“Welcome…to the Arena!” Oliver lifted his arms high as he gestured to the sick ass, awe inspiring, blow-me-away amazingness of Volun’s main attraction.

  Huge would be an understatement, as it was almost a city in and of itself. The only difference being that this city’s walls were tall sandstone colosseum columns, rough sandstone walkways - made to be traversed under bright brazier firelight.

  The entrance was strangely quiet when compared to the bustle beyond the towering arched entryway. Yet the reason for this became quite obvious, as people just didn't need to leave. The only people passing them carted heaps of meats, vegetables, and other foodstuffs to feed the hungering army housed within this cavernous colosseum.

  Above the floorline, rising thirty stories up, the arena was the traditional colosseum design with pillars and shit, but below that the engineers had built into the ground. It resembled an open-shaft mine in size, scope, and its tiered design. Below the sandstone walls, the terraces were lined with rectangular rooms that had clear glass windows on the side facing the centre of the arena. What was breaking Gareth’s brain was that each room was slowly rotating clockwise around the arena, with each odd numbered terrace rotating anti-clockwise. The mechanics of it boggled Gareth’s admittedly meagre understanding of kinetic architecture. There had to be thousands of rooms making their way around the arena. Thousands of places to fight, live, die, and win.

  Deep down, at the bottom of the shaft, was an open flat floor where organised chaos thrived. People shopped at the massive flea market, amateur craftsmen and women hawked their wares, arena staff ran around trying to organise fights, all while merchants shouted over one another to win the attention of a fighter, yet most fighters walking past ignored the merchant's clamouring.

  “In this world, fighters are the pinnacle of cultivators. These merchants would beg our most famous fighters to buy their stock because doing so would automatically draw more customers.” Oliver remarked as they walked past a merchant nagging an armoured man to buy his shitty sword.

  “Branding.” Gareth acknowledged with a nod.

  Master Guanji leaned in closer to Gareth, and whispered, “The true legends are the crafters. Fighters would beg a legendary blacksmith to customise their swords. They would sell decades of service for an Epic armourer to forge their platemail, and would likely give their first born child for a legendary grade sword. It is best to make a few craftsman allies early on, and help their business grow.” The old man winked an eyebrow, “It will be a direct investment in your future goals.”

  “Master Guanji speaks wisdom, junior brother. I will take you around the forging area tomorrow to purchase a custom sword from an apprentice.” Oliver smiled proudly.

  The thought had massive appeal. What guy didn't want a custom sword?

  “That sounds good, man. Though what's wrong with the one Master Guanji gave me?” He asked somewhat testily. He was very thankful of the blade Guanji had given him. His master had been very clear that the tier 1 longsword was now his.

  It hung at his side and was only Common grade, but still leagues better than the tier 0 Beginner sword he’d been using up until then. It was a beautifully crafted sword, yet functional in its decoration and purpose. Its grip was made from an ebony wood purported to inspire fear in an enemy - though Gareth doubted that was fact. The pommel was a hefty steel, angled on its tang-side so that it wouldn't chafe against his bottom hand. The nearly white metal of the blade, balanced perfectly, was engraved with the gold house crest of an unknown Knight. Its stell cross guard was nice and wide, tapering to curled tips - great for catching his opponent's blade. Gareth had a severe fondness for it and would likely never throw it away.

  "It is always best to have a back-up sword, so that you do not have to wait weeks for someone to forge you a new blade. The true reason is to build contacts. A reliable crafter is worth their weight in Leaves. Helping them establish their business will ensure you have a reliable contact for swords, armour, and any maintenance they require." Guanji said wisely as he walked on Gareth's other side.

  Up until this point Gareth had been rather isolated in his training, especially after he learned of Connor's betrayal. His days were spent training with Oliver, Ellisandra, and Guanji. He only occasionally interacted with other people in the mansion. He'd preferred the isolation up until then, but after many many months of it he was looking forward to interacting with new people.

  He mostly spent his time reading any book under the sun, writing reflective or argumentative essays about aspects of his training, working on his spy craft assignments, and mastering his combat forms as his body changed in drastic ways. It was hard work, had satisfying moments, but was often quite lonely.

