Master Percival woke them early and took them to a small breakfast of rice porridge and fruit. "For the next ten days, the only resources you will be given are those you earn in the arena. Every victory grants you a fish plasma elixir. You all personally know the benefits of such a resource. Imagine consuming nineteen of them – one for each competitor you face.

"You will fight once every morning and once every afternoon. On the tenth day, it will only be a morning match. That afternoon the top five finishers as judged by number of wins will receive additional rewards. The first place finisher receives a double vial of silver plasma elixir. The second place finisher receives a normal vial of silver plasma elixir. Those third through fifth receive a half vial of silver plasma elixir. The bottom four finishers will be removed from the tournament. Everyone else will receive a fish plasma elixir if their sponsoring lord is pleased with their performance.

"This morning, before the fights begin, your sponsors will be inspecting you. No one expects foreigners to have proper decorum, but you would do well to demonstrate respect as best you know how. A lord is not a friend from down the street who you may speak to plainly. You will be given more specific instructions when you are individually collected."

They were led through a side door of the palace and made to wait in a corridor. Cultivators began arriving to lead individual gladiators away. Hector knew it was his turn when he saw Dorian approaching. The former bully of Volithur appeared exhausted.

"Come along, Hector, it's time for your inspection." As they walked, Dorian gave him a few very basic instructions. "Address your sponsor only as 'Lord Andrew'. Try not to speak too much. Do answer his questions. You can embellish if he seems interested, but don't ramble if he's bored."

Simple stuff. Hector's experience might be indirect, but he knew how to please a Xian superior.

When he was ushered into a fancy sitting room, Hector swept into a deep stage bow directed at the jolly heavyset man lounging on a couch. "Nice to meet you, Lord Andrew."

The lord laughed loudly. "Such foreign manners. Come closer, Hector. I have heard that you served as a dungeon delver on Union Central. Most promising. I see you're following the cold forged method. You even have some spare energy reserves."

Lord Andrew gestured and Dorian stepped outside and closed the door. The lord then pulled a small container from his pocket and opened it to reveal a honey pill. "Eat up, Hector. I have placed a sizable bet on your performance in today's matches."

There didn't seem to be a way to refuse and Hector doubted the man wished him ill at this point. The tournament may exist for an ulterior motive, but it was happening. He chewed the large honey pill, struggling to work up enough saliva to put the entire thing down. Lord Andrew rubbed his hands together. "Ephedra and rhodiola. You should see a nice performance boost. Don't speak to anyone of our small misconduct here. Once that pill begins to take effect, empty your energy reserves into your brain, yes? Go and win, now, Hector."

Lord Andrew opened the door with a force cable and Dorian escorted Hector back to the hall he'd entered the palace. "Your discussion with Lord Andrew was confidential. Do not share any details."

"I understand, Master Dorian."

He stood with the other fighters, all of whom behaved more or less suspiciously – the degree in line with their acting ability. Hector noticed that Carob smelled of wine and had worked up some spare cosmic energy. Further away, Micah was running his tongue over his teeth as if attempting to scrub away evidence. Then you had those like Jasmine leaning against the wall as if bored – behaving way too casual for their circumstances. They were about to fight in a tournament, after all, not take a nap. Hector thought his peers would greatly benefit from spending some time among Arahant.

Sam had to burst his bubble. "Why are you eyeing everyone up like that? It's suspicious."

"We're finally starting the tournament. That's all."

Master Percival guided them outside to where they would be fighting. The combat arena was hard-packed clay ringed with a waist high retaining wall. The rings of seats were already full other than the fancy boxes. A long dugout with walls on three sides rested directly beside and partially below the fighting floor. They were led inside and made to sit.

Hector felt the energy from the honey pill begin to hit him and dutifully channeled energy towards his brain. His moral stance on performance enhancing drugs wasn't defined yet, but Hector suspected he would be fine with them. Consuming resources was a foundational Xian practice, after all. Cultivators were inveterate pill poppers.

His reserves rapidly drained away to nothing as his brain rapidly rose in enhancement level. It was already higher than typical due to the three rounds of psychedelic honey pills he consumed on Union Central. Now it had risen to about eighty percent of the way towards the peak of level five.

All enhancement was good. Hector just wasn't sure if this change in prioritization made sense. The cold forged method, at least as practiced by the soldiers of the Shaocheth family, saved the nervous system for after the muscles. He had barely started on his respiratory system, skipped the digestive system, and bypassed the muscles. The only thing that was after nerves in the method Hector knew was the category of flesh, which involved the skin and whatever else had been overlooked in previous phases. He certainly felt sharp and focused at the moment. Hector couldn't say if that was a short term result of the mundane effects of the pill he consumed or if those were permanent enhancements.

Stolen story; please report.

The lords walked out of the palace and towards the fancy viewing box. All of the commoners stood and applauded their arrival. Hector's heart began to thunder in his chest as the Lord Platinum placed her suppression field over the arena. The dugout was partially within its bounds and he felt the numbing sensation of suppressed cosmic energy expression over just his arms and legs.

