Author's Nightmare: Chapter 125 (Patreon)

Shango POV: Day 101

Current Wealth: 216 gold 16 silver 45 copper

I was getting so tired of watching my friends get hurt. I didn’t even really feel fear anymore. How fucked is that? Beam was lying there looking like tenderised beef, and I couldn’t even muster fear. Just…Emptiness. 

He lived, of course. And it wasn’t even a particularly near thing. I tried to tell myself that was why my reaction had been so blunted but…Well, I’d never been as good at lying to myself as I’d been at lying to others. Fortunately, Beam was awake soon enough, and before then I had ample company. 

“He fought like a demon.” Magnus breathed, staring at him with a newfound respect. I had to admit, even through the terrible cold centering me, it was hard not to feel a similar sensation in my own thoughts. 

Beam had surprised us all, and not unpleasantly. My heart had almost stopped when Aja’s name was called, and I’d watched every move of the fight certain I’d watch a repeat of his torment of Helena. Instead, my friend had won.

Granted, he’d won by opening the fight with a fucking anti-material spear thrust, sure. But we won most of our fights with a good old fashioned cheat, these days, and I reckoned we owed the bastard a bit of payback in any case. I’m not a sadistic man, and I consider myself a true believer in restorative justice, but damn if it wasn’t satisfying seeing the sword slip past Aja’s armour that first time. 

“Good on you, mate.” Elizabeth whispered, kneeling down beside Beam, eyes fiery and hateful. None of it was directed at him. “Good on you. Did good by Helena, boss, and I won’t forget that.”

It was a stark reminder just how much I was indulging myself, and I turned to Argar.

“Can you take him back to the mansion?”

“Aye.” He nodded, bending down to hoist Beam up over his shoulder with surprising care. It might’ve been amazing, any other time, to see a combined two hundred and fifty pounds of man and metal plucked up off the ground so weightlessly. But this was not any other time. 

“Magnus, you go with him. Rule of pairs, remember.”

The man looked irritated to have been forced away from the stadium right before the King’s fight, but he obeyed all the same. Soon enough it was just me, Elizabeth and Alora staring out into the arena. My spirits, though, were lifting slightly. Because I’d glimpsed something of Beam as he was being carried away. 

[Appraisal]

• Class: Dragonlord

• Level: 20

• Condition: Unconscious

• Modifiers: +5 Strength, +7 Speed, +7 Toughness, +7 Alertness

• Statistics: Strength 14(9), Speed 15(10), Dexterity 8(4), Stamina 9(3), Toughness 15, Alertness 15(13), Charisma 6, Intelligence 5(3)

• Inventory: Local wear, plate armour, rapier

• Class abilities: Beloved III

• Current Experience Points: 526/600

• Unspent Skillpoints: 3

Another level, irritatingly close to two actually, but we’d take whatever we could get right now. Beam would certainly be needing whatever small boosts came his way for the next bout. 

Oh, who was I kidding. He’d be needing a fucking howitzer. 

Solitaire made himself known, just before the match. It surprised me, but perhaps not as much as it should have. Sitting down, he stared out into the arena, fidgeting, analysing. Looking for whatever information he could scrounge up on the enemy our friend was going to face. I’d have done the same thing. 

The King made his entrance to as enthusiastic a reception as ever, and, bizarrely, the Challenger’s own response seemed muted and small by comparison. He wasn’t a short man, didn’t wear light armour, and wielded a fairly sized sword. Somehow everything about him seemed diminished through comparison with the King. They met in the centre of the arena, already within a few paces, both apparently eager to test themselves against one another. 

The signal was given, and they both moved in to fight. 

It was the Challenger who swung first, but the King stopped it without the slightest effort. At least I think he did, it was really more of a deduction. I didn’t manage to physically see the movement at all. 

A metal clang ran out through the stadium, but the King was already swinging before it had crossed the dozens of metres separating me from the source. Remarkably, the Challenger managed to sidestep, countering with another swing which, of course, came nowhere near his enemy’s body.

