Above, cries and shouts filled the stands. Cultivators and Earthborn were packed in together, hungry and eager for the coming fight. One entire side of the stands was coloured gold, and this was where the Gambling Area had linked in with the Duel Arena. There, the individuals who had been gambling since arriving in the Phantom City were given a new object to bet on—and via a Mark pop-up, betting was now available to all those who had been watching the arena from the start.

Large sums of Oma crystals and points-tags had already been exchanged, and it was only ramping up as the clock ticked down.

There was now even a great hologrammatic light display in the Duel Arena's main hall, and another over the huge double-doors of its entrance, which showed the current state of the brackets, which had now progressed to Jian vs Nicolai. Just from the names, individuals from each race could tell who was from where.

With such advertising this fight had become a lightning rod, drawing people from both sides into the stands. The Cultivators and Earthborn were not able to fight as they otherwise would have, and thus the Tournament had become the singular venting point for this frustrated, rapidly growing rivalry.

'Shred him, Nicolai!' roared one hulking Cyborg.

The spindly Cultivator beside him sneered up at his seatmate. 'Quiet down while you are beside your betters, you foolish lump of metal!' He peered down into the arena. 'Cut him in half, Jian!' he screamed. 'Prove to these barbarian dogs their inferiority!'

'Shut your fleshhole, primitive!' snarled the Cyborg. 'You think you're superior?' He raised one great metal fist, sneering. 'I could crush your skull with less than 20% of my grip strength.'

'You'd never get close, barbarian, I'd simply keep you at a distance with my Almighty Wind Push!'

'Then I'd magdump you!'

'I have a shield!'

'I have HK drones!'

Many such conversations were occurring, but there were also talks of a less contentious nature. In some places, Cultivators and Earthborn were willing to talk more calmly, recognising that there were mutual gains to be made.

###

'An em-ninetey-ninetey, you called it?' asked Lin Yue.

The man beside her, a hulk of muscle and metal, laughed. 'That's it, well done!'

She smiled. 'I think I'm getting it a little wrong, but thank you.'

'No, no, with your accent I reckon it sounds pretty sweet. Much better than from me.'

She let out a tinkling laugh, placing a hand the colour of white jade on one of those monstrous arms—just for a fleeting moment. The hulk's grizzled face broadened in another disgusting, hungry smile.

Sitting back, Lin Leng watched through hooded eyes, a smile pasted across his own features. It just barely managed to cover his sneer. As usual, his sister was very charming. After catching sight of her this… thing had been eager to intrude upon them, and now they had a helpful, easily plied friend to fill them in on the areas where their knowledge lacked. Exactly what they'd needed. From the look the man cast down at her twin peaks, Leng knew he was smitten.

'And this "gun" is better than the others?' asked Leng, struggling slightly with the unfamiliar word.

'Better? Dunno. Louder, certainly,' said the man, scratching thoughtfully at his metal chin with an irritating squeak-squeak. 'Anti-mat cannon, fires steel cores that'll punch clean through plating. Not very subtle, but it could put a hole through even a Level 3 Borg, least any that ain't proper high-grade.'

Leng and Lin maintained politely mystified smiles as their Marks translated the brutes incomprehensible words. After the first translation, the words remained without meaning, and the Marks, sensing this, translated a second time. "Steel cores" became "bullets," "plating" became "metal skin."

The "bullets," as they had learned, were small single-use projectiles, which these barbarians were used to physically carrying with them. Different to any Symbiote that fired such projectiles, where you would simply create them from energy or what was around you.

'Who do you think will win, friend Kolden?' asked Yue.

The barbarian Kolden quirked a wry smile. 'Well, my man down there isn't bad. Punching up with that anti-mat, and a bit of your peoples' tech. Me though, I'd put my chips on Jian. Sounds like he's high-spec all over.'

Leng couldn't help but raise his brows once the words went through the double translation, honestly surprised. 'Interesting. You don't feel compelled to support your peer?'

Kolden smirked. 'Please. He's not in my weight class. That shit down there is piddling. My hardware is all Level 2, even a bit of 3, and I've faced anti-mat's before, have my own countermeasures. Neither of them would stand a chance against me.'

'How about a wager, then? I'll bet on this Nicolai, and you bet on Jian?'

Kolden smirked, in a way that Leng would've thought was knowing, even subtly mocking, were it to come from any other source. 'You're also pretty open-minded, hey, friend Leng?'

