I could hardly blame Richard in this instance.

  The question I had asked had been something relatively simple, and he hadn’t clocked the ramifications of answering it honestly until it was too late. When the invasion first started, he told me my purpose was to cleanse the cockroach’s System from the world. So I had asked what happened to the arena if I didn’t complete it all.

  It would linger around until it was fully cleared.

  Now, as I nodded at the yeti holding three fingers up, my lagging mind had settled on seeing this through to the end - no matter what. Not because some other dumbass could wander in and die to this bullshit, but because those rewards were owed to me. My blood stained the otherwise dry dirt of the arena. A claim staked.

  Maybe the zombie curse was also turning my brain to mush. I could probably go get my Class and return slightly more powerful, but then the others would try to stop me. What did that say about how good a decision this was? Nothing my mind could currently arrange into sense.

  I applied another coating of Rat Juice to Threadcutter and wondered how telling it was that the audience looked partially concerned. I had notifications from both the System and Bernie waiting for my attention, but I couldn’t focus on them right now. In a moment, I might not even need to worry about having to read anything ever again.

  Combat at this level seemed to be visceral and determined by a few unlucky strikes. I was gambling that the level 6 Elite played by the same rules and would let me get a good hit or two in before I was crushed like a bug. Chance seemed… slimmer, the more that I actually thought about it.

  Something that I was thankfully prevented from dwelling on, as my opponent started to emerge from the arena doorway. Or at least, he was trying to.

  He was having some difficulty due to being too large for the darkened tunnel. Stonework cracked and shifted as the light gradually illuminated the figure within. Starting with his namesake blue eye.

  Singular. Central on his wide head. Glowing a light blue that would have been something aesthetically pleasing if it wasn’t attached to the rest of the hulking mass emerging from the struggling gate. Both slightly pudgy but wholly muscled at the same time, the cyclops wore little more than a kilt made of sewn together goat skins. A couple of sections even had the heads still attached.

  Other than the wide maw full of teeth and hands that could easily snap me like a twig, he held a large wooden club that looked like a tree freshly pulled from the ground.

  The second question I had asked Richard was if my stats post Adjustment might affect my Class selection available. Unfortunately, he had confirmed that it would… meaning the idea of quickly topping up my Vitality or Power for this fight was off the table. A shame given my demise would make it a moot point, but if I survived, then I wanted to push for the best Class that I could get.

  Blue Eye stepped out and stretched to his full height, unhindered by the tunnel. Easily twelve feet tall and wide enough that even Sally could hit him. Elite or not, I’d need to use the advantage of being lighter on my feet and—hopefully—smarter than the monster to get the upper hand.

  The cyclops banged the end of his club on the ground twice, making a cloud of dust, as he roared at the crowd.

  I took a deep breath and cooled my nerves. Fighting against a bully stronger than me wasn’t exactly a first, although things weren’t normally this one-sided. I hadn’t owned an axe and license to kill back then, however.

  “Kill little human, gain freedom,” Blue Eye grunted toward me, in basic but stilted English.

  I gave him a wry smile and brought my axe up in a guard position. “Now I feel like an asshole. I was just killing you for greed.”

  That Rare Skillbook was calling out for me. I could almost smell it, even over the bloody bodies littering the arena and apparently dense musk the cyclops had brought with him. Surely it would be a high-value active skill or important passive that would help me thrive out in this miserable new world. Surely.

  Blue Eye lifted his club up, single eye turning to the yeti. Plenty of disdain in that glare, but I didn’t think turning against the arena operators together was likely. My charisma was too low, for one. Secondly-

  The long arm of the leader came down. Fight time.

  With another roar, the cyclops charged toward me. I could feel the vibration of his footsteps through the ground. His club raised up high, preparing to slam down on me.

  There was no way I could clash against that. My arms would shatter off of my torso. I couldn’t signal my intended movement too soon, either - if he could read my intentions and react, then I’d be dead.

  What a dumbass idea fighting was. I definitely blamed Richard for this.

  I leaped out of the way as the club came down, leaving a trail of red light behind it. The ground shattered and burst as I rolled away, avoiding the follow-up that would have dashed my skull. I spun up to a knee, lashing out with my axe in a wide arc.

  The blade struck the leg of the cyclops as he turned, dealing barely more than a scratch to his thick skin. A small ‘resist’ popped up in my HUD to let me know the big bastard had avoided catching Rat Plague. Before I could stand and back away, his fist came up while I was half-way through the motions.

  On the plus side, the punch knocked me out of club range. The downside was the sharp pain while I gasped for air. That probably meant a broken rib or two. Despite appearances, the cyclops was quick in combat. I adjusted my grip on Threadcutter, the axe still somehow in my hands, and grimaced toward the monster.

  He looked slightly different now. Red shimmered over his bare skin, glowing with an aura and displacing the air as if it was super-heated. His eye burned with ferocity as he prepared to charge me again. It stood to reason that a monster of his level probably had a few skills of his own.

