Digging a hole with his powers, Peter planted the totem, checking the straightness with a level ruler. He activated it fifteen minutes before the time limit, saying aloud—as per Li’s instructions: “Bounty Hunter Impulse requesting transportation to the Arena.”
A bright light enveloped him, and he arrived in a small room with a smaller transportation totem, a table with a mirror, a chair, and an open locker displaying a suitcase. The suitcase was filled with gold, and Peter stored it immediately.
Fafnir's voice interrupted his monetary joy:
“How do you know?” Peter asked.
“Paper—”
Following the arrows and the markings, Peter soon reached the arena and an MMA cage, with chairs in two corners. His adversary was a middle-aged woman wearing a training suit with Yalevard colors. A teacher. The students in the public, mostly from Dartmouth, were booing her.
This time, the fight had a real arbiter. “Because you’re wearing armor,” the man pointed at Peter’s gear, “her points will count double, and if you knock your adversary out, it will mean only the end of the match, and the points will still determine the result.”
Peter gasped. Despite the black wig and a fake nose, there was no mistake: the arbiter was Li.
The System’s voice returned.
Let’s go the easy way, Peter shivered. He was starting to be fed up with the killing. And if Yalevard had been selected for the Get the Flag competition for not losing students during the first Floor Three trip, it meant they weren’t so bad after all.
Meanwhile, Li had presented the rules. “This will be a pure martial contest. Three rounds of one minute each. No movement skills. Begin in three… two… one… Start!” Li raised his hand, floating up.
The woman was on Peter in a blink. She received an elbow in the face as a gift because Peter raised his arms to protect himself by instinct, and his Dexterity perk masked the movement.
“I’m rusty,” the cultivator mumbled to herself, spitting blood on the mat. “Sorry, kid, I’ll do my best from now on.”
Peter shook his head. I don’t want to humiliate her. She talked nice to me.
Fafnir insults faded out as Peter took a boxing stance and moved around. The woman charged again. This time, the Yalevarder’s kicks and hits were light and precise, and her footwork was elegant and perfect to the millimeter. If not for his new Intelligence Perk, Peter would have been hit over and over. As he was now, he avoided everything with minimal effort while the same question rolled into his head repeatedly. Why was Li there?
The bell broke the combat, and Peter returned to his chair, leading one to zero at points.
The next round began, and Peter tried to enhance his act, adding dancing footwork and fancy roundhouse kicks. Fancy was detrimental, as when he scored a kick to the woman’s shoulder, she managed to kick his inner thigh, numbing his leg. They returned to their corners with an equal number of points: two.
When the gong stopped the fight, Li shook his head, disappointed. “Was Wu a fluke? He won’t make against a strong cultivator… A pity…” Peter could hear him whispering.
No. From now on, I’m wiping the floor only with those who deserve it.
“Assessing someone works both ways,” Peter said coldly, laying back on the chair and staring at an imaginary point ten inches to the left of Li’s head. “For instance, one could wonder if boredom makes a certain cultivator behave like a child. Maybe his fighting style is too flashy and all over the place. I think I could beat such a person.”
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Li visibly gasped. The gong announced the fight, and Peter rotated his shoulders. This time, he used his Intelligence to mirror every move the woman made. Fists met fists, kicks met kicks, and retreat was mimicked to the inch.
“Who the hell are you?” the woman whispered.
“Just a Bounty Hunter,” Peter shrugged. A second before the end of the round, he sent a kick into his opponent's ribs, making the woman wobble, out of breath.”
“And the winner is Impulse, the Bounty Hunter!” Li bellowed, raising Peter’s arm in the air. “Shake hands.”
They did, with Peter bowing, showing his respect to an elderly person.
“You fought well, kid,” the woman said. There was a slight jerk in Peter’s body, which transmitted to his arms. “It’s about how you move. Your technique is good, but you give a feeling you’re surprised that it works. You’re new at this. And the shudder in your body, a second ago, was a tell.
