Shadow of the Abyss

There was a distinctive silence within the restaurant that overflowed with blistering killing intent, with bystanders watching from outside. The staff huddled in the kitchen behind a set of double doors, listening.

Hilda pocked her palms out of her pocket and stared grimly at Altair. "You expect me to believe that? You who have a target on his head would accept the challenge of anyone for a few coins?" She scuffed as if she would believe such a thing.

Altair glanced at his neurolink HUD at the time and sighed. "How long is the food going to take!" He shouted, sensing the fools in the kitchen all watching. "Hells. And as for you..." He turned to Hilda. " Believe me, don't believe me. I don't particularly care.

But those are my terms. First Circles pay, 10, Second a 100, third 1000, fourth… well, you can do basic math, right?"

"A thousand…" One of the officers behind Hilda uttered. "You expect us to pay you a one thousand soul? For most, that's more than a year's pay!"

"Not to mention… it has nothing to do with winning or losing. You are literally pocketing money." Another officer griped.

Altair shrugged, uncaring. "Not my problem. I personally think it's fair. Especially since I'm a First Circle warrior." he smiled then, narrowing his devilish eyes toward the Tri Cicle officers. "Are you two perhaps scared? What's a year's pay for the likes of you?"

"Bastard."

"I'll pay," A voice near the entrance of the restaurant said. There he stood, a middle-aged man wielding two circles within his heart. "You're that's what a hundred Sols, right?'

[Ding]

Name: Ron Thevel'mo

Class: [Soilder Lv 25] [Duel Knight Lv 50]

Race: Human(Horned Wyvern)

Strength: 126

Dexterity: 70

Constitution: 76

Wisdom: 20

Charisma:14

Mana: 20

Skills: Split [F], Swordsmanship (F+), Mana Manipulation [E], [Marksman[E], [Fire Resistance [F], Poison Resistance [E]

"Hmmm," Altair hummed, smiling. "A Peak Second Circle."

"Is that a problem?" Ron inquired, smoothing his goatee. "I've heard you got a 10,000 Sols bounty. So what are 100 sols?"

"He'll accept," Iliana said in his stead. "But only this fight. We have got a tournament to prepare for in the coming week."

"But not before we eat." Altair cheerfully added.

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"Are you sure, boy? You know lives are lost within the Dual Arena." Hilda said, careful to gauge his response, to see if he was truly willing to die for coin.

"That's fine." Altair calmly said. "Now, bring out the food!"

"Aye, the food!" Ren added.

"Bring it out! Hilda also roared.

In the following moments, eggs, sausage, pancakes, omelets, burgers, and steaks all came rushing out, filling nearly two tables.

And like savages, Hilda and Iliana watched with marveled at the two gluttons gorging themselves as if they had not touched food in weeks. Showing no form of etiquette, the two licked the plates clean.

"What are these little things?" Ren shouted, gripping on potato wedges. "So garlicky! Ren wants to eat them all day!"

"They're called french fries. Basically, potato and corn starched. "Altair explained, stuffing an entire steak down his throat.

"Hells. Did I just see someone deepthroat a steak?" Hilda muttered. She smiled calmly, watching with fascination as one after the other plates began to be emptied until a clean set of dishes was left.

It wasn't until Altair and Ren were done and their bellies full that they finally decided to leave after paying the bill of some fifty Sols, following Ron taking the elevator down to a cellar. There, flooded by lights, stood a small arena cage, the ground stained red by a recent match.

"When there is conflict in the squad, it's not uncommon for the lieutenant or commander to order some of their squad mates to battle it out." Ron eagerly said.

"Later, the Queen, due to the death of one of her knights, abolished this practice. Making it illegal." Hilda afirmed, narrowing her gaze towards Ron with a dark frown. "What is it doing here? And how come I didn't know about it?"

"You are only temporarily stationed here, commander," Ron said, making his way down to the arena. He glanced back at her, smiling. "Just like the Admiral. In a few months, you'll leave. And our unofficial custom will remain."

'He's not your average soldier.' Altair thought, following him into the arena alongside Ren.

"Oh? You're allowing your pet?" Ron noticed.

Altair merely pointed to her collar, "She's mine. Why can't I use her." He said, conjuring a Dark Moon Blade for Ren and him. He looked on with a bored expression, still lethargic from his earlier meal.

"Indeed. How foolish of me to ask." Ron mused with a dark chuckle, drawing a dagger from his tunic and unhooking a custom-designed black steel Tech Pistol from his hip.

"Based on your palm… I thought you used a sword." The Prince said with falsity, with a throbbing motion of his pupils.

