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After he was done with the fights, they also paid him not to come back, because the underground tournament had been relocated above ground by his sheer might.

-Jason Salazar

The bridge they’d been contracted to assist with the repairs was one of three main thoroughfares to transport food into the city from the east side.

There were three bridges because you never could tell when a kaiju might get a lucky kick in or fall in the wrong direction, and it wouldn’t do to have the whole city begin to starve just because a single bridge was down.

So they had backups.

The city itself was nestled between two oversized rivers that combined together into one enormous river a few miles downstream. Even further beyond…

There’s gotta be an ocean right? Except Will knew there couldn’t be an ocean, because they were in The Tower and there was only one biome per floor.

Where does the river even come from then? Common wisdom was that the rivers on the 5th Floor came from the 6th Floor…but that was stupid, because the 6th Floor was salt water.

Do they pump it up from the ground or…what? Will thought, frowning.

“HUP!” one of the groundworkers threw Will a massive iron cable. Will caught it, struggling for a moment to secure a grip with his one hand before securing it under his elbow and hauling it up.

The workers with the ability to avoid or survive a fall had been sent up to the top of the bridge’s new pillars, which were being grown straight out of the riverbed by a team of geomancers.

Since he didn’t have any specialized skills that allowed him to modify stone or steel cable, Will just settled into the role of porter, climbing up and down the precarious slope of previously secured cables, his Aspect of the Goat making it look easy.

As it turned out, putting a bridge back together was a multiple-day affair, so Will and Loth were able to help Travis and June with their work.

Where is Mason, anyway? Will thought sourly.

“Heads up!” Loth called, a faint buzzing sounding along with her voice. Will glanced up and saw the rest of the steel cables – all sixteen of them – being hauled by thousands of insects, towards the waiting arms of the craftsmen ready to fuse them into place.

Why am I even doing this? Will thought to himself, grunting as he hauled the cable the rest of the way and passed it off.

“Try not to turn the bridge into a trap, lizard!” one of the engineers, a jovial man driving steel cable into stone with his bare hands, said as Loth delivered her portion of the cables.

Will bristled for a moment, but Loth took it in stride.

“Now that you mention it, I have been thinking about ways to make the bridges designed to break the ankles of kaiju that step on them while remaining functional bridges the rest of the time.” ℟ἁɴŎβË

The engineer squinted.

“Explain.”

“It would be a simple hinge and counterweight punji trap,” Loth said, flipping over the engineer’s papers and drawing a quick sketch that looked like it’d been drawn by a professional.

Which, I suppose she is…

“If you did this…it would be more resilient from the top and sides while also allowing the bridge to reset itself into a bridge after the kaiju foot was removed.” Loth made notes at the sides of the drawing.

“Resetting itself, huh,” The engineer mused, stroking his chin. “I’m not interested in a kaiju trap.”

Loth scowled at the idea of someone not wanting more traps in their lives.

“Baron Akul and the Kaiju Squad can handle them in a timely manner. But this resetting gimmick…let’s discuss what that would cost.”

Will and the other porters were dismissed while Loth and the head engineer began bandying ideas back and forth.

Will jogged back down the steel cables swaying in the wind, hopping back down to the ground where June and Travis were watching out for kaiju or human raiders.

There was no practical benefit for other Climbers to disrupt the bridge, but richer Lords might fund them to do so just to manipulate the market or weaken the city as a whole.

Lordship was a cutthroat world.

“Where’s Mason at?” Will asked as he arrived beside June and Travis, who were drinking cucumber water under a parasol.

“Oh, he went to do those underground pit fights.” June said.

“WHAT!?”

“I think he said something about proving he doesn’t have a tiny penis?” Travis said.

“He said he wanted to test his Build, get XP and new ideas.” June said, rolling her eyes.

It made some sense. Whereas other classes were a little bit more flexible, Nukers, and Mason specifically had dedicated every Ability to direct combat. Outside that, they were likely to feel…under-utilized.

“Does Reggie know about this?” Will asked.

“No, because if Reggie knew he would try to stop Mason.” June said. “What with the whole ‘ten years of indentured servitude’ thing hanging over his head.”

