Interconnected: Spliced Souls

“And... This is it, huh? The arena?” I looked at the building in awe. It was by far and away the most expensive thing not located within the noble district. A dozen marble columns stood at the top of the stairs, welcoming all who wished to enter.    

“They always use illusion magic to spice it up,” said Cassidy, smoking another cigarette. She pointed to the words ‘flashing’ across the wall. It was like watching a line-up in real time, except there weren’t any pictures. Somehow, the imposing structure looked more animalistic in the stark moonlight.    

“OH! There’s your name, Servy!” Momo excitedly said, pointing. Albert stood beside her, calmly looking around since this was his first time. He wasn’t allowed or permitted to leave Canary without an excellent reason when he was alive. He had always been curious and was excited to see Arcton’s legacy.    

“Hey--- Co—come on... You’re...walking too damn fast...” Gerld’s exhausted voice came from behind. He clutched his stomach and limped, which didn’t amuse the witch supporting him. She furrowed her eyebrows and sighed.    

"I mean, you ate enough for ten people. What the heck did you expect? Now your stomach's hurting. Are you sure you’re not a Pigkin? Is that rhino horn even real? Is it stuck on like a toy?”  

“Shut up... You... And...”  

Gerld wandered to a nearby bench and took a breath, panting as if he had run a marathon. Suusa just laughed. He had shown up for dinner with Sissy and Gerld, and the stuffed shells were a huge hit. We still had enough for 15 more servings in our ring.   

The ogre looked a little better? Maybe he thought I hadn’t told Momo since she treated him like a friend and not a stone-hearted murderer.    

I stood beside the bench while Gerld caught his breath, looking at the place where I would be fighting. People were already lining up to enter, and food stalls were peddling their wares to get one last dupla from hungry customers before transitioning to their shops located inside.   

Food, drink, refreshments... Sissy said that they went all out when it came to fights. Even those who didn’t have a ticket would risk jail time to sneak in to see a brawl or two when the hype couldn’t be contained.   

Really, the city just…came alive at night in a way I couldn’t describe. It was like a festival...but something more than that.   

“Someone once used an astral projection ability to try and sneak a peek,” said Cassidy, tossing her cigarette in the trash. “The ones in charge hired a mage to put up barriers after that. You can get away with a lot in this shit hole but don’t ever try to shortchange the circuit. You’ll suffer for it.”  

“Good to know,” I said.   

“O...Okay... I...think I’m good...”  

“It’s about time. Let this be a lesson, you little glutton. Servi, did Cassidy tell you? Fighters and medical staff enter over there.”  

“Yep, she did,” I said, eying a guarded door off to the side. It was far less crowded and packed. My fingers brushed against the entry badge in my pocket.  

“Okay, so don’t worry about us, Servy. We’ll try to find a seat closest to the ring after placing the bets.” Momo patted her bag. “And I have our tickets, too.”  

Cassidy had returned before dinner with 4,000 dupla, which left us with a lot after her cut. All of that-- minus two hundred-- would be bet on me. The rest was our rainy-day fund for emergencies and snacks for Momo’s appetite.  

“Oh man… I can already taste the riches… Seriously, do this for us and win big, and I’ll be your biggest fan! Go! Go! Go, go, go, Servi! Yay!” Gerld hopped up and down, his excitement reminding me of a little kid who had gotten what they had wanted for their birthday.    

“Ugh! Stop making a fool of yourself. You look like an idiot when you dance like that,” chastised Sissy.    

“You know what? I’m not even mad. But you’ll be a fool like me when we rake it in. And when you go broke buying all these knickknacks and other useless stuff, I won't loan you anything. And neither will Suusa.”  

“Do not bring me into your quarrel.”  

“Haha! Seriously, leave it to me.”  

“Bark! Awooo!!!” Cue raised a paw and placed it on my shoe as he blessed me with luck. I was surprised a place like this let in animals, but they didn’t have a reason as long as they were leashed and well-behaved.   

Anything to have more customers.    

However, the punishments were severe if an animal interfered with an official match. Almost too severe, which was why Cue sported a fancy new collar and leash I had carved after dinner.    

The striking crimson clashed well with the stark snowiness of his fur and made him look dashing and handsome.   

“Enough standing around. Come on, you got steel in your shoes or something?” Cassidy took a briefcase from Saline and walked to the fighter’s entrance, hurrying me along.   