  This isolation was done purposefully because the he'd been tortured for years, and the Maryvalians were more active than ever. He just needed some rest, normalcy, and routine. Guanji played the role of both mentor and therapist, guiding him when he had irrational moments of anger, or used his aura to calm Gareth when he had nightmares. Coming to the arena would be his first step back into propper society, and Gareth was somewhat nervous.

  “Each sparring arena has three configurations.” Oliver pointed at the rectangular sparring arenas slowly rotating around the massive pit in the ground, “They can be a living space, a sparring ring, or an open floor entertainment area.”

  "A party room?" Gareth asked somewhat condescendingly.

  "Aye, a party room. To celebrate milestones and such, though only the wealthy can really afford that configuration."

  Four massive floating square platforms in the middle of the massive coliseum drew Gareth’s attention next. Each was more than a hundred feet wide, and carved from some sort of granite, engraved with shifting enchantment circles that glowed with a purple light. Their purpose was immediately clear. Fighting.

  “How do you get to those, up there?” Gareth pointed and would have stopped to stare if Oliver hadn't grabbed him by the hand to keep him walking and out from under foot traffic.

  Oliver followed his eyes and smiled knowingly, “Only the top twenty ranked fighters on the main arena board are privileged enough to make art upon their surface, and they are too prideful to use the lifts. If you look down there, you should be able to see people at stalls?”

  Gareth followed his pointing finger and saw a bunch of sky-port looking booths, where a large counter stood manned by purple-uniformed men and women, booking in people’s luggage and escorting them to the edge of the wall and into tunnels. Gareth’s [Falcon sight] trait had quickly become a cornerstone of his daily life. He could see farther than ever, with more clarity than ever before.

  “That is where you will check into, or rent, whatever arena along the walls that is available; of which there are more than two thousand. Each suite layout has its own associated costs, but the arena setting is often the cheapest. You could rent it out for four hours for the low-low cost of thirty tier 2 Leaves."

  "Fucking hell!"

  "It is quite expensive for low-tiered cultivators. Most early fights are hosted by the arena itself, and require only a nominal entrance fee. The catering/party area is the second most expensive, yet can be customised to your liking. Whereas arena rooms are always outfitted in the standard six elemental fighting squares. Finally, the living spaces can be customised and rented for longer periods at astronomical expense. It is a status symbol to be able to live in the arena. Usually, only the top 100 leaderboard fighters can actually afford to live in them, because they win discounts in battle.”

  "Then why isn't the entrance busier, because all these people likely have to go home and such?" Gareth gestured at the diverse crowds mulling about on the walkways, market floor, or in the circulating rooms.

  "They do, have to go home that is, but I think we caught the crowd in a quiet moment." Oliver said.

  "You should see the arena when the top ten fighters compete. People swarm from all across Volun and the surroundings to spectate. The fighters are so fierce, so perfect in their form and execution, that some people even receive an inspiration while watching the fights." Guanji supplied, gliding through the thin crowd of people as they made their way to a side tunnel, which spiraled down to the bottom floor many flights below.

  “Who is in charge of it all?” Gareth asked, wondering how rich they were. If there was one thing Gareth had learned from the Corpo Wars back on Earth, it was that if something was expensive, some rich cunt was lining their pockets.

  “Hansel and Brethel, 'The Twins', are currently the managers of the arena, but Lord Margrave owns the actual arena. The earnings of the arena are spent on infrastructure and maintenance, but about twenty percent is split between the lord and their managers.”

  “So it's corrupt?” Gareth was truly sceptical of people when money was involved.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Oliver rubbed at the stubble on his jaw in thought. He had recently decided that he was over the clean-cut shave and was trying to grow his sandy blond beard out. It suited him. “It may be true. Leaves can turn any man brown with greed. But even if that be so, Lord Margrave looks after us well-enough that no one would begrudge him an extra Leaf or two. For a frontier city, the people are content and happy, which is rare enough in a normal city. It speaks well of our lord and his ability to rule.”

  “Fair enough.” Gareth acknowledged and dropped the subject.

  “Your previous city lord did not rule fairly?” Oliver asked quietly, not content to leave it at that.

  “Lords and Ladies stopped being a thing very long ago, back in my world. What replaced them were Oligarchs and Billionaires. They leached the life from trillions of people by giving them just enough to survive, and nothing more. Only then would they put you to work for the rest of your life, paying off a debt they created.” Gareth didn't realise his mental slip, and luckily Oliver’s face was turned away, so Gareth never saw the shocked expression on his face.