“What are Reggie and Alicia doing?” Will asked.

“Making out, probably,” June said, to which Travis scowled.

Aw, damn, that could be a problem, Will thought, studying Travis’s glower.

Across the city, in the carnivorous gardens, Alicia and Reggie were having a walk in the park. Both figuratively, and literally.

“Behind you.” Alicia whispered, throwing a knife at the base of the branch looming over Reggie. The knife must’ve hit something critical because the branch slumped over without striking at his back.

“Thanks,” Reggie said, plucking another of the oddly savory smelling lumpy fruit off the trunk of the tree and depositing it in the basket.

Reggie was a Plucker and Alicia was a Pruner, keeping an eye on the surroundings and taking care of problems before they arose.

“How can you see plants trying to attack?” Reggie asked. “They don’t have any bones, so I would assume they would be hard to see.”

“Yes, their flesh is pretty faint, but plants have weak spots too…at least these moving ones do,” Alicia said with a shrug. “And if you see disembodied weak spots moving up behind your friend, that’s pretty obvious.”

“Fair enough.” Reggie said before thinking a moment. “You have a hard time seeing wood? Have you ever walked straight into a wall?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Alicia whispered, her shoulders hunched.

“If you think that’s bad, I got kicked in the balls at a ball once,” Reggie said, aiming to curb her embarrassment with a much juicier story.

“Oh, that’s worse…”

“Yep, so it was right after we got our Classes. I was getting the hang of the toft Ability. That’s what we call Take One For the Team. Just faster to say. Anyway, I was learning it’s limits, how long I could have it up, what kind of damage it would cover, and so on. I joined Mason when he got an invite to a ball hosted by another rich family in the ring.

“I always hated balls.”

“Not as much as I do,” Reggie said with a chuckle. “So the girl whose parents were throwing the party was a real terror, exercising control over who could do what, eat what, dance with who, et cetera. A little tyrant in the making.”

“So over the course of the night she got on Mason’s nerves until Mason told her off in front of everyone, loud and embarrassing. Just laid into her. She then proceeded to kick him in the balls.”

“And by extention, you.” Alicia said.

“Yep! I was standing there talking to some girls from out of town when it felt like roots of pure pain had planted themselves in my crotch and began growing up and into my lungs. I toppled over and started crying for no apparent reason, and then the girls I was with started laughing at me.”

“That sounds awful. I know they’re one of a boy’s weak spots, but I’ve never heard it described before.”

“Yeah, pretty much my worst experience, but the silver lining is that everything after that has pretty much been a bree…wait a moment.”

Reggie frowned, thinking back to the way she’d said ‘weak spots’.

“Can you see my junk at alltimes?” Reggie asked, covering himself with his hands.

Alicia averted her eyes and started walking away.

“Hey, answer me! Hey!”

“Oh look, more fruits to harvest over here.” She whispered.

“Don’t change the subject!”

“I can only see nerve clusters and blood vessels, so it’s fine.” Alicia finally admitted after he’d pestered her for a while.

“Oh,” Reggie said, relaxing. “I guess that’s not-“

“They do take a certain…shape, though.”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“So you can!” Reggie said, clasping his hands in front of himself, nearly dropping the basket of fruits, prompting Alicia to giggle and prance away until she tripped over a tree root and went sprawling face-first into the grass.

In the center of the city, in an abandoned warehouse that had been remodeled to accommodate superhuman brawls, Mason was warming up for his fourth fight.

Stretch. Stay light. Stay fast. Hit them hard, hit them first. Always hit them first.

Mason’s Acuity was high enough to perceive any tricks his opponents might try, while Mason’s tactic was brutally simple, and therefore brutally difficult to counter.

#1 Light them on fire.

#2 Use Feedback Shielding to ward off their panicked flailing.

Repeat as necessary.

The first fight had been over before it started. The second fight had been another Nuker, and Mason had been able to eke out a victory by launching his attack a fraction of a second before the other guy.