---

I followed Cassidy after flashing my badge. The guards confirmed my identity, and Cassidy led me down the hallway to a set of stairs. We ascended to the third floor, walked down another corridor, and took a few more turns before entering a room that reminded me of a mall’s food court.  

There were couches and chairs next to a large window that overlooked the arena. A portion of the left side was filled with restaurants and shops containing circuit-approved gear and equipment, and the other side had apothecaries and medicine makers prepping their wares on the provided counters.  

“This is where we’ll be staying,” said Cassidy. “Oh, and you can’t fight in that. Go show the equipment store your badge, and they’ll get you dressed.”  

“There’s a dress code?”  

“Hey, this isn’t Edgar’s little training club. There are rules to follow if you want to make your money.”  

I nodded and walked over, using the opportunity to observe my opponents. I saw sixteen men and fourteen women, although only half were human. The others were non-humans. None gave me the time of day, but it was more of focusing on their fights than disrespecting me.   

A gunmetal koena greeted me with a scaly smile and accurately guessed my sizes from sight alone. He disappeared into the back and returned with a fighter-style tank top that didn’t cover my midriff, a pair of fingerless gloves, a hair tie, shorts, socks, and shoes.   

 The other women wore something similar, although my outfit was pure black.   

“The dressing room is that way, ma’am.” I thanked him and left.    

Why can’t you fight in your overalls?   

“Hell, if I know. But it’s fine. Clothes don’t make the fighter. It’s the individual,” I said, entering the room. The door shut with a satisfying click, and I was dressed in half a second. “Hey, what do you think?”   

I don’t know. It’s…  

“It’s showing a lot of skin?”  

Yes.  

“I guess that’s another reason why this sport is popular. Sex sells, Itarr. And perverted men wouldn’t turn their noses from watching women beat each other up. I bet some even come to these fights to see a wardrobe malfunction. I wonder if there’s a betting pool on that?” I wasn’t allowed to wear my ring, so I absorbed it into my body.  

I can ask Albert. And… Oh, he says there is. They’re about to place the bet on you, but the line is pretty long. Ah, your first opponent is…Maylee. And your name appears four times, so…   

“Multiple matches? That’s fine with me.” I left the changing room and was surprised by the lack of catcalling. I didn’t know why I expected a few sexist remarks, but I wasn’t complaining about not receiving them.   

The professionalism honestly kept surprising me.    

Cassidy was talking to a young Dogkin in a red coat. He wore glasses and hugged a folder to his chest. “Oh,” he said, eyeing me when I approached. “Is this a fighter you’ve recommended?”  

“Yep. Got a problem?” Cassidy replied.   

“Oh, no. I don’t see anything remarkable about your fighter.”  

“How funny. I see a dog without a leash. Aren’t you supposed to be with your owner? Don’t you have to get permission before you bark?”   

“It’s always the same jokes with you. I guess unoriginality has no place in that aged mind.”  

“And you’ve never had it in the first place. You’re a fourth-rate apothecary taught by someone who should still be studying.”  

The Dogkin’s eye twitched as he held back a growing insult. He coughed to clear his throat and motioned over a woman named Maylee—my first foe. She was a human—but she had about six inches on me. Her arms and legs were thicker, and those abs could grate meat.  

But what was unique about her? The woman was just muscular, and nothing else noteworthy stuck out. 

“Oh? Speechless? Maylee has been an excellent test candidate for my own drug. It’ll wipe the floor with your phrine.”  

“But that’s the thing, shithead.” Cassidy lit another cigarette. “I’m not using phrine tonight.”   

“Because the world realizes you’re a fraud? I’ve heard you’re barely managing to stay afloat.”  

“Because I’m not in it to get rich. You may have the bigger shop, but your products are nothing compared to mine.” Cassidy took a drag. “She opened her briefcase and revealed about two dozen red vials, a few ointments, a couple of moist cloths wrapped around a few herbs, and her surgery tools. “I’ve brought the basics. Phrine needs time to create.”   

“Let me guess. You’re selling your wares for nearly nothing? Substandard work requires substandard pricing.”  

Cassidy didn’t reply. She just told the Dogkin to bark up some other tree. He set up shop about two counters down and started marketing his work to anyone who would listen.  

