The big guy slapped his fists apparently deciding it was going to happen and he was going to enjoy it. A moment later the bell rang.

He marched forward, a grin on his face. "You asked for it, pup."

I did and I couldn't wait to smash the bastard. His guard was too good to run in swinging, so like the guy before me, I circled with a high, tight guard, watching for the breaks.

He jabbed, as usual, and while I took the first two on the gloves, I parried the third, sidestepped right and slipped a hook under his ribs before I wheeled away. The plan was simple: hit and run, until he opened up some more. Then it would switch to run in close and swing for the fucking fences.

He bared his teeth as we came eye to eye again. "Good shot, little man. You're good on them feet, eh?"

He came again, doubling up on his jab this time, snapping it back faster while moving more smoothly on his feet.

We had a few tentative exchanges before he came with a jab, right hook combination to put me under pressure. After a few more attacks I realized that he was trying to guide me into the corner. He clearly didn't like the speed of my footwork and that would be nullified if I was hedged in. Clever bastard. I mused. He was better than I'd given him credit for, that was for sure.

The problem for me was that knowing he was laying a trap didn't mean I could avoid it. He was a big man and used the ring well. Herding me like a dopey sheep.

I was left with only one option and it was a big risk. Go in hard and get out fast.

On his next jab, instead of parrying, I slipped under it and unleashed a torrent to his center, targeting his solar plexus.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Left, right, left.

I wheeled away before checking on my handy work. There was no doubt I'd hurt him, as he doubled over ever so slightly. But there was a glaring problem. His body should have been fairly soft in that area but it was like hitting steel. My hands were throbbing from the attack and while I could fight all day given the chance, I didn't know how long the bones in my hands would last against how solid this fucker was.

He spun to face me with the grace of a ballet dancer, highlighting just how fucked I was. Nobody that big should be able to move so well. Unless of course they're an ascended alien in a strange universe.

"Nice moves. They're not going to save you, though." Then he surged at me like a wave of anger and spite. I ducked, dodged and danced like I was being attacked by a swarm of wasps, scoring hits where I could, but he was like a machine. Always trying to herd me into the corner, pushing me where he wanted to me to go. If that wasn't bad enough, my hands were bleeding now, which should have been impossible considering I'd only scored body shots and hit no bones in the process. Yet here I was with mashed up hands, fighting for my life.

He threw yet another fast combination, which I'd been avoiding for a while. Changing tactics, I stopped running and made the decision to go hell for leather, come what may. If I could soften up that midriff and maybe get a telling liver shot at the very least, I had a chance.

As I ducked his combo, an elbow thumped into the back of my head. I was sure that wasn't allowed in the rules, but there was no one coming to save me as I dropped bonelessly to the canvas. I felt like I'd been hit by a crane swinging a wrecking ball and could barely focus on Acid who was now walking around the ring hands raised to drunken roars of approval.

"Not on my watch," I spat, and lurched to my feet, lunging with a big right to his unprotected back. I hit gold, my hand digging deep into where his kidney should be and he definitely felt it. But not nearly enough to cause him trouble.

He spun, grinned at me, and then smashed me in the side of the head. For a moment, I considered it miraculous that the ropes saved me from going down. Then when he followed up with a barrage of blows, it was all I could do to cover up, letting the ropes help absorb the blows,. I felt like a poor man's Muhammad Ali.

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Unlike Muhammad Ali, this wasn't in my game plan. I wasn't going to make an incredible comeback. Not without something a little nasty.

As the thought came to mind, instinct took over and I grabbed his right arm as if we were practicing judo or some shit.

Then I held on for dear life, opening my mouth wide and ready to take a chomp out of his forearm.

I didn't get a chance as the big lump was suddenly yanked away from me.

Onlan was in the ring, but it wasn't him that did the yanking, it was the ring master.

I was a mess, blood streaming down my face from multiple cuts, but I couldn't help laughing in joy at the spectacle. "Come on! I nearly had him, there!"

My shout brought a roar of laughter from the crowd.

Acid, who was initially angry, had started laughing as well.

