Zeirdin stepped through the gate behind a group of people, marking his arrival on Floor 5. The overwhelming bustling atmosphere of Tennia starkly contrasted the barren wastelands of the past two floors. What immediately caught Zeirdin’s attention was the dark sky, despite it being midday. The gate seemed to be placed somewhere on the outskirts of the city along the main road. Pedestrians and machine riders shared the road equally. Zeirdin craned his head to see the tops of the towering buildings, covered with neon signs and posters that illuminated the perpetual night.

“Wow.” Zeirdin was amazed at the pure spectacle of the city. He received quite a few gazes from onlookers walking by. Zeirdin suddenly felt a little self-conscious. He hadn’t bathed in a week, nor did he own a shirt. If one was to kindly describe him with one word, it would be the word feral. His greasy black hair now hung below his shoulders, and he was covered in dirt and dried blood. What do I do? Zeirdin hadn’t exactly planned much since his abrupt departure from the jungle. He currently owned nothing. All of his hard-earned dynats were lost along with all of his gear when the yemlins dragged him off. He needed food and lodging, both of which required money.

Zeirdin slapped his palm to his face, “Shit shit shitttt! I should’ve collected the scrap from those androids on my way here!” Zeirdin didn’t want to leave the city until food and lodging were secured. He needed to find a method of earning money that didn’t require a big time investment. He walked down the main street, worse off than a bum. If only he had a way to contact Jin and the others. Unfortunately, their contact information was all on his lost biotablet.

The further he walked, the more evident it became that Tennia’s main industry was entertainment. There seemed to be no regulation of where certain establishments could be built as shops, brothels, bars, and casinos equally populated every block. Scantily clad women waved in front of their respective businesses, trying to snatch anyone who looked. Zeirdin averted his eyes, instead looking at the neon signs. “The Den” was a moderately priced-looking brothel on his right that occupied the lower floors of a tall concrete building. Neon pink lights decorated the exterior while pipes and windows covered the concrete. A big neon sign read “Tennia District 10”.

Zeirdin’s nose felt clogged by the various strong perfumes that filled the air. He guessed they originated from the brothels on the street. Zeirdin already disliked Tennia more than any other city in the Tower. He still lacked shoes, so fragments of broken glass and gravel stuck to the soles of his feet. Zeirdin missed the soft wet jungle floor. He couldn’t help but compare everything to the jungle. The wide neon street curved before revealing an entirely different section of the city. The end of District 10? The buildings in front of Zeirdin were repurposed warehouses. Gray rusting metal made up 90% of the surroundings here. Unlike most warehouse districts though, this one was just as busy as the entertainment district. People of all shapes and sizes could be seen entering and exiting. Zeirdin was curious about what the hype was about since none of the buildings had signs. He entered the closest warehouse. Inside were three rings surrounded by metal fencing. All the light inside came from the lights hanging above each ring. Two people were fighting inside each ring. Two of the three were fighting each other with bare hands. Two men were bashing each other with metal rods in the last ring. Onlookers loudly jeered, cheered, and roared, a fitting background to the ongoing savagery. Rules seemed to be the least of anyone’s worries. The referee in each ring barely moved or reacted. Each fighter was trying their utmost to main the other. It was brutal and entertaining. Zeirdin wanted in on it. If an entire district was built on fighting, there had to be money involved.

Putting his sharp vision to use, Zeirdin scanned the large room for anyone who looked official. He immediately spotted a man that stood out near one of the rings. The short man wore much nicer clothing than anyone else in the warehouse. Zeirdin waded through the sea of grimy people to the man. With each step, he was greeted with a different foul body odor. I know I don’t exactly smell good right now… but these people are talented at being nasty. Zeirdin eventually reached the man after his sharp nose received enough abuse for a lifetime.

“Excuse me, sir,” Zeirdin called out loudly. The yelling made it difficult to hear well.

“Hmm?” The man eyed him, raising an eyebrow.

Zeirdin pointed to the ring with the fighters, “How do I get in on this?”

“Haha, this is perfect. I was just looking for someone like you,” The man handed Zeirdin a clipboard with a pen and form on it. It was a combat sign-up sheet. At the top, it read “Q’s Hourly Blitz”. Zeirdin skimmed it, making sure there were no devious hidden clauses that would enslave him for a lifetime. All the time slots were for today. Zeirdin’s eyes lit up. The prize money for each win was 15 dynats flat.

“Is there a limit to how many time slots I can sign up for?”

