Milo was lounging on a couch with his eyes closed when he heard footsteps approaching. He opened his eyes just in time to see Dave enter the room.

  Dave had been his manager since the very start of his career. He was middle aged with a balding head, sharp eyes and a prodigious talent for logistics and organisation. The man always knew exactly where and when Milo needed to be at any time, a crucial ability for the manager of the world’s most famous athlete. As always Dave made a show of tapping the ancient timepiece on his wrist.

  “The pre-fight show is nearly done. They're expecting you on the stage in five minutes.”

  Milo stood up and placed a hand on Dave’s shoulder.

  “You sound nervous old man, has the realisation that you will shortly be the manager of the world champion finally gotten to you?”

  Dave sighed.

  “Please stop playing around Milo, this isn’t some off brand tournament, this is the final match of the world championship. And unless you’ve forgotten, Sebastian beat you the last time the two of you faced each other.”

  Milo’s confident smile never wavered despite the reminder of what he considered the biggest failure of his career.

  “I haven’t forgotten, but much has changed since last year’s championship. That oaf barely managed to squeeze out a win, he got lucky, and we both know it, that’s why he’s been dodging every tournament I’m a part of ever since. Sebastian is a man living on borrowed time and tonight his time has run out.”

  A fond smile spread across Dave’s face.

  “That confidence of yours really is infectious.”

  Milo grinned and grabbed his manager by the shoulder before dragging him towards the tunnel which led up to the stadium.

  “Let’s get going, shall we? It’s time to fulfil my destiny.”

  Dave pulled himself loose and gave Milo a light push in the back. While Milo was perfectly fine entering the stadium shoulder to shoulder with his manager, Dave had other ideas, the man was shy in the extreme and was perfectly happy remaining behind the scenes. Just before Milo reached the end of the tunnel his manager said the same thing he always did.

  “Go get em.”

  Milo felt an overwhelming sense of calm and surety as he entered the stadium to thunderous applause. His face drew into that boyish grin he always wore during public events. His hands went up as he greeted the 80 000 men and women who had managed to secure one of the ridiculously overpriced tickets for the most anticipated fight of the year. The hype train had truly left the station and every media company on the planet was advertising this as the fight of the century.

  The stadium announcer introduced him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming tonight's challenger, Milo Harper!”

  Milo made a slow circuit of the stadium making sure to give his fans the attention they had come to expect from him. His talent for interacting with fans was by no means unique in this sport but none of the other crowd pleasers were anywhere near as highly ranked.

  After he finished his circuit, he headed towards the stage which served as the focal point of the stadium. The stage was currently empty aside from two massive chairs that faced each other. Each chair was covered in sponsorship logos, both personal and corporate and Milo noted with satisfaction that the chair had already been adjusted to his physique. As far as chairs went it looked a lot like a gaming chair except for the chrome and plastic visor hanging from a hook on the headrest. A cluster of wires ran from the top of the visor and down into the stage where the true machinery that powered the visor was housed. He walked over and tapped the visor quickly confirming that it had already been calibrated for his user profile. With a nod and a smile, he sat down in the chair and placed the visor in his lap.

  He had only been seated for a few seconds when the cameras turned in the direction of the tunnel opposite the one, he himself had come out of. The two giant screens on either side of the stadium showed a broad-shouldered man that was slightly shorter than Milo. The man had blonde hair and fierce blue eyes and wore an impassive expression that bordered on outright unfriendliness.

  The stadium announcer’s voice came to life again as the man was greeted by muted applause.

  “Ladies and gentlemen please join me in welcoming the current Arena legends grand champion, Sebastian Lundgren!”

  Had the stadium been filled with neutral spectators rather than rabid enthusiast willing to pay a kidney for a ticket Sebastian title alone would’ve earned him thunderous applause. But if there was one thing the fans of this sport had learned throughout Sebastian’s long and storied career, it was that he despised press conferences and would do anything in his power to avoid interacting with fans. He was an executive’s worst nightmare, the champion who refused to play the media game. Milo had a sneaking suspicion that every single person who worked for Cybervision was hoping the brooding blonde would lose tonight.

