"You don't appear to be nervous at all." Irian said as we walked the busy cobbled streets.

"Nervous?" I asked.

"Yes. We're about to take you into an unknown, illegal prize fighting circuit full of cutthroats and thugs, yet you seem calm. I don't detect any nervousness from you at all."

"That's probably because I'm not nervous," I replied, to the loose tongued Baranax.

"Yes. I see that. If anything, I sense an element of eagerness about you. Even for seasoned fighters, that's unusual."

"It is what it is," I shrugged. "This is the kind of thing that gets me up in the morning. Especially with a few beers in my belly."

"Interesting," he said, trying to sound cryptic. I didn't give him another thought and studied the street instead. Tall buildings lined either side of the street. Mostly of wood which seamed risky considering how built up it was. There was a hint of sewer smells about the place, but nothing unbearable. What really caught my attention was the strange beasts clopping down the street. They were being used like horses to pull carriages and deliveries, but these ugly fuckers definitely weren't horses.

Elongated necks and eyes that stood out on stalks to either side of a narrow head that seemed to look everywhere at once. Seeing them made me question what oobels and anians were, and did I want to be eating them.

I suppressed the thoughts as Onlan brought us to a nondescript doorway.

Beyond was a long ginnel that ran between the buildings to a back yard and from there we descended some steps into a basement.

The familiar smell of stale bear reached me around the same time as the hum of speaking. "An underground pub. Nice," I muttered as the floor leveled out into a cavernous room full of smoke and drinking people.

There were a few different people walking around shouting out betting odds. The Bar was a set up on beer barrels, rough and ready, and I liked it, but I was far more interested in the rope ring and the man climbing into it.

"Welcome one and all!" the rough looking Unalaran shouted as he made his way to the center of the ring. "Acid Soler is gracing us with his presence for tonight's free bouts. You all know the rules. You last one round, and you get a Unitol. Last two, and you get four Unitols. Beat him and you get one hundred Unitols."

I rubbed my hands together. "Oh, fuck yeah. I need in on this."

Onlan shook his head. "Not this time Earl. I just wanted to show you the ropes today."

I grunted non-committally as we approached the ring, the smell of old sweat and blood soaked into the ring canvas. A sour, astringent smell that set my nerves alight.

"Right on time," Irian said as two other men climbed into the ring. One was short and stocky. Maybe my height, pale white skin, large black eyes, and mean looking.

Name: Herris Luta

Titles: Master Blacksmith-Tarol District. Hammer.

Level: 24

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Class: Warrior/Tradesman

The second man, looked to be of a similar race, but around a foot taller and while he was solid muscle he wasn't as heavy set.

Name: Osten Soler

Title: Acid

Level: 27

Class: Warrior

The ring master spoke again. "First up, Herris the Hammer!" Make sure you've got your bets placed. This one is going to be a beauty!"

With the level difference, I fancied the big one. Acid. If he used that reach well, he could keep the Hammer at bay. The only way the little one could win was if he was smart and brave and moved well.

Using his lower center of mass and speed could get him under the big man's guard where he could unload to the body. A tough night but I'd liked to have been in there. I reckoned I could make it count, even with the level difference.

The bell rang and the fight started. The small guy kept tight and low, which he should. High guard, elbows tucked in. So far so good. The big guy had his arms extended. Still a good guard, designed to keep the little fella at bay. So far, exactly what you'd expect to see.

Acid popped out the jab, and Hammer took it on his gloves as things started moving. They circled each other, with Acid being more proactive, hammering out the jab like a steam engine piston. Out and back. It landed each time and though the Hammer tried to move in and get some body shots off he just wasn't fast enough. He was definitely brave, but he moved like he was wading through quicksand and his head movement was none existent.

After a particularly slow set up, Acid saw an opening. He landed a tight left hook that opened up the Hammer's guard, followed up with a wild right uppercut straight into the Hammers face. It was an inch perfect shot and the Hammer stumbled back, face covered in black blood. Finished.

Acid had won, but followed in with unnecessary but beautiful pressure. Jab, right, jab, right, left hook, right hook. All vicious heavy blows designed to keep the Hammer on his feet, propped up against the ropes.

The crowd was going wild, roaring for Acid. When the big guy stepped back, I was sure he was going to celebrate, but in absolute cuntish fashion, he sent one last vicious uppercut into the smaller guy's face. A bloody spray burst through the air creating a black fan of ick over the audience.

The Hammer fell to the floor unmoving. I was in love. I nudged Onlan. "Is he fucking dead?"

"Unlikely," Onlan said. "It's incredibly hard to kill somebody with your fists when their Toughness is so high. If Acid's level was in the thirties, I suspect that answer would be different."

Irian pushed his head into the conversation, his gray face a little paler, "Are you having second thoughts about your future in the ring Earl? Are you suitably sickened?"

"Sickened!? This is fucking brilliant! I need to fight him."

He looked at me like I was mad. Then laughed, as I held his eye. It was Onlan who spoke. "We are just here to watch. Please try to remember you are severely under-leveled for this kind of fight and healing you is… challenging."

"Bah, you said yourself my toughness is well high for my level, and I've got a Level 12 in Warrior path, which means I've got my +5 durability."

"Which is excellent, but I'd like to get that warrior class up higher and get you far more durable before you enter this type of fight. We will arrange for more suitable opponents in the coming days and weeks."

Acid was roaring again. Shouting across the crowd with his blood up after an easy win. "Who's next?" My eyes flickered between him and Onlan. "Come on. This is perfect!"

"No, Earl, it's ridiculous. Today we watch and I will arrange more…"

He was boring me. I turned and sprinted for the ring, diving under the bottom rope like I was in the wrestling.

"I'll fucking fight you! Ya creepy eyed bastard!"

Getting to my feet I pulling off my top, then I looked at his bandaged hands. I only have these gloves. They've got runes but I can't fucking use them. They're just gloves for me."

"Get them off runt. No enchanted gear in the ring."

"Fair enough," I said, and pulled them off, wrapping them in my shirt I threw them to the side.

"You got a death wish," he rumbled. "You're level 14. You've got no business being in this ring with me, little man." He looked truly puzzled as to why I was here. He was about to find out.

"You'll be alright," I said stretching out a bit. "I'll go easy on you."

"You'll break your fists without bandages," he said, nodding at my bare hands. I noticed the noise from the crowd had dropped to a forlorn muttering.

I squared up in the middle of the ring as Onlan reached the side of the ring. "Earl, what in all Acronis are you doing?"

I gave him a thumbs up as the ring master looked on in equal confusion. "You sure about this?" he added to Onlan and Acids doubt. All it did was fuel me on.

"Just ring the fucking bell already!"

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