“Why do they apply o day? Why!” A tall muscur woman in a white Sto whispers under her breath. Her muscles flex with each swish of her quill, as though she wants to use it to stab the young man in front of her. A young, somewhat fit man that avoids her gaze. The man is a well-leveled [Rogue], but his job as a [Dockworker] reveals a limited experien actual bat. Levels in a bat css only get you so far.

  She sighs. “Kid, joining the petition isn’t a game. A lot of people get hurt, some never evehe ability to walk away.”

  “I don’t have a choice. I he money,” the young man expins nervously.

  “The money? Do you even have the five hurist to join?”

  “I heard you join for a big dist or even for free.”

  The woman shakes her head. “The dist is if Florence aowledges your skill and it’s free if you beat him in unarmed bat.”

  “Then I’ll fight him and win.”

  “Fine. Just know we don’t cover any injuries you may get from Florence.”

  “I won’t lose! I ’t lose!”

  “Right, right. What's your name again?”

  “Gino.”

  She scribbles his name on a paper and then stamps it. Then she hands it to him. “Take this to Florend he’ll stamp it if he approves of the dist.”

  “And if I beat him?”

  She snorts. “I’ll know if you do. Now go.”

  She watches the young man run off. As he disappears, she shakes her head one more time before returning to her job. “ person in lin- Gond! What are you doing here?”

  Gond ughs. “It’s good to see you too, Lye. Seems your retirement is more iing than my own.”

  She grins and rolls her eyes. “Jealous, Gond? Are you getting bored of direg those wealthy pricks where they feast upoy's most scrumptious ea meat? Because that sounds a lot more iing than sitting behind a desk and dealing with limp-dick wannabe [Gdiators] who don’t know what end of the sword to shove up their asses!”

  “Is not limp. Is strong and thick like vodka bottle.”

  Gond, Lye, and a cat turn towards a grinning man with a beard.

  He blinks, fused. Then he raises his hands a good twelve inches apart. “Bottle is dis long and,” he then makes a fist. “dis thick.”

  The three tiaring at the man as he looks more and more fused.

  Eventually the most unlikely person breaks the silence.

  “Boriss,” the cat pats his shoulder, “I pray for your future wife's survival.”

  Lye's attention quickly swerves towards the talking cat. She quickly blinks as though looking at something else. “A [Captain] and an [Armament Shifter]. That’s unique.”

  “A [Shifter], not [Druid]?” Gond asks, surprised. “I guess that expins the long transformation.”

  Quasi leans forward. “Gond, are you familiar with the [Shifter] css?”

  The man nods slowly. “To aent. There was a [Gdiator] that fought as monsters for the crowd.”

  “Really? I o talk with him!”

  Gond shakes his head “He’s dead. Died a decade ago to Maksim.”

  Lye leans forward on her desk. “Gdius has been searg for a [Shifter] sihen. You make a crazy amount of s if you’re willing to bee a [Gdiator].”

  The cat taps his mount again. “No time for me, but monster dick over here is looking to join the petition.”

  “Right, Lye. Quasi here is the [Captain] I’m in charge of guiding. He wants to enter Boriss into the petition,” Gond expins.

  Lye's spine quickly straightens as she realizes that Gond’s guests are far more important thahought. With a now more professional posture, she nervously grins at the rather fluffy kitten. “Of course. I’m more than happy to get that underway.”

  She then stares at Boriss for a moment. “Level Eighteen [Skirmisher].” She frowns as though the level does not make sehe muscled man in front of her has an aura of extreme petency. He should be level twenty-four at the lowest.

  “Is there a problem?” Quasi asks after a long bit of silen her part.

  She shakes her head. “No. It checks out. Did you want to pay the entry fee ht Florence for a possible dist?”

  “Fight, Fight,” Both cat and human answer in unison.

