Duskbound

Velik skipped the celebrations that night. Dozens of new bronze-ranked monster hunters gathered at a few of the more popular taverns and common rooms of various inns near the guild hall, including the one he was staying at. He hadn't realized exactly what sort of place Melon and Peach was when he'd first taken a room there, and by the time he'd figured it out, he was already comfortable. The place catered to a relatively wealthy merchant class of patrons, which meant it was clean, well-furnished, and, above all, discreet.

Inadvertently, he'd found that last attribute to be the most valuable. Velik was not good at handling people, a fact he considered perfectly reasonable in light of having spent the majority of his life living alone in the woods and rarely talking to another human being. Other people were not so forgiving of that character flaw, regardless of whether they understood why his social skills were so atrophied.

So having a place to sleep that was clean and quiet was a godsend. Nobody bothered him, and if he heard people screwing more often than he'd like, well, overhearing things he'd rather not was nothing new. With as many sensory skills as he had and his high mental stat, he'd long since grown desensitized to the sounds of the world around him.

Though there was that one girl who made a high-pitched whining sound whenever she was entertaining a guest who'd gotten particularly vigorous. That set his teeth on edge every single time. He'd considered finding new lodging just about every single time he'd had to endure that particular noise. Fortunately, she was far less active than some of the other girls working at Melon and Peach.

Except for tonight, of course. That has to be the fourth time this evening she's taken a client back to her room, he thought sourly. It seemed that more than a few of his fellow irons—or former irons, as the case might be—had decided to splurge in light of their promotions.

After his ungracious handling by the guild's higher ups, listening to other people who didn't have to deal with such blatant discrimination celebrate their victories wasn't his idea of a good time. Nor did Velik want to cross the inn's common areas and risk being seen by anyone he knew. So, he did the sensible thing and went out his third-story window. He closed it behind him, but didn't bother to latch it. It wasn't worth the effort and there was nothing to steal in there that he actually owned.

The sun was just going down when his boots hit the street, filling him with the enhanced strength, speed, and coordination he'd grown accustomed to enjoying when [Duskbound] activated. Going out in full gear like he was wearing was somewhat frowned upon in the city, but that was more of a societal obligation, not an actual law. He might get hassled by some guards if any saw him, but the iron pin on his collar would keep him out of trouble.

A bronze one would have worked better, though, he thought, somewhat bitterly. Screw it. No point in thinking about that tonight, and if the guild master's scheme works, I'll have a gold pin soon enough.

Velik had been in Cravel for close to four months now, and while he'd spent most of his time either in training as an iron of the monster hunters guild or attending private lessons that attempted to patch up his shoddy understanding of the intricacies of polite society, he'd found one activity that he thoroughly enjoyed. It helped him relax, built a bit of notoriety, and—not that he needed it—lined his purse with silver vitrunes.

Humming quietly to himself as he navigated the twisted streets of Cravel, he eventually broke free of the merchant quarter and found himself striding down the broad, tree-lined avenues of Gold Town, the district favored by those with money to spare. The people here wore richly-dyed clothes and carried themselves with an air of smug superiority, like they knew they were better than the filthy commoners who infested their city.

Velik ignored them in much the same way they pretended not to see him, though in his case it was because he absolutely didn't care in the slightest what they thought about him. Compared to the townsfolk back home who wanted him to die, the disdain of some rich twits he'd never even met wasn't worth even thinking about.

The only reason he was even in Gold Town was the coliseum. It was illegal to transport monsters into the city, of course. That was why the guild did its field tests beyond the walls. That didn't stop rich people from wanting to take in the spectacle of high-level warriors and hunters showing off their classes by slaughtering whatever suitably impressive-looking monsters happened to have been captured in the last week or two.

There was something to be said for the allure of a screaming crowd, especially since his gladiatorial persona had quickly proven to be a fan favorite. He wasn't so stupid as to appear as himself, but there were plenty of discreet entrances into the coliseum, and he had no real difficulty getting in as though he was merely a spectator there to catch a show, then ducking into one of the off-limit areas and making his way to the locker rooms.