“You have a history?” I asked.  

“He’s just jealous I’m more popular. Even if he prices his products at my level, it doesn’t compare to mine. Fools like that don’t understand what medicine making is all about.” She briefly closed her eyes. Was she reflecting on the past?   

I was a little confused, but Cassidy explained that the healing offered by the circuit was generic. As in, nothing was specialized, and it was about the blandest potions ever brewed since it was a free service provided by the city. Yeah, their healing could fix a broken leg in a few days, but the arenas could contract individual apothecaries for their services and have them set up shop inside the lounge to give the fighters more choices.   

And to earn that little bit of extra dupla via a tax they had implemented.    

“I make high-quality medicine and sell them for nothing. And at this point, it isn’t about the money.” She took another draw and exhaled, dark smoke bellowing from her wrinkled nostrils. “It’s pride. It’s watching his hard work go up in flames because they’re always shit-talking me.”  

“And you’ve never thought about raising the price?”  

“Never. Don’t say something stupid like that again.”  

“See? There’s that gentle heart surrounded by a wall of stone.”  

“What the hell did I just say?” She brushed me off and told me to act busy when someone she knew walked up.   

“Ms. Cassidy! Ms. Cassidy! You’re back!” said a short girl with black hair. Her arms were covered in sparkly crimson scales. I thought she was a Lizardkin or something, but she saw my confusion. “You’re not the only one who gives me that look. My mother was a human, but my father was a koena.”  

A mixed breed, then?   

I introduced myself to Barbee and left her to chat with Cassidy, whose eyes had grown soft. She even put away her cigarette after Barbee coughed.  

I really think Cassidy has difficulty expressing kindness.   

“I’m sure she does,” I said, approaching the window. I scanned the crowd and couldn’t find my friends. They were probably still waiting in line. “I’m curious about her past. Do you think she has children?”  

I don’t know. If Cassidy did, then why isn’t she with them?  

“Yeah. Cass wouldn’t have been in Canary. But…I guess that’s fine. I don’t need to know everything about her.”  

“Talking to yourself?” I looked to my right and saw Maylee.   

“What if I am?”  

“Then I’d say you’re not in the right mindset to fight.”  

“Don’t even try to start shit. Just leave me be, okay?”  

“Breaking you will be so fun. I pray that we’ll be matched together.”  

I sighed at her malicious grin and knew it was impossible to get through the night without something like this happening. “Did that Dogkin put you up to this? Will he feel better if he sees me battered because I know Cassidy? Whatever business they have is between them. Don’t get sucked into it.”  

“Those are the words—”  

“Of a coward? Yeah, think of me as one if you like. I don’t really care. Little insults like that won't get to me, so waste your breath on something more important.” Maylee was astonished. She looked at the Dogkin, who shared another confused expression. His little taunting scheme crashed hard.   

Maylee walked away, and I stood by the window for another twenty minutes as more fighters and apothecaries filtered in. Soon, the lounge was filled. And the restaurants on the other side of the room began preparing food and refreshments. They were offered as a discount—not a free amenity.  

Well, money pinchers were everywhere. Anything to make a few dupla was probably apt for the ones in charge.   

Cassidy called for me. Nothing she brought had been sold, and she told me she only sells to fighters after their match to ensure they have the first pick of her wares. “But enough about that. Look at the bulletin board. They’re posting the schedule. Go look.”  

I didn’t need to, but I approached the murmuring crowd and squeezed to the front.    

The excitement was palpable, though. Fighters were psyching themselves up as I searched for my name.   

Yep. There it was—four times.    

Something told me that Dogkin apothecary was behind my first match. This organization would turn a blind eye to match-fixing if it meant making more money.    

Isn’t that too much?  

“Surprised about something?” Cassidy asked when I returned. Barbee was elsewhere—probably getting ready.   

“No? It’s just four matches. What’s the problem with that?”  

“Oh? I figured you’d start bitching and complaining about it being unfair.”  

“Do I really emit that kinda personality?” I asked.   

“…” Cassidy remained silent and merely said she requested me for the most number of matches.    

“What happens if someone’s unable to do em’ all?”  

“Depends. If you’re knocked out and can’t get woken up? Your pay is cut. And you’re forbidden from doing multi-matches for a few months. But if you refuse without a medical reason? You get no money, you’re banned for half a year, and you become the town's laughingstock. That’s a nightmare for anyone wanting to strike it rich in this shitstain.”  