Watching it all was an exercise in…Hopelessness. The Challenger was faster, stronger and tougher than Beam was, even now, and he could barely even lay a finger on his enemy. We should’ve expected as much after seeing Arthur’s performance, in fact we sort of had, but actually seeing it happen…

Fuck. Was that even a human, in there, under the helmet?

It didn’t take long for the Challenger to be beaten, not long at all. A few seconds at most, and the crowd loved every moment of it. I was starting to wonder what enjoyment they even got from watching the King fight. Surely from their perspective he was just blurs of motion, then falling enemies.

Power, I supposed, had an appeal inherent to itself. Solitaire looked as grim as I felt once it was all over.

“Beam doesn’t have a chance.” I sighed. “Forget winning, he’d be lucky to last five seconds.”

Solitaire hesitated, looking thoughtful, then nodded.

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Let’s go and see how he’s doing, Corvan must’ve started his healing by now.”

Well, it wasn’t like we had anything better to do. We both headed back to the mansion. 

Fortunately, Corvan wasn’t anywhere near as slow in his healing as he’d been the last time Beam had gotten this hurt. He’d already exhausted most of his magic on the efforts by the time we found him, and Beam himself was awake and conscious.

Certainly not having a good day, of course. There were limits to Corvan’s magic, as ever. Beam might’ve healed himself just as much by simply waiting a few weeks, which wasn’t to say he’d gained nothing. Just that we’d really be banking on the three days before our next round to add a bit of supporting magic to his recovery. 

“You really do need to stop getting almost killed.” Corvan was grumbling. “It’s getting tiresome for me.”

Beam ignored the joke, grinning up at me. 

“What sort of benefit did I get?” He asked, eagerly. “Felt like more than one level this time.”

“It was just one.” I sighed. “But you got three skillpoints, looks like our theory about getting one more every ten levels was correct.”

That seemed comfort enough for him, and I watched the familiar sight of his concentration as Beam spent the skillpoints on more power.

[Appraisal]

• Class: Dragonlord

• Level: 20

• Condition: Unconscious

• Modifiers: +6 Strength, +7 Speed, +8 Toughness, +8 Alertness

• Statistics: Strength 15(14), Speed 16(15), Dexterity 8, Stamina 9(8)), Toughness 15, Alertness 16(15), Charisma 6, Intelligence 5

• Inventory: Local wear, plate armour, rapier

• Class abilities: Beloved III

• Current Experience Points: 526/600

• Unspent Skillpoints: 0

Whatever minor comfort I might’ve extracted from the sight of his progress, it withered and died underneath the King’s shadow. But not enough that I didn’t notice one thing of interest.

“Oh, shit, your class name. It’s changed.”

Beam blinked. “Changed how?”

“Dragonlord, not Dragonknight. Any idea what that means?”

I wasn’t really putting much hope in that magic voice in his head explaining anything, but figured it was worth asking. No luck, in any case. 

“Hopefully this’ll give him something new.” Solitaire shrugged. “I’m guessing his Beloved has levelled up?”

It had, actually. I confirmed it with a nod.

“Then spend a few days trying to see what else it can do now, with luck you’ll have something that turns the tables. Like a magic anti-material rifle you can conjure.”

Fat chance, but we’d need to check every possibility we had anyway. I watched as Beam waltzed off to do his work, and let my eyes fall down back onto Solitaire.

“We have a few days before the tourney’s over and the enemy can attack without causing a disruption.” I noted. “How close are your projects to finishing?”

“Close.” He assured me. “And I think we can expect to catch them unawares if we’re not too obvious in Beam’s power-up this time around, if they knew we were growing exponentially between rounds, rather than just revealing hidden strength, there’s a good chance they’d have attacked already even despite the disruptions it’d cause.”

I had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. Leave it to Solitaire to needle out all the ways a person might attack him. Leave it to him, because God knew he couldn’t be trusted with much fucking else.