"Ugly, little man. No Level 14 has any right to be so tough. If you live long enough to get stronger, come back. We will fight again."

"Oh, you better believe I'll be back, you big bastard, it."

Onlan, unamused with my threats was trying to lead me out of the ring. He was the only thing holding me, up so I couldn't really argue.

"You're genuinely insane, aren't you?" Irian said as Onlan plonked me on a chair next to him."

"One-hundred percent," I replied, focusing on staying conscious.

"We heard things," Onlan said wiping my face with a wet cloth that he pulled from a pail of water. "But hearing something, and seeing it first hand is quite different."

I was barely listening, my mind befuddled with where the pail had come from. The cool water felt good on the hot blood, but the mystery was eating at me.

"Nonetheless," Onlan continued. "That was an incredible bout. You just went toe-to-toe with Acid Soler. He's a champion on this world, and as tough as they come."

"I think you might just have earned the respect of every last person in this building," Irian added.

I grunted as the pain of the beating really started to kick in as the adrenaline faded. Onlan chuckled knowingly. "Let's not try anything like that again until your Toughness has developed dramatically. We have plenty of training options for you."

"I think he'll need healing again, first," Irian chirped in, stating the obvious.

"I think he can suffer a little longer before I let the healers know about his condition. I'm not sure who they'll be more angry with. Earl, or me for letting him fight."

"Healed or not," I mumbled. "There's only one way I'm going to be able to take a beating in the future, and that's by increasing my durability. And the only way I know how to increase my durability, is by taking beatings."

Onlan handed me the cloth to finish cleaning myself as he pondered my words. "There is truth in that, Earl. But there are definitely other less damaging options to help."

"I'm all fucking ears," I said, whilst wiping blood out of my swollen ear.

"Armor, for a start," Irian said, chuckling as if he'd just told a corker of a joke. "But you wouldn't pick any would you?"

I gave him a sour look. "Can you wear armor in the ring?"

He looked confused. "Of course not."

I nodded. "Then maybe shut the fuck up while the adults talk."

As Irian bristled, I looked back at Onlan. "You were saying?"

"Yes." He said, apparently unbothered by my verbal abuse of Irian. "You should open up your Tradesman path!"

"I don't really give a shit about making things, but I'm interested if it helps."

"It does. The Tradesman class has bonuses of its own. Level ten is an endurance buff which is incredibly useful in the hard times when your back's against the wall. At higher levels, depending on what trade you choose there is usually a durability option. This is particularly true for miners, stonemasons, lumberjacks, and others who often need to survive harsh conditions."

"I've known a few tough workers," I said thoughtfully. "Barely fought a day in their lives, but good grafters, and they're tough as old boots. Still sounds like a lot of hard work that isn't fighting and that's all I want to do. Is there really a worthwhile offset with the additional levels."

Onlan gave a mirthless snort. "While it's incredibly hard to reach level forty, once you do, you must have a secondary path to progress further?"

I felt like I'd hear it mentioned in the past but it hadn't taken root. "Explain."

"It's an aspect of Ascension no one quite understands. If you have no class, but somehow manage to increase your level, once you hit Level 20 you can go no further. Your stats won't increase anymore. I don't know of any cases personally where that's happened, but there have been notable examples."

"You just stop leveling altogether?"

"That's right. No more gains. If you have a class The next block is at Level forty. Opening another path unlocks this, but, interestingly, there is another block at level 60, if you have not claimed Mastery of your class. Mastery is a class level of at least Level Forty."

"Well that fucking sucks." I grumbled. "I take it that's not the last block?"

"It is not. According to ancient texts the next one is at Level-Eighty and requires the Third Class. That hardly matters as to my knowledge there is no one in the entire cosmos who is above level eighty, unless you believe the stories the Archons seed."

I was genuinely interested in the power dynamics of the universe and probed further. "Do you think they have level eighty people?"

He shook his head. "The highest Level we know of, is the Prime Sovereign who, on our last confirmed visual was Level 68. That was eight years ago."

"Doesn't get out much, huh?"

"Not anywhere we would be able to see him without a great deal of effort and many lives lost."

I nodded. "So, I definitely need a trade then."

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