  Lyrieves a paper, writes something down and then hands it to Boriss. She then points down the hall. “Take this paper to Florence. He’ll test you in unarmed bat, and if he finds you skilled, you’ll be allowed the dist. Just know it might take a bit of time. Florence is currently fighting someone and I just sent another.”

  “Ahh, yes. We met Floren our way here.” Gond remembers. “He wanted me to tell you that the st guy you sent doesn’t get the dist.”

  Lye shakes her head. “He o stop knog these people out.”

  Then she smiles. “Well, thank you. Now go aurn to me after the fight.”

  Gond, Quasi, and Boriss make their way back to Florence. When they arrive, the young man named Gino is already in the ring and ready to fight. Floreices their approach. “Alright kid, looks like we have a small audiery not to get beaten too easily.”

  “You’re the one who's going to get beaten.” The kid taunts.

  Florence chuckles before beginning to boun his feet with fists at chest level. “Start whenever.”

  ____________________________________________________

  Florence: Level 39 [Caestus Gdiator]

  From the man's form alone, I holy say Florence would easily pete in professional boxing. He has the footwork down perfectly, and he uses that now to keep a respectable distance from his younger oppo.

  Gin: Level 24 [Dockworker]

  His oppohough isn’t very experienced using his fists. Instead, the kid lowers his posture and pces his fist at odd angles. It looks very odd, but also remi of a style.

  “Boriss, do ynize his stance?” I ask my mount.

  “He fight with knife.”

  OHHHH! Now I see it.

  “He’s got good form.”

  Gond crosses his arms and releases a sigh. “That kid doesn’t have the levels to be a threat to Florence. Knife fighters win against slower oppos, and [Pugilists] are far from slow.”

  Boriss shrugs. “Is true. But, man is old and- how you say? Arrogant? Vhen Boriss vhas little d, he use head to win. Is good strategy.”

  “Outsmarting your oppo always work,” Gond aowledges, “but Florence is too experienced for that.”

  Boriss g the retired [Gdiator] for a moment, and then shakes his head.

  “Fights starting,” I warn

  The first to engage is the kid. He rushes in for a punch toFlorence's liver, but the man blocks and diverts with his arm while using his other to return a punch. Gino, having throrobing punch, easily maneuvers out e.

  Only for Florence, who’d seen the probe, to react by weaving tino. Gino dodges two more punches and thes clipped by the third in the face. Gino rolls arepares to block, only to find Florence ba his stand a respectable distance away. The man has a smug grin on his face.

  “e on Gino. Don’t give up yet. The beating has only just begun.” Floreaunts.

  The kid spits a bit of blood on the side and takes his stance. Arrogant, sure, but not stupid.

  Like befino circles Florence like a shark in water. He hold his fists like one hold a knife, ready to stab and slice should the opportunity present itself.

  And the opportunity does as Floreops his footwork.

  Gino rushes forward, only for Floreo grin as he releases a punch with extreme speed and force. To Florence's surprise, Gino expected this, for the kid immediately enters a slide that narrowly avoids the fist. As he slides past, Gino punches for the man's ing jewels. A perfectly executed pn that would have worked if not for Florence's knee smming into the kids face.

  You could hear the whipsh and crack as the young man's head was thrown bato near unsciousness.

  The kid's body tio slide a short distance before he rolls into a stah blood trig down his nose.

  Florences at the kids' pissed off expression, then chuckles. He raises his hands up and the gloves c them. “I wear these gloves because my fists kill easily if I’m not careful.”

  The kid wipes the blood and takes a stance. “I’m not going to lose.”

  Florence chuckles. “Prove it.”

  For the half hour, I watch a young ma beat down and tered with every e. Granted, eagagement against Florence is an improvement from the st, but only slightly. Florence has yet to take a solid hit while Gino looks like he’s bruised all over.

  “I-I I’ll win.” Gino forces out while ying with his back to the ground. “I just need a breather.”