  Oliver

  It made so much sense! How didn't I see it earlier?

  Oliver wasn't the conniving sort, he was just happy that he had finally solved the puzzle of Gareth Elson. Or at least a small part of him. He still did not know the circumstances that Gareth's previous plane had been suffering from, but judging by the venom in his distracted gaze, his life had been hard. Oliver would not begrudge him this secret, nor would he spread it around. Gods knew he had a few secrets of his own.

  “I am sorry to hear that, junior brother. This method of exploitation sounds similar to the methods of Maryvale, or the Bong'odi. On the bright side, we are here for you to temper the frustration that I have sensed in your heart. Ready to beat the shit out of some tier 1 trash?” Oliver laughed and threw his arm across Gareth’s shoulders.

  Gareth

  “Hmph! You still haven’t told me why we’re here yet.” A question said as a statement.

  Gareth’s mood soured surprisingly quickly, a frustration that had been building for months now.

  He had fallen into the routine of training, and enjoyed it, but longed for change. Whether that be in scenery, people, or even just a change in routine, his soul rebelled against stagnation. He hadn't visited restaurants, made friends outside of his circle, or done some sightseeing. He was chafing to get out and away from the same people. He liked Guanji, Oliver, and the Ellis family, but he needed to make friends. Some propper bros.

  “We are here because there is only one true way to prove your strength, and that is through the combat rankings. The higher your ranking, the more job opportunities will be made available to you. Many guilds require a specific weapons mastery tier before you are able to join their ranks, but they might waive that if your combat ranking is over a certain threshold. The Adventurers Guild regards the combat rankings highly in particular.” Oliver pointed to a large wooden billboard, mounted on one of the few non-moving walls. It showed the numbers '1-50 000', with a name next to each number. Rankings, obviously.

  “Each city has its own combat rankings, and Volun is particularly competitive because of its high wild beast numbers, not to mention the Darklings, the rifts, the bounties, the Dungeon. People come from all across the empire to fight, get scouted, and live out their very wealthy lives as guards or adventurers of some sort.”

  "What about people that aren't good at fighting, like healers and such?" Gareth asked.

  Oliver pointed to a seperate, smaller billboard on the opposite side of the large market. It only listed numbers 1-500. "Healers have their own grading and ranking system based on how proficient they are in their craft. Highly ranked healers are scouted by hospitals or adventuring parties."

  He then pointed at billboards all across the arena in a sweeping gesture, "Each profession relating to combat is represented, though the crafters have their own section of the city near the temple of Aevur. Thieves, Bulwarks, Mages, Rangers, and any number roles are represented in the arena ranking, but the true mark of a combatant is their ranking on the main board."

  Oliver once more pointed at the largest board of all - where a constant crowd of cultivators, coaches, fighters, and gamblers anxiously waited to see the placings.

  They made their way out of the spiral tunnel and into the large open-floored market at the bottom. Brightly lit, glass fronted combat arenas/rooms slowly spun around the walls, giving him his first somewhat modern vibe since he'd left Terra. All they needed now were neon lights and the arena would resemble his old cyberpunk world.

  The market and registration area had the stink of sweat, fragrance of perfume, and the tang of spicy food - courtesy of the fighters, street food vendors, and the attendants booking people into arenas respectively.

  “The arena is, without exception, the best place to make a name for yourself - to forge or shatter your reputation. Keep your head high, never show your back to an enemy, and conduct yourself with honour. Come on.” Oliver smiled brightly, then pulled Gareth towards one of the many desk attendants.

  Master Guanji was mostly quiet through their exchanges, choosing to keep his opinions to himself.

  It is the duty of the young ones to make their own mistakes, and the burden of the experienced not to warm them - because they too might be wrong. They must make their own mistakes, learn their own lessons, find their own ways to overcome the challenges of life.

  Guanji used his aura to remain unseen by all the other pedestrians - through masterful application of his aura, their eyes slid off him as if he didn't exist.

  “Good afternoon, dear customer.” A man dressed in a standard green uniform greeted them as it became their turn in the short line.

  “Good day, sir. I would like to register my apprentice,” Oliver proudly clapped a hand onto Gareth’s shoulder, “for a tier one starting match.”

