Accidental Reaver

Reddish and blue clouds were the first thing Luke saw around him.

Aruna was nowhere to be seen, going off on her own in the short gap between her entering this pocket realm and his. Unlike the many other sorts of skies he'd seen, this one had no celestial body, not a moon, a sun, or sparkling stars. It did have an aurora, white-green in color, illuminating the realm similar to the golden hour back on Earth but dimmer.

"Another dimension? Just for arena battles?" Luke found himself uttering out loud, seeing the reality others so casually put into words loosened his thoughts, becoming verbal instead of internal.

A nearby tora man, with grey fur, and white whiskers, laughed, sounding similar to a roar, "New here, youngin'? This here is one of the minor realms linked to the Tower. A bit special, you see? Come to spectate or participate?"

"Participate. Where can I go find the duel I'm set for?"

"Simple enough, this un' is the arena for the first tier types. I wager you'se one o' them, ain'tcha? Go clock into one them Interface do-hickies, think you prim and propers call em' platforms."

Slowly following with his vision to where the elderly tora pointed, Luke learned some details about the place around him. A grand blue and white colosseum, similar to the Roman ones back on Earth. Except its design was more crystalline and metallic than stone. A blue circle on either far end of the colosseum stood, radiating mana in a vertical pattern.

At the edge of his vision, he could make out white chains bounding off to another island shrouded by cloud cover and some sort of thin barrier. Past that, all the details blurred, and wouldn't clear no matter what he did. Returning to the tora's instruction, there, in isolation, remained an interface platform, an exact replica of the one he interacted with in the Lorcan Pyrite Library.

Thanking the helpful man, Luke came over to the platform. Crisp air and body-temperature winds gently breezed around him. Up above, there seemed to be dozens of floating structures, private booths, if Luke had to guess. They were like clusters of crystal and gold in appearance, chained together lightly by weaving mana.

Unlike the typical arena, this one appeared to have no public seating, outside of a few resting benches, specifically away from the area able to spectate the central clearing in the area.

That would be where Luke would duel off against Janeus, as anyone with deductive reasoning could conclude. Separated from the floating structures, was padded seating for a few hundred people. Yet Luke couldn't for the life of him figure out how to get up there; there had to be a way. Already, dozens sat there. He could make out spirits going up and down the steps, serving refreshments.

Must be the source of the beer Aruna gushed on about. Would make sense if that's where she ran off to.

A thin mirage fluctuated in the seating area, at the edge of the glass boundary in front of the foremost seats. It rose past the floating booths above, piercing to the cloud cover in the sky.

Putting his palm onto the Interface Platform, mana washed over him. A prompt appeared.

[Slotted duelist detected. Arrival: twenty minutes late. Querying other duelist….please wait]

Luke squirmed a little at the mention of his tardiness. He was pretty sure without Aruna barging into his room to wake him up, he'd have ended up missing the entire challenge. The following prompt assuaged his worries.

[The other duelist, Janeus, accepts the duel request. Please review the written contract detailing the wager between duelists. If unanticipated changes to the contract have been noticed, you are advised to reject the contract]

A mana echo popped from the Interface, rotating slowly, before setting up before Luke's eyes. He read it over. It was simple enough, the arena barrier would preserve your life as long as you kept your head or heart, healing back to full once the duel was declared over. Either by a defeated duelist, or the Interface, should either be unable to continue.

The rest of the details in the contract were the terms between him and Janeus. If Janeus won, Xera was his. If he won, everything Janeus owned, including current items, liquid assets, and property, became Luke's to do with as he wished.

Signing with a finger by suffusing it with essence, the contract rolled up, before a blue seal stamped itself on, turning the contract into mana motes, melding into the air. The previously unseen barrier surrounding the spacious arena grounds opened.

[Please proceed, duelist. The match shall begin precisely two minutes after both contenders have been detected inside at their predetermined starting positions]

Overlooking both his shoulders, Luke saw nothing else of note to account for. He tried to peer within the arena but found the grounds were obscured. Some sort of measure to prevent an unfair advantage. Or the whims of the realm, he'd have no way of knowing without asking someone else.

Since no one else appeared to be around, he'd wade inside. After passing the opened blue-hued barrier, it shut behind him. The mists cleared, and a circular, flat, dirt inner arena shone before him. At a glance, it appeared to be roughly thirty yards long, and half as wide. Spacious, trying to kite your opponent using pure distance would prove incredibly difficult. There was nowhere to hide, no obvious environmental factors to manipulate, and the inner walls to keep you inside were covered in mana lines, brands, and runes, pulsing against the crystalline blue and white theme, smooth as glass.

