Chapter 1779 – The not-so-Small Tournament 1 – The other Monsters
‘Gaia’s surprise?’ John thought and looked at the speaker.
He was a young man, younger than John even, with gold-blond hair. He wore it at a medium length and John found himself a little envious of just how perfect it looked in its dishevelled state. Such envy was short-lived. His looks were one of those things John did not take excessive pride in nor was he worried about them.
The young man was of fairly average build. Not tall or short, not broad or lean, but he was handsome. A little bit on the androgynous side, he looked like he would fit pretty well into a boyband. His eyes, as gold as his hair, sparked with great power.
“I am Justinian!” he spoke and manifested a silver sword in his right hand. It was a high-fantasy kind of thing, yet had enough of a contemporary feeling to fit in with his casual black jacket and white shirt. “I have heard the call of your cruel game, lived in your horrid Abyss, and now I have come to earn my right to challenge you! I swear now that I shall cut you down and take this Federation from you, you cruel and terrible man… No! You are no man at all, just a monster.”
‘Let me kill him. Let me kill him. Let me kill him!’ Aclysia begged constantly inside John’s thought while the speech was delivered. Many of the women to John’s left and right wore openly murderous expressions.
‘That feels like it would be a bit of an overreaction,’ the Gamer answered. This Justinian fellow was level 329 and, according to Observe, a Latebloomer that had awakened in the past year. John had never heard of him, making him exactly the kind of person that he wanted to coax out of the cracks. “I do not know what brought about this terrible opinion of me, but-“
“Silence!” Justinian interrupted. John’s left eye twitched. “Your honeyed words will not sway me! I will bring you to justice!”
“…Alright then, try,” John drawled. He had no interest in debating, especially not at the moment. His eyes rose from the blond man and scanned the rest of the large group before him. “There are 16 islands available,” he continued where he left off. “Therefore, I need to cut down the number of contestants down to fit. We will do this as follows.”
He snapped his fingers. A signal for Undine and Gnome to weave their magic together and adjust the shape of the arena. The outer area of the fighting pit sunk down, creating a moat ten metres wide that was swiftly flooded with water.
“You will engage in an open brawl with each other!” John declared. “Those that fall into the water or are claimed by Fateweaving are eliminated. The last 16 people standing will advance to the elimination brackets tournament! If you have any armaments in pocket dimensions or similar hidden places, draw them now! Once I give the signal to begin the fight, all equipment or utensils that were not on you or created by your powers will lead to disqualification. Any questions?”
None were raised. John followed people readying their armaments, Observing those he hadn’t already. Already, this tournament had broken through every expectation John had in terms of gathering up powerful people.
“The battle will begin when the star has landed!” John said and pointed upwards. A hundred Abyssal fighters tilted their heads back and witnessed a small silver speck descending. With only 100 mana invested, its impact was negligible. It slammed into the middle of the arena and then everyone slammed into each other.
John fell back into the chair and watched as the chaff was sent flying. There were those that had joined the tournament either because they thought it was fun or because they had delusions of grandeur. Both got a reality check when stray explosions had them claimed by Fateweaving instantly. The unlucky ones were only hurt badly and flung into the moat, where doubles of Undine quickly swam up to them and patched them up.
Things heated up past that elimination. With the weakest blasted out of the way, individual and large scale clashes between worthy adversaries became more common. Truth be told, however, John already knew which sixteen were going to emerge victorious. There was a selection of powerful fighters that stood figuratively head and shoulders above the rest.
“Why do I even have to bother with this? These islands are my birthright!” John picked up the complaints of one such man through the many hovering orbs he had Possessed. The speaker was a skinny man with brown hair. He wore it combed back. His grey eyes haughtily mustered three people that were charging him from different directions. He put a hand on his hips and just sighed. “Idiots.”
[Note, these and the following image links are AI images of these characters. View or do not as you prefer: ]
Glyphs activated underneath the charging people’s feet, unloading arcane energy in sudden explosions. One was whisked away by Fateweaving, another thrown into the moat, and the third passed out the regular way. ‘Sylph?’
“On it!” the arcvolt elemental zapped up from her seat and collected the person, dropping them into the moat for Undine to collect. Casualties of worthwhile fighters were unwanted.
The man that had just cast the trap magic was called Nach and he was the son of one of the former bigshots of the Small Lake Pact. It turned out that being taken out of his spoiled position forced him to develop rapidly. Now he was level 201.
