He woke up, feeling refreshed, and threw himself into the new routine. The equation around what was the optimal use of his time was unclear. Benefits for his magic practice sat at only a thirteen percent penalty, and given that there was no risk of assassins discovering him here, practicing magic here was almost better. For new spells, the kind he was just training while working toward a perfect cast, the cost was zero. Mixed abilities like hammer mastery and the earned fate skill he was chasing had a variable penalty, but the cost was going to average out to thirty percent. Physically training for the sake of skill development was the only thing that definitely had to occur in the real world, as the penalty cost of doing it in the community space was over ninety percent. That didn’t stop him from fighting a series of duels, though, since he needed to better understand how it worked. Corrine was organising them, and, because she was grabbing whoever she could, they were all flagged as an instant loss in the comparison model they had created.


    That categorisation proved frustratingly accurate. It was depressing how easily they slaughtered him, and his survival time was pretty much a question of how long it took them or their attack spell to reach him.


    He was introduced to a lot of different people, and there were no side comments questioning why he was here. Without the presenter having told everyone he was in the current competition, everyone assumed he had a secret trick to offset his obvious weakness. The fact that he was getting a personal tutor from the open-bracket powerhouses only reinforced that assumption of value.


    “Tom!” Corrine yelled excitedly as she rushed over to interrupt the lecture.


    Vturalta, who had been giving it, did not look upset at the interruption. It had been clear for a fair while that Tom’s attention, despite his best efforts, had been wavering.


    “Yes,” he said hopefully.


    “I got you a fight.”


    Internally, he both celebrated that he was going to escape the torture of learning about rituals for a while, but he also recoiled. He was getting sick of being stomped on by every child that Corrine convinced to try the fight. His latest challenger appeared to be a giant hedgehog with a metallic sheen to each of its spikes.


    “This is Sonic.” Corrine waved at the spiked menace.


    “As in Sonic the Hedgehog?” he asked in confusion.


    She winked at him. “The actual name’s unpronounceable by human throats, so he let me come up with a nickname. Anyway, Sonic should be a fair challenge for you.”


    Tom perked up at that comment, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen anything that looked quite as unique as Sonic:


    “I don’t recognise him from the list.”


    “That’s because he’s not on it. He’s from the bucket above you.”


    “Is that wise?”


    Corrine’s eyes went hard. “Like I said, he’ll be a reasonable challenge for you.”


    “Shouldn’t I prep?”


    “Nope. You won’t get a chance in the formal duels, so I won’t give you one here, either.”


    The prompt for the duel appeared, and he accepted it.


    A moment later, he found himself in an arena. He and Sonic, who had been placed the usual twenty metres away and directly in front of him, were both standing on the river bed, ankle-deep water rushing past them. The force of the passing water tugged on his ankles, not enough to unbalance him, but he could sense that the current was going to be a factor in the coming fight.


    The countdown from eight started above him, and he spun his spear in his hands absent-mindedly, getting used to its weight. It was identical to the one he practised with in April’s trial, and, while the quality was nothing to get excited about, it was perfect weight and length for him.


    The handful of seconds took a surprisingly long time to pass by, and he took the opportunity to study his opponent… or, at least, to examine the illusion his opponent had created to deceive him, while the actual person snuck around to a new position to let it rush him from the side. While his facial features probably couldn’t be read, he kept his face impassive. The hedgehog was the size of a small boar, but the fight, Tom knew, would be a lot more complicated than if he was fighting one of those. There was no way it was going to mindlessly charge him.


    He was, however, up against an illusionist, which, in hindsight, made it clear why had Corrine thought he had a chance. While watching the illusionary version of the enemy intensely, Tom used Spark to create a sensing area to track any stray magics or projectiles.


    The instant the countdown hit zero, Tom charged forward straight at the illusion, which was in the process of summoning a massive fireball. Acting like he thought the fire was a threat, he threw himself down into the water, which would hopefully be read as an attempt to use the natural feature of the battlefield to protect himself.


    The stream, that, when he was standing, had been tugging at his ankles and threatening to unbalance him, was a different monster when he dropped down perpendicular to the current. It snatched him up and washed him six metres downstream before he managed to stabilise and push himself to his feet.


    Although it wasn’t planned, the trip enabled him to both monitor the true enemy and distance himself from the fireball.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The ball of flames was cast by the illusion, and, rather than being directed at his new location, it struck where he had been standing, and then the illusionary stream billowed everywhere. His opponent’s attention to detail was impressive. If he couldn’t see through illusions, the thick steam would have completely killed his vision; as it was, it did nothing, and he wondered what was the best method to get the enemy to put itself within his limited range.


    As he considered options, it felt like a vice grabbed his brain. It was only there for a moment, but he recognised a similar sensation to the one he experienced when Dimitri had used his mental attacks


    The illusions flickered briefly.


    Internally, he cursed. That attack that had been intended to stun him had been reflected back. The passive strategy of allowing it to think it was sneaking up on him was no longer going to work.


    The change in status quo was proven a moment later, as, for the first time, it focused on him with the intent to kill and the time slowed as his trait activated. The dynamics of the battle had changed. The time dilation based on the sluggishness of his body meant that Sonic was only two times faster. That was better than the factor of six he had suffered against most opponents that Corrine had found for him to duel. That slight benefit brought only cold comfort, however. It was still too much for him to counter.