The Reaver took a short winding path down. Once he stepped onto the dirt dueling area, the same material that made the inner walls rose behind him, shutting Luke in. An overlay implanted to his vision, and a cloudy white path led to a small dirt circle.

Coming to the position, Luke stared at the figure standing on the other end, an elf, with gold-like skin, green eyes, opulent gear, and admittedly, a power tier 2 aura coming off his person. He couldn't be sure, but Luke swore the man wore a sneer upon his face.

A red, ticking time box appeared in the upper right corner of his vision.

[1:59]

By the second, the timer came down, ruthless as time ever was. It kneels to no one. In a sick twist, it reminded Luke of the timer on his heart, his 'introduction' to this world.

The situation barely held any resemblance to back then. Here, he stood before a challenge, a tier 2 Spell Sword. Yet, a smile ripped across his face. What pressure? What challenge? All he saw was a fool, a bag of riches waiting to be stolen by him.

The fool spoke, his elven voice carrying across the distance well, "Today, you shall have the honor of facing me, novice Spell Sword. Allow me, Janeus to show you what a veteran can do. With that artifact by my side, I will become the best in this city and marry Lady Critania."

With a deadened blink, Luke slowly took Xera out, switching her to wand form. He checked over the three abilities he upgraded recently, Essence Bond, Siphon, and Roll of the Reaver. Siphon became easier to maintain for the coming fight and lasted longer. Essence Bond capped out at being in effect for twenty seven seconds, up from twenty five. Reducing the annoying 'gap' from five seconds, to three.

Roll of the Reaver ticked up one number, rolling from 3-10. Each change was slight but essential enough to take into account when facing off against Janeus. The smaller Essence Bond gap might become the most vital. At the least, it shortened his weakened period.

Next, he thought of the Ice Soul. The Interface described it as making Ice Elementalization easier to use, while also increasing its effectiveness. In that case….

He applied Essence Bond to Xera, elementalizing it with ice. The effort required this time a notch above what he experienced with Essence Fissure. Completely a battle ready tactic, the mental effort low enough to incorporate consistently and with little delay, if any. It occurred to Luke that he'd never successfully applied Essence Bond to Xera with frost essence enchanting the ability first.

The Reaver marveled internally. Just as I thought I understood this class…

Frosted runes spread across Xera. Arctic winds summoned, ice spread around him without effort.

His Sword Wand was ecstatic, hollering, "Do you see this master? I am now Xera, master of ice, and blasting. I like the upgrade. Why couldn't you do this to me soon? This feels so good, like a tasty blood bath."

Wayfinder kept his voice low, barely audible, even to Luke, "Keep your eyes on the elf, lad. Refuse to forfeit the initiative; keep the gold skin on the back foot."

Runes crawled up from Xera, onto his skin, then spread like an infection. He felt toughened, clear headed, elevated somehow. His skin took on a white-blue hue. Luke tried to get a feel for whether he used any essence to create this sensation; it borderlined at zero. Then, an idea hit him.

Essence Bond would strengthen allies affected by it and weaken enemies under its influence while more than doubling his chances of attribute theft against them.

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Its limitation was he couldn't apply it to himself. But what if—as Elementalization seemed to weaken the constraints around some abilities—by putting it onto Xera, and she put it onto him…

He finally got a rough idea of what happened to him, but likely not an exact picture. Ice wandered about, Luke's perception raised, defenses shot up, and another host of changes he failed to articulate. All around him was a sensation—both cold and thrilling.

And there just so happened to be a suitable target nearby to test it all on.

—————————————

Janeus had long been looking forward to this challenge.

A calm settled within the arena, faint green light shining down. A blue barrier encased him in here with a lone human. Imagine his luck! The human failed to bring his companion with him. The utter fool.

Inwardly, he feared the inexperienced Defier would reject the duel, using this as a pretext. As the one with a lower level and tier, the Defier was well within his rights to refuse.

And if he did? Janeus would be powerless to do anything, vexed that some hapless human wielded a class artifact. As for trying to take it by overt force? That would lead to a swift end by one of the other Defiers. That bunch was nothing if not protective of their own—under proper circumstances.

An artifact. Something of legend, in his entire life as a hunter, Janeus had the good fortune to lay his eyes on two. One, the Runewarden Defier, Annika, wielded, the other, in the possession of the City Lord, Ophelia Cyrn. He remembered the day he found out this human, Luke Wallace, was revealed to be in possession of an artifact weapon, and to his delight, one meant for Spell Swords, as he happened to be.

Of course, no detailed information remained on the weapon other than its name, which was Xera, and it happened to be a two-form variant, able to switch from a sword to a wand and back. But that was enough to capture his interest. With an item of that quality, many doors would open to Janeus.

