Chapter 53: The Tournament Ends

Rick drifted in a warm space, unconsciousness wrapping around him softly... until something lanced straight through his heart.

He jerked upward, wide awake in an instant and completely disoriented. If not for a hand pushing him back down, he might have ended up thrashing wildly. Yet as his brain caught up to his body, he realized that there was no need to panic. Emily was the one pushing him down, though she took her hand off his chest now that he was awake.

Currently he lay on the floor of their room. He felt a bit beaten up and everything in his chest hurt, but he didn't feel anything that felt like a mortal wound. In fact, the worst pain was on his face. Only then did he remember falling down in the stairwell.

"I fell..." He touched his face and his fingers came away with blood. "What happened?"

"I saw that you didn't arrive and suspected that you hadn't made it up," Emily said. "Don't worry, you seem to be in decent condition. The worst-looking wound is actually the one you got from the stairs, and that's superficial."

Though he was grateful for that, Rick realized that there was something much more important. "What about you? You look... completely fine."

"I am." Emily raised her hands in front of her, flexing them slowly. "Whitney had some of her specialists take care of me. I'm not sure what they used, but I've never been healed so quickly."

"And Malati?" He realized that he could look and saw that the other woman was sitting in her chair, watching the arena. "Same for her, I take it?"

"That's right. I'm not sure why Whitney didn't heal you."

"It's because of the stunt I pulled back at the farm." Rick painfully shifted so he could rest his back against the wall. "She said she wouldn't help me anymore."

"Hmm. Well, I was concerned that you might have a concussion, so I shocked you back awake. You seem to be fine as far as I can tell, but you should really speak to a medical professional."

Rick nodded slowly. Now that the important issues had been addressed, his mind wandered back to the tournament. "What about the match? How many more fights are there?"

"It's already over." Malati called from her position, finally turning around to look at them. "I'm just watching them set up for the final ceremony. You missed a pretty intense final heavyweight fight, but as usual, they didn't go long enough for any decisive finishes. Teragen managed to earn us one point on the competition, but that was it."

"Then... the final score?"

Granny Whitney marched into that room at the moment, a smile on her face. "It was enough, dearie. You earned 4 points over Gerald's fighter, which was enough to tie up the score. Then Teragen won the final round for us, so we finished on top."

His reaction wasn't so much victory as relief. Not only was it over, he had succeeded. Granny Whitney would finally forgive his debt, remove his tracking bond, and let him go on his way. It wasn't true freedom, since he still needed to fight Mike, but it was a huge step forward.

Feeling better, he managed to get to his feet and check the screens, where he saw the final score displayed:

[1) Granny's Underground - 62 pts

2) Obsidian Thirty - 61 pts

3) Alger's Heroes - 55 pts

4) Serpenza - 41 pts

5) Verdant Mountain Sect - 36 pts]

Seeing the numbers listed so clearly helped him relax another notch. When he found the previous match's scores and added those points to his previous two... he had earned 24 points for his team, just over a third of their total. There was no way Granny Whitney could claim that he hadn't pulled his weight. Most likely no one would remember him compared to all the other fighters, but he'd made a difference.

"Yes, Gerald is very unhappy about all this." The old woman chuckled maliciously. "He left without even claiming his reward. And Alger won't be able to preach at me for at least a year. Yes, this is quite a victory for Granny Whitney."

Malati shook her head. "That's well and good, but is it a victory for us? You know I have my own priorities."

"Never fear, dearie! I was actually just coming to tell you that we should all get ready to go down and receive our rewards. It won't be too dramatic of a ceremony, and there are no medals, but I think you'll enjoy the gift baskets."

There wasn't time for him to do much more than step into the men's bathroom and clean his face. He looked like a bit of a mess compared to the others, who seemed almost as fresh as when they'd started. Though the worst injury was the damage done to his internal organs, the most obvious one was the line cut into his face by the stair step. If he hadn't been completely exhausted, it wouldn't have done any harm at all, but at the very end, he took such a stupid injury.

