Chapter 52: Rick's Last Fight

When Rick reached the chamber beneath the arena, the ramp didn't lower as quickly as before. Perhaps they had more cleaning work to do. In any case, he didn't want to waste that time, so he ended up looking over the others more carefully. After the previous rounds, he actually didn't recognize any of the remaining featherweights, and he struggled to accurately evaluate their lucrima portfolios.

While he was watching, one of them approached with a smug look on his face. The man was several years older than him and wore a black coat that looked of a kind with the other fighters who worked for the American Basilisk.

"I've been looking forward to this, kid. Your defense is good, for a featherweight, but we'll see how well it holds up against me."

It was obvious he was talking trash, but Rick decided to just smile back. "Sure, should be interesting. Out of curiosity, do you work for the American Basilisk, or did he just recruit you for this?"

"Our boss prefers to stay in-house." The man cast him a scornful glance. "Unlike the old woman, who just uses whatever pawns she finds lying on the street. What did she promise you? I wouldn't count on getting it."

"If you're all official... did he give you those coats as uniforms, or did you all just independently think that the best look was running around like you're in a movie?" Rick fixed a smile on his face, which became easy when he saw the irritation in the other man's face.

"Keep talking like that, kid, and see where it gets you. I've been looking forward to this."

"You the final boss, then?" Rick stepped up to him and poked him in the chest. "Then I'll take you down and get everything that's coming to me."

They might have said more, but at that moment the ramp finally descended into their space. When Rick moved to walk up, his opponent shadowed him, glaring. Soon they stood underneath the glaring light, roughly in the center of the arena, facing one another. Rick put up his fists, his opponent dropped into a fighting stance with open palms, and they both awaited the signal.

The buzzer sounded and Rick used a Bunyan's Step to run away.

While the cloaked man stared in surprise, Rick instead rushed another opponent. The other man hadn't been expecting him at all, allowing Rick to land a jarring elbow strike to the skull. Wasting all his strength on the person who was likely the strongest opponent was stupid, especially given that his goal wasn't just to win. He needed to earn points by taking down others first.

Unfortunately, none of the remaining fighters were weak. Though Rick tried to land followup blows, his opponent pushed him back with a rush of aura. A moment later he was drawing a gun, but Rick didn't have time to think about it, because the man in the cloak was rushing at him.

Dropping back to the floor, Rick barely avoided the hand swiping at his face. Damn, this opponent was fast. Worse, the other man nearest them was now aiming down at him. Rick used another Bunyan's Step to throw himself across the arena, evading the gunshots and getting further away from the man in the cloak.

When Rick hopped back to his feet, he saw that another of the fighters was rushing them, cloaked in a flaming aura that seemed to cause pain just by entering it. Though Rick pretended to be watching that fight, he actually monitored his surroundings, looking for other opponents.

One of them was creeping up behind him... carrying an actual sword? Rick pretended he didn't notice until the blade thrust at his back, then he spun to the side. It cut just past him, glancing off his arm, and then he slammed an elbow into his opponent's face. The woman tried to raise her sword and cut again, but she didn't have the speed for it. He kicked her hands, knocking away her blade, then took her down with several more blows.

Yet as he turned back, he was surprised to feel a line of pain across his chest. Somehow she had dealt another blow, one he hadn't even noticed. It was fortunate that he'd been able to turn her ambush against her, or he might have taken even more injuries.

In any case, the remaining three fighters were still clashing. The man in the cloak managed to peel away from the other two and came for him. Rick smirked and raised his hand, gesturing for his opponent to come at him.

Then he sprinted straight past him in another Bunyan's Step.

He nearly collided with another one of his opponents. Though Rick dealt a blow to his neck, he was surprised when it glanced off. Whoever this man was, he was tough, with a defensive core that might be better than Rick's.

But Rick didn't need to fight him. The man launched a wild haymaker, so Rick redirected his movement to send the man stumbling behind him, nearly colliding with the man in the coat. That gave Rick time to-

There was a gun in his face, held by the last of his opponents.

His mind froze, yet his body moved on instinct. Somehow Rick slapped it aside before the man could fire, then reversed and smashed his elbow into his opponent's face. Worn down by his fight with the others, the gunman finally went down.

Finally free for a few seconds, Rick caught his breath and got his bearings. To his surprise, he discovered that the large fighter was staggering back, bleeding from his ears. As Rick watched, the man in the cloak attacked again. His hand just seemed to slap his opponent in the chest, doing no damage to the man's muscular body... yet a moment later he spat up blood and collapsed onto the arena floor.