  Which would have been fine if the System had given me more than one active skill to use. My quip about fireballs yesterday was perhaps amusing in retrospect, considering that-

  I hopped backward, avoiding the end of an overhead swing. Followed up with my own, missing the hand holding the club, allowing my blade to get stuck in the thick wooden weapon. Blue Eye wrenched it away, and I had to let go to avoid being drawn into grabbing range of his free hand.

  Threadcutter bounced across the ground before clattering against the stone wall. Perhaps the most powerful part of the System bullshit that I owned, now useless. Maybe the cyclops knew this, as he sidestepped to block any easy route for me to retrieve the weapon. My hammer would do very little against his thick hide, so those reward items were starting to look slightly out of reach. My continued mortality even more so.

  He stepped forward and launched a heavy backswing at me, almost dragging the club across the ground beforehand. I ducked low as his weapon angled upwards, barely avoiding being splattered against the side wall. The breeze the swing generated in its wake briefly cooled me. A momentary second of bliss.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Once clear of the attack, I looked up to see that he had stepped forward again, and was now bringing his closed fist down on me. No chance to move from this crouched position. It turned out the cyclops was rather combat savvy and deserving of his Elite status.

  His large fist struck the Krull spear summoned into my hand. Braced against the ground, the blade cut into his hand for a moment until the wooden shaft buckled from the pressure and burst into splinters - all in a split second. Enough to cause the cyclops to lighten the attack by reflex, but not stop it entirely.

  My head swam as I was knocked to the ground, barely able to stay conscious. My body screamed in complaint as I forced it to get back up. I was still fighting. No more giving up.

  An impressive feat of willpower that was immediately rewarded by the blunt end of the club. Oh, the whole club was blunt. I hit the wall of the arena, flashes of pain ringing through the back of my head while my chest ceased to function. I needed air. Warmth ran down my neck and soaked into my shirt. I’d have to clean it later.

  Maybe after a little nap. I was feeling tired, after all.

  I raised my left hand for a time-out, the limb shaky. A large hand wrapped around me and lifted me into the air. Right arm pinned to my side and throbbing with pain. I glared down at the monster, my vision spotty, as he grinned up at me.

  “Blue Eye going to eat you now.”

  “I wouldn’t,” I spluttered, blood running from my mouth. “I’m currently cursed. Bad meat.”

  “Don’t care.” His mouth opened wide.

  With whatever strength I had left, I tossed the Flammable Sac from my left hand, striking the cyclops straight in the face. It burst, and he dropped me immediately. Flames flickered and burned at his flesh, blinding him as he tried to put the fire out.

  Still, he had a few brain cells. Rather than focus on the damage, he lifted the club up to swing at me. A wide arc intending to catch my escape. First swing hit clean air, before he caught a sound. Follow-up blazed with energy as he used a skill to obliterate me.

  Only, it wasn’t me, but a diner stool I had rolled out across the ground. Drinking a Full Restore potion while lying prone was some effort in itself, but I watched as my single-digit HP percentage zipped its way to full. I ached and burned in terrible ways still, but I was no longer dying.

  I stood and threw out another stool at the other end of the area. He had no other option but to consider that it might be me. Blinding him had made him angrier—berserk, in fact—but also wary that I might have one last card up my sleeve.

  Yeah, the card was fucking running.

  My feet took me across the ground toward my discarded axe, gaining as much space as I could as he smashed through the other piece of furniture. Metal shaft felt reassuring in my hands, as I spun in place with Threadcutter back in my possession. Blue Eye rubbed at his face before trying to glare at me.

  Some damage had been done. His face was red and raw, the singular eye bloodshot and clearly struggling to stay open. He growled in anger, fuming. I spat blood to the dry ground.

  “Your mistake,” I said, bringing my axe up into position, “was in underestimating me.”

  The cyclops was in no mood for banter, and charged. I picked my timing once more, placing my basic chair in front of me as he closed the distance. A wide swing of his club came in, fueled by his emotions. It made him sloppy and predictable. The end of his weapon struck the wall, blowing powdered stone and debris away - but I wasn’t there.

  Barely making the vertical required, I had stepped on the chair, pushed off of the wall and jumped. I brought my weapon down in an overhead swing. Even half-blinded and enraged, the monster still had enough fighting sense to try to dodge back to avoid having his skull split. The tip of my poisoned blade drew a line through his chest and stomach before embedding once more in the thick club.

  A severed thumb dropped to the ground just before the hefty weapon followed suit.

  He yelped, lifting his injured hand closer to himself as he lashed out with his left. I had already landed and rolled away from his effective range on that side. I repeated the twist up to one knee, and this time the swing of Threadcutter buried the axe head a good couple of inches into the shin of my opponent. He turned to cut me off, but I was up and under his arm just like the Krull had tried to do to me.

