I've never heard of show fighting before.

  Fighting is something I did to survive. Killing monsters, bringing down food. I enjoy it, but I enjoy anything I do well, and there's little that I do better than fighting. It's in my blood. Quite literally the fundamental building blocks of my being.

  But never at any point did I consider people would get in front of crowds of people and beat one another bloody to roaring applause and all in good humor.

  Even less than that. I never expected I'd be doing it myself.

  I also had no idea how much I would be enjoying it.

  The person set against me for this opening fight — my first fight that was offered when I walked in an hour ago — is someone about as green as me allegedly. We're in a space reserved for rookies inbetween major fights for the day. Tournament filler, by every definition, like all of those books Lilly really liked that were basically just a few hundred pages of the author making their characters fight back-to-back for weeks on end.

  The organizer told me that I would "figure it out pretty quick" since I "seem like I have good instincts". Which sounded like a vapid nothing-statement then and seems even less meaningful now.

  They're lightly armored, fighting with a curved, long sword held in two hands. Maybe a half foot taller than me, standing about six foot six, and add another three or so inches thanks to their canid ears sitting atop their head — one drooping, the other managing to stay upright.

  I hold my ground, glaive low in a lazy guard as he paces around me. I have no intention of engaging first, so I will wait until he gets the courage to come after me.

  The crowd, though, seem disinterested, which is fine by me. After all, the only people paying attention are the ones staring at me since I'm apparently such an oddity, rather than any interest in the coming fight.

  "Are you going to do something?" I ask, keeping my tone level. Ignia is flooding my body, and I'm itching to get this started, so I reign myself in as much as I can. "I think you've seen me from every angle at this point. Do you want a written invitation?"

  His voice is coarse, but in a way that makes me think he's probably trying to sound gruffer than he actually does, but he manages to fit in a haughty chuckle in before his response. "Maybe I'm just waiting for you to show a sign of life? You've just been standing there since the start."

  "Do you want me to come to you? I just wanted to give you a chance to make a showing first."

  The comment gets more of the crowd to tune in. They explained that our words will be being heard by the crowd through some Sonos enchantments, so taunting and quipping is apparently encouraged. Luckily, all of my play-acting with Lilly over the years has armed me well for this specific scenario — she always loved playing the quippy hero fighting an equally quippy villain: me.

  "Sure, why not? I've been doing this for mont—" The moment he lazily sets his overlarge sword on his shoulder and leans back, I launch myself at him — slower than I'd like thanks to lacking a wing — and I've covered half of the distance before he starts to react. His eyes widen fractionally with every step as I begin to sweep my glaive up from below on the side opposite the blade resting on his shoulder.

  He yelps and stumbles backwards, falling flat on his ass as my weapon whistles within inches of a solid hit. Immediately, I see a burst of essence behind his back that brings him upright and into a ready stance, looking distinctly uncertain now.

  "You sure?" I glance around, looking at the crowd as some announcer starts to chime in while the man recovers mentally.

  "Oh ho ho. It seems like maybe our new challenger — the saurin from far-off lands — has a bit more fire in her than it seemed! I was starting to fall asleep!" The words gets a reaction from the crowd, people starting to reflect that energy. Some cheers, mostly rooting for him, not me. "Maybe Jonas finally met his match?"

  The comment has many people actually laugh…which feels meanspirited to me. As such, I frown and look around at everyone but my opponent for a moment.

  A critical mistake.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see him blur slightly and before I can raise a guard he brings his blade down in a colossal overhand hammer strike. The blade is wreathed in Aero, likely motion-aspected, and the hit immediately suffuses some sapped essence from the blow into my armor, empowering some of the short-lived runes. and when it slashes down across my armor I hear a peppy chime from the air above me.

  As I dance back to create some space, I look up and see myself in the suspended essence construct showing my and the other guys faces to the crowd. Beneath my name and face is three boxes, and one has a red X beneath it. That paints a pretty clear picture of what the goal here is — they just told me to fight, they didn't tell me about any special rules.

  That's annoying.

  But it means I just need to hit him…seven times.

  Why does he have more allowed hits than me?! More than twice as many!

  As I ready to raise my voice to complain about that bit of specific unfairness, I sense some air movement behind me but can't move in time — taking an air blade to the back and hearing a slightly more dire-sounding chime in return.

  "Oh no! Our new challenger is down to her last hit! And without even landing a hit herself! Maybe this one is destined to—"

  I stop paying attention as I glare at my opponent, who is still standing there looking smug.

  I start drawing in a breath inbetween words, buying a little time. "Alright, I wasn't taking you seriously because you seemed like a joke at first. Let's correct that." I gesture with my glaive as essence swells in my throat. "I don't know why you have more hits than me, but you are not getting that last hit."

  He politely waits for me to finish before giving me a half bow and a cocksure grin. "As you say, rookie. Everyone loses their first match. You don't have to feel bad. Just let it happen."