He was one of several that John had tabs on. Even if he had no prior intel on someone, Observe at least gave him the basics. Conveniently, the Gamer had decided that wearing intel-blocking equipment was illegal for the tournament.
John’s attention shifted to a familiar face. Rising up from the size of a tarantula to his regular, still short, height, the goblin Ankleshanker shanked the ankles of an unsuspecting mage. “And off you go!” the assassin squawked and threw the still reeling contestant off the edge of the arena.
Ankleshanker had been hired help for Maximillian during the German Succession Tournament. He had more than doubled his level since then, growing to level 241.
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“I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS!” a man in full plate armour howled. He was running away from a four metre tall bear with antlers. The wild creature sent the knight flying with a swing of its head, then turned around and joined several other animals. They were clustered around a man in a robe of fur and leather. He had his long brown hair tied in a low ponytail.
“Few of us sign up for the cycle of hunter and hunted, but all of us must obey,” he declared.
Haek was the man’s name. John had not heard of him before. His Innate Ability was apparently called ‘Wild Hunt’. He was level 309.
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“What’s the matter, can’t get it up?” The question was delivered with all of the expected sass. Dark fingers ran through hair as black as the eyes of the woman. Constantly shifting left to right, she kept in motion, while watching her opponent try to raise their weapon. “Doesn’t work, ey? Too bad!” She suddenly snapped forwards, her tight clothes preventing her large breasts from jiggling all over the place, and kneed her opponent in the stomach. They were not sent flying, instead getting claimed by Fateweaving. “Another one down!”
The name was Inferna. Level 318. Innate Ability: Density control. John had heard of her before but efforts to recruit her had been met with dismissal.
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“What a useful power.” The dark-haired man adjusted his suit and closed his left eye. As soon as he did, the air around him grew heavier. A massive boulder was slung in his direction, only to have its density decreased to the point that it was easily swatted aside. “Very useful indeed.”
Xenity, level 275, Innate Ability: Copy. By closing one eye, he could copy the Innate Ability of someone else. The man was on Nightfall’s watchlist and suspected of numerous crimes. No proof against him had been found so far though.
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“YEAH! RUN! RUN!” shouted a brutish man. He wore full armour, missing only the helmet, and juggled seven axes. Each of them was alight with red hot flames, leaving trails when he threw them. Cutting and exploding into waves of fire, they took out all of the lesser fighters when they caught them. “TOO EASY!” he shouted, sparks rising from his spiky brown hair.
Tach, older brother of Nach, suspected but not confirmed to have aided rebellion against Fusion. Level 271. Innate Ability: fire, plain and simple. He used it to empower throwing axes with explosion spells.
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One the axes flew across the battlefield. Elegantly, the target stepped aside. She was a woman, her dark hair shaved down, her eyes hidden by a blindfold. Tribal markings were visible on her face and arms. A tiny leather top clad her breasts. Heavy leather gloves protected her lower arms. The brown pants she wore loose. All around she made for an alluring, although not entirely practical figure. Then again, in the Abyss what was practical was not always immediately apparent.
A rogue snuck up on her from behind. Before they could take their stab at her, the woman had already turned around, swinging an Asian-style shortsword. The weapon would have separated head from shoulders had the Fateweaving not kicked in. She sheathed it again casually.
Mindpierce, level 371, Innate Ability: Proximity Foresight. She had incredible future telling powers, but only for the next couple of seconds and only in the area around her. She belonged to the Hidden Tradition.
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“Come now, my lovelies need food, you can part with a foot or two! They’ll grow you a new one!” The black-haired woman giggled. Her green eyes were almost gentle, a terrible lie when contrasted to the sharp-toothed grin that she shared with the flesh-eating plants she had summoned all around her. Arms behind her back, she let them do all the fighting, just watching all through her round glasses.
“Stop! You violated the law! No torture!” Sylph intervened, saving the screaming fighter from getting nibbled on by oversized, mutated fly traps.
“Awww, am I disqualified?” the plant mage complained.
“Johnny says not yet!” Sylph said and dropped the thankful man into the moat.
Tachia, cousin of Tach, known psychopath, not known to have committed any crimes. Level 251. Innate Ability: carnivorous plants. Her and her family all participating could not have been a coincidence.