“Mm, no. Most people don’t do more than one a day. Anything short of murder is allowed so the fights end up being very physically taxing,” Zeirdin wasn’t listening as he listed his name for every slot up until 7 pm, totaling four fights. The form requested his combat score, height, and weight.

“Hm, what was it again?” Zeirdin muttered to himself. Those numbers were arbitrary and didn’t carry any weight in the jungle so he’d forgotten about them. He just filled in the last numbers he remembered seeing over three months ago.

The man saw the filled time slots and looked quizzically at Zeirdin, “Are you insane or stupid?” Zeirdin chuckled which seemed to be enough to silence the man, given his shirtless and feral appearance. “Be at that ring over there in 15 minutes,” The man pointed to the furthest ring. The man departed, melding into the crowd. Zeirdin supposed it was a little bizarre. Signing up for a match was easier and quicker than he’d expected. The dancing butterflies of anticipation filled Zeirdin’s chest as he approached the far ring. Waiting was never Zeirdin’s favorite. Even if he only won a single match he would have enough money for food and lodging for at least a day.

Zeirdin watched the ongoing fight in ring three as he waited. It was apparent that the entire daily event was rough and unorganized. The two fighters wore normal clothes. He tried to figure out what exactly the restrictions were in the ring. So far, all he observed was the complete ban on body armor and fatal attacks. Otherwise, each match was as close to an unadulterated street fight as possible in a controlled setting. The taller skinny man on Zeirdin’s side of the ring swung wildly, arms whirling like a windmill. Blood streamed down his knuckles and splattered across the ground as a few strikes connected. The shorter man wearing sandals hid behind his fists in terror as blow after blow landed. Amateurs. The crowd cheered loudly with every blow. Finally snapping out of his daze, the sandal man dashed forward and caught the skinny man off guard. He grabbed his attacker’s waist and tackled him to the ground. To the surprise of everyone present, the sandal man scrambled on the ground before sinking his teeth into the other man’s brow. The sandal man’s teeth were all chrome plated and glimmered in the harsh white light that hung above the ring.

“Fuck!” The man yelled. On the surface, the attack seemed like a random act of desperation, but Zeirdin knew it was a calculated move. Although neither man had any skill in fighting, at least one was the slightest bit cunning. A bite to the jugular or shoulder would cause more damage, but a wound on the brow would bleed fiercely, obscuring the man’s vision. The skinny man struggled to get the smaller man off him as more blood began to stream down his face. Both grunted and hissed as they grappled. The sandal man managed to get on top and began to pummel the other man’s head. Fleshy cracks rang out with every connecting blow. The crowd began to boo. The sandal man was not a fan favorite; they wanted to see flash violence. The match ended when the buzzer rang and the skinny man did not get up. The mat of the ring was covered in blood splatters and red sandal prints. The match was short, brutal, and sweet. It was no wonder the time slots were grouped so close together.

Zeirdin stepped through a door in the metal link gate, following the richly dressed man from before. The crowd murmured quietly in anticipation at the new face. Zeirdin’s heart rate climbed slightly. While he didn’t see anyone use Galma, Lovac was probably allowed so he began to channel. The cage door opposite Zeirdin opened and a massive man middle-aged man walked through. He had to bend his neck and scrunch his shoulders to fit through the door. The man was well over two meters tall with a thick frame to match. He wore a white tank top and navy canvas pants. Zeirdin remembered what the well-dressed man first said, ‘I was just looking for someone like you'. Ah, he must’ve been looking for a punching bag for his moneymaker.

Zeirdin could feel the unfocused bloodlust radiating from him. Without the time Zeirdin spent in the jungle, he knew he would’ve immediately lost to the massive man. Now was different though. He wasn’t even sure if he was still completely human. The richly dressed man waved at the crowd, silencing the onlookers.

“I’m Quil! Welcome to the eighth match of the day! With no shirt or shoes, we have a newcomer! Zeerdan! A mysterious newbie with a combat score of 70! Who knows what surprises he has in store for us!” A few scattered claps echoed throughout the crowd.

“Opposite Zeirdin we have a returning veteran, a fan favorite! Tejz, The Iron Bear!” The crowd roared with applause and whistles. Zeirdin couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. “With a combat score of 134, this cyborg behemoth always puts on a good show! A level 2, Tejz reached Floor 13 before retiring!” Cyborg, that’s allowed? Zeirdin thought.

