‘Fighting William Oh’

* Idiom meaning ‘to struggle against the inevitable.’

Homefield Advantage

85 Charges remaining.

Rather than play the game where Will danced around and allowed his opponent to transmute the battlefield until he controlled the entire arena, Will changed it into a field of slippery ice.

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this, Will thought as Sammohan wobbled in place for an instant, just long enough to duck under one of the massive man’s swings and bring the Blade of Frenzy into play, raking it across his ribs.

It still had the majority of its stacking bonus, causing it to hit like a greatsword of legend.

The coating of liquid steel and armor parted enough to send a spray of blood from Sammohan’s ribs onto the ice.

The bandit leader grunted in pain and whipped around with more dexterity than Will would expect, catching Will in the left shoulder with his forearm.

Crack!

It felt like someone hit him with a sledgehammer, and it sent Will careening towards the edge of the arena, sliding across the ice at breakneck speed.

BOOM! BOOM!

Staccato explosions from Nukers, thrown weapons and arrows rained down from the stands as the bandits recovered from their stunned silence.

‘And now the rebuttal.” Lord Bakton said, craning his neck to take in all the devastation that was raining down on Will.

Most of the projectiles and explosions missed, save a handful with tracking capability or decent aim.

Will was a little singed, and had an arrow in his gut, leg, and lung.

He really wanted to just lay down and take a nap, but that would be…unwise.

Will shoved himself up and started sprinting up the side of the arena walls, Phantom Hand going the opposite direction, picking out the four people that had successfully shot him.

It was a rush-job, so Will used Phantom hand’s Manifestation Ability to manifest two sets of two cannonballs for a fraction of a second each.

Focus 91-63

BOOM! BOOM!

Focus 63-91

The stands where the four people who’d been able to hit Will exploded, while Will yanked the arrows out of himself.

Arrows designed to shoot people with inhuman toughness weren’t broadheads one might use for hunting. They were narrow, chisel-faced sharps, designed to punch through armor and stone-like flesh.

That made them pretty easy to yank out.

Save for the lung.

The sensation of arrow scraping across rib, and his lung being tugged on by the object lodged in it was going to stick with him for a while.

No time to overthink it, Will thought, coughing up blood, the sudden drop in oxygen causing his eyesight to dim and dozens of bright worms to streak across his eyes.

Will’s Phantom eye saw Sammohan hurtling forward aiming to cut Will off.

Will waited until the last second and then dug in his heels and juked, causing Sammohan to fly past him.

The huge man had weird metal miniature windmills coming out of his back, which seemed to be allowing him to fly, which would prevent Will from carelessly tossing him up in the air again.

“Cool!” Will shouted, backpedaling and sending Phantom Hand back to himself.

Now.

While Sammohan stalked forward, Phantom hand dropped a Potion of Greater Healing into Will’s hand.

Sourdough

62 Charges Remaining.

Sammohan’s eyes widened and he lunged forward, taking a wild swing at Will from far too far away for it to do any-

Will’s eyes widened as the air in front of Sammohan’s fist turned into a pancake of solid steel and shot forward, aiming to crush Will against the arena’s wall.

Will grabbed the air with his toes and created a layered, angled piece of air.

With a twist of his foot and a lean to the side, the pancake of steel missed Will by a hair’s breadth and exploded into the arena wall behind him as he drank the potion.

Sammohan arrived a fraction of a second later, his fists raining down on the spot where Will stood.

“Was that a cantrip? One seCOUGH!” Will hacked out the last of the blood in his throat as the lung patched itself up, ducking out of the way of the first strike and shoving himself backwards with Phantom hand before the follow-up could remove his head from his body.

Will relaxed his grip on the icy floor and slid backwards with apparent effortlessness as Phantom Hand pushed him around the arena like a skating rink.

Sammohan’s feet spawned catlike claws of liquid metal that anchored him to the ice as he lunged forward, his shoulder-windmills creating an obnoxious whine.

Will slid out of the way of several more transmuted air-pancakes. When he got too far away from the Mercurial Prospector, Abilities and projectiles began raining down on him, so he changed his pattern to dance around Sammohan, keeping away from his attacks while using him as a human shield.

