Magic Multiverse 1 (Patreon)

Sam Kent lived a mediocre life.

Admittedly, at first glance, it was not much of a surprise. Not with his decisions. He barely finished high school, delusional enough to believe that his football talent would be enough to carry him to the Premier League just because he was better than others in his local team.

He hadn’t been, even before the fateful injury that took eighteen months of development time when he was sixteen, which overlapped closely with a traffic accident that took his parents away.

He ended up as a mediocre cook, no family, no close friends, making just enough money to pay for a tiny room in London, barely able to afford a decent pub crawl once a week, and occasional local matches where he bullied the other amateurs to feel like a star once more while he acted like his dream hadn’t died already.

It was supposed to be all. Yet another idiot who had ruined his life due to youthful arrogance. A horrible way to live. Then, just as summer of 2001 arrived, it brought him a surprise.

THE CONTEST SYSTEM

It was a month ago.

Just three lines. Nothing more, nothing less, which disappeared in a minute, which he readily dismissed as a dream and continued with his life, until his weekly match.

[Amateur Game Victory, +1 Soccer]

That had been the first sign that what he had been dealing with was not ordinary. Admittedly, for some reason it was called soccer instead of football, which was annoying, not sure why it was using the American lingo.

The lingo wasn’t as important as what he felt, a tiny, barely noticeable lightness across his body. One that he was tempted to write off as a dream, but repeating it twice showed that it was no hallucination.

His initial reflex was to latch onto the idea of resurrecting his football dream.

Unfortunately, while the system was a miracle, he found out that earning victory points was not as easy, as even the amateur matches had to be played eleven-on-eleven, full regulation, and his team needed to win.

He tried his luck with seven-a-side games that were more popular with hobbyists, but it didn’t work.

He couldn’t even test whether the game’s official status mattered, because arranging a full match by gathering at least twenty-one other volunteers while he was working full-time to afford rent was not easy. Even the fee for the field was not something he could afford.

A part of him was tempted to just quit everything and focus on exploring the System, but the assessment of his ability kept him back.

[Soccer - Advanced 41/250 (Midfielder)]

He had just received one point for his victories, while the System required more than two hundred points to improve from Advanced to the next stage. Meaning, he had to play more than four hundred regulation matches with even win-loss ratio.

Not a small number.

Worse, he didn’t know if upgrading once would be enough for get him a position in a semi-professional segment, especially since tier seven wouldn’t be enough. He needed to play at least tier five to survive without a full-time job.

It was a heavy decision, one that he was unable to solve immediately. A part of him wanted to focus on football, while his rational part told him to find another competitive field and see if the Contest System allowed him to acquire points.

Something like tennis was easier to arrange.

He was split with indecision, still trying to come with a decision while he played his current game. “Come on, Sam, let’s kill these posh pricks. Three goals is not enough,” Jimmy, their forward, shouted at him.

Sam understood where Jimmy was coming from. Their team was playing an invitation game against one of the local university teams, the kind that was filled with posh kids from upper middle-class families who believed themselves to be superior.

Normally, he would have loved to join Jimmy in running up the score, but today, he was not in the mood, his mind still on which sport to focus on. After all, it was not an easy decision. To activate the system, he needed to be able to trigger the System, and for it, games needed to have a certain gravitas.

Or so he assumed. Playing darts or billiards in a pub didn’t trigger, even if he tried to follow all the rules.

“Three is enough, Jimmy. There’s only a minute left. Let’s not bait a nasty tackle.”

“Fine,” Jimmy said, and they let the time run. As the referee called the game, his vision once again had words floating.

[Amateur Game Victory, +3 Soccer]

That surprised him. Normally, winning a football game gave only one point, not three. Though it wasn’t as surprising the line what followed.

[Minor Special Character Defeated, Dudley Dursley]

[+5 Boxing]

The moment he received that, he froze, because he wasn’t expecting extra points from a completely different sport. He certainly wasn’t expecting the Contest System to highlight someone. Curious, he summoned the System, trying to understand what had happened.