They bowed again, with the public erupting in a roar of applause.
Peter walked toward the cage’s exit. Li followed. “You saw through my disguise,” the cultivator whispered. “You have keen eyes.”
Peter shrugged. I’m not blind, that’s all…
“If you want to measure yourself against me, I’ll arrange a demonstrative match after the finals,” Li continued, then stopped, letting Peter exit the cage alone.
A message flashed after the dwarf left the chat, and Peter inspected his stats briefly to check his progress.
For resisting a call to violence and fighting on your terms: +5 Will. For showing decorum during the match and successfully taunting a Grandmaster: +6 Charisma.
Peter Hillden, age: 25, Class: Impulse, Lvl. 81 (10 APs available)
Strength: 100 / Dexterity: 100 / Constitution: 65
Intelligence: 100/ Will: 68 / Concentration: 53
Charisma: 84 / Luck: 100 / Magic Power: 63
The influx in stats Charisma felt like something tickled his ego. Smiling, Peter waved at the roaring crowd as he retreated to the locker room. A parcel containing a fifty ounce of gold ingot—the prize for the match— waited on the table, and he eagerly pocketed it. Soon, Peter was back in the forest. He took off his helmet and sat next to a tree, his muscles feeling weak. “What a couple of days…” he sighed. “This is beginning to take a toll on me.”
“Hey, System. Welcome back.”
“Totally on the same page. Question: Let’s say I have max charisma, then I do something bad. Do I lose attribute points?”
I wonder where Fafnir would be categorized. His methods are tough sometimes.
You know what? You started a lot like him, a manipulative bastard, but you got better. You’re nicer now.
“Sincerely, I dunno… If I don’t gain more points besides leveling, it’s Charisma and something else. I’ll think about it. What happens if you have unallocated points and you reach cap level?”
“Let’s go home.”
Changing his casual clothes and storing the totem, Peter returned to the camp and teleported back to Dartmouth. A group of students was watching his match in replay on the widescreen. Some commented it was boring, and others commended Peter’s control. Seeing again Li’s disguise and the bushy black eyebrows he hadn’t noticed before, Peter creased his nose.
That man is totally weird…
Peter checked both suists, and Regina was still out, probably visiting Melinda with Ari and Naomi to patch Alchemy’s broken heart. He saw Kostel on the alleys, looking pale and tired, and he waved to him, willing to pay the bet. However, the guard widened his eyes and ran away like he had a wild hornet swarm on his ass.
I wonder if he knows if it was me who ratted him to his wife… Never mind. I hope he learned his lesson. Don’t be a cheater or a blackmailer.
Next, he visited Daniel to remove the clutter in his storage. They had to use a barn in the backyard. The number of items looted from the bandits was huge: weapons, armor, Mana-imbued fossils with uncertain use, plants, and crates with spare parts for whatever engine or mechanism. He had counted on Fafnir to help Identify the loot—as the System was overwhelmed—but the Dwarf was unresponsive, probably still upset. They had found only sixty ounces of gold, of which he had given forty to Redroar.
“Kid, I hope you don’t expect me to sell all this fast,” Daniel complained. “How big a percentage do you want?”
“Half?” Peter sighed. There was no point in being a cheapskate.
“I’ll have to pay an expert to sort through all this. Twenty-five ounces for the whole lot. Hard gold, just now. Deal?” Daniel forwarded his hand.
“I feel like I’m swindled in a reality show,” Peter sighed, accepting the handshake. “Take care…”
Leaving the Black Market and his owner, Peter rode his bicycle aimlessly. He stopped near a forest and did some Relaxation breathing exercises. It was something he needed.
“Say, System… Does Fafnir have the same privacy settings as you do? Sorry, Fafnir, if you’re listening. Just curious. I might need some me time from time to time.”
“Great… I… think I need some personal space from time to time. No offense, both of you.”
“What? Already the semis?”
“Or they’re creeped out by that weirdo who pretends to be an arbiter.”