“Shitstain, huh? Is there any place that isn’t one?”  

“Nope… Now, go do something until it’s your turn.”  

Why don’t we relax with a coffee?  

That sounded like a plan to me. After purchasing two cups, I absorbed one for my goddess, walked to the window, and watched the growing crowd. 

I couldn’t deny my excitement. 

---

The betting room was always loud and bustling, and tonight was no different. Gamblers loved to wage their pay on the dreams of striking it rich by trying to predict the outcome of every match before the first fight even started. Doing so would guarantee generational wealth, but even a single loss would void the bet and lose you money.  

Momo would’ve liked to have done something similar—bet everything on Servi to win her four matches before she had her first. She asked the tuxedo-wearing dwarf if that was possible, and he shook his head. “It is, but we don’t recommend putting it all on a fighter without an official record with us, ma’am. But you can always use your earnings from one bet on the next. Is that what you wish to do?”  

“Yep! I want to bet all of this on Servi.” Momo retrieved a fat sack of dupla and plopped it on the counter. “I have a good feeling about it!”  

“As you wish, ma’am. Please, give me a moment.” 

Eh, it sucks. I gotta come back and do three more bets, but it ain't the worst thing. 

The dwarf counted the coins and printed off her ticket using a machine built by the circuit. It used paper that couldn’t be replicated by most means, and any attempts to copy it using magic could stain the original a gross brown. Momo carefully stashed the ticket in her bag, then walked away to join Albert while Sissy, Gerld, and Suusa made their bets.   

“Hey, Albert?” Momo leaned against the wall and hugged her bag.  

“Yes?”  

“Isn’t this… I dunno... Almost...”  

“Immoral?”  

Momo nodded. Her faith in Servi wasn’t wavering. It was just the truth behind her abilities that made this whole thing seem a little dishonest.   

“I can see how you’d feel that way, but I’m sure the money will go towards a good cause.”  

“Like charity?”  

“Exactly. Of course, it depends on how much Servi wins, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she plans on giving much of it to the orphanage.”  

“Oh, yeah. That’s being built, huh? I wonder if a donation will speed up its construction?”  

“It could.”  

“Good!” Momo looked and saw Gerld clutching his ticket tightly between his calloused hands. He’d never let it go for a second since it was his guaranteed guide to living the good life for a while. “I put everything I had on her.”  

“Everything?!” Momo was a little shocked, but she didn’t let it known. While she liked this trio and considered them friends, putting their life savings on Servi was almost a foolhardy mistake. They weren’t privy to her secret, so where did that faith come from?  

“Well, almost everything. You wouldn’t have dumped over 3 grand on your friend if you weren’t assured of her victory, right? That kind of faith is something you don’t see often, and I mean, we’ve all seen her fight.”  

“I am sure she will not have any problem,” said Suusa. Momo caught the softness in his voice. “She is stronger...than I realize—no, than we realized.”  

“Indeed. My summoner must not be underestimated,” Albert said, looking up from his phone. Other people were curious about it, but no one said anything. Sissy and her friends believed that whatever goddess had altered Servi’s Skill Tablet had done the same for her spirit. And since gods and goddesses exist to change the color of one, the existence of one to vary the overarching form wouldn’t be that out of the question. Rare? Yes, but not impossible.   

The group left the betting room and returned to the entrance lobby. Momo’s nose led her to the restaurant, and even though she had eaten a healthy, magnificent dinner, her eyes were still drawn to the chicken skewers and freshly brewed tea.   

But no.   

Momo discovered self-restraint and turned her nose away from the alluring scent. The stairs in the corner led to the VIP rooms. There, you’d be given special glasses enchanted with a zoom spell to get a closer look, but they didn’t have those tickets. So, they followed the signs, entered the enormous auditorium, then found their seats.   

Luckily, they were close to the ring. Momo hugged her bag and looked around. It wasn’t that packed, but soon, the latecomers, the outliers, and the ones in the lobby and betting room would pour in. They’d probably be shoulder to shoulder, and she hoped she wouldn't sit near some fanatical.   

“It’s funny you say that,” said Gerld, sitting behind her. She turned around after she off-handily mentioned her worry. “It wasn’t the last time, but the time before then, when we came here. Do you remember?”  