"I do, but taking you out with this alone should be no issue," Ron confidently said, bringing a smile to the Prince's lips.

[Compulstion proficiency has increased by by 7%]

Proficiency: 12% → 26%]

'His mana attribute is similar to mine, but I was still able to compel him. That must mean… Compulsion is based on raw charisma.' Altair told himself, feeling nearly half his mana reserves wiped away in a single instance.

"You two may begin whenever you feel like it," Iliana commented.

The moment Ron heard this, bolts of azure light shrieked off the barrel of his tech pistol in a burst of fire. Projectiles barreled toward the Prince as he kicked off his feet, directed by his survival instincts, causing several shots to nick his shoulder and cheek. Altair kept pushing, resisting the urge to cast spells instantly like he was used to.

His mana pulsed, and with the practiced motion of a seasoned mage, his fingers danced through the air, following the motion of memories he'd inherited from Aurora.

Mold Earth

Ron frowned, missing the spell circle that had flashed faster than he could perceive. He fell into wonder for less than half a breath, and just as he decided to aim his Tech Pistal at Altair's head, his footing fell off, as did his aim, causing several shots to miss.

He panicked, looking down to see his body slowly being devoured by nearly a foot by the very ground in which he stood; dread suddenly caught hold of the soldier when he caught sight of bloody icicles formed above Ren's head, lowering the temperature.

Ron's heart dropped. But despite his desire to move, he had no solid ground on which he could gain any friction. Nearly thirty feet around him had begun to fold into itself like quicksand, changed by the spell known as Mold Earth.

"No!"

'Die, ' Ren thought, commanding her blood shards forth.

Blood instantly swept through her vision as seven ice shards dug several inches into his chest before coming to a stop by his powerful constitution. Nevertheless, Ren had carved through several bones and organs.

[Ron Thevel'mo has been corrupted by Blood Poisoning]

"You were a mage…" Ron muttered, spewing globs of blood from his lips.

"It's over," Hilda muttered, frowning. She hated mages due to their versatility when it came to the elements. Especially those that could control the earth to disrupt one's movement.

What do higher attributes matter if you can't move or reach your target?

Name: Ron Thevel'mo

Class: [Soilder Lv 25] [Duel Knight Lv 50]

Race: Human(Horned Wyvern)

Strength: 126 → 75

Dexterity: 70 →30

Constitution: 76 →43

Wisdom: 28 →15

Charisma:14 →7

Mana: 20

Affected by Rens ice spears that tore into his chest, Altair cooly monitor the drop in his stats. Aurora had only eight spells under her belt: Barrier, Camouflage, Magic Missle, Mold Earth, Ivy, Feather Fall, Fire Bolt, and Light.

Three spells were for attacking, one defended, while the rest were for survivability, taught to her by Ser Esten Florell, a Sixth Circle Mage. Ensuring that all her spells could be cast within half a second if needed.

"Even crippled, you are still a threat." Altair mused, a little threatened at his high strength. "But your defeat has taught me a valuable lesson of information. Looks like I need to study more spells." He said. "Why don't we call it even?"

"You-You-You won't kill me?" Ron said, spewing out a mouthful of blood.

"Kill you?" The little devil grinned. "Why'd I do that? That would only land me in trouble. No… Just hand over my money. And we can call it even."

[Ron Thevel'mo has transferred a hundred sols into your account.]

[832 Sols → 932 Sols]

"Oh… I almost forgot… Do you know how to read lips?" The Prince kindly asked.

"... I do…"

"Then please take that gun and, jam the barrel in your mouth, and pull the trigger ten seconds after I leave, "The Prince kindly asked, mouthing the words with a familiar throb of his pupils.

"I'll see you soon then! Come see me at that location at 1300 hours." He soon said out loud, taking his leave with a somewhat pale face.

Ron stood still, his ears growing wet with tears as the command whipped out at him like a dagger to the heart. Fully conscious of the words stabbing at his mind, Ron counted down

10

9

8

7

"Art, I'm hungry again!" Ren childishly said, leaping onto her prince's head.

6

"Do you have a tapeworm? How are you still hungry!"

5

"Well played, Altair," Hilda said, unafraid to dish out compliments when it was deserved. "That was a perfect use of your spell. Though if he had known you were a mage, things might have ended differently."

4

Tears fumbled from Ron's eyes as the countdown dug into his soul. "Don't… Don't make… Don't make me do this…'" He cried, pissing himself, cocking his pistol upwards, eating the barrel of his gun.

3

2

"Please"

1

"That's a bit unexpected. I would—"

BANG~

[Ron Thevel'mo Felled. Exp Gained]

[EXP Surplus Detected]

[Exp will be distributed to the Second Class]