Master Percival held forth a hat and one of the lords reached in to withdraw a block of wood. Charts were consulted. Then Master Percival called out for Sam to come forth. The friendly gladiator jumped up onto the arena grounds and ran forward to stand at attention. When he was told to issue a challenge, Sam shouted the name of Walt.

The quiet foreigner joined Sam before the audience. Master Percival and two lords flew forth to land on the clay. Each lord drew their fighter to one side while Percival issued instructions from the center. "I have been tasked by the Lord Platinum to oversee this match. Combatants are expected to protect themselves at all times and continue fighting until a victor is determined. I will call the match if I deem a combatant unable to continue. The sponsors may also yield on behalf of their fighters. If there are no other questions, then the combatants may FIGHT!"

Sam swaggered forward with his hands loosely held up in a boxing stance. Walt dipped a quick bow and charged. The quiet man jumped into a flying kick halfway to his opponent. Sam's eyes went wide. He tightened the arms guarding his face. Walt's foot made contact with the blocking forearms and he let his straightened leg collapse. In a beautiful display, Walt rotated his upper torso to land a back fist to the temple.

The match had just begun and Sam swayed woozily on his feet. Walt feinted throwing a right cross and then executed a neat shuffle step to one side and launched his shin into Sam's liver side. Sam grunted at the impact and threw a punch back.

Walt ducked under the punch and, with his level lowered, seized one of Sam's ankles. An aggressive pull sent Sam crashing onto his back. Walt knelt beside Sam and delivered a surgical knee strike to the temple. When Walt stood, Sam remained in place, unconscious.

The sponsor of Sam scowled and leaped back to the lord's box while the other lord celebrated by raising his hands into the air as if he'd personally won the match. Master Percival declared the obvious winner. Walt carefully lifted Sam and carried the man back into the dugout.

Another number was drawn. Charts were consulted to translate the number into a name.

What followed was an utterly forgettable schoolyard scuffle by two non-entities within the social scene of the barracks. Neither fighter represented themselves well. They threw wild haymakers that never landed. They clinched and pushed each other around like they were bad dancers. They grew tired and moved slower. The sponsoring lords began to yell angry commands. Master Percival repeated the word "action" as an ineffective exhortation. That match finally ended when one of the two fighters was exhausted. His opponent threw him down and laid on top, punching his face until the sponsoring lord threw in the towel.

The next person to fight was Jasmine. She chose Carob, who eagerly bounded up to face her. Hector clenched his fists by his side as he watched them face each other. The fight began. Carob marched forward with a smile on his face, certain he would defeat a woman. Hector had no idea what sparring had been like between the two of them, but he didn't think Carob should be so overconfident. At the same time… Jasmine was the underdog here. Enhanced bodies might make miracles possible, but her opponent was also enhanced on top of being larger and more muscular.

She backed away from Carob in a wide spiral, constantly stepping back and to her right. Carob threw punches and kicks at a steady rate, his initial confidence becoming tainted with frustration. He could tell the man thought Jasmine was just delaying the inevitable.

To be fair to Carob, Jasmine looked like she was shaken pretty badly every time she couldn't evade in time and had to block. Her arms and upper body would shiver from the impact and she'd stumble and have to recover her footing. As they circled, the evasions became less common and the perilous blocking more so. Carob, sensing blood in the water, picked up his intensity.

After he landed three strikes as part of a combination, Carob wound up to deliver the knockout blow. The punch came hard and fast. Jasmine ducked under it, threw an uppercut to the groin, spun behind Carob, and kicked the back of one knee to send the man to the ground on all fours.

Wasting no time, Jasmine jumped onto his back and sunk in a tight rear naked choke. Her feet expertly hooked in before Carob started bucking wildly to dislodge her. He managed to stand up and then jumped backwards to smash Jasmine between him and the clay ground. Unfortunately for him, his opponent wasn't some random woman. She was an experience Xian fighter.

Her hardened body took the punishment and Carob struggled mightily to repeat the ineffectual standing and jumping back. With great effort, he managed to do that two more times, his face turning red and then purple. Much as Jasmine was able to take the impacts better than a normal human ever could, Carob managed to stay conscious for far longer than should be possible for a human to go without oxygen to the brain.

He did collapse, though. The fight was called for Jasmine and she resumed her feet slowly and deliberately. Either she was trying to minimize the extent of her injuries or she was playing them up to trick future opponents. Hector clapped for her victory along with the crowd of spectators. Whatever she was to him, he felt happy in that moment to see her victorious.

The next person to have their number called was Micah, the person deemed the eventual winner of the entire tournament. The large man strode onto the clay and turned to point his finger directly at Hector. The people to either side of him scooted aside to make certain they weren't drawn into the beat down that was about to commence.

Master Percival shrugged. "Come on up, Hector. Everyone has to face him eventually."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.