“You mean the drunk who ripped off his shirt? Ugh, don’t remind me.”  

“So, people get…really into fighting. Like they go crazy. Think of them as super fans who spend all their money on merch and less on hygiene.”  

“Please, do not bring it up. I don’t wish to recall that Pigkin’s atrocious odor.” Suusa uncharacteristically grimaced and shuddered at the horrid remembrance.    

"Let’s hope they’ve tidied up their policies.” Momo agreed with Sissy and looked around. She thought the ring was cute. It was bigger than the one in Edgar’s basement, and she loved the rose emblem painted in the middle. She asked about it, and Sissy said it was probably a sponsor’s logo.   

“I tried to get Cassidy to do that,” added Saline. Cue was curled in her lap. “But she didn’t want to ‘waste’ money when spending it on ingredients was the better option.”  

“She’s just that crazy about medicine, huh?” Momo asked. She felt Servi’s phone buzz and read the message. Her bestie had met Maylee—her first opponent. Itarr said Servi suspected a Dogkin apothecary had paid the officials to put his recommended fighter against her to prove the value of his medicine.   

It’s gonna be a quick loss for her.    

The topic continued to Cassidy for a little bit until a suited man walked to the ring. He announced himself as a committee member on the circuit’s board of directors and wanted to speak a few words about the noble who had died in the golem attack. Suusa partly winced, and Momo wondered if he regretted anything. He probably thought Servi had kept it a secret. Or maybe he wanted to present himself as something he wasn’t—a false bravado—or perhaps a mask he’d wear to keep others from knowing the real him.    

The crowd was partly amenable for ten minutes, but anxiousness grew when he said every match tonight was dedicated to that ‘devout supporter.' The boos came, and the glasses-wearing man knew when to call it, for the last thing he wanted to get in between a bunch of rowdy drunks and their fights.    

The crowd cheered when he left, and the excitement grew tenfold when the magical spotlights went dark. The roaring shook Momo’s chair, and she was snatched by the infectious atmosphere.    

A blast of smoke erupted from the ring’s center, revealing a winged-wildkin with sunglasses and slick back hair. His dazzling suit sparkled like a dozen diamonds when the spotlight focused on him, reflecting a hundred little light beams. He was the referee and emcee.   

“But let’s not waste time with boring bullshit about me,” he said, raising his arms. “You all came here to see fights, and that’s what you’re getting! I need to see Barbee! And give me Siouya!!!” The spotlights left the emcee and reappeared when two more smoke bombs exploded, revealing the two fighters chosen for the night's first match.”  

“What?! That’s how they enter?! That’s so cool!”  

“Haha! I had the same reaction the first time I saw it,” said Gerld. “Yeah. They go all out. And I heard the noble district arenas make the others look like children having a play. The production values are literally out of this world since they have tons of money to throw at it.”   

Momo knew about Barbee from Itarr’s messaging, but that young dwarf seemed like a worthy foe. Still, Momo wanted Barbee to win because she and Cassidy had a friendly relationship.   

The two touched fists, returned to their corner, and waited for that bell to ring. Momo was standing and cheering for her new favorite before she realized the passion had infected her heart.   

---

“So, what do you think?” Cassidy approached from my left and stood beside me. We watched the fight from above.   

“Barbee’s good. She’s faster than the dwarf, but I don’t think she has the power.”  

“Yeah. Dwarves, pound for pound, are stronger than most others. They’re perfect for mining and forging, and she works day and night to support the family business.” Barbee easily avoided the throws, but everything she threw at her opponent was shrugged off. The dwarf took a punch to the face and ate it with a stoic expression—like it hadn’t even phased her.    

 The battle's third round was almost ending. Things had looked dire much earlier when Barbee slipped, but she worked her way out of her foe’s grapple.   

“She’s going to tire her out. That’s always been Barbee’s method.” The dwarf was winded. She limped and needed to catch her breath, which let the half-koena exploit that fatigue. Those punches and kicks didn’t do much damage, but they added up. With one roundhouse kick, she sent the dwarf to the ropes, where she hung on for dear life.   

“She’s done if she lets go. But look at her hands. They’re trembling. Her legs are unsteady as a pile of misshaped rocks.”    

