Blaze hated “underground” fighting arenas. It was a well-founded hatred with a lot of reasons behind it.
Despite that, he had to admit that this one was actually pretty nice. It wasn’t the architecture; the actual fighting arena was little more than a workout or training arena with reinforced but transparent walls. It didn’t even have the sort of protection enchantments that many better arenas would have, and it had the thoroughly uninspiring nickname “the box”. No, the reason it was pretty nice was everything else.
The area surrounding the box was filled with viewing stands; they were surprisingly nice for a supposedly secretive arena, but Blaze had seen that before as well. It usually meant that the arena had been around for a while and the manager was strict about no fighting in the stands, but it could also mean that the arena was unofficially sanctioned and used as a way to keep hotheads from causing worse trouble. In this case, Blaze was fairly confident both were true.
Given the factional nature of the priesthood, Blaze was confident the arena was backed by only one or two factions, which probably drew off some of the money the arena made. That was pretty normal for underground fighting arenas, whether they were unofficially sanctioned or not; they made money and that money had to go somewhere.
Raul had found him and asked politely if he was interested in being paid for healing. It was surprisingly cordial, actually; Blaze had seen the same question “asked” in a way that made it clear it was a demand more than once. Blaze was no pushover of a healer, so he sometimes went along with demands and sometimes didn’t. A polite request, on the other hand, was something he was happy to get details on.
An underground fighting arena was perfect for the kind of information he needed to gather on Aeon, so after an appropriate length of time for indecision, Blaze accepted. He’d done it before, far more than once; fighters paid well to be healed enough to fight again and sometimes that was the only work a foreign healer could get, even if the arena didn’t cover it.
Despite his experience, or maybe because of it, he’d been surprised by this arena. It was far more similar to a training facility than a normal underground fighting arena. It showed in the little things, like the fact that the arena would supply good armor and blunted weapons to all of the people fighting. That was normally only a feature of the big arenas.
That care also extended to the fighters once they were off the arena floor. They only held fights when there were healers available; that was how Blaze had heard about the place, after all. Once it was known that he was a healer who wasn’t a priest, they found him.
The fact that the arena also operated as a cheap healing clinic for the normal population of Aeon - the non-priests - was more than a bit of a surprise but was even more welcome than the arena itself. People talked when they had to wait and they were generally happy to talk to a healer. He’d learned a lot about Aeon in the past two months.
He hadn’t, however, ever expected to end up in the fighting enclosure. That wasn’t somewhere healers went.
“You still sure you want to do this?” Raul sounded worried; Blaze suspected it was over losing a skilled healer rather than any actual concern for Blaze himself, but perhaps Blaze was too untrusting. “You can forfeit at any time; Rockfist’s already agreed to let you out without anything more if you do.”
Blaze shook his head. “I told you I wanted in on this one. There’s a reason.”
“If you’re short on money, I know some people who-”
“It’s not the money, Raul.” Blaze glared at the arena manager. “It’s the greendust.”
“Greendust?” Raul sounded offended. “You know that stuff is terrible for mages; it enhances the physical body but damages the ability to use mana. That’s why the better fighters don’t use it at all.”
Blaze sighed. He’d gotten almost the exact same reaction when he asked for some from the arena’s head healer; that was how he’d ended up here, after all. “I don’t want to take it because of the fight. I want to know what it does to the body and the magic system. I can’t heal something I don’t understand.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He could sometimes heal something he couldn’t understand if it was simple enough or if the person he was healing would eventually heal it themselves; he simply couldn’t heal more than their body normally would without understanding it. It would heal faster but that was all.
Raul shook his head. “They won’t thank you for healing away the greendust. There’s a reason so many take it.”
Blaze sighed deliberately. He was actually happy about Raul’s reaction; that was exactly what he wanted the man to assume. How was Raul supposed to know that they were trying to rescue people that were far more affected by greendust than anyone in the fighting arena?
He couldn’t and Blaze didn’t want him to guess.
“It depends on what the greendust does. Without trying to heal it, how can I know if I can mitigate the bad effects without removing the good ones or not?” Blaze was far less confident any of the effects were good than Raul was, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the argument. “What sort of a healer would I be if I let people hurt themselves in front of me without trying to learn how to fix it?”
“A sane one?” Raul set his hand on Blaze’s shoulder. “They know what they’re getting into; it’s worth it to them. There’s no need to risk your life to try to learn how to fix something no one wants fixed.”
Blaze couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at that. Maybe Raul did actually care about more than keeping another healer. He twitched his shoulder to get it out from under Raul’s hand. “If you want me not to go in there, let me buy some greendust. That’s what I tried originally; it would be fine.”