“Brutal beat down or riveting match of equal blows, we will find out! That’s enough introduction! Let’s get to the MAYHEM!” Quil waved his arms in the air. The crowd roared even louder. Day drinkers… He scurried out of the cage like a black and white rodent.

“START!”

Without warning, Tejz ran toward Zeirdin, stride full of confidence.

“Give up now and I won’t snap your spine!” Tejz yelled. With each of his footfalls, the mat rumbled. Tejz was already a monster of a man without metal implants. Zeirdin guessed he weighed close to 300 kilos. Tejz was overconfident and kept his guard down. Zeirdin knew he could’ve won by now but he wanted to win the crowd through flashy moves.

Tejz reached Zeirdin and swung his massive arms inwards in a bear hug. The attack was telegraphed so obviously that Zeirdin had time to come up with a flashy method of evasion. Instead of sidestepping, retreating, or ducking, Zeirdin focused mana on his legs. Mana whirred within his muscles as they vibrated with energy. Zeirdin sprung upwards with unnatural speed. He seemed to ignore gravity for a few moments. Zeirdin’s body kept traveling upwards toward the rafters of the warehouse. His ascent stopped at three meters in the air. Zeirdin saw the surprise form on Tejz’s face in slow motion as his bear hug completely missed its mark. Zeirdin landed with a light thud behind Tejz. The crowd didn’t know what to think. A few cheers and a few confused boos came from the crowd.

The massive man turned around with a massive smile on his face. Tejz lurched forward shooting a quick jab cross at Zeirdin’s face. The man’s massive arms moved with a speed impossible for such a large man. At least naturally. Zeirdin knew it would be a little bad if one of those strikes caught his head. Tejz had serious power behind his punches. The bear man kept throwing wild strikes with large openings. Zeirdin simply kept evading gracefully with minimal movement. A few people in the crowd were starting to change their minds a little.

Tejz threw a wild left hook. Zeirdin felt the wind from the strike brush his cheek as he ducked and slid between Tejz’s legs. A few people in the crowd cheered. The man was beginning to become frustrated and a little embarrassed. His strikes grew wilder and more erratic. He wasn’t used to losing, especially to someone a third of his weight. Zeirdin decided it was time to go on the offensive. Tejz began to turn around to face him again but Zeirdin wouldn’t go easy on him anymore. He delivered a swift mana-infused low kick to Tejz’s knee. Zeirdin’s hardened shin connected with a fleshy crack and the massive man’s knee bent backward and snapped under the weight. Tejz tumbled to the ground with a thud. The man was thoroughly enraged now. The entire cage rattled from the impact of the man falling.

“YOUU!” He snarled. Zeirdin looked at the timer bolted to the top of the cage. Only three minutes had elapsed since the beginning of the fight. Shoot. Zeirdin originally wanted to drag out the fight for as long as possible, but he didn’t expect Tejz’s knees to be so weak.

“Shuuuush,” Zeirdin said as he walked over to the man on the ground. Tejz pushed himself up into a half-sitting, half-squatting position, leaning the bulk of his weight on his good leg. Even squatting, Tejz’s head came up to Zeirdin’s chin. He was expecting some sort of high strike Zeirdin guessed. He would get the opposite. Zeirdin darted around Tejz like a squirrel and kicked him in the same knee again.

“Ggrraaaa,” Tejz groaned, gritting his teeth. “YOU DIRTY BASTARD!” The crowd booed. Zeirdin rolled his eyes. You want to be rude? Zeirdin was hungry and irritated slightly now. In a childish act, he turned around to the crowd and gave them the middle finger. As the crowd jeered, Zeirdin lined up a back kick with Tejz’s face without even turning away from the crowd. Yet another fleshy crack filled the air. The heel kick knocked Tezj over yet again. The man’s stone jaw was skewed to the side and he spat a mouth full of blood out on the mat. The crowd booed at Zeirdin, however this time there were more cheers mixed in.

Now on both knees, Tejz leaped toward Zeirdin with his arms outstretched. He was now truly desperate. The complete underestimation of his opponent had left him thoroughly thrashed. Zeirdin remembered he would still get the money whether the crowd liked him or not. Tejz made it into range but the gap in physical and cognitive speed between the two fighters became extremely evident for a fraction of a second. Tejz’s head was at the perfect height for Zeirdin’s elbow. The very tip of his elbow dug into the huge man’s temple. Most of the force of the impact was generated by Tejz’s forward momentum. Zeirdin just put his elbow in the right place at the right time. There was no crack, groan, or anything. Tejz simply collapsed to the ground like someone