“That’s right.” Cassidy lit another cigarette. “I don’t need to see anymore. Every fighter needs to train their stamina. It’s what they rely on more than anything. What good is all the power in the world when you can’t corner your opponent to use it? Siouya knows that, but she didn’t— GUH!!!”  

Cassidy's face contorted in pain as she dropped to one knee, the cigarette slipping through her fingers as she clutched her chest.  

"Cassidy?!" I rushed to her side, panic lacing my voice. "Hey, you don't look so good. What's wrong?!"  

She merely grunted, refusing to reply. Luckily, the others were too focused on the fight. I sprinted to her briefcase and returned with a potion, but she vehemently refused to take it.    

"Don't be so damn stubborn," I reprimanded, my concern giving way to frustration.  

"I'm... I'm...fine!" Cassidy coughed and punched her chest, heaving one last time as a crimson glob splattered grossly onto her sleeve. The same color leaked from her lips and nose.    

"Like hell you are!”  

"Just... Just shut up!" Her breathing became terribly strained and laborious. She pushed me away and stood, staining her already dirty coat even more after wiping the crimson away. Trembling hands went for her pocket, and I grabbed them because I knew what she was reaching for.  

"You don't need to smoke. That shit’s seriously killing you. You—"   

"Get your hands off me," she growled, her wrinkled, liver-spotted face frowning. "If I say I'm fine, then I'm fine. And mind your own business! Focus on your goddamn fight rather than worrying about my old ass!"  

Cassidy was old. Her drinking and smoking had reached an unsustainable level. And the stress of not just what happened to Lucy. But everything else weighed heavily on her feeble shoulders. Plus, whatever was eating away at her past.    

"No, you're not!" I argued. "You—”  

“Does it matter?” Her sudden tonal shift cut me off. “Be honest. I know I’m dying. But I won’t let it slow me down. That’s why you won’t tell a goddamn soul, you hear me?”  

“What—”  

“Listen to me. Not. A. Soul. Saline doesn’t need to worry anymore, or she’ll never leave me and find her independence. She thinks I’m getting better, but I’m not. And I plan to keep it that way.”  

“So…what? Do you plan to croak when she’s out with Cue? And here I thought you were smart.”  

Cassidy winced once more, but she forced herself to stand. That grimace vanished through sheer willpower, and she shrugged off my attempts to stop her from smoking.   

“I give myself a year,” she whispered. “No... Even less. I doubt I’ll last six months. I smoke to hide the pain. I drink to dull my nerves. It’s the only way I’m even standing.”  

“Then let me--”  

“No.”  

“Why the hell not?!” She rolled her eyes and walked away, and I followed her to her briefcase as she returned the potion I had taken.   

“I’m not going to be indebted to you. Nor will I owe my life to anyone else. Not now. Not again. Not ever.” She said Saline was the type of woman to feel like she had to repay someone’s kindness. One night, a few weeks ago, Saline had been drinking, and she confessed to Cassidy that there was nothing she could do to repay me for saving her life. She cried in her arms, but the elf didn’t remember her drunken rambling when she woke up. “I’m old. I’m alone. I don’t have anyone left in this world.” A haze of mist covered her weathered eyes as she looked up to the ceiling. “Is it so wrong to want to leave a legacy behind? One that...” She trailed off and sighed, immediately changing the subject to something else.    

“Nimyra can help you, you know. She has all this money and nothing to do with it. I can send her a letter. Or I can--”  

“No. You won’t do that, either. If you want to do me a favor, keep this a secret. Don’t let anyone else know. I won’t...ever forgive you if you do.”  

“...”  

“And don’t use that weird Skill Tablet to tell your spirit.”  

“You knew?”  

Cassidy nodded. “It’s not that difficult to deduce. The two look the same, and I overheard Momo whispering to herself about the golem attack before she knew about it. The two must share some communicative function.”  

“Maybe dying isn’t slowing your mind.”  

“It’s my greatest asset. It’s...the only thing I have left...”  

“I hope you realize Saline is going to feel like shit. If you want her to find her independence, then you can’t let this come as a shock to her. Think of how she’ll feel.”  

“And you think I want her at my funeral, crying over a rotten casket being lowered into some random shit hole? The best thing would be for her to forget about me and live her own life. Let her use that space for someone else. Someone who matters more than me.”