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The man was fast for a massive slab of muscle, but Will was fast for himself, which was in a completely different category altogether.

The Stormfist Gauntlets speed boost was 30%, which made Sammohan appear like he was moving underwater.

This gave Will time to study the man’s gauntlets. They were a separate piece of armor, and Will could’ve taken them into his Dimensional Storage, except for the layer of liquid metal that seemed to be reinforcing Sammohan’s entire suit, binding the gloves, torso, legs, and feet together into one seamless whole.

That makes it harder to snag them.

Will put the ‘stealing’ idea on the backburner and refocused on just winning the fight.

Heavy armor…need something that is good against heavy armor.

Typically, that would be a war-pick. It looked a little bit like a regular hammer, albeit the back instead of being split and curved to pull nails, was a single spike meant to be driven through armor.

Will glanced up and scanned the angry audience for a war-pick, but didn’t find anything. armor-piercing wasn’t at a premium against monsters, compared to all-out damage dealing. Will did however see a decent-looking stiletto.

Will led Sammohan over to the side of the arena, sending Phantom Hand up and snatching the stiletto out of the man’s belt before bringing it back down, sliding out of the way of Sammohan’s steel pancakes while aiming for the bandit leader’s bac-

“STOP!” Lord Bakton roared, his voice drowning out the shouts of pain and rage and bringing the entire battle to a screeching halt.

The Lord wiped his lips with a napkin before setting his lunch aside and stalking out onto the sand of the arena with a whipping rod hanging loose from his fingers. If the ice underneath his feet bothered him, he didn’t give any sign of it.

“Sammohan, you’re overcommitting to your ranged attacks,” Bakton said, “As if you’re trying to punch through a wall. You’re not punching through anything, you don’t need follow-through, only velocity. It’s slowing your feet down and letting him run circles around you. Try snapping your hand like so.”

Bakton made a snapping jab with his hand that only involved his shoulder and tricep. Not very powerful, but very fast.

Sammohan frowned, but did as he was told, and the pancake of transmuted air turned into a smaller, sharper cone that looked much harder to dodge.

Bakton nodded in satisfaction and turned back to his seat.

“Damnit,” Will groaned. “Any advice for me?”

“Combat is a language. You’re deliberately sandbagging these people in order to avoid killing them.” Bakton said with a shrug. “All this dancing around is technically efficient, but it’s also giving them the impression that they can win, which is counter to your goals. You need to crush their spirit.”

Sammohan cast a nervous glance between the two of them. Bakton didn’t sound like a man who lacked confidence in Will. It more had the tone of a teacher whose student was slacking.

“Well, how do I do that?” Will demanded.

“You want to be a Lord? Figure it out.” Bakton shrugged, leaping back to his observation booth and sitting back down, tucking a napkin in his shirt.

“Begin!”

Focus 91 - 77

Will whipped the Phantom Hand around and shot a manifested cannonball at Sammohan, anticipating one of the bandit leader’s newly upgraded ranged attacks.

The metal cone splattered off the cannonball, which caught Sammohan’s fist and spun him around.

Will followed in close behind, his mind working at full speed, recalling his ‘philosophy’ studies with loth.

Bakton says combat is language. Loth says language is symbolism. Sammohan symbolizes his people, he’s their face, and represents them. How do I deface that symbol?

…Oh dear gods, it can’t really be that simple, can it? Will thought, ducking under a wild backhand from Sammohan the massive prospector turned his, twisting stumble into an attack.

Will bent his knees, gave a sharp exhale and launched himself up, using Aspect to ripple the floor underneath himself, keeping an unbroken line between Sammohan’s face and the ground.

Will punched the bandit leader in the face. The full force transferrinG through his body straight into the ground, as if the bandit leader had slammed his chin down on an iron pole buried in the earth.

Mining helmets didn’t cover the face.

Sammohan staggered backward with a grunt and started saying something.

“You-“

People speak. Deny them personhood.