[Soccer - Advanced 48/250 (Midfielder)

Boxing - Uninitiated 5/10]

“Well, I know kung fu,” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t surprised to see the system rating his ability with boxing as nonexistent. He was no stranger to street fights, but he always preferred kicking and elbows, or a nice stick if it was truly serious. Boxing was a sport with its own technique, which he never learned.

“What was that, Sam?” Jimmy asked.

“I was saying about you arranging a quick pub crawl? Invite the other team as well,” he said.

That made Jimmy raise an eyebrow. “Really, Sam. You, of all people want to hang with the rich kids, after not ruining their day.”

Sam shrugged. It was no secret that he disliked those middle-class posh pricks. “I’m saying let’s convince them to pay for the first three rounds at the pub, since they had lost by three. I’m running a bit low on cash this week, so it’ll help.”

“Now it makes sense,” Jimmy responded with a smile. “I know just the way to do so.”

“Good. I trust you to handle it,” he said, patting Jimmy on the shoulder while he went for a quick shower. In there, he threw a few punches, trying to feel the difference.

Just as he suspected, the whole boxing technique had nothing to do with his street fighting. As he threw a few jabs to test it, he could already feel the difference.

He wasn’t suddenly a boxing champion, but he suspected if he tried to train the normal way, it still would have taken somewhere between two weeks to a month for him to improve that much.

While he put on his clothes, he turned his focus to the source of his unexpected reward. Dudley Dursley. He didn’t talk with Dudley since Dudley played forward at the wing and he played offensive midfield, their positions not overlapping. Still, he had some impressions.

He was a thick, strong guy, too quick to use his bulk to commit borderline fouls whenever he lost the ball.

It was clear that he was also a habitual bully. Not the rough kind that you feared to fight because they were unpredictable, but the soft kind, who had grown up in a middle-class family with an overinflated sense of importance.

He had no idea why the system gave a special reward for beating him or called him a special character, but he was ready to test the reason for it.

Sam sighed. It wasn’t like him to try to analyze every single detail of an encounter, but having some kind of mysterious magical set of writing offering him a way out from the spiral he found himself in was tempting.

Luckily, they had many pubs near the rundown field they played, because a few pints after a game was a regular habit for most amateur players.

One advantage of having a big crowd, that he didn’t have to speak much, blending into the background. His eyes landed on one of the defenders of the opposite side, isolated from the rest of his team.

“How about a quick game of darts?” Sam invited.

“Sure, why not,” he responded, and they moved to the other end of the pub, and started playing. He was nowhere near as good as him, but Sam made sure to throw the occasional hand, keeping the game close. He didn’t want to trash the guy when he needed him in a good mood.

Of course, he had long learned whether bar games triggered his rewards. If it had done, things would have been different. Darts might not have the prestige of football, but a high-performing professional would still make a lot of money from the tournaments.

As they played, they started chatting, mostly about football, though Sam managed to squeeze the occasional question about the squad. He started with others before asking about Dudley. "So, what’s the deal of the big oaf playing forward?"

The defender sighed. "That’s Dudley. An unpleasant asshole. Unfortunately, we had a few injuries recently, so we had to call in reinforcements from other clubs. He’s not much; but he can run and kick the ball, so he’s in."

“What does he do?”

“Boxing.”

“Really, is he any good?”

The defender scoffed. “Not really, but he is bulky enough to scare his opponents, and he pays for his gym training outside, which is more than enough for other students. We don’t have any standout clubs other than ours."

Sam disagreed. Even in football, they could hardly be called standout, but he didn’t ask more questions, not wanting to come across as suspicious. “You don’t like him much, do you?”

“He’s a bore in the locker room, always acting like a big shot,” the defender spat out.

Sam smiled. “How about you help me hustle him?”

“How?”

“Just brag about earning twenty quid from me at darts, and let him come for it.”

“Are you sure you can defeat him? The last thing I want is for him to have another thing to brag about.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s not good. Boxing doesn’t allow for fine control,” Sam replied. It was not a wild guess. Boxing didn’t ruin muscle control, but it was better than telling the thin skinned kid that he was deliberately losing.

While his temporary co-conspirator walked away, Sam continued to wonder about Dudley, and his designation as a minor special character. He would have understood if Dudley were some kind of renowned boxer, but apparently, he was not.