His life had been run by the motto of devouring the weak and avoiding the strong. He struggled for over twenty years to reach where he stood, in the second tier, capped at level seventy-five. He'd relentlessly honed his five primary skills, unable to grow them further without ascending yet again. The three passive skills fueling him failed to rank up no matter what he tried, stuck at the middle ranks within tier 2.

In all respects, he had stagnated. Vice captain to a middle-ranked Tower Team, unable to win Lady Critania's hand in marriage, the most beautiful silver haired elf woman he'd ever seen. She belonged to a minor noble family in Sylen. While in theory, that meant his status would be roughly equal, in reality, to get what he wanted, the only assured path was to become a tier 3 or, through some stroke of luck, obtain nobility himself.

The last route was to become a Defier, nobility among the hunters, with all the privileges and drawbacks it encompassed. When faced with his limitations, he began to hone a technique, Fire Elementalization. Like many, he remained stuck at the peak of Apprentice, able to inflame his weapon or body for a short period of time. It helped but paled to what an Adept could do—incomparable to anyone at Expert could manage.

Faced with that barrier, his last option became like dust in the wind. Until he learned about this human brat facing him today, an artifact could surely allow him to overcome a monster strong enough to grant him a feat, ascend to the third tier, and allow him entry into the world of the true elite within the Edge Lands.

He could die a happy man. All that remained was this last obstacle. This time, nothing would stop Janeus. He'd risked it all, and while hesitant at first, the longer he thought about it, the more assured he became. There would never be this sort of once in a life time opportunity ever again for Janeus.

To achieve his dreams, this was the only way forward. The Interface ticked down at the edge of his vision; readying himself, Janeus drew his exceptional quality short sword. It amplified his abilities when fueled by mana, and boosted his flames from his technique, a perfect fit. It had taken him far, but not far enough.

The plan to take down this human proved simple: he'd time a Warding Arc, giving him superior mana backed offense or defense for the next three strikes. That versatility should allow him to overcome any devious tricks this baby Spell Sword might attempt. Over time, his Weighted Strikes passive, which gradually increased the gravity against his opponent, would give him an unbridgeable advantage.

Should the boy get a critical blow on him—which Janeus perished the thought—his Healing Surge would reverse the tide, and strengthen him for a short period. Confident in his plan, Janeus took his sword into his hands, applying the Mana Blade ability to it, boosting its cutting edge, sapping away stamina with its damage, and restoring his own.

Once the timer ticked to zero, and the subtle force keeping him in place lifted, Janeus stomped against the dirt floor creating a dust cloud and dashing out to the unsuspecting human.

Flames licked at his blade, trying to warm against the frost rapidly growing from the human's half of the arena grounds. A white mist, covered in icicles denied him any sight, but he remained confident. Janeus conjured a Mana Blade projectile and threw it at where he remembered his enemy standing before being obscured.

Hearing a faint clang, he rushed in that direction, flames withering against encroaching ice. Once a black silhouette revealed itself, he closed the gap, using Arcane Dash. His blade pierced, and he felt something shatter.

"Lowly human, I shall slice you to ribbons. Even the life preserving barrier will struggle to keep you intact once I'm done with you."

An iced wind crossed Janeus' ears from behind.

"Is that so?"

Janeus whipped behind, following with his blade, attempting to strike at the source. He failed to understand how, but this human had fooled him.

It all happened in an instant.

Glacial ice covered his blade, then froze him in place. His flames extinguished, and he remained unable to break the ice encasing him. Janeus poured his mana into his blade and body, attempting to overcome the difference in elements and cracks formed against his icy prison.

A rotating spell lance carved into his chest, ripping out his back. His internal organs were already on the verge of frozen failure. Janeus saved himself by using Healing Surge on reflex, honed by the years of being a hunter. The gaping wound partially closed, but at least his organs mostly functioned again. Yet a stubborn effect stayed within him; his resistances dropped by an undetermined amount.

He snarled, "Disdainful human. Your tricks won't work on me, come out from hiding. These mists can't hide you forever."

An aura whisper echoed around, colored by the human's maddening voice, "These mists come out of me, takes more effort to keep it in, than let it out. You're not afraid of a little cold, are you? Don't tell me you can't see where I am? I'm close, elf."

Janeus poured his ascended mana to his eyes, and controlled more to his feet, ready to move. The ice swirled around him, forcing a delay in his reflex and an accursed shiver to run through his body. Weak flames tried to ignite around his sword again, snuffed out to embers with a passing arctic wind.

Mana floated about him, liquefying in a sheen with his sword. Janeus realized something with alarm.