Will launched another cannonball at the prospector, just slow enough to allow the man to duck out of the way…into Will’s fist.

Will felt his knuckle split around a broken tooth, but he kept coming.

Sammohan spat out bit of white as he staggered backwards, whipping his hand forward.

A blade of liquid metal formed at the last second, aiming to bisect Will.

Phantom Hand interposed itself as Will charged forward, punching Sammohan in the face.

“Why-“

Will punched him in the face again, using Aspect to form a solid bridge between his fist and the ground.

“GAH!”

Sammohan exploded with metal spikes in every direction, forcing Will backwards and perforating his arms.

The watching bandits who weren’t too injured to move cheered their leader on, seeing him force Will back.

“I’ll-“

Even taking a step back, Will didn’t let off the pressure, creating another cannonball in front of Sammohan’s face, obliterating the man’s jaw and front teeth and sending him careening backwards.

Will shaved himself forward with Phantom Hand, accelerating nearly faster than his body could process, catching Sammohan just as he was embedded in the arena wall.

Will slipped past the metal spikes and stomped Sammohan in the face before leaping off the prospector’s skull and landing in the arena.

Will grabbed the bandit leader by the back of the head with Phantom hand and dragged him forward, aiming another punch at his mangled face.

Will’s fist was tugged aside at the last second, sending him off balance, and Will noticed a silver sheen on his knuckles.

He transmuted some of my skin? Will thought, eyes widening as Sammohan swept forward a metal spike jutting out of his right hand, aiming for Will’s unguarded side.

Will interposed his left arm between himself and the spike, drawing it to the side, and tilting his head forward, using Aspect to brace himself as best he could.

Will’s forehead struck Sammohan’s nose with a satisfying crack, Sending the huge man reeling backwards.

Phantom hand was still holding the back of the man’s skull, so Will wrenched the man’s head down to Will’s knee, further pulping the man’s face.

SLICK!

The razor-sharp blade slid out of Will’s forearm as Sammohan staggered backwards and collapsed to the ground, struggling to breathe through his ruined face.

Will immediately put pressure on the wound with Phantom Hand as he watched the bandit leader. When it became clear Sammohan wasn’t getting back up, Will scanned the crowd.

Unlike before, the assembled bandits were completely silent and still.

“Are we done!?” Will demanded, his voice echoing from the stands as he scanned the crowd for troublemakers.

The troublemakers were either too wounded or too scared to do anything, and the assembled fifty or so rough-and-tumble Climbers were unwilling to make eye contact.

Will could feel the Debt around him loosen as everyone acknowledged the fight was over.

“Whoever these belong to…” Will said, tossing aside his ‘borrowed’ Relics. “You’re welcome to come grab them.

Will picked up his Set items, sighing in gratitude as the Floor allowed him to change back from Stormfists to the Dimensional Coiled Serpent amulet, flooding his body with power.

“I’ll discuss terms with your leader the day after tomorrow,” Will said to the audience, desperately trying not to let them see his legs tremble.

Will looked up at Bakton, who met Will’s gaze before glancing over at Sammohan, subtly holding up a single finger, seeming to indicate ‘one more thing’ that Will had to do.

Will glanced over at the man with the ruined face, breath rattling, bits of his own teeth scattered around him.

Understood, Will thought, approaching and dumping his other Greater Healing Potion on their leader’s face.

Sourdough

61 Charges Remaining.

The man’s ruined face fixed itself and his labored breathing evened out. One gesture of mercy as a counterpoint to the brutal assault he’d just delivered.

“Day after tomorrow!” Will reiterated to the audience, putting his mask on. “We’ll discuss terms. Don’t get any bright ideas, either. I won’t be alone, and I’ll be wearing real Kit. If any of you ever had a chance against me…This was it.”

Will strutted out of the arena into the locker room, where he immediately sagged against the lockers, gasping for breath, his head swimming from blood loss.

“Will, are you okay!?” Anna asked, her face pale as she arrived, hastily putting his arm over her shoulder.

“Need first aid.” Will said, shaking his head. “I only brought two healing potions.”