Dudley approached, smug, the way he was holding his beer suggesting he had already drunk at least three since they arrived. “I heard there’s a little dart game going on here,” Dudley said.

“Sure. I need to win back some. How about ten?” he offered.

Dudley nodded, smirking. “How about if we make it interesting? Fifty quid.”

Sam paused, considering the risks if he lost. Fifty pounds was enough to dig a hole in his budget if he lost, enough to make him skip a meal or two. However, the potential reward was too big. “Sure,” he said.

"Excellent. Don't cry when you lose it. Unlike footbal, I don’t have ten losers holding me back."

Sam shook his head, impressed by Dudley’s lack of self-awareness, somehow missing that he had been one of the weak links. Not that it mattered when they lost by three, but still…

Dudley was a thoroughly unpleasant person, the kind that he would have punched and walked away two years ago, but working in the service industry gave him the ability to resist the temptation.

Dudley was annoying, but not as annoying as the large group of tourists he had to deal the last week, who insisted on being served vegetarian fish and chips.

From a cheap corner shop.

So, he toned out Dudley, his focus more on making his defeat look close and casual rather than overwhelming. If he had been rewarded, as he had expected, he wanted to milk it properly.

He won when Dudley still had eight points to collect, which made it look closer than it did. A deliberate choice, as he made sure Dudley was ahead at the beginning of the game.

[Casual Darts Game Victory, +1 Darts]

[Minor Special Character Defeated, Dudley Dursley]

[+5 Boxing]

[Boxing Uninitiated -> Basic]

He paused, surprised for several reasons. Unlike the first reward, jumping from Uninitiated to Basic in Boxing gave him a sudden burst of understanding, including how to condition his body properly for boxing, because while the skill was welcome, it didn’t change his body directly.

At the same time, he was surprised by the other reward. He had bet money on dart games before, but that didn’t work. Dudley’s title must have gave a boost, just like how he got extra points from the match.

He checked his System.

[Soccer - Advanced 48/250 (Midfielder)

Darts - Basic 37/50]

Boxing - Basic 0/50]

He wasn’t surprised to find his darts skill had been rated as basic. After all, his football skills had been rated advanced after he got his first point, meaning it measured his current skill. He trained for years for his advanced football skill.

He played darts only in pubs.

“Wow, I was lucky,” Sam said immediately, realizing that Dudley was about to explode in anger. Ordinarily, he would have loved to mock bullies like him, but at this moment, Dudley represented something too valuable to be ignored.

“So close,” Dudley roared as he watched him take the game with a ‘lucky’ sweep. “Again.”

“Sure, I’ll make sure to leave you penniless,” he said. “Fifty quid again?”

Dudley nodded, and they played again, but this time, he let Dudley won. He watched as Dudley crowed about his victory smugly. It was no surprise that he was an unpleasant winner as well as a sore loser.

Unfortunately, the points he provided were too valuable to be ignored.

They continued playing. At the same time, they chatted about boxing. Keeping Dudley entertained was easy. All he needed was to show some interest in boxing and act like he believed Dudley’s obvious lies about his amazing victories.

In the process, he even learned name of Dudley’s regular boxing gym. At the same time, he won another game with a close score, and made sure to lose the next one with a large margin.

[Casual Darts Game Victory, +1 Darts]

[Minor Special Character Defeated, Dudley Dursley]

[+5 Boxing]

“The last one. For two hundred quid,” Dudley offered, still under the impression that his victories came from his skill and his losses from his misfortune. He was not a professional hustler, but Dudley made it too easy. The best part, he was disliked enough that none of his friends warned him, happily waiting his eventual defeat.

Once again, he acted as if two lucky bulleye hits in a row were the only reason he won.

[Casual Darts Game Victory, +1 Darts]

[Minor Special Character Defeated, Dudley Dursley]

[+4 Boxing]

“Damn it, this is not my night,” Dudley growled while the rest of his ‘friends’ mocked him about his defeat.

The drop in points was annoying, especially since he had just discovered a new source. He didn’t know if it was a permanent drop or temporary, but either way, since Dudley left the pub the moment he gave him his winnings, he couldn’t test it today.