The man in the cloak turned to him and Rick felt a moment of concern. He knew that Granny Whitney must have been preparing him for this man's technique, yet the idea of taking this risk... no, it was nothing compared to the risk he'd taken attacking Teragen. Rick pushed aside his misgivings, instead putting on a smirk.

"You think that's gonna work on me? Come on, then!"

"Oh, I will." The man in the cloak abruptly surged forward, moving with even more speed than he'd displayed before.

Rick tried to meet him with a punch, only to have his arm swept aside. He had planned to leave an opening, but it turned out to be unnecessary: his opponent was inside his guard in a single movement. Then the palm hit his chest and his insides twisted painfully.

Pushing through, Rick rammed the base of his palm straight into his opponent's nose. As it snapped, he saw the cloaked man's shock over the pain. He was used to disabling targets with blows like that and wasn't prepared for someone as apparently normal as Rick to have trained internally. Instead of tearing apart his internal organs, after all of the painful pills, his body merely twisted in response before resisting the energy.

While his opponent was stunned, Rick managed to land a blow to the stomach. Yet his next attempt was blocked, his opponent grabbing his arm, wrenching it aside, and striking him several times on the chest. The pain was worse, but nothing like what he'd been forced through.

Spinning backward with the force on his arm, Rick flipped into the air, slamming a knee into his opponent's head. That made the man in the cloak stagger further, but he stayed on his feet. In fact, he was only stunned long enough for Rick to land safely, then they were trading moves again.

The blows had weakened his opponent, however, so the man's movements were no longer as smooth as they had once been. Rick managed to land a brutal kick to his knee, opening him up for another blow to the skull.

It still wasn't enough. The man in the cloak responded with a flurry of sweeping movements, forcing Rick to back up. How long could his opponent maintain such an assault? Normally Rick would have wanted to fall back and find an opening, but he was exhausted and beaten from the fight, not to mention the internal damage. He needed to end this, so he had to make an opening.

When another palm rushed at him, Rick stopped trying to block or dodge. Instead he traded blows, his elbow striking his opponent's face at the same time the palm hit his shoulder.

Finally the man in the cloak fell and didn't get up. Yet Rick felt something horribly painful in his gut and the world spun around him. When he fell, he tried to catch himself with his left arm, yet it hung limp, as if damaged by the final blow. He barely managed to prop himself up with his other arm.

Letting himself fall to the ground and rest would have felt so good, and forcing himself to straighten up was agony. Yet Rick slowly got back to his feet anyway. Not for the sake of winning more points in the match, but because he wanted to be standing at the end of it.

The crowds cheered as he straightened up, yet he didn't feel any sense of pride. This last opponent might actually have been stronger than him, and his hand-to-hand skills were definitely superior. That was even before his ability to cause internal damage was considered. Without Granny Whitney specifically training him to resist it, and the surprise blows that advantage had allowed him to land, he wouldn't have been able to win.

In a way, he was just a weapon being wielded by another. So his opponent had been right, but it didn't really matter. Rick didn't care about the glory, only the results. If being used as a tool was the price he paid for survival and steps toward a new life for himself and those who mattered to him, then he would pay it.

Now it was finally over. Rick tried not to stagger as he left the arena and walked between the stands, but he was exhausted. When he licked his teeth, he discovered that there was some blood in his mouth. The rest of him didn't look great either, the blood from the cut covering his chest and waist. But that was fine - there was no one else in his power class left standing, so he was done.

Except as he walked out, Rick saw Mike watching him, and remembered that he wasn't done at all.

For him, the true final round would come in two weeks, when he fought Mike. There would be no buzzer to end that fight and no allies to help him. The Birthrighter sneered at him, but Rick realized that was just fine. Mike had come to check his progress, but he saw only Rick at his weakest.

For the next fight, he would create his own advantages. Hopefully it would be enough that he could defeat someone well above his power class.

As he painfully mounted the steps back to the team's room, Rick found his mind wandering. Had he earned enough points for their team to catch up? Would it matter at all, since the last match would be Teragen's anyway?

Who would be waiting for him when he came back? He hoped that Emily had recovered from her injuries, and wished Malati a swift recovery as well. His mind wandered to Anthony before he remembered that Granny Whitney had abandoned him for his failure. How had he forgotten that? Rick's thoughts spiraled out lazily, then he clutched at his stomach as it cramped up.

His foot missed the next step and his face slammed into the stairs. Rick's body went limp and he collapsed, alone in the stairwell.