'Brother has always been interested in the underdog, as we call it,' said Yue, smiling at Leng.

'Me and mine have a similar phrase,' said Kolden.

'I do wonder about that thing on his back,' added Yue. 'Who knows what it might be? Mysterious.' She smiled. 'Exciting.'

'Some kind of sword, looks like to me,' said Kolden, gazing down, his strange, bug-like eyes shifting. 'Yeah, it is. I'm able to scan out its shape through the covering. Big curving thing...' For a moment his eyes narrowed, then he snorted dismissively. 'Not a vibro-blade.' He laughed, sitting back, eyes sliding to Yue's twin peaks once more and lingering for an insulting period of time. 'An actual sword,' he added with a snort. 'What kinda idiot carries an actual sword?'

Leng frowned. He'd suspected as much but drew different conclusions. 'You know nothing of our weaponry,' he snapped, suddenly irritated. 'Do not underestimate it. He has it wrapped in spirit-dampening cloth. It must be some kind of Artifact or Imbued.' Still, some Tier 1 quasi-Artifact, or a Tier 2 he can barely use… relying on something like that won't work against Jian. Yue caught his eye, and her expression was subtly warning—telling him not to be so sharp with the barbarian, lest they lose their source of info. He rolled his eyes.

Kolden nodded at him placatingly, apparently unbothered. 'You'd know best, I suppose. I'm up for betting, anyway. How about… 50,000 points-tags?'

A pathetic sum. 'A stirring wager. I agree.' Leng extended a hand and they shook.

He knew he would lose that money. The barbarian down there stood no chance against Jian, he—and all of these people—appeared to be entirely countered by one simple Symbiote setup. Leng withheld his snort. What a joke. At least Kolden was smart enough to recognise the bad match up. His eyes moved over the stands around them. Unlike his brethren.

Everywhere he looked, he saw barbarians screaming and howling the name of their temporary champion; Nicolai. His own people weren't much better, but at least they were right to back Jian. This entire Tournament was mismatched, full of all the random people who had happened to fulfil the requirements to be allowed into this place at this early stage of the Great Game.

He was amazed he'd been so concerned earlier. After witnessing how only a single Symbiote countered everything the barbarians could do, all his worries had evaporated. Hua had already found some prospects and he expected to have two Silver Net's ready for the upcoming Tier 2 Tournament, which he and Yue would participate in.

He was dearly hoping to encounter Kolden down there. When he did, he would explain—in terms simple enough for the moron to understand—that the way the man stared so at Yue was impolite.

It's only a shame the fights aren't for real, he mused silently, imagining Kolden transformed into bloodstained chunks, spread across half the arena. How dare he look at Yue so? No one looked at his sister like that. His teeth began to grit, his blood setting to boiling. Then a cool hand touched on his arm, and he was pulled from his rage.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

He looked into Yue's smiling eyes. 'Relax,' she whispered into his ear, and he let out a slow breath. 'They're counting down,' she added excitedly, nodding at the arena as she leaned forward, an eager glow in her eyes.

The tension drained from Leng's face upon seeing the almost childlike excitement in her eyes. Perhaps there were some benefits to the display below. He settled back, interested in seeing precisely how Jian won, and what exactly was on the barbarian's back. Doubtless the man would pull out all of his trump cards before he lost.

###

'Father, you're sure brother cannot lose?' asked Hao Xue of her father, the Hao clan primarch.

'Do not worry, daughter.' He smiled down at her. 'Your brother has no rival in the first Tier. There are none others like him.'

As it should be. He had invested significant sums into his son's development, just he would also be doing with his daughter. As a clan primarch, it was necessary for him to ensure his heirs were suitably prepared.

The Hao clan primarch looked down at the barbarian facing off against his son, considering him carefully. The man combined barbarian technology with Cultivation, the first he'd seen to do so at such a level. An early adopter, thus his advantage against most. But he wouldn't beat Jian; he couldn't. He used barbarian weapons as his main form of attack, and Jian held the perfect counter. The only real worry was whatever he hid in the spirit-dampening cloth on his back, but the elder couldn't imagine any trump card powerful enough to overcome the Spectral Claw.