While Dudley left, both teams cheered his victory, showing just how much Dudley had been disliked, which came as no surprise to Sam.

“Good work, mate,” Jimmy cheered. “The next round is on you.”

“Fine, but just one round,” he accepted, no matter how much it hurt him to give up almost half of his winnings. Two hundred pounds would have helped him a lot, but not paying for drinks was worse.

While drinking with the lads, some rules shouldn’t be broken.

Luckily, quite a few people had left already, or he wouldn’t have any left from his winnings. A hundred pounds was still a windfall.

Also, he was in a mood to celebrate. Finally, he had a way to utilize his System properly. Even if the points he could extract from Dudley had limits, it was much better than his previous situation, where he was limited to official regulation matches.

He needed to see how many points he could get from Dudley. If he could comfortably reach Advanced in less than a year, boxing might not be a bad career to finish.

He had never been afraid of pain.

&&&

The next day, he found Dudley’s boxing gym. A place called Hard Punch. A glance was enough to confirm that it was overpriced location that served idiots with delusions about their skills rather than a real gym that served aspiring professionals.

No gym with real ambition gleamed that much.

He made a point to check the place a few times, trying to fake an accidental meeting. It was annoying to spend that much effort on a bore like Dudley, but eventual reward was too tempting.

He would have liked to just register. Unfortunately, when he checked the prices, he had been quoted a price of eight hundred pounds a month as a base price, and an extra payment for private workouts from a coach, which was a ridiculous rip-off.

Dudley must have ridiculously rich parents to afford that.

To test his skills, he found a much cheaper place which asked thirty pounds a month, not far from his home. It was somewhat shady, but it was cheap and had some serious people which he could compare himself.

There, he tested his newly acquired Basic Boxing, and saw that it already put him in a good place among hobbyists.

It was Saturday when he first managed to ‘accidentally’ meet Dudley near the gym. “Hey, Big D,” Sam called cheerfully, hiding his dislike with the expertise of a service professional. “What a coincidence.”

“Sam,” Dudley said, not bright enough to question why they met so close to his boxing gym. Also, being called his preferred nickname was enough to put him in a good mood. “What a coincidence! I was hoping for a rematch while I am not drunk.”

He smiled, realizing that Dudley still had no idea he had been hustled, meaning none of his friends had warned him. Good.

“Sure, why not,” Sam said, then paused. “Where are you going?”

“Boxing,” he said proudly. “My gym is nearby. But I can skip, I don’t need the constant training. I’m amazing enough.”

He was tempted to agree, but after some thought, he decided on a different plan. He couldn’t afford to lose to Dudley in darts too much without boring him, but he had a better way to put Dudley in a good mood. “How about we spar in the ring? I did some boxing before trying to focus on football.”

“I would destroy you,” Dudley warned smugly.

Sam disliked Dudley. Unfortunately, he suspected that what Dudley said was true. Basic boxing had its limits, and Dudley had told him that he had been boxing for years. Dudley might not be as good as he believed, but he would still be better than the average hobbyist.

Not to mention, Dudley was almost five weight classes heavier than him. And there was a reason boxing was split into weight classes.

“Probably,” Sam answered. “But, you were brave enough to face me on the football field, which is my expertise. It’s only fair that I do the same in the ring. But, you have to pay for the ring, or we can travel about an hour for my gym. I can’t afford the fee for a fancy place.”

Dudley smirked. “Sure, it’s worth it to smash your face. Unlike darts, there’s no luck in the ring.”

With Dudley paying for the visitor pass, his entrance to the club went smoothly. Unfortunately, the boxing match had progressed exactly how he expected. Dudley was still markedly better than him in terms of raw skill, and weight difference made it even more painful.

Luckily, while boxing was painful, it was better than a street fight, especially since they were sparring with extra-thick training gloves and headgear. It hurt, but as long as he focused on his mobility and avoiding Dudley’s right, it was manageable.

Dudley had a straightforward, unimaginative approach, but he had a mean right straight punch. He often left himself open for extra power, but Sam wasn’t good enough to take advantage of it.

He suffered gladly. After all, the victory meant Dudley would be willing to follow him to the nearest pub for another game of darts.

No pain, no gain.

Socially or physically.