The third fight was against some kind of tank/warrior hybrid. That one took a long time to finish, because of the man’s sheer Resistance. He’d walked right through Conflagration and gotten few good hits on Mason, barely covered by the Feedback Shielding.

His body was covered in bruises and small cuts where just a bit of damage had gotten through.

If the warrior’s damage output had been any higher, Mason would’ve been out of the tourney with some serious wounds.

Now it was time for number four.

Just two more, Mason thought, stretching his shoulders. His ‘weapons’ such as they were, were a buckler and saber, giving him the ability to ward off the occasional blow. It was a bad habit to rely solely on his shielding feedback to protect himself.

The sounds of the crowd crested as his opponent stepped down into the steel-lined pit.

It was a thin, shirtless young man with dusky skin and a cocky grin. he wasn’t wearing a Relic on his head or torso, which Mason found strange for the 5th floor.

His opponent was wielding a dagger, and as the announcer began to count down to the start, he crouched down deep in an explosive stance.

Is that a bluff or does he think he’s faster than Conflagrate?

Better to allow himself a small error because of the bluff than get shivved.

Mason crouched down, ready to dodge if his opponent got to him too quickly.

“Both fighters ready? BEGIN!”

Mason dropped a Conflagrate halfway between the two of them, aiming at making a speed dash disastrous for his opponent. This blocked the view, but it also pushed his opponent back, hopefully neutralizing his spe-

CRACK.

A strange popping noise behind him was all the warning he got, prompting Mason to whip around, bringing his buckler up.

A line of pain bloomed on his elbow and forearm until the buckler caught the dagger and shoved it aside, staring into the eyes of his opponent.

Conflagration.

The air between the two of them exploded, but the Ring of Consideration reduced it from flesh-searing to merely painful.

Mason counted as one of his own Party Members, after all. This gave him short-range options that he’d never really had access to before.

Mason felt a rush of power course over him as the damage to his opponent was converted to shielding, and he knew he’d gotten a hit in.

Alright, all I gotta do is keep the shield going with more damage and I’ve already won-

CRACK.

The sound went off behind him, and Mason whipped around with the saber, with the intention of using its reach to score a hit against the dagger-wielder.

CLANG!

His opponent caught the saber with a previously sheathed swordcatcher, twisting the blade while simultaneously stepping in to jam his dagger straight into Mason’s exposed armpit, skewering his vital organs.

Mason tried to drop the saber and move away, but he wasn’t as fast or strong as his opponent, and a simple half step brought the stab up and into his armpit, only for it to be barely absorbed by his shield.

Creating distance doesn’t seem to work, Mason thought, his skin breaking out into a cold sweat at the near-death experience.

While his singed opponent was frowning at the resistance from the shield, Mason dropped a Conflagration behind himself, not bothering to resist the shove of the explosion, instead using it to gain acceleration above and beyond anything he’d demonstrated so far, propelling him straight into the man’s chest, bashing away his dagger with the shield and forcing him off-balance.

Dodge this.

Conflagration.

A rush of shielding told him he’d made a solid hit.

CRACK!

Mason heard the sound behind him again and dropped low, aiming for a leg-sweep.

Nobody there.

A burst of pain filled his shoulder as his opponent dove through the fireball between them and drove a stiletto into his unprotected back, piercing through his shielding to bury itself in his shoulder.

Mason muscled back a cry of pain and lashed out with an awkward kick behind himself.

He must’ve caught the man’s knee because his opponent reeled backwards, giving Mason enough time to stand, twisting to face his opponent.

The two of them stood there for a moment, panting.

Why isn’t he pulling his teleporting trick again? Mason thought, edging closer to his saber without looking at it, not wanting to give his intentions away.

…Because I’m concealing the use of his Ability with Conflagrate!

Masons’ fireball was so big, bright, and loud, that his opponent was able to continue using it to mask his own Ability, preventing Mason from figuring out how it worked. Basically handing him the element of surprise over and over again.

His opponent finally glanced down at the saber between them, prompting Mason to lunge forward.

The burnt young man did the same, aiming to stab Mason as he reached for the sword.

At the last second, Mason lunged upward, putting his other hand and all his weight behind his buckler, colliding directly with his opponent’s weapon.

