Chapter 50: The Verdant Mountain Sect

Though Rick was still apprehensive about his match, he was nowhere near as disoriented as the first time. Now that he understood the passages between their room and the arena, he was impressed by how easy it was to get from one to the other. No doubt that made the space underneath the stands a mess, but it kept the matches moving quickly.

When he came out beneath the arena, he saw someone he recognized from the Underground: the woman with the spiked club. They randomly ran into each other often enough, maybe he should learn her name. But when he started to ask, she saw him and sighed.

"Oh, god, I got you already? Just my luck."

Rick blinked, not being used to anyone worrying about his strength. He tried to play it off with a shrug. "I'm not going to go straight for you or anything - that bat hurts."

"Still, there's no chance of getting points for sweeping the round. Alger is not going to be happy with me."

"Ah, he recruited you? I was wondering who he chose for his featherweight."

The woman sighed. "Honestly, I think I was like his third choice. But I get paid for each point I earn him, so it's better than nothing. Plus, it's fun to fight on such a huge stage, you know?"

It didn't strike him as fun at all, but at that point the ramps descended for them to walk up to the arena. As they did, they naturally moved in opposite directions so they wouldn't be right next to each other at the start. While Rick thought he could take her, he didn't think he could do it quickly, so it was better to take a chance on some of the fighters he didn't know.

When he looked around the octagon, he saw a few people he vaguely recognized from the Underground. If they hadn't stuck in his mind, they probably weren't overwhelming, so they'd make good targets. Then there was a man wearing formal green robes, looking like he'd stepped out of a combat sect from an old story. He stared around the group as if he was superior to all of them, even though his generation rate was just around 29,500 lucrim, same as most of the fighters.

Then the question was whether to play it safe with the robed man, or aim to earn points by taking down weaker opponents quickly. When the buzzer rang, Rick was still trying to decide between the two. He reprimanded himself to be more decisive, but then the choice was taken out of his hands.

The man in the green robe clapped his hands together and his aura exploded in all directions. At first Rick thought it did no harm whatsoever, but then he saw other fighters beginning to drop. A little later he began to feel sick, head spinning as nausea welled up within him.

Several fighters dropped immediately, but some remained on their feet. One staggered toward the man in the green robe, but was too dizzy to fight effectively and was felled by a series of rapid blows. Meanwhile, the woman with the spiked club didn't try to attack him, taking down other staggering fighters to earn points before she fell.

Yet Rick felt fine. It wasn't pleasant, but it was nothing like the nausea that Granny Whitney's pills had forced on him. He launched himself toward the man in the green robe, trying to take him out with the first blow. His fist struck his opponent's chest, but the other man only grunted and fell back.

Though the man in the green robe seemed startled that his technique had been overcome, he wasn't incompetent. Rick traded several blows with him before he managed to kick his opponent's shin. The other man winced and dropped slightly, leaving an opening for Rick to kick him in the chest. As the man flew backward and collapsed to the arena floor, the effect vanished, leaving only lingering nausea.

Just before the club struck, Rick heard it whistling toward his head. He blocked the blow with his forearm, surprised that it only stung instead of breaking his skin. The woman with the club still looked a bit nauseous, so she failed to defend effectively and he swept her feet, dropping her to the floor.

That was apparently enough to end the match, again with him the victor. This time Rick didn't blunder by going back down the ramp, instead observing that small doors opened in the lucrim boundaries. He walked through the one pointing toward his team and headed toward the stands, surprised to hear the crowds cheering for him. They might not know his name, but they'd seen him win two matches, so they might be starting to remember him.

As Rick began to smile, he looked up and saw that Mike was watching him.

It nearly made him stumble, but Rick kept moving, pretending he hadn't seen. The Birthrighter sat in one of the expensive seats, staring down at him viciously. Rick kept up the pretense, refusing to make eye contact, but internally he was shaken. Now he had to worry that Mike was planning to sabotage him, though more likely he was just there to observe him in preparation for their match.

Ultimately, it changed nothing. He still had to do his best in the fights, and his purpose was still to fight Mike after the tournament was over. His opponent observing him was a disadvantage, yes, but Rick didn't use any fancy tricks.

He tried to put Mike out of his mind and just headed back to his team's room. Once there, he discovered that both he and the green robed man had received 8 points. That struck him as a bit unfair, since he'd won, but he supposed the other man had dropped more opponents. The woman with the spiked club had received 4, which he hoped was enough for her.

Almost everyone was absorbed by the next selection, but Granny Whitney turned to nod at him. "Another good match, dearie. I'm not regretting the money I invested in you so much anymore."

"Was that why you made me nauseous in so many matches? So I'd be prepared to fight him?"

"It was for your health, dearie." Her eyes twinkled. "But let's just say I had some idea what you might face."

"That was one of your rivals, then? Which one?"

Granny Whitney shook her head. "No, that was actually the Verdant Mountain sect. They always participate in the large events in the region, and though they rarely win, they tend to dominate certain matches. Neutralizing them is good enough, because they're not as strong on all tiers."