Raul was already shaking his head.
Blaze knew the restriction; greendust was only for people who fought in the arena. They also restricted the amount you could get, but they didn’t require the fighter to use it at the arena. That was the only loophole Blaze had found and it was one he was counting on, because he wasn’t dumb enough to just use a drug on himself without any preparation. “Fine. Then can I get my entire winnings replaced with greendust? That way I won’t have to go back in to fight any time soon.”
“You’re assuming you’ll win anything.” Raul didn’t sound at all confident.
Blaze forced a grin. The fact that he didn’t like to fight didn’t mean he was bad at it. If he’d thought there was any real chance he’d run into trouble, he’d have gotten one of the others to fight; Sillon or Kerr would probably have been happy for the diversion. “You’ve never seen anyone like me fight. I don’t lose often.”
Raul sighed. “Then if you win enough, I’ll see what I can do. Don’t die.”
Blaze chuckled at that. He was in absolutely no danger. Not from Rockfist; he’d seen the man fight. He was exceptionally good with his fists as the name implied, and that would ordinarily be good against a healer. Blaze wasn’t exactly an ordinary healer, however. “I’ll be fine. You don’t think I went into this without knowing how to fight?”
Raul shook his head. “You won’t be the first non-fighter I’ve seen in the arena. Most survive, but not all.”
Naturally, that was when Blaze’s fight was announced. “And now it’s time for the third fight of the evening! I hope you’re ready for this one; I know I am! Our very own Rockfist is planning to punch out the newest challenger in our arena! Some of you may recognize him; Phoenix has been watching our arena for several months and has decided he wants to step into the box! Please welcome … Rockfist and Phoenix!”
“Why did you pick that name?” Raul grimaced. “That’s going to get everyone riled up, plus I’m not sure which side Rockfist’s on.”
Blaze blinked. Was there something he didn’t know about the term? Something it meant locally? “It’s appropriate for a healer.” It also happened to be Blaze’s bloodline, but he knew better than to mention bloodlines on Aeon.
Raul groaned. “You don’t know? Look, it’s too late now, but find me after. If you survive.”
That was the first thing Raul had said that actually worried Blaze, but there was nothing to do about it now.
Blaze shook off the worry and headed for the arena; he was already dressed in the outfit he planned to wear for the fight. It was essentially the same as his normal traveling clothes, but he had nothing in his pockets and nothing strapped to him, not even a weapon. He could have chosen to wear clothing specifically for the fight, but he was used to fighting in everyday clothing; that was, after all, the difference between a mercenary and a gladiator.
Blaze didn’t wear armor even in a dungeon. It wasn’t necessary, but mostly it would interfere with the way he fought. There was more than one reason he’d chosen the name Phoenix, after all. Clothing was light enough and loose enough to be handled by one of his Skills; even leather armor had a tendency to be too heavy if it was worth much.
Blaze walked to the fighters’ entrance and was allowed into the box. Rockfist waited inside.
Rockfist was tall and well-muscled, as one would expect of someone who fought with his fists for a living. He was wearing armor, but it was limited, probably to make it easier to move; he wasn’t even wearing gloves, just some cloth wraps on his hands.
The limited armor showed off his scars as well as his muscles; Blaze knew that the scars meant he’d either had them deliberately left or he’d been seen by healers who weren’t all that skilled. Since Rockfist had visited the healers’ area more than once for aches that should have been taken care of when the injuries were initially healed, Blaze knew which one he would bet on.
During those visits, Rockfist was a cheerful, friendly man. That wasn’t the Rockfist Blaze saw in front of him now; instead, he glowered from the other end of the box. Blaze couldn’t be certain if this was simply an attempt to be intimidating before the fight, but he didn’t think it was. Not after Raul’s warning.
The announcer said some more things, but Blaze didn’t really listen. He didn’t care how many fights Rockfist had won in a row and he already knew the rules for the fight. Instead, Blaze was debating which way he wanted to handle the fight itself. He’d originally intended to lean into his diehar training; Rockfist had a brutal style, but it was one Blaze knew he could counter with agility.
After Raul’s warning, however, Blaze thought he’d best change his plan. Phoenix apparently meant something he wasn’t aware of. If he went with his original plan, the name wouldn’t be explained and people would be free to assume that it meant whatever that meaning was.
He had another option. An option that would make it obvious why he chose Phoenix. It was a good thing he’d decided against armor.
“And now, Rockfist versus Phoenix! May the better fighter win! Start!”
That was the cue.
Blaze burst into flame.
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