The human was utterly silent. No matter how he amplified his senses, he couldn't catch a trace of sound coming from him. If the Defier refused to speak, pin-pointing the boy would be impossible with this mist. Augmenting his eyes against the mist proved barely effective, his vision radius now a mere three feet, up from the previous one foot.

Desperate, he taunted, "Coming, novice? No? Allow me, then." Janeus began to conjure throwable mana blades, he cursed being unable to apply flame to them. Commanding the blades, he threw one in each direction, closing watching the mists blast apart, hoping to reveal anything of note.

A path opened up, a man covered in ice creations—armor—from the neck down. Runes covered most of his person. A brilliant white blade mixed with ice hung to his side. As the human slowly approached Janeus, flashes of ice, mist, and arctic winds overwhelmed him.

The human's eyes were covered by blue energy, frost generated from him at a level Janeus had never seen before. A faint red glow overlaid the man's right eye, staring at him. Losing his nerve, Janeus rushed in. He slid more than expected, barely righting himself using Arcane Dash again, his sword connected against the human's ice armor.

He sliced in, ripped into the ice armor, cut through the protective layer underneath, reamed into the skin, and….

Stopped. He couldn't cut through the muscle.

Frost covered Janeus immediately; his movements slowed further. He blocked a slow attack by the Defier. Their strengths matched up, and he stepped back three times.

Internally, he analyzed, Impossible! His strength is on par with mine. No, it's even higher. How could this be? And his flesh is as tough as mine. I've broken the second vitality threshold. There's no way a man yet to reach level fifty has done the same.

Janeus tried to call to his flame, which refused to resurface, tamed by the frosts in the air. Realizing a prolonged battle would spell defeat, Janeus mustered all the mana he could control, forcing back the frost and reclaiming a small domain for himself.

The human came after him, faster than he was. With Warding Strikes, he parried skillfully, losing ground in each clash. Janeus felt the ice trying to turn his insides into mush. His eyes started to fail him. Despite tier suppression being on his side, this human showed no signs of being overwhelmed.

A black substance flowed from Luke, covering the artifact Janeus coveted. Suddenly, the strikes from his opponent became more powerful, faster, and Janeus sensed his very strength being stolen from him.

Strike after strike after strike —relentless. He continually weakened, the gap between him and the novice widening. Endless mana tried resurfacing on Janeus' skin to reclaim the advantage. The pattern remained unchanged; this human was toying with him.

The frost that covered him exploded, catapulting him forward into a blade edge. The sword sunk into his chest, inches from his heart. Blood seeped from his mouth. The human kicked him away. Janeus used Healing Surge again, preserving his body, but the damage accumulated faster than he could reverse.

Icy eyes examined his every inch, and Janeus shivered. The deep slice he'd given the human was nowhere to be found.

"Is this all you can do?" the human asked.

Janeus tried to stay calm, but questions popped into his mind. This human had strength beyond him, agility in a different realm, and his spells appeared to have similar potency to his own. Moreover, his technique, Elementalization, showed prowess he'd never encountered up close in his twenty years as a hunter. At least not out of any of the other Experts he knew.

Just what was this man before him?

Janeus tried to activate his body to the fullest by compressing all the mana within. Invigorating strength beyond his controllable capacity filled him. Using Warding Strikes again, he tried a triple combination strike against the Defier.

A wave of ice froze him solid. His mana stopped its fluctuations, then the human closed the gap between them in a moment, using some sort of movement from his calves. One moment, he was there; the next, a blade sunk into his upper chest. Another rotating lance destroyed his legs.

The blade cruelly slid out his body, then swung down onto Janeus's arms, slicing them right off. Ice covered the fresh wounds. The elf felt his organs being eaten from the inside. Yet, this human monster before him refused to finish him off.

After kicking Janeus's sword away, the Defier cut into him for minutes. Each time, more of his strength left him, sapped away.

Stolen away.

Eventually, the man dropped the sword, allowing it to sink into the ice covered dirt surrounding them. He lifted up Janeus' chin, staring him in the eyes.

Janeus considered himself a courageous man, but the abyss staring back at him left fear in his heart. By now, he regretted ever provoking the Ice Defier known as Luke Wallace. Blood coughed up from his lungs as he asked, "What creature are you? The power in you, it shouldn't be possible at your level."

The man before him gave Janeus no answer. Instead, Luke slid his hand—covered in a clawed ice gauntlet—over Janeus' neck and crushed it.

An interface prompt began to save his life before leaving for the next world. At last, Janeus knew what this creature was before him as the elf's consciousness tore apart.

A monster in human skin.

[Duel completed. Confirmed heart and head are intact, life preserving barrier restoring you to full health]