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  As the champion ascended the stage and took his seat opposite Milo, he couldn’t help but smile at his opponent.

  “Ever the crowd favourite eh Sebastian?”

  Normally he wouldn’t have risked throwing barbs at another contestant in a public setting but with the sound of 80 000 fans there was zero chance he’d be overheard. As usual Sebastian didn’t take the bait, the swede simply pulled down the virtual reality visor and placed it on his head.

  Milo watched Sebastian’s body tense before going completely limp. To the uninitiated the process of accessing the virtual reality headset developed by Cybervision almost looked like a person taking their last breath. In reality the visor was intercepting a selection of electrical signals from the brain to the body. Simply put it would leave the signals needed for the body to survive alone while locking everything else down and transmitting it to the visor.

  A few seconds after Sebastian put the helmet on a perfect virtual copy of his body appeared on the stadium screens. The swede was standing in the middle of a giant coliseum. Unlike the coliseum in Rome this virtual coliseum had no benches for spectators and was covered in sponsorship logos.

  Milo pulled down his own helmet and felt his body go limp. His spatial awareness went completely haywire for a few seconds and by the time he managed to reorient himself he was inside the virtual coliseum in a perfect virtual replica of his real body. He flexed his hands and looked across the sands at his opponent.

  Sebastian was seemingly tapping at empty air with his index finger. After a few seconds, a set of heavy plate armour materialised out of thin air around his body. The man kept tapping and a few seconds later a dagger, sword and shield appeared in front of Sebastian and dropped to the sand.

  The classic weapon combination the swede had chosen also played a factor in his unpopularity. While a fighting style based around a shield and a sword didn’t have to be boring it was by nature a defensive fighting style. And while a true master like Sebastian could pull off fancy moves and make it look good against a less skilled opponent, against someone like Milo he would always play the long game by trying to tire out his enemy and winning by capitalising on small mistakes. That was how he’d beaten Milo during the previous year’s championship, death by a hundred cuts, in the end Milo had bled out before he could deliver a decisive strike.

  Milo pulled up the armour menu and selected a set of lightweight plate armour. The reason for his choice was simple, while lightweight plate armour couldn’t stop a heavy blow from a mace or two-handed weapons, it did an excellent job of providing just enough protection against slashing attacks delivered by a shortsword.

  He switched to the weapons menu and selected a claymore. The sword was huge and while it wouldn’t penetrate the thickest parts of Sebastian’s armour it could easily get through the weak spots that every armour no matter how thick shared. Milo looked up at the menu and saw that he had one point left to spend, just as expected. He scrolled away from the two-handed section until he came to the shield section and selected the item which formed the cornerstone of his plan.

  The crowd gasped and Sebastian frowned as a small sized round shield dropped to the sand atop Milo’s claymore.

  Now normally Milo would’ve spent his last weapon point on a dagger like Sebastian had. Many top matches ended when the combatants became entangled and one of them pulled their dagger to finish the fight. Milo himself was well known for incorporating kicks, punches, dagger thrusts, and even MMA moves into his flashy fighting style, it made him unpredictable and unique. Over his long career around 10% of his match wins had come by dagger, so seeing him without one was not only strange, but borderline bizarre.

  Milo picked up the shield and then strapped the claymore to his back. He looked across the field and saw that Sebastian was watching him like a hawk. Milo shrugged.

  “What can I say, I’ve decided to pick up the shield.”

  Sebastian frown deepened into a scowl, no doubt assuming that he was being mocked somehow. But as usual the Swede didn’t reply, instead the stadium speakers crackled to life with the announcer’s voice.

  “Combatants, are you ready?”

  They both answered in unison.

  “Yes!”

  “Both fighters are ready, the fight will begin in 3…2…1…FIGHT!”