  Rather than stick around and attempt to grapple him, I stuck him with one of the daggers looted from the ratmen. I leaped away, turning after avoiding the back elbow to bring the shaft of my weapon up - blocking his next punch.

  I slid backwards across the dirt, almost tripping over one of the Krull corpses. Threadcutter had shrieked with energy from the impact, not bending from the force, the enchantment holding it together. Blue Eye grunted and pulled the dagger from his side. I watched the icon showing that he had Rat Plague now. Three resists in a row, but cutting off his thumb had done it.

  Perhaps it was time to forgive Richard for sending me to that graveyard.

  The cyclops looked hesitant to attack me unarmed, and his mobility had been hindered due to the leg injury. As his pained eye watered, he kneeled to pick up his club with his good hand.

  I rolled the dice. He turned too late, his senses lagging further due to the disease. Lobbing Threadcutter through the air had almost wrenched my arms from their sockets, but with two weighty spins, it struck the cyclops in the face undefended.

  He roared, stuttering slightly as energy almost immediately faded from his body. Fully blind, with the axe still stuck through half of his face, he defied expectations by striding toward me. Fists swinging wildly, flicking blood everywhere. If he didn’t have the disease, I was sure he would have been able to clobber me with his flurry of blows, taking us both down.

  Before he could reach me, his footing faltered with his split shin. Blue Eye dropped to his knees, panting and running out of steam. His arms sagged, and he just stayed there, clinging on to existence.

  The cyclops flashed red.

  Unlike every other time, I did not fill with dopamine and adrenaline. The ratman spear twisted into my hands and I jabbed it forward, piercing through his chest and into his heart.

  “Rest well, warrior.” I twisted the weapon and then pulled it out, fulfilling Killing Blow.

  Blue Eye sunk to the floor, inert. One final lungful of air shuddering out of his collapsing lungs.

  It would be incorrect to say that I felt sad or remorseful over his death. One of us had to live, and I preferred it to be me. He was far stronger and better versed in combat. Even the System pegged him as a higher tier than anything else that I had faced. Only my resourcefulness saw me to the win, and... was that fair?

  Any further introspection was cut short as the surprised cheers of the onlookers filled the arena. I shook my head, hoping some of the intended elation would actually hit me. Fuck. I’d better see what the System thought about my exploits.

  [Stage 3 Victory]

  [Rewards: 400 Gold, Rare Skillbook, Rare Equipment Chest]

  [Killing Blow 4]

  [Resilient 2]

  [Underdog 3]

  [New Passive: Duelist 1]

  [New Passive: Crowd Pleaser 1]

  [New Passive: Potion Mastery 1]

  Underdog had jumped a whole two levels in one go as I defied the very rules of the System. Duelist gave me the usual percentage increase in mano-v-mano combat. Crowd Pleaser was a little more abstract, giving me a minor increase to ‘effectiveness’ when being watched by more than ten non-combatants. Seemed… unlikely I’d be leveling that much, or finding out what it really did. Potion Mastery had a 2% Luck boost to finding potions as loot. That was good, as I was out of Full Restores.

  I moved my eyes away from the System windows briefly to see that some of the crowd had departed. The yeti-like creatures were clambering back over the wall, out of sight. I hesitated and considered running out to see where they vanished to… but I didn’t have the energy for it. The one with white fur gave me a brief standing ovation before bowing. He grunted some words in his language before turning to join his brethren in leaving.

  “Glad I could entertain,” I murmured dryly. Way too dryly. I pulled the last goblin water flask out and drank the contents while I looked at my rewards earned for putting my life on the line.

  I now had a little over one-thousand gold to my name. As someone who often scraped by with whatever I could scrounge or steal… that felt like a lot. It might not be, but for now I reveled in being a thousandaire.

  Rare Equipment Chest was the next button I clicked, opening it up and hoping that it would be useful.

  [Early Bird Belt]

  [+2 Stamina, +2 Vitality. Effects doubled between 6am and 12pm]

  I assumed it aligned to whatever time zone I was currently in… not that it was likely that would change anytime soon. Even the basic stats given were great, and it fit into the Misc Equipment slot, of which I had four. Two were already occupied by the two rings I had found, but I had been lucky in filling empty slots as I collected loot.

  But, I didn’t put it on straight away. I had some meta-gaming to do, and I wanted some advice before I made any commitments. Not that those back at base would be too happy with me, since I had been ignoring their panicked messages.

  As the last dregs of my audience filtered from the fighting arena, I took a deep breath. It was time to open the skillbook and see if all of this had been worth the effort. Almost dying. Half of my torso was still bruised and tender, even if the ribs had reformed and internal bleeding halted. My hair was sticky with drying blood and sweat.

  I had risked it all for this one object.

  With held breath, I drew the magical book from my Inventory and opened it up.