  Florence shakes his head. “You're tenacious, I’ll give you that. I’ll even say you improve quickly, but nowhere fast enough to beat me. Still, you’ve got guts and potential. So.”

  Florence walks to a paper on a nearby table. Reaches into a pocket and then stamps it. “I’ll give you the dist.”

  “I-I 't afford it. I o win.” The kid whines. He tries to get up, but the injuries make it difficult.

  “Hey Gino, why are you so hellbent on joining this tour? Actually, why do you he money?”

  “To buy my sister's freedom.”

  “Freedom? What do you mean freedom? Is she in a cage or something?” I ask.

  “Probably a servants tract,” Gond says. “Your average tract goes from thousands of trist to tens if not hundreds of thousands. A [Dockworker] makes maybe a thousand or two trist’s a year on average. His sister, if she shares his age, is going to take several decades to afford.”

  “Vhe should help.” Boriss announces. He retrieves a pouch of s by his side. “Is only fifty, yes?”

  “Boriss! Don’t just give Cillians hard-earned money away.” I pin. “Gino o earn it himself.”

  “Boriss pouts. rade, I vhant to help. Russiastring is in pain. Little man suffers for sister.”

  I sigh. “Yuments are shit and I bet you know it too. But fine, how about a deal. You’re only allowed to spend fifty trist. So long as you joiour, I don’t care what you use the for.”

  “Ha. Is good deal.” Boriss reaches picks me up off his shoulder and pces me on Gond’s. Therieves fifty trist from the bag, walks up to Gino and drops the s on the young mans supine position.

  “W-what?” Gino asks.

  “Rex and vatch. I vill show you how to fight.”

  Boriss walks in front of Florend then starts stretg. “You’re quite the cocky one.”

  “No. Is you who is cocky. You do not know yet.”

  “Ha! Big talk from a big man. I won’t be going easy on you like the kid. You look like you’re made of steruff.”

  “Russian stuff.” Boriss grins. He stops stretg and then starts boung in the same way a boxer would. Though unlike a boxer, his hands are resting wider near his chest.

  The first to engage is Boriss with a step and punch. Florence diverts the punch with an arm and punches back. Boriss sidesteps and attacks again. For the moment, you see two professional boing at it with impressive speed. Eventually, lucky punches from both begin to nd, though it’s clear that more and more of them are getting nded on Boriss. Florence is faster, higher leveled, and generally more skilled in unarmed bat. Boriss attempts to incorporate his legs, knees, and elbows into the fight, only for Floreo ter with the same.

  “Boriss is losing,” Gond states. “He’s getting tired and slowing down.”

  I sigh aloud. “I’d normally agree with you that Boriss is losing, but not tired. Boriss has a hell of a lot of stamina. There's no reason Boriss should already be slowing down.”

  Gong frowns when he looks at the Russian. In all seriousness, the man perfectly looks like someone whose body is giving up.

  And then it happens. A perfect punch at Boriss’s liver that would normally elicit a stunned rea. Something Florence had seen Boriss show every time he’d nded.

  This time, there was ion. From sluggish defeo a burst of speed, Boriss stricts his hand around Florence’s neck. Then he pulls Florend leans forward at the same time.

  The room cracks as skull meets face with such deafening force.

  Florence loses sciousness for just a moment, giving Boriss the moment to both hands around the [Pugilists] head.

  “CRACK.”

  Another violent and bloody meeting of heads.

  “CRACK.”

  Florence desperately tries to push the man away.

  “CRACK.”

  He kicks and knees Boriss iomach

  “CRACK.”

  He loses sciousness for a moment, only tain it as the head es forward.

  “CRACK.”

  His coughs up blood.

  “CRACK.”

  His body goes limp.

  “CRACK.”

  “CRACK.”

  “CRACK.”

  Then Boriss stops. A hand feels the side of the man's neck. Boriss nods and drops the still living body. He then turns not towards me, but tond. Then he points at his blood smeared face.

  “Is good strategy.”