There was a faint crack as the opponent’s wrist broke, and the rogue attempted to leap backwards.

Mason bluffed.

He danced the seed of a Conflagration on his fingertip, then shot it at his opponent. The bead of fire shot forward, and his opponent covered his eyes, tensing his legs and leaping backwards with all his might.

Then it continued shooting far past his opponent, detonating against the far wall, leaving Mason’s field of view clear as the rogue carried on as if he’d been hit by Conflagration, seemingly unable to cancel his Ability midway.

A web of lightning caught his opponent and rebounded him up and over Mason, launching him back down before catching directly behind Mason with a distinctive CRACK!

Some kind of lightning movement ability that seems to redirect and magnify his speed.

The two of them shared a glance, his seared opponent giving him a sheepish shrug now that Mason had finally caught on.

“Let’s get this over with, I need a healer.” His opponent said, raising a dagger with his off-hand, his broken wrist hanging limp by his side.

“You and me both,” Mason said, readying his buckler, propped up by his good hand.

The two of them charged towards each other, and Mason now saw lightning streaming off his opponent as he ran, fluttering like ribbons on a windy day as he ran. They were gradually getting longer.

He’s gonna do something he’s been holding off on this entire time, now that his secret’s out, and I’ve got no tricks left. He outplayed me.

Unless…

Mason was much closer to the saber now.

In the middle of the charge, Mason caught the saber with his foot and flung it forward.

The rogue flinched and unleashed a blast of lightning which singed Mason’s side, but didn’t stop him from lunging forward and smashing the buckler into his opponent’s skull, dropping defense entirely.

A shock went through Mason’s spine as their weight collided against each other, neither interested in backing down. A moment later, the pressure was gone, and Mason staggered back, inspecting the dagger buried in his stomach.

Ow.

His opponent on the other hand, was splayed out on the steel arena, unconscious, making Mason the victor despite his wounds being more critical.

The crowd of Climbers swarmed down from the stands above and caught Mason before he collapsed, lifting him up on their shoulders and carrying him and his opponent to the on-site Healers, patting his un-perforated shoulder and shouting words of encouragement.

I kind of like pit fighting, actually, Mason thought, shaking hands and smiling before leaning back into the bleacher as the Healer on call got to work putting him back together.

It was a priest of Andover, which should’ve been obvious given the amount of money changing hands.

Which priest of Andover was a bit surprising.

“You did good kid.” Steve Holland said, bracing a glowing hand on Mason’s shoulder before yanking out the stiletto. “You’re a bit of a one-trick pony, but it’s a good trick.”

Mason’s shoulder erupted into itching as the wound closed.

“Souvenir?” Steve asked, offering Mason the rag he’d used to mop up Mason’s blood.

“No thanks,” Mason said. “What are you doing here?”

“How do you think I afford to live on this Floor?” Steve asked, pulling his hand away from Mason’s shoulder. “Try moving your arm and rolling your shoulder. Go through your whole range of motion.”

Mason did so and hissed in pain as a certain angle caused extreme pain.

“Ah, bone splinters. I’ll deal with it.”

A minute later, Mason could move his arm through the full range of motion with only a hint of stiffness, and Steve moved on to the dusky lightning-rogue.

Mason leaned back in his seat and grabbed a bit of food from the hawker, aiming to replenish himself while watching his future opponents for exploitable weaknesses and ideas for how he could improve.

Mason had gained a lot of insight into his own weaknesses in that last match, which was exactly why he’d joined the tournament. A Lord wasn’t just proof against monsters, they had to have a Build that didn’t allow other Climbers to question their authority.

Mason wasn’t there yet, but he was learning.

“And for our next match, Gerald Moss versus our reigning champ, Frank the TANK!…who I’m just being told has withdrawn from the tournament by reason of injury and subbed in another fighter. One…William Oh?”

Godsdamnit, Mason thought, downing some bread as the arena broke into quiet whispers.

…This is highly unusual…but I don’t want to rearrange our brackets, so I’ll allow it!