Yet it didn't matter. As he cleaned up quickly, Rick found himself smiling. After the end of the day, he would be able to leave behind a major set of obligations. That was a better prize than all of the rewards he would have been given.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he found Granny Whitney waiting for him, hands clasped together on her handbag. "I took the liberty of claiming all of your rewards, dearie. Just in case you were thinking of making any... final adjustment to our deal."

"You made it clear you wouldn't help anymore." Rick touched the cut on his face, which still bled a little from the deepest part. "This is what I get. Don't tell me that you're going to exact more vengeance?"

"I thought about it." She gave him a grandmotherly smile and her eyes glittered. "But you helped carry our team to the end, and that counts for something. As I said, you're a fine young lad."

"This fine young lad wants nothing more to do with you, once his obligations are fulfilled."

Granny Whitney chuckled as if she knew something he didn't. "Fair enough, dearie. I'll just have that tracking bond off and then you can be free of me. There's going to be a celebration afterward, though, and you can attend if you like. It's up to you."

She reached out and grasped his wrist, but this time instead of pain, he felt something leave him. It was a complex process of unraveling, yet it seemed that the tracking bond was finally gone. When he confirmed with his phone, he let himself smile. Then this part of it was over.

Though part of him wanted to go straight home and begin preparing for his next fight, Rick realized that he was tired. Not just from the combat, but from all the tension of the tournament. Considering that he still needed to speak more with Emily and others, he could afford to spend a little time unwinding afterward.

Rick went down with the others and they marched out the main gate, victorious. The crowds cheered them wildly as they headed out to the arena, where Alger stood with the tournament organizers. Even though his team had come in third place, he seemed honestly excited to congratulate all of them.

Each of them received a basket filled with valuable items: potent philosopher's elixir, special medicines, training manuals, and more. Rick received a basket, but his was empty, as per the agreement. Alger went out of his way to shake his hand, though, telling him what a good job he'd done. Really, he seemed entertained by the whole event itself.

His smile faltered only briefly, when he greeted Granny Whitney. Rick couldn't hear what was said between them, but Alger handed her something with a sour expression on his face and turned away.

It was Rick's first time in front of a cheering crowd like that, yet he found himself mostly unmoved. That kind of praise and adoration didn't do much for him. He took the same approach as Teragen, who seemed to ignore all of it, impatient to go.

Yet when they left the stage, they were swept away by a crowd of officials and fans. Without warning, Rick found himself with women surrounding him, which was more alarming than anything. "I thought you did great!" one of them said, beaming at him.

"Yeah!" Another latched himself onto his arm, then oohed as she felt his muscle. "Wow, your arm feels so strong..."

Disoriented, Rick just tried not to be separated from the others as they were led into a large room overlooking the arena. It was lavishly furnished and decorated, with a table filled with food and drink. As he looked around the room, Rick saw a large number of women he suspected were escorts, but also serious-looking businessmen and others who did not seem likely to celebrate.

"Typical." Malati brushed past some of the women to stand beside him, rolling her eyes. "I expected there'd be people here trying to sign fighting deals, but of course they just throw a bunch of paid women at us. Even though half the remaining team is female."

Rick had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say to that, plus the women were still latched onto him. Before he could look too stupid, Granny Whitney appeared beside them with a sly smile. "No one here is that closed-minded, dearie. Look that way."

Several handsome and gratuitously shirtless men appeared behind Malati, smiling broadly. She gave a little laugh. "Well then, don't mind if I do!" Hopping into the air, she made one of the men catch her, then directed them to carry her off as she laughed.

Frowning, Rick glanced at the woman groping his bicep. "Is it true that you're paid to be here?"

She giggled. "We're here to provide companionship, sure, but we were the ones who chose you specifically."

"Then thanks, but no thanks." Rick pulled away from them and they whined, but they let him go. Granny Whitney saw and chuckled.

"Suit yourself, dearie. But I think there's no point being young if you aren't going to enjoy yourself a bit." She then turned around to one of the women and patted her on the head. "I'll take a private room and one of each, dearie!"

With that, Granny Whitney left the party, a scantily clad woman on one arm and a shirtless man on the other. Rick stared after her for a very, very long moment before deciding that he didn't need to think about that ever again.

