The rising prices of materials, labor, and general goods truly sunk in when Nil got quotes on fixing up the house and replacing damaged appliances. The number of tradespeople had dwindled despite the ever-growing unemployment rates. Meanwhile, almost all decent quality white goods—fridges, washing machines, driers, ovens—were aethertech and cost an arm and a leg. The seven-thousand pounds he earned wouldn't stretch as far as he had hoped. In fact, waiting two months until the next summon no longer felt like an option.
Nil had hoped to invest in training, help his family, and then stretch the rest over two months until Nexus demanded he take on a quest. Now, training felt out of the question, and he doubted the money would last a month if he tried to make the house better for his family.
The window in Sam and Emily's shared room had a giant crack and chip, ruining the double glazing. It wasn't too big an issue now, but they'd struggle to keep the space warm in a couple of months once winter arrived. A leak in Udit's bathroom had caused dampness to spread, and Nil saw the early signs of mold, too. The drier barely worked. Because of autumn rains, the family had to dry their clothes indoors, resulting in a mildewy smell. So, despite his father's protests, Nil spent his money on improving their living conditions. He felt guilty for not visiting in over a year. If he knew how bad things were, he would've sent more money home.
“Absolutely not!” Emily exclaimed when, after a week of staying at home, Nil brought up the possibility of pursuing a career in Apocalypse Arena. “Don't you dare bring this up around, Baba! He'll have a heart attack!”
“But he could comfortably retire,” Nil said. “Think about it, Emmy. He can finally relax, garden, do pottery, and pursue his hobby of the day. You could go to a decent private university without loans, pursue your dreams, and go into a career the Summoned won't make obsolete.”
“People die in Apocalypse Arena, Sunil! You're not going to throw your life away just to make things easier for us. Summoned life and going off on dangerous interdimensional adventures is bad enough. Don't think for a second I believed that nonsense about safe quests.”
“The Schema, Nexus, or whatever it is gave you an ability meant for throwing in the path of danger and stopping it with your body. I know you. You're going to do just that. But there is no going back now, and we can live with it. You're not going to increase your chances of dying young by fighting in Apocalypse Arena. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mom.” Nil sighed.
Emily threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I appreciate everything you're doing for us, and the more you want to do, but we'll find a better way.”
“Okay,” Nil said, kissing the top of his sister’s head. “We'll figure something out.”
It was a lie.
After spending a couple of nights awake, Nil had already made up his mind.
In 2007, when the Large Hadron Collider fired for the first time, and the cataclysm came, Nil was only fifteen. He, like most of the residents of the United Kingdom, survived. Fear and fervor plagued the population as the world changed. The Amazon birthed giant monsters. Hundreds of meters long sandworms stirred in the deserts. The ground split open in the Middle Eastern countries drilling for oil. Creatures of fire, earth, ash, and sand spilled forth and spread to neighboring states, killing millions. The following migrant crisis would’ve followed a war if not for the Nexus’ arrival and assistance.
Not long after the Summoned came into existence and news of them spread, criminals with enhanced physiologies and magic emerged. Nil’s parents put him in martial arts classes and basic survival training for when and if he got summoned or cornered by the new gangs led by unregistered Summoned. He didn’t take the classes seriously until Aisha passed. However, the first six years built a foundation that he refined afterward while training with men who worked as night club bouncers and security guards. Nil was as confident in his hand-to-hand fighting as he was in his cooking skills.
For a chance at success in Apocalypse Arena, Nil needed to get better at timing Brutal Battery's timings and learn to meld it with his fighting style.
Absorb was reasonably easy to use and activate. However, switching from it to Expend and controlling the output proved challenging. Only a ludus could help him overcome the two hurdles. Ludus' organized competitions also served as the staging ground for Apocalypse Arena fighters. Only after proving oneself in a ludus could one ascend to the world stage.
Unfortunately, it was expensive to join a Ludus and just as expensive to stay in one. Some gave their residents work to make up for the housing and training fees, but a quick search on Summoned forums suggested they were rare and challenging to come by. Most decent luduses only entertained candidates with recommendations if they had already ascended to the Iron Realm. Most used their Schema Credit and Arena earnings to pay the ludus fees. Eventually, sponsors found the individuals and took on the costs.
The numbers shocked and sickened Nil, but he understood. Housing, feeding, and training individuals with supernatural powers was an expensive and dangerous affair. They had the capability to cause devastating damage to property or severely hurt someone with an incorrect muscle twitch. When Emily had Nil braid her hair, he had to stop several times whenever his nose tickled, or he felt a sneeze coming on. A sudden jerk with his seven points in Might could potentially cause severe damage.
After exhausting all possible avenues, Nil called Andrew, his friend from high school. The last time they spoke, Andrew had quit a dishwashing job to deal weed full-time. Now, according to his social media profile, he worked in the scrap metal recycling industry.