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“FOR THE PRESIDEEEEEENT!” A three-metre giant of a man charged across the battlefield, shoulder-slamming one man off the battlefield before raising a giant gun. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! It echoed repeatedly. The muzzle flashes reflected on the plates of his power armour. The futuristic armaments hummed constantly with arcane power. If Rave had been sitting at the table, she would have groaned.
Splatterknight, level 285, Innate Ability: Body Modification. John knew nothing more about him. Splatterknight wasn’t actually his name, but he respected the roleplay.
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“Give that back!” a fighter begged.
“Nah,” came the immediate response. Raising the stolen warhammer onto his shoulder, the man grinned and cocked his head. He was jacked, a fact that he showed off by wearing the front of his ornate blue vest open and no shirt underneath. All around he had a bit of a pirate look. His black hair was short and spiky, his chin sported a little beard that synergized well with his smug smirk. “Shouldn’t have brought something if you wanted to keep it!” With that, the hammer was brought down.
Hyozuma, Level 325, Innate Ability: Thievery. Essentially, he could take anything that wasn’t soul bound off someone in a flash and then wield it himself. John found it amusing that he both knew of this man and was certain he had committed no felonies. There were plenty of misdemeanours on his file but no actually bad things. He just seemed to have a very special sense of humour.
“What was he called again… ah shit… I’ll just leave it for him to find later,” the man mumbled.
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“…I’m feeling a bit lonely.” The redheaded man scratched the back of his head. He was corpulent in a way that strongmen often were corpulent. That being said, his ornate brown clothes were clearly not the garb of a melee fighter. All around him, rocks spun on top of stone platforms. Whenever someone stepped too close to them, shards would splinter off and be hurled at the person. “…I suppose I have to blame myself for that.”
Unswift, Level 312, Innate Ability: Defence Towers. Using stone magic, he created autonomous, stationary defence platforms. John knew nothing more about him.
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A woman strutted calmly and elegantly around the battlefield. She was not avoiding confrontation, nor did she seek it, and when it found her in the form of a jumping assailant, she answered swiftly. The skirt of her black dress fluttered, the many layers of satin covering her legs in their entirety. Her bust, however, was only emphasized by the hugging corset of her gothic outfit.
Dodging effortlessly, she grabbed the man by the shoulder. He began to scream, his skin visibly deteriorating. A scar over his eye reopened as a fresh wound. Then, the man was teleported out by Fateweaving. The woman made sure her glasses and orderly bun were still sitting properly.
Anna, Level 351, Innate Ability: Reverse Healing. She caused decay to accelerate and old wounds to reappear. Another person John had never heard of before.
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“I’m terribly sorry, but for the sake of justice, you must be swept away!” Justinian declared. His sword cut through fighters with grace, and those that sought to run, he hit with blasts of radiant light.
Justinian, level 329, Innate Ability: Justice Light. A light mage that grew more powerful the more convinced he was that he was moving on the proper path. Another new appearance on the field.
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“I AM THE WHITE LIGHTNING! I AM THE FIST OF THE RAINBOW THAT ACCOMPANIES MY EVERY STEP! THE HIGH IS THE ONLY WAY!” The boisterous screams of the man filled the arena. He was an image out of a comic book, a very corny one at that. His incredibly long white hair left rainbow streaks as he moved. His physique was worthy of Superman and clad in a white-blue bodysuit that would have fit too well into the genre. His hands were wreathed in aura and ephemeral powder. He was rugged and could have been handsome if he had not been so manic. Wide-eyed and twitchy, he never stopped moving. “I’ll show you all the blessing of the substance! I’m at the height of awareness! I can see your moves before you even think them! THE HYPERCRUSHING WILL NOT BE STOPPED!”
Hypercrush (real name, according to Observe), level 491, Innate Ability: Drug-fuelled superpowers. This guy got stronger the higher he was. ‘Great, I have Snowflame in my tournament,’ John thought.
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Those 14 fighters were slotted to knock out all the others. The only way one of them got knocked out was if one of the stronger ones slammed into one of the weaker ones. Even then, it was more likely that their continued confrontation was going to blast the remaining level 50 to 100 people off the stage – as the fight that had been raging in the centre of the arena this entire time had done.
Rave and Moira slammed into each other. It was clear to everyone around that they did not care for the tournament at large, they just took the cheap excuse to duke it out. They were so in the zone of it that John had to send Gnome to get between them.
“We’re down to 16!” John shouted. “Take your rest, then the tournament will begin.”