Well, look at it this way. It’ll still give me some ideas, and it raises the odds of our Party getting the prize. If we go against each other, I’ll just forfeit and save the effort.

The massive man wearing a goat mask who jumped down into the arena was not William Oh. he was at least a foot taller and looked like he had a hundred pounds on their Party Leader, at least.

His skin was wrapped tight around muscles upon muscles that heaved as he growl/breathed. His left hand was concealed by a gaudy brass-colored gauntlet studded with fake gemstones. Everything about him was fake.

People loved it.

The crowd went wild as ‘William Oh’ flexed.

Well.

I can get some practice, AND beat someone using William’s name and take his overblown legend down a peg. Sounds like a win-win.

“HOLD ON!” a familiar voice shouted over the crowd.

Oh, no. Mason thought, sighing and leaning on his palm as he masticated.

“I’m William OH!” The real William Oh said, pushing his way to the edge of the arena, thumbing his chest.

You could hear a pin drop for a second before the crowd broke into gales of laughter.

This should be interesting if nothing else. Mason thought.

“What’s this?Someone challenging for the name of William Oh!?” The announcer shouted, his Ability making his voice cut through the crowd. Mason could hear the delight in his voice. “And it seems to be…a boy!?”

“I could crush you between my fingers!” ‘William Oh’ bellowed in an outrageously deep voice.

“I could beat you without lifting a finger!” Will shouted back.

“Ringmaster! Let me teach this boy the error of his ways before I face Gerald! It won’t take a minute!” the imposter said, turning to address the announcer standing in his box.

“This is highly unusual. But I’ll be damned if it’s not entertaining! I approve! Ronny, put the bets up on the board!

Mason sensed an opportunity and leapt to his feet, joining the crowd of gamblers placing their bets

“Five ten-pieces on the boy!” Mason shouted over the rush of people betting on the giant, tossing his cash to the overloaded bookies. He glanced over and spotted Steve doing the same thing.

There’s more than one way to make money.

The atmosphere changed as ethereal horns erupted from the mask moments before Will flew down into the arena.

True flight was…uncommon. Will hadn’t even told anyone in the Party save Loth exactly how he did it, and Loth was tight-lipped.

It obviously had something to do with the mask, though.

“Start the fight ringmaster. I’m eager to stomp this child’s fancy tricks.” The imposter said.

Will waited with his arms behind his back, his tomahawk resting in his belt-loop.

His opponent clenched a massive war-axe so tightly that the audience could hear the handle creaking.

“Both fighters ready? BEGIN!”

The imposter flew backwards and slammed into the back wall, then the side wall, then the ceiling, then the floor, then the floor, then the wall, etc.

Mason knew how Will was doing that. He was releasing tiny pellets from his Phantom Hand, and the man-hunter mutation on his ring of accuracy was yanking his opponent around wildly, slamming him into the solid-steel backdrop of the arena.

I guess he’s not wearing his armguard because he doesn’t want to murder him.

Mason crossed his arms as the imposter was ground into a pulp.

…How would I deal with that?

Probably shove myself to the side with a conflagration and try to nail him before he caught me in a death spin like this guy.

How could I pull myself out of one if I was already in it?

The imposter provided him one possible answer as he bellowed with rage and a wave of raw power shoved outward in every direction, his muscles swelling as he dropped to the ground, shrugging off Will’s pull effect.

Some kind of activated defensive Ability that can break out of holds?

The metal floor squeaked in protest as the imposter lunged forward, charging with his axe raised.

The imposter’s skin exploded with ice crystals the instant before he made contact with Will.

Will sidestepped as his opponent’s stiffened body tumbled past him to slam into the wall, shoving hundreds of sharp ice shards directly into his own skin.

He tried to get up, but he was moving with the speed of a snail.

Will moved to kick the imposter as he struggled to rise, but the Ringmaster called the fight, leaving the imposter battered on the cold steel floor.

I…actually…don’t know how he did that.

“Now that kid is not a one-trick pony.” Steve said from beside him.

Jingle.

The priest nudged him with a huge sack of the ten-pieces he’d won.

“Souvenir?”