His mind moved onward, a smile creasing his worn features. The Hao clan would gain greatly from Jian's win. The prize for first place was a Yin-Yang Rotation Symbiote. A very good reward, useful to the clan. They'd had a number of the Symbiotes back at home, but Heaven had stripped these away when they entered the Game, forcing his clan to earn them again. Such Symbiotes were among the most useful and valuable of those found at Tier 1, as they allowed a clan's new crop of Cultivators to rapidly and cheaply pass through the Node Building stage. Without such a Symbiote, the Node Building stage was long and difficult for humans, who had to build them all from scratch, unlike the other races.

His gaze moved to his daughter, bouncing excitedly in her seat beside him. Her internal system was only at the early stages, many Nodes still needing to be built. He was happy to simply purchase Yin-Yang Rotation Pills for her, despite the cost, but if Jian seized the Yin-Yang Rotation Symbiote he would be able to give her use of it, and save himself around 300,000 points-tags. After that, the rest of the clan's youths could make use of the Symbiote, and once all had finished their Nodes they could begin creating and stockpiling pills to sell.

Yes, he could rely on his son to seize victory. All was going well. The Hao clan would use this Great Game to rise, and become unstoppable.

###

'What are the odds on our boy down there, then?' drawled Gregory—an oligarch's son, wrapped in a full Level 3 body—as he sprawled across his seat like a king on a throne.

Markel, his Level 2 manservant, leaned forward, bionic eyes shifting as he zoomed and scanned. 'Not great. That magic-man's got him countered. He's light on tech—just the arm, an eye, and whatever's inside. He's good, though. Really good. I'm guessing a high-grade chip. Top shelf. Odd that, considering he's mostly flesh.'

'It's odd. But odd enough to win?' Gregory's chrome teeth gleamed in an eager grin.

Markel made a face. 'Hard to say. From what the locals say, that Jian's stacked with one of the best Tier 1 sets they've got.'

'Ah, well.' Gregory slugged down another shot of the Duel Arena's rice wine, a substance of which he highly approved. The stuff lit up his throat like a plasma torch. He'd already switched up his internal filters to let the alcohol hit raw; no point watching bloodsport sober. 'We'll show these primitive bastards what's-what in the next rounds anyway,' he added with a sloppy, drunken wave of dismissal.

'Hopefully,' murmured Markel.

'But you know what, Markel?' Gregory continued, pausing to take another heavy gulp of the wine. Less of a burn, this time. Nice flavour—sweet and earthy. He smiled. 'I have a good feeling about our boy down there. I think he's gonna take this. Call it… intuition.'

'Would that be why you bet 100,000 points on him?' asked Markel, struggling to hide his disapproval. Gregory spent money like he was still connected to his father's credit streams. He hadn't even bothered to check on any of the information, had just seen the final fight was between one of theirs and one of the magic people, and immediately declared, "That's my boy!" as he bet a solid quarter of their funds on the guy from Earth.

'Best decision I ever made!' Gregory lunged forward, grin growing wild. 'Come on Nicolai! Kill that fucker! Smash him up! Chop him into bits! Cut his nose off, eat his eyes, crush his balls!' He sat back, laughing crazily as the Cultivators around them glared daggers.

###

Nicolai snorted, pulling his amused gaze from above as a particularly excited and descriptive cry of encouragement filtered down to him.

Hundreds of people up there, with just as many little dramas. None of it made any difference to him. He knew what he was doing.

9… 8… 7…

Phantom leafs appeared around Jian. The Cultivator flicked his fingers and two swords unsheathed from sheath's on his hip to float into the air. The man's Soul Sense spread, wide and ready. Ripples poured out from him with the activation of his Symbiotes. The Silver Net was ready, visibly shimmering in the air around him.

6… 5… 4…

Nicolai remained still. He took no actions and made no preparations.

Above, the yelling and jeering intensified. He made out people screaming his name, telling him to get ready, telling him to act. Jian was staring at him, frowning, looking almost angry.

###

'What the hell is he doing?' muttered Kolden, staring down. 'He's just standing there!' He snorted, and shot a glance at Leng. 'Hate to say it, but I think you bet on a bad rig.'

'Perhaps…' Leng gazed down with a faint frown. There was something about the way the man stood. A quiet confidence.

###

'Has he given up or what? Hey Nicolai, pull a fucking gun out, dumbass!' Gregory slumped back into his seat. 'He's gonna get scrapped,' he moaned. 'Jeez. And to think I bet a hundred K on that moron. What a waste.'

