever he tried to dodge. What was the purpose of that? Zalanir had no idea. He was just happy that he could practice and improve the precision and adaptability of the bolts at a moving target.

  The best lesson he learned when being forced to find creative angles to mess with Lithma was how to utilize gravity. He hadn’t paid much attention before, but the bolts, despite being a magical creation, were still being affected by gravity. It was just that he had always thrown them straight using steady force in order to hit the target.

  That was similar to learning to hit topspin and then using it every single time so that the ball would have high net clearance and thus had a higher chance of landing inside the court. But when facing a capable opponent, that type of hitting would become dull and predictable, and even though he managed to limit his unforced errors, he also hardly hit any winners. That was when he needed to learn to hit flat, drawing the opponent onto the net with dropshots, and learned to lob the heck out of it to outmaneuver the opposition.

  Gravity played a similar role here. By constantly gauging and adjusting the power and angle behind each bolt he threw, he could change the timing and point of contact, allowing him to hit a variety of spots on Lithma’s body. He even had success one time in syncing not just two, but three bolts together so that they reached Lithma at the same time, leaving the man with not much space to dodge completely.

  In the end, the sparring session lasted almost two hours, transforming both him and the Mohawk from clean clothes into wearing tattered equipment that was also full of blood and sweat. Time well spent, though, in his opinion.

  Lying on the hard floor, huffing for air and trying to stabilize his heartbeat, Zalanir turned to the Mohawk.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “One week short of three months.”

  “I am wondering how strong the fighters here are. As you know, I went out of the pit with Djaxinz not long ago, and he killed a C-grade monster when we got into trouble. How many Djaxinz are in this place?” Zalanir voiced his thoughts out loud.

  “This isn’t a battlefield, and not everyone fights to the death each time they go down into the arena, so it’s hard to say. Djaxinz is strong and famous, but not like he is unbeatable. He had lost two or three times already, if my memory is correct. But if he killed a C-grade, then he would sit right there at the top. There must be others who did the same, hiding their true power,” Lithma remarked and then continued after a couple of seconds. “Off the top of my head, there are four monsters who no one wants to mess with. The first two are Dgun and Vitius, the left and right hands of Harkon — the boss of this fighting pit, if you don’t know—”

  “—yeah, so let’s move on,” Lithma continued after getting a nod from Zalanir. “These two are in charge of everything, so the fact that they are crazy strong isn’t a surprise to anyone. Next is Xilma, the boss of the Invincible Gang. This is purely speculation though, no one has ever seen him fight. It also doesn’t help that their base of operation is outside of the pit. But seeing some of the strong fighters in the gang, the general consensus is that Xilma would be the strongest there, and thus, one of the strongest fighters in this pit. As for the last one, well, does the name Schallin ring any bells?”

  “Schallin?” Zalanir was sure he had heard of that name before, but couldn’t recall exactly where.

  “Haha, everyone is the same. We all eat her stuff, but just ignore her name completely. She is the only cook we have. Those delicious rice balls, remember? I have seen her fight once, and let me tell you, she absolutely demands respect.”

  This was the name that took him by surprise the most. He had even cursed the cook before because of the horrible taste of the rice balls. Did he just hear the Mohawk praise the food? Did they eat the same thing?

  Swiping the sweat on his forehead, Zalanir thanked whatever power had stopped him from cursing out loud in the cafeteria. If he had done that even once outside of his mind, he might be done already. Note to self: never let insulting thoughts out.

  “I don’t think I have seen any of them. What about Harkon? He is the owner of this place, so he must be pretty strong as well, right?” Zalanir voiced his curiosity.

  “About that, and this comes from rumors only, so take it however you like, but I heard that Harkon is average at most. However, he is one of the most influential people in this settlement, owning multiple buildings and entertainment complexes. With that powerful grip, I don’t think he cares too much about his own fighting capabilities.”

  And just like that, a quick rest after the sparring had instead turned into a session full of interesting tales.