    Reluctantly, he turned to face where his non-illusion-piercing self would have spotted the opponent during the brief flicker. The illusions had returned, as strong as ever, and technically he shouldn’t have been able to see the enemy; so, when it moved to flank him once more, he pretended its deception was effective.


    The creature closed to four meters, and then his Spark sensing triggered. At the speed of thought, he found the problem. A wall of spikes was shooting at him. The time dilation from his trait gave him a slightly longer time to plan, but it was still only a fraction of a relative second - such was the speed the spikes were moving at. Instincts ingrained in him by years of surviving in the wilds took over. Complicated calculations compared different dodging techniques. Was taking a spike in his stomach, leg, or arm for the best? What about three in one leg - was that better than a single spike hitting each leg?


    The considerations were moot. Battle instincts guided him. There was no actual time for a clinical risk assessment and response.


    He twisted, spun, and then fell.


    Pain exploded in his upper arm where a spike longer that his forearm had gone a hand-length into him. Bones had been cut during its entry. There were a variety of other gashes all over him, but they were flesh wounds, and Tom ignored them.


    He charged at the opponent, knowing that he needed to finish this before more spikes were brought into the equation. Two steps were all that was required to get him within range, and then his electricity crackled out to assault the hedgehog.


    As feared, a mana shield flared up to counter it.


    But he was still coming, and, as he took the next step, it reared up onto its hind legs to reveal four arms. Each of them was holding the equivalent of a shortened crow bar. They were thick solid metal, but barely half a metre long. There were two types: one that was like a thick short spear, while the other had the spike coming out perpendicular to the main bar, kind of like a war hammer.


    With its inherent speed advantage and the large wound to his shoulder, Tom knew a sustained fight was suicide. He needed to finish this quickly. His only play was to break the creature’s shield, and then stun-lock with his lightning to allow him to stab it to death.


    He feinted a thrust at its chest. Surprisingly, three of the metal bars moved to block. His opponent was not martially gifted, though its multitasking was excellent as the fourth was flung at him. Options flashed through his mind, but he knew he was outclassed. He had to take the blow to progress. Rather than dodging or parrying he continued the strike but dipped his spear, aiming to graze the hedgehog’s side.


    As his opponent was inexperienced, he took advantage of it; Tom trusted it to conclude that his new strike was only going to leave a scratch, and, because of that, to make the mistake and ignore the blow, never considering what other threats the contact could create. He influenced its decision-making by targeting the area that the bar had been thrown at.  For it to block him, it was going to have to contort itself significantly, which would leave it unbalanced for the next set of strikes.


    It chose to let the blow land, and Power Strike, enhanced by precognition mana, instantly infused his weapon.


    The bar slammed into his hip first, but he didn’t care - his spear was going to land. The nasty spike was, luckily, away from his flesh, but the throw was hard and the weapon heavy. He felt a bone crack, but if it didn’t shatter, and he knew the adrenaline of the fight should stop his movement from being hampered.


    He had been hurt, but it was a good trade, as far as Tom was concerned. His spear jerked in his grip as it made contact, and not one, but two shields shattered under the blow.


    Euphoria flew through him.


    He would stun it and then kill it.


    His spell, designed to hit just after the spear, crackled into existence with perfect timing. A tertiary shield activated and caused the lightning to wash uselessly over his enemy.


    Tom cursed his own misfortune. What sort of paranoid person entered a fight with three emergency mana shields? One that was going to beat him, Tom acknowledged; but he didn’t give up. All he had to do was land another hit.


    A second bar was flung at him. This one came at head-height, so he had to dodge; however, he transitioned that movement into a lunging attack from a low angle.


    A bar intercepted his darting weapon, deflecting it, but he was already twisting to bring his spear into a position to strike from a new angle. His skill far exceeded his opponent’s. It didn’t close their attribute difference, but it did even the fight out. Most of it was his superior foot work. Luckily, the win condition was not based on the physical part of the fight. He didn’t need to wound it. All that was needed was a scratch to let him remove the shield. His spear struck like a snake three times in a row, and he was frustrated by the precise defence each time.


    The battle was running away from him, but every plan he considered felt like instant death.


    Sonic took the decision out of his hands as the multiple illusions of his opponent split off to confuse him. Tom made a tactical choice to follow a known illusion, hoping that it would cause overreach and create an opening for him to counterattack.


    Instead of following him, it dropped back onto its tummy and retreated.


    No, he screamed in his head when he realised the nature of his mistake. It was barely two and a half metres from him, but at that range the barrage would be almost impossible to dodge. He switched to an all-out evasion, and then sprinted forward and partially away from his opponent. Then he leapt the moment his electricity field registered the projectiles being launched.


    For a fraction of an instant, he didn’t know if his attempt was enough; then, with the missiles a meter closer, he saw the bad news. He was already airborne, and the spikes were tracking him and, with him in the air, there were no further evasion techniques open to him.


    Suddenly he was no longer in his body, and he was looking down at water and watching the spikes pin-cushion him. They had possessed a homing component that had triggered mid-flight. There was never any chance of him escaping.


    The arena vanished, and he found himself back in front of the others.