'I told you not to. We don't have enough info to make any sure bets.'

'Tch. I thought I had a good feeling about him. What a load of shit.'

'Chop off his nose, eat his eyes, crush his balls, Jian!' cried one Cultivator, a few empty seats away from them, who then cast a smug grin at Gregory. 'I look forward to receiving your money, barbarian.' The smug grin widened.

'What? Hwat?! You talking some shit, you dumb savage?' Gregory screamed at him, immediately lunging to his feet and waving his fist at the man. 'Open your mouth again and I'll shove my fist down your throat until it comes out your ass! I'll use you as a meat puppet, bitch!'

'Shut up barbarian! I shit on your face!' roared the Cultivator, leaping to his own feet. 'Your man is going to get fucked just like I fucked your mother last night, hahahaha!'

'Where the fuck did you find these insults? Off the cave walls back home in mudshit cavehole town? they're even more primitive than your stupid robe you ugly piece of shit!'

Markel observed glumly as Gregory and the Cultivator screamed and raged at one another, arms flapping and chests a-thrusting. Alas, this was not an uncommon sight where his charge was concerned.

###

'Father, he's just standing there,' Xue hissed, tugging at the Hao primarch's robe.

The Hao primarch pulled his eyes from across the way. He'd spotted a rival of his, the primarch of the Yin clan. He followed his daughter's pointing finger and snorted upon recognising what she was concerned by. The barbarian his son was to face was simply standing there, unmoving, and hadn't made a single preparation.

'The barbarian has recognises that he cannot win,' he explained. 'I imagine he will yield as soon as it starts, rather than let us see him lose in what will doubtless be a miserable and helpless manner. Of course, such a refusal to fight is also quite pathetic.' He chuckled.

'Really? You're sure?' Xue chewed on her lip. Where her father was reassured, she was worried. There was something about that barbarian. Something off. 'Watch out, big brother,' she whispered.

###

3…

2…

1…

In the final seconds of the countdown, total silence fell. All eyes focused on the arena and all mouths were closed.

Begin.

'Now you die, barbarian!' cried Jian, and a feral grin split his face as he stepped onto a leaf and began to rise. His swords shot forward, held by his reaching Soul Sense tendril. The Spectral Claw became visible between those swords, a gnashing bundle of sharp, grasping talons, yawning wide like a great mouth as it stretched toward Nicolai.

Nicolai simply reached into his storage, his hand squeezing between the lips on his chest. He grasped a handle and pulled.

The Lasrgun emerged in a blur and settled into his hands. He sighted down it. It was already primed and ready, as he'd prepped it before putting it in storage.

The Spectral Claw was only a dozen metres from him when he squeezed the trigger.

A red beam speared silently across the arena. It passed through the Spectral Claw. It passed through the Silver Net. It passed through Jian's expensive Burst Shield. It caught him right in the forehead.

And Jian screamed, a scream of awful pain and terrible shock as his flesh burned and melted. He clapped his hands to his forehead but Nicolai adjusted his aim and the red-hot lance carved through Jian's eyes, bursting them in explosions of superheated jelly, leaving flaming craters behind.

Jian's screech turned broken and mangled, a raw sound of pain and terror that caused some of those watching to flinch and look away, faces tightening in reflexive winces.

The Cultivator twisted and turned, slapping frantically at his head, trying to get away from the laser beam, but no matter how Jian moved Nicolai simply aimed for a new vulnerable area. Beneath his helmet his expression was one of calm concentration as he focused on Jian's head and neck and face whenever possible. He took a few smooth steps to the side, avoiding the mad thrashing of the Spectral Claw and accompanying swords as they whipped by him, his aim remaining perfectly on target. Jian was unable to concentrate on controlling it through the pain and confusion of having his face melted, but it responded to the frantic movements of the man's arm.

After a few moments, moments that for Nicolai were simply a few short heartbeats, but for Jian may well have been the longest and most excruciating of his life, a shimmering field of blue light appeared, blocking the laser.

Nicolai's finger released the trigger and he rested the weapon on his shoulder. Words appeared in the air above as he and Jian were wrapped by protective orbs. Jian was floating, unconscious, hair and robes on fire. With a burst of golden light a Cherubic Surgeon appeared and set to work on him.

Lethal damage detected.

Combat over.

VICTOR: NICOLAI

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