He had more escorts eyeing him, so he went on the move. Even if there was no ulterior motive, Rick was troubled by their attention. This party was phrased as a reward, but it was a trap. Maybe some of the people there just wanted to recruit able fighters to their programs, but he had no doubt that they could also be ruthless. There had been a time when being a professional fighter had been a dream for him, but now... having seen the type of people who operated in that world, he didn't want to blunder into it.

However, without any reward, he was still dirt poor. Rick ignored his way through the party to the refreshments table, where he grabbed a bottle of philosopher's elixir. It was just 10k, but they were giving them away like they had no real value.

Maybe not to most, but he needed to restore his reserves. Pulling out the cork, Rick just drank straight from the bottle. Not classy, but if they were going to throw women at him, then they weren't going to object if he acted like a brute.

As he drank, he scoped out the room and found few familiar faces remaining. Alger and his team were present, clearly enjoying attention even if they hadn't been first. Tom was seated on a couch with his arms around two women, though he wasn't going off with them. Teragen was nowhere to be seen, probably having left to return to his training. He also couldn't find...

"Why'd you turn them down?" Emily appeared beside him, carrying a delicate elixir glass in one hand. She looked way classier than him swigging from a bottle, but he pushed that aside to try to focus on her question.

"Honestly... I feel strange being around someone who's paid to pretend to like me. I don't think I could ever get it out of my head."

"Hmm." She took a sip from her glass, eyeing him over the edge.

"I think I'm going to go pretty soon, but since Whitney took my reward, I need to take what I can get."

"On that note, I had something to give you." Emily slid a hand from her pocket, holding something out for him. When he extended his hand, she dropped a blood red sphere into it. "This was one of the rewards. It will help purify lucrima inefficiencies."

"You aren't giving this to me, are you?" Rick examined it, marveling at how heavy it felt in his palm.

"I don't really have problems with inefficiency, and I figure that I owe part of my reward to your work. It isn't fair that you had yours stolen."

Rick sighed. "That's the deal I made. But... thank you. This will make a difference."

"You're welcome, Rick." Emily gave him another of her slight smiles. For a moment, despite the uncomfortable circumstances and the party buzzing around them, he actually felt a warm connection.

Then another scantily clad woman approached them. Whatever she had been about to say, Emily interrupted it with a glare of death. The escort retreated rapidly, but the mood was lost.

"You're going to fight Mike soon, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Rick put the sphere away in his jacket and took a long drink. "In theory he can't cheat much and can't kill me even if things go wrong. Hopefully that will be the end of it, but I'm concerned that he'll bring his friends and just turn the match into a beatdown."

"Don't be." Emily turned away, refilling her glass. "I get the impression that his father is annoyed by the matter and wants it ended. If you can end the challenge decisively, that might actually finish it for good."

Now that he was past the tournament, older plans and concerns began to crowd in. His matches that day had been difficult, but what he faced next was going to be completely different. "That's my hope, anyway. I'll try."

"Good luck." With that, Emily moved away from him and disappeared into the crowd.

Rick stayed by the table for a while longer, drinking, then decided to just grab another couple bottles of elixir. Who was going to stop him, after all? He tucked them under his arm and marched out the door, ignoring offers of all kinds until he was back outside.

Without the lights blazing down on the arena, it was very dark outside. Though there were people heading to their cars, he felt mostly alone for the first time since the tournament began. Rick took a moment to just breathe, letting some of the stress melt away.

When he rubbed his wrist, he imagined that he could feel the absence of the tracking bond. There was still the matter of the faux leech, but he could figure that out later. He had fulfilled his obligations, getting out from under the threat of blackmail and the requirements of fighting in the Underground. That left him free to make his own path.

As he stared out over the parking lot, Rick realized he had a more immediate problem: how was he going to get home?

Granny Whitney was obviously busy and probably wouldn't offer him a ride anyway - they were done, after all. He considered bumming a ride from Emily, but they had parted on good terms and he didn't want to ruin it in such an undignified way. Some of the people going to their cars might recognize him, but he wouldn't embarrass himself by hitchhiking.

So the winner of the tournament's featherweight division wandered away from the arena, walking to take the bus home.