  The man’s eyebrows raised, and he smiled brightly as he turned to Gareth, “Welcome! We are proud to be your first choice of Arena, dear customer. As it happens, we are just about to host a low tier one ranking match in four hours, bottom eighty contenders.”

  “Any specific duel requirements?” Oliver asked.

  “Free for all.” The man said with a hungry grin - he was evidently someone who likes a good fight.

  Oliver smirked right along with him, “That sounds perfect.” He looked at Gareth with a sadistic glint in his eyes, “Seems your first test shall be a trial by fire.” He looked back to the attendant, “He would like to sign up. I shall be his sponsor.” Oliver handed the man a handful of shining white pine needles.

  “What the hell man? You said we’re just doing a tour!”

  “Ochg! Do not fret, junior brother.” He leaned down and whispered to Gareth as the attendant asked for Gareth’s ID badge, “Your bloodlines are stronger than any of theirs, and your skill with a blade will make up for the rest. Just maintain your focus, and let your blade strike true. It will be over in a flash.” He winked roguishly, so Gareth couldn't help but sigh, shrug, and hand over his badge.

  His abilities and traits had gotten a massive increase since he'd entered the second infusion tier of Body cultivation. His [knowledge is power] trait helped him to rapidly adapt to Oliver’s shifting fighting styles, instinctually memorising muscle his muscle twitches, his tells, his openings. it still didn't make fuckall difference as Oliver eclipsed him in tier, but it rapidly improved his fighting competency. This would still be the first time Gareth would actively be fighting against other people competitively, and it made him nervous.

  “Are there any specific rules that I have to obey? Like, what if I accidentally kill someone?” Gareth asked as anxiety started to build in his gut. What if I accidentally cut off someone's head or stab them in the throat? I’ll spend the rest of my eternal life in prison!

  Oliver evidently saw the panic building in Gareth and grabbed him by the shoulder, “Look at me, lad.” He said kindly, and made sure Gareth looked into his stunning blue peepers.

  “There are always high tiered healers in matches such as these. They are powerful enough that, if they reach you within seconds, they could reattach heads, replace eyes, and mend brains. So, go wild! If you wet your blade on someone, a tier 4 shall be there before you could blink. All you shall see is your opponent vanishing off your blade.”

  Many of Gareth’s fears were somewhat lifted, because it meant he wouldn't be able to kill someone and spend the rest of his days in prison. Only somewhat, though. Until he saw it happening, he would keep aiming for non-vital areas. He had no fear for his own life. Only fear that his freedom could be taken away.

  They were led to an elevator-looking door as the attendant scanned his badge at a small receptacle, making a bunch of indecipherable purple runes appear. The rune designs looked somewhat hieroglyphic, with a mix of sharp-edged graffiti.

  The attendant hit a combination of runes and the doors hissed open, “Right this way, gentlemen, please enjoy your fight.” He smiled brightly ushered them in with a small bow.

  Intermission: The art of Consideration

  One must, at all times, try to root oneself in the present. Keep the body healthy, poised and ready to move smoothly. Do not plod through the world, but lead one foot in an arc with a pivot of the hips to support the logical next step.

  Do not roll your head, but swivel thy neck and keep thine back strong! Thine core, tight!

  By the passion of the blood, breathe deeply and strongly. Fuel to feed the needs of the body.

  Take one’s environment into account to form your mindscape, your understanding. Only by having the body and mind in perfect synchronicity, can one competently manoeuvre through the world.

  The one chaotic element that will deter this style, this natural and efficient method of movement, will be social convention. Find those of your like and spar, refine the body on the anvil of combat. It is undeniable that individual strength is critical, but there is power in numbers a’plenty.

  Strength of arm must translate to strength of character. Consider those around you. How you relate to them, how you view them. How they view you.

  The skill is in combining your personal and environmental mindscape, with the previously mentioned chaotic element. Yet, it is futile to predict unprovoked behaviour. Calm thine mind, do what you can. Keep your morals and strength of character to account: Kindness, gentleness, honour, fairness, righteous fury, and joy in the fires of body improvement. In mastering your chosen weapon.

  Before one can hone the blade, or even the body, one must have the right mental headspace. The above is a method to perhaps inspire that mental headspace and train the body.

  The following chapters will explore mastering bladed combat within an enclosed and open environment; the consequent mental mindscapes; the changes in the body due to weapons; and how a person relates to the chaotic element.