The staff knew him by sight, if not by name, and they were well paid to keep that knowledge to themselves. Velik had never been accosted outside the coliseum, and he doubted that would change today. He was here at least three times a week, and that put him solidly near the top of the leaderboards, which meant he was well paid for his work. It also meant that the manager liked to save the toughest monsters for Velik.

"Gray," one of the bouncers said by way of greeting. He'd adopted the moniker as a simple convenience. Gladiators had a base layer of gray clothes, and those that chose had a mask made of the same material. Most of them put armor on top of that underlayer, either custom-crafted or provided by the coliseum. Velik did not, and had become known as the Gray Gladiator to the fans.

"Got anything good tonight?" Velik asked.

The bouncer grinned. "Boss said he wanted to talk to you if you came in. No promises, but he seemed excited to me."

Velik's lips curled up. "Perfect. He in his office?"
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"Last I saw."

"I'm going to go get changed first, then I'll find him."

"Hey," the bouncer said in a low voice as Velik went to walk past. "Think you could drop your first kill of the night in one hit again? I got a bit of a wager with the guys. Wouldn't mind cutting you in on my winnings."

"Depends what I'm fighting," Velik said. "I'll see what I can do."

The coliseum's locker rooms were high quality, with fancifully carved wooden benches and stalls that had some sort of magic designed to make water fall like rain from the ceiling. Velik had seen manually versions of such devices before, usually in the form of a steel tub with some holes drilled through it that had to be filled by the bucket, but the coliseum was too rich for something simple like that.

Even the lockers were made of something better than steel, or maybe just magical polished steel. Velik had covertly tested the material when he'd first become a gladiator, wanting to know that his possessions would be safe from theft. He could probably break a door if he was fully kitted out and gave it his all, but he doubted there were many people in the city who could bring that amount of force to bear.

His grays were hanging in his locker, just like he'd left them, and he quickly swapped outfits. Things seemed to grow duller to his eyes, and his limbs felt heavier as the extra stats his gear granted him drained away. That was fine, though. He'd been fighting his whole life without those bonuses. Getting too used to them might get him in trouble in the future, which was another reason he came to the coliseum to keep his skills sharp.

The iron pin that denoted him as a member of the monster hunters guild sat in his coin purse, which was stuff inside his cloak, and the whole thing was deposited into the locker. Once closed, it only opened again at his touch, though he suspected there were some people on the staff who could bypass those magical locks, otherwise he had no idea how they'd clean out the lockers of gladiators who died in the ring.

No one had ever tried to tamper with his possessions, however, so Velik was provisionally willing to trust the lockers as long as he never found evidence that changed his mind. He was just paranoid enough that he always made sure to arrange everything in a specific way to make it easier to detect anyone rifling through his possessions.

Once he was done switching outfits to his gladiator persona, he exited the locker room and made his way to the manager's office. The door was open, and the pit boss was sitting there, counting out stacks of payment notes and scribbling furiously in a ledger. He got to the bottom of the column, stared at the paper for a second, and started swearing under his breath.

"Ned, you wanted to talk to me," Velik said from the open doorway.

The man jerked in place, then glanced up. "Gray. Good timing. Yeah, I got something in holding I think you'll have fun with, but it was expensive to acquire, so I need you to promise not to just blow it to pieces like you did with that bog drake a few weeks ago. You have to put on a good show, or else it'll go to Glitter Ring."

"I doubt I could ever put on a show to match anything Glitter Ring does."

Ned shrugged. "Sure, but you've got a… hmm… a bloodthirstiness to you. Your fights are visceral and raw. The crowd loves it with the blood, so I think this is the perfect monster for you."

"Why? What's so special about it?" Velik asked.

The pit boss just grinned at him. "Let's not ruin the fun. So, you interested?"

Perfect. Just what I was looking for tonight.