  The second the announcer finished speaking Milo was already closing the gap between him and his enemy. Sebastian lowered his stance and set himself, clearly expecting Milo to discard the shield and draw his claymore. Instead Milo waited until he was only a few meters away before jumping into the air with a spin like a disco thrower and hurled the shield at Sebastian’s head. Only the top of Sebastian’s head was visible from behind his shield and so it was easy for him to duck behind his shield for protection. The thrown shield clanged as Sebastian deflected it with ease. The swede popped back up and too late realised that Milo had changed the angle of his attack. He readjusted immediately but it was already too late. Milo’s shoulder struck his opponents shield at an angle sending Sebastian stumbling back.

  Normally a shoulder charge would’ve earned him a bump and a sword in his back. The difference this time was that Sebastian had been in the middle of adjusting his stance when he was hit thanks to the shield throw. Even so the swede recovered with frightening speed, and it was now a race between how fast Milo could draw his claymore and swing or how fast Sebastian could recover his stance. Unfortunately for the champion Milo was just a fraction faster. His claymore descended on Sebastian’s head, and it was only by some miracle that the Swedish champion managed to drop his shield and stop the killing blow with the vambrace of his left hand.

  Milo’s claymore bit deep and nearly severed the champion’s hand despite the thin layer of armour protecting it. Unfortunately, this meant his sword was now stuck in his opponent’s wrist. Milo didn’t fall for the trap of trying to yank it free and instead dropped his sword to launch a kick at Sebastian’s face. Once again Sebastian managed to protect his face, this time by dropping his sword.

  Sebastian snarled and used the vambrace of his right hand to knock Milo’s claymore free. Then he drew his dagger and took up position above the fallen sword, guarding it like a treasure. With one of his arms crippled there was no way Sebastian could use the sword and yet he was determined to keep it from Milo’s possession. It was a smart move and yet they both knew this fight was over. Sebastian might have been able to fight one handed against someone outside the top 100, but against the number two rank in the world? Not a chance.

  Milo bent down and retrieved Sebastian’s sword and fallen shield. Back in the real world the crowd was roaring their approval, most of them not having realised the fight was over. Milo could’ve ended the fight right then and there, but he decided to crown his victory with the show it deserved.

  Milo made a show of circling his opponent while making a few experimental slashes to test his defences. Sebastian reacted perfectly and Milo decided to play along with Sebastian’s dream of an honourable defeat. He engaged the swede in a quick exchange which ended with Milo slamming the rim of his shield into Sebastian’s face. The swede was now bleeding from both his wrist and nose and Milo estimated he had around fifteen minutes left before the match was called due to blood loss.

  Milo dropped his shield and engaged the champion again. Sebastian refused to give up his position and even came close to landing a few blows. They continued the exchange for a minute or so before Milo grew bored. He managed to lock Sebastian’s weapon in place and used the opportunity to punch the swede in the throat with his free hand. Sebastian collapsed onto his back and Milo retrieved his claymore. The swede was trying to regain his feet when Milo decapitated him.

  The crowd was spared the grisly sight of a rolling head, and the screens went black shortly before Milo was disconnected from the visor. He felt senses returning to his own body and the first thing he heard was the roar of the crowd. He removed his helmet just in time to see Sebastian storming off stage. The former champion was ignoring his manager as the poor woman tried to make him stay for the post-match interview.

  Milo couldn’t really blame the man, this was among the most humiliating and one sided fights he had ever fought against another top ten ranked fighter.

  The stadium speakers crackled back to life once again.

  “Ladies and gentlemen join me in celebrating, the new grand champion of the Arena Legends world championship! Milo Harper!”

  Milo had visualised this very moment hundreds of times ever since his first year as a pro. He was now the world champion of the most popular sport ever invented by humanity. He was figuratively speaking at the very top of mount Everest and he couldn’t help but ask himself the same question countless champions of countless sports before him had asked themselves.

  “What the hell do I do now…”