  I release the energy stored in the runes in my armor from his two attacks in an essence blade of my own, sending it screaming at him. Pure Modus essence from the armor converting what I'm hit by. Being pure motion essence, it moves fast. Far faster than he expected and it blasts him back after he brings his blade into a guard to disperse the attack. Which, annoyingly, doesn't count as a hit.

  The first attack, though was just a test. The moment he blocks it, I send my real "spell" through, exhaling sharply three times alongside my own roar of effort. Three bolts of fire erupt from my mouth in rapid sequence and cross the distance in a split second — one after another. I also launch myself in their wake.

  The first strikes his guard, but he absorbs the impact fine. The second knocks his weapon out of position. The third strikes him in the center of the torso and starts to immediately spread across his chest.

  He screams in surprise and immediately bursts essence from his body to blast the flames away. Just in time for me to arrive, bringing down my own overhand smash that he fails to guard against.

  Two chimes. The arena goes silent in anticipation, but I don't really hear it. All I hear is my blood thundering in my ears. I'm hot, and I need to lose excess essence fast before I take this too far.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The force of the blow knocks him to a knee, trying to get his oversized sword back into position to block against another high strike. But…unfortunately for him, my next play is not a weapon strike.

  I kick him square in the chest, knocking him back ten feet to the sound of a third chime as he rolls away. A clang rings out as his weapon clatters to the ground nearby, leaving him more or less helpless as I stalk forward.

  The entire arena disappears as I close the distance. I feel my focus narrowing down on prey — the same thrill I got after chasing down a particularly flighty deer. It feels great.

  He stays on the ground though, wheezing, so when I get up to him I start to draw in another breath in preparation of ending this fight.

  But my sneaky challenger tries to surprise me with another airblade — from the front this time — but now I've learned the rules. In reaction, I just sweep my glaive through the essence construct, absorbing it into the weapon — something that will go unused.

  His eyes go wide after I stopped his attack. "Hey now, we can talk this out, right?"

  I pull my hunting drive back just a hair. "How does damage over time work in terms of these hits?" His eyes widen, but he doesn't answer, instead he traces his gaze over my body where Ignia is surely collecting in the essence-dense focal points around my body — my hands, feet, core, and throat. I can feel the glow.

  Since he doesn't answer, I decide to time it.

  I catch flame in my throat, forcing every mote of Ignia in my body into the building flames and start to roast him. I have the presence of mind to guide my flames to not actually burn him, just singeing. But after four seconds of sustained fire, a hit chiming exactly once a second, the fight ends.

  When the final chime rings out, I release my breath, snapping my mouth closed and recalling some of the free Ignia in the air to warm myself back up. Everything stays quiet for another few seconds, the whole arena seemingly stunned.

  I extend my hand down to my blackened and charred opponent with a wide, toothy smile and half-closed eyes. "Told you so."

  Our hands meet, and as I haul him up, the announcer chimes in. "The challenger wins!".

  It's like setting off a bomb in the arena. The crowd erupts into cheers. Indistinct shouting that gets me feeling more and more excited as every second goes by. I just stand there, basking in it. Adoration. It feels right.

  "Jonas has finally been beaten by a greenhorn! I think our challenger has more than enough fire in her, doesn't she?" More cheers.

  I think I could get used to this.

  — — — — — — — — — — ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? — — — — — — — — — —

  "That was basically cheating! I didn't know the rules or goals going in! I could have seriously hurt him!" I'm mad. Very mad. Amplified by the Ignia running through my body following the fight.

  The organizer, a titankyn woman standing about a foot and a half taller than me but notably less broad-shouldered than most of her kyn that I've seen, looks down at me apologetically. I think her name is Agnis. "Look, hey, if you were worried you were going to hurt him, I expect you wouldn't have set him on fire." She's wearing dense leathers atop a relatively official-looking set of clothes — making her look a jarring combination of official and ready to kill with the large axe on her back. "A'sides, you won. What's to worry about? People loved you!"

  She smacks me on the back hard enough to send me stumbling, so I just glare over at Maxi accusingly.

  He raises both hands in defense with a placating smile "Look, that was my bad. It didn't even cross my mind that someone wouldn't know the rules! You did really well though."

  I seethe for another couple moments before trying to relax. "Fine. So, what did you want to talk about, then?" Maxi said the organizer, Agnis, wanted to talk to me specifically after the match.

  "Well, I was hoping I could offer you a position doing fights here. Maxi, here, said that you were in the market for something to do, and after that performance, I think we could use someone like you around here. That whole "Going down to your last hit before turning it on" thing went over like fireworks covered in sprinkles." She pauses a moment, considering. "If you had really tried from the outset, how fast would that fight have been, you think?"