“Sunny-boi!” Andrew exclaimed as soon as Nil called. He had used Sam's phone, but his old friend identified him at hello. “I thought you forgot me.”
“The man that introduced me to all my vices?” Nil laughed. “Never.”
“So? What do you need? I hope you know I quit the naughty horticultural industry some time ago.”
“I just became a Summoned, can't afford to join a ludus, and need to make money. The only legal option right now is a government job, and I'm not too keen on them.”
“Yeah. Big Brother is a miser fuck. Do you remember the old scrap metal yard near South Harrow Station?”
“Where the playground used to be?”
“Meet me there in an hour. We'll catch up with a beer and a sandwich.” Andrew paused. Nil heard bubbling. Then nothing. Followed by a slow exhale. “You can tell me your tale then. I hate catching up on the phone.”
“That's a wild fucking story,” Andrew said an hour later. He and Nil sat on lawn furniture in a scrap yard, empty beer bottles and fast food wrappers littering the ground between them. Broken power tools and several dented car doors lay around them. Andrew had insisted on a power demonstration before they talked, and the pair got carried away with their experimentation. “So, what now? Do you want to become Wildshaper Wilson?”
“Adrian Wildshaper Wilson.” Nil laughed. He remembered pretending to be the now Gold-Realm Apocalypse Arena fighter. The screens in Picadilly Circus often featured him promoting one product or another. “I miss those. Adrian ‘Wildshaper’ Wilson versus his brother, Arthur ‘Technomancer’ Wilson. Is that how you ended up with this place?”
Andrew nodded. “I had just quit my old career with bags of unspendable cash. Then Mum died, leaving me a monster inheritance. Since the Nexus had no plan of picking me, I thought I might as well have some fun playing with her Artisans' products.” He nodded at the wall of discarded Aethertech on the other side of the three inter-connected mobile homes that formed his house. “Salvaging, repairing, and reselling parts is good money. It's almost as much as I make from selling recycled scrap metal.”
“But it's not strictly legal.”
“The best things never are.” Andrew grinned. “You’re not wearing a wire, are you?”
“Of course not.” Nil waved at his shirtless torso. He had removed it from the experimentation and not put it back on after getting grease on his chest. Additional units in the Might attribute had helped him overcome genetics and develop shape and definition that a decade of resistance training had failed to achieve. “I’m just curious about what contacts you might have.”
“A good deal of the interesting aethertech is licensed, patented, or government controlled. There are some I can resell legally, but they don’t make me enough to keep up with my hobby. So, I sell to the unsavory, collectors, and like-minded.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he spoke. “Why, good-two-shoes Sunil Roy? What did you have in mind?”
“I was hoping you knew something about the pits and how one could go about getting themselves a paying bout,” Nil answered matter-of-factly.
“I was worried you would say that,” Andrew said, slumping back in his chair. “You’re too straight and narrow for illegal cage matches, Nil.”
“I know, Andy.” Nil sighed. “I know. But things are worse at home than I expected. Baba can’t support himself, keep paying for the house, and maintain it with two minors. Becoming a Summoned cost me a job, and it will be a while before I can take on quests with decent pay that aren’t suicide missions. The pits might be my only option.”
“Fine.” Andrew pulled a pair of scratched metal rods out of his pocket. He pulled them apart, creating a postcard-sized screen. “I thought you might want something of the sort. So, I prepared this. It has the details of how to get in contact with the organizers. I’ve sold to the company before. They’re discreet, and getting to communicate through the device will mean I vouch for you. So, don’t do anything stupid like tell your new policewoman girlfriend, alright?”
“There is nothing of the sort between us,” Nil said, glancing at Aisha’s visage. She was busy studying a still glowing aethertech machine of some sort.
“The memory banks also have recordings of a couple of months' worth of matches,” Andrew continued, ignoring the interjection. “I suggest you watch them and decide whether you really want to do this. It's brutal down there. They stop the matches before someone gets killed, but it's too late occasionally. I’ve seen one too many fighters end up disabled.”
“Thanks, Andy.” Nil accepted the device and swiped through the horrifying thumbnails. His friend had crammed a lot more into the memory banks than he claimed. “This will be a lot of help.”
“For the record, I’m against this idea. Your mum would’ve kicked my butt if I didn’t tell you so.”
“Why did we stop talking?” Nil asked, changing topics. “I don’t remember us fighting.”
“Aisha and Naomi hated each other.” Andrew flashed him a sad smile. “There was drama, and it was just easier not to get together. We just grew apart with time. Then your lady died, and mine cheated on me with a Summoned rich boy. I was too ashamed to make the first call.”
“Well, that’s all behind us now. It’s great to have you back, bro.”
Andrew tossed Nil another beer, and they drank together, reminiscing about the old days. Despite almost a decade of no contact, it felt like nothing had changed between them.