Usually Rick just paid attention to the top teams on the scoreboard, but when he looked lower, he saw that the new group was indeed getting close:

[1) Granny's Underground - 35 pts

2) Alger's Heroes - 31 pts

3) Obsidian Thirty - 26 pts

4) Serpenza - 19 pts

5) Branton Bulldogs - 18 pts

6) Verdant Mountain Sect - 15 pts]

As he looked at the list, Rick realized that someone was missing. "I met Alger's featherweight during that fight, but what about the American Basilisk's? Have I already fought him?"

"No. You haven't met him yet, but you will."

Rick sat down heavily, not feeling quite as well as after his first fight. The nausea was fading and Granny Whitney gave him a serum and some medicine, but there was still growing fatigue. It was impossible to fight this intensely and not take some attrition. Given how the match choices had gone, he felt certain that he was going to have to fight again. He'd already done well for his team, but the third match might end up being the one that mattered.

The next round was revealed to be for the heavyweights, so Rick sat forward eagerly as Teragen finally moved from his spot on the floor. This would be the most powerful melee he'd ever seen, and much more authentic than the professional fights, since there were few rules.

When all eight heavyweights assembled below, Rick was grateful that they weren't all as overwhelming as Teragen. Oh, they were all far stronger than him, but only a few seemed inhuman. They all stood still, then when the buzzer rang, the arena exploded.

Yet as Rick watched, he found himself disappointed. The fight was impressive as far as spectacle went, the fighters flashing around the arena so quickly they were almost invisible, trading blows that sent shockwaves rippling through the air. One of them actually summoned some kind of dragon, which arced over the arena breathing fire on the fighters before another heavyweight sliced it in half. Another fighter manifested a lucrim machine gun and sprayed bullets all through the arena and it didn't tip the scales at all, none of the others even blinking.

The problem was that it was all too far above him. He couldn't sit back and enjoy the intensity of it, he wanted to understand and follow the lucrim techniques. Yet before he had even begun to catch up to the overpowering fighters, the match was already over.

One had fallen, two were injured, and the other five looked untouched, including Teragen. He realized that one of the survivors wore the Verdant Mountain sect's traditional robes. Perhaps a long fight would have ended differently, but it was over rather soon. Not that many points were awarded, either, which mirrored his sense of anti-climax.

"Is that usually how heavyweight fights go?" Rick glanced at the others, some of his disappointment showing. "Or will they fight to the finish later?"

Anthony sat back and propped his legs up on the window. "Nah, the pros don't like to lose publicly. This is like a chance to show off for them, not a serious tournament. They prefer the invitation-only, one-on-one type deals."

"That's right," Malati said. "In these multi-tier tournaments, the top power classes often cancel each other out. That's why you need a strategy for all the tiers."

Rick glanced at Granny Whitney, but she had nothing to add, watching the scoreboard. Though her team was still in the lead, she seemed more tense than before. He looked to the listing and saw that the Verdant Mountain sect had knocked the Branton Bulldogs out of the top five, but otherwise nothing had changed.

The next class selected was welterweight again, so Anthony left with his usual bravado. When he got down to the arena, Rick saw that Tom was in the match too, as well as a green-robed woman. At the edge lurked a man in a long coat who looked strong as well. Since all the most powerful welterweights were thrown into this melee, it seemed like this match was meant to finish the power class.

When the match started, Tom began with an explosion of lightning, but only one of the weaker fighters was hit by it. Judging from the strength of the blast, Rick thought that Tom had anticipated that and not put much strength into it. The green-robed woman faced off with him, extending an aura that seemed to suppress Tom's lightning entirely.

Then the man in the long coat shot Anthony in the back.

It looked like a lucrim bullet, too, which would have shocked Rick if he hadn't just seen a machine gun used in the previous match. Anthony grunted in pain and dropped to one knee, but pushed himself back up. He hurled one of his explosive spheres, but the man shot straight through it.

This bullet hit Anthony in the chest. He staggered a step back, aura failing, and a third shot knocked him flat on his back.

Seconds into the match, their fighter had been taken out. Granny Whitney released a slow breath that hissed through her teeth. Below, Anthony began to bleed out on the arena floor, yet she gave no instructions.

Though the Verdant Mountain sect member pressed Tom fiercely, her aura proved ineffective against the lucrim bullets from the man who Rick assumed was from the American Basilisk's team. Her body was immediately pulled from the arena by other green-robed figures and taken for treatment. In the end Tom faced off with the gunman, but his lightning proved overwhelming and he was the only one standing at the end, though injured.

They all looked to the screen for the scores, recognizing that this was their first major loss. Anthony's performance earned only a single point, while Tom and the gunman both received 7 points. As the results were displayed, the rankings shifted as well.

[1) Alger's Heroes - 42 pts

2) Granny's Underground - 40 pts

3) Obsidian Thirty - 37 pts

4) Serpenza - 25 pts

5) Verdant Mountain Sect - 23 pts]

Granny Whitney clucked her tongue and shook her head slowly. Before she could say anything, an official leaned into their room with a look of concern. "Uh... we've stabilized your fighter, but he needs more treatment. If you tell me wh-"

"No." Granny Whitney didn't even look back at him. "We have no additional treatment to offer. Do your bare minimum and then turn him out. He isn't to be allowed into the contestant area again."

The official's eyebrows rose, but he nodded and slipped out. Once he was gone, Granny Whitney turned to them all and smiled gently.

"Well, this is a setback, isn't it? Please do your best from now on."