  The room falls pretty silent as I consider. "Honestly? I'm not sure. That's the second time I've ever fought a person with my glaive, so I don't have much to go on. He was less of a brawler than the first person I fought though, so I could probably manage faster now that I actually know the rules. He wasn't that good of a fighter, I think. Seemed to rely too much on tricks. Fell apart as soon as I applied pressure." I nod, satisfied with my assessment, limited as my information is. I just felt like I had a convincing leg up, really.

  "He's far from the best around here, but he's something of the "gateway" fight for a lot of the newcomers."

  "Is that why he had more hits allowed than me? Seems a bit one-sided. I have a lot of advantages, would the average person even have a chance against someone who fights like that with the deck stacked against them like that?"

  "Gods Above, no. That's the point. He's something of a heel. The whole bratty persona that people love to see get hit is just an act for him. He humbles the green folks, and then they have a whole improvement thing as they climb the ranks. Makes for a more engaging show, even if folks know he's supposed to win. Makes for a real fun surprise when someone rolls around who can drop him, though.

  So, then. I'd want you in for a similar role, if I'm bein' honest here."

  "What do you mean? Admittedly I'm not really clear on what a "heel" is supposed to be. Someone who…what? Beats up inexperienced people?"

  She laughs, "Not at all! A heel is the just the villain of the ring. Fight dirty, use tricks, taunt the opponent. That kind of thing."

  "Why would I want to be a villain? I'll pass, thanks." I turn to leave. My people made the decision to leave the world because they kept being blamed for natural disasters when all people like my parents ever did was go and handle problems that mortal kyn couldn't manage.

  The idea just crushes the buoyant mood I've been feeling. So I hasten my way out, not really planning to hear any other explanations.

  Maxi can find me something else, or I can just relax.

  — — — — — — — — — — ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? — — — — — — — — — —

  That evening

  Lilly's been cooking ever since they both came back and Olly has sequestered himself in a room, assembling the bed they bought today. Leaving me to sit at the kitchen table making weak attempts to talk to Lilly. She's mostly focused though.

  I can't fault her, really. She has five pans and a pot all being used at once on the large stove, all full of various ingredients I've never heard of but smell pretty good.

  "So, what did you get up to today, Ayre?" Lil asks as she starts to collapse the number of pans by dumping the contents of each into the one central pot until it's the only thing still being used.

  "Got into a fight." I end it simply to goad her into having interest and it works wonders.

  She immediately drops the wooden spoon she was using to stir and quickly walks over, leaning over the table with interest. "You don't look like you got in a fight? What was it about? Someone give you problems for being a dragon? Another kidnapping? Were they cute? The kidnapper, I mean. Marriage candidate? Like if you work out the whole kidnapper thing—"

  I raise a hand to stall her. "Maxi took me to the arena, and they wanted me to try a trial fight. Apparently I beat the other guy badly enough that they wanted to hire me to act as some villain thing. I told them no — I'm not interested in presenting myself and people like me as bad people, even as a show-thing."

  Lilly looks less interested after my explanation, showing a bit of disdain. "Was it because you're a dragon or something? I can't imagine what an arena fighting organization would need with a villain. It's kind of a loaded word."

  "They called it something else, that was just how they described it to me. The words…heel, I think."

  Lilly, who had been turning away to return to the pot, suddenly spins back around. "They wanted you to be a heel? That's entirely different! Villains are bad people doing bad things. Heels are basically everyone's favorite character type! These fights are exclusively for show? I was imagining some sort of big arena with people chopping arms off and stuff."

  The reaction surprises me a bit, leaving me leaning away from the rapidly approaching fairy. "Uh, yeah. They have a whole thing for the number of hits deciding the victor, enchantments all over to limit harm."

  "Ayre, you have to do it! It's perfect! Heels aren't villains. They're just supposed to humble people. They basically said that you're so good at fighting, they want it to be your entire job to beat up cocky people! It probably will still be equal and fair fights, it's just a whole meta-narrative thing! It's kind of like when a hero has a character who comes around every now and again just to make their life harder."

  "Hmm." The idea sounds a bit better coming from her, so I sit back considering. "I guess that does sound appealing. As long as it's not just me beating up people weaker than me. That would probably be really boring."

  "I can't imagine they'd hire you to swat flies. Even if they don't know what you are, you've got high-quality stuff and are good with it. They're probably going to want you to knock their better fighters down a peg, I bet. Plus, it's not like saying yes means you have to stay there forever. If you don't like it you can always just…stop. I think you should give it a go. Maybe you could teach people about dragons? Make a whole big story out of it! I can write you a tragic backstory to act on…" She starts pacing while rambling on ways to make my upbringing sound even more tragic.

  Which, frankly, is fairly impressive. Things could have been worse, but "parents killed in front of me and then living alone for 20 years in the woods" is pretty bad overall, I think. If I hadn't had her come into my life? I can't imagine I'd be doing half as well as I was. Would I even be able to read? Something I'd rather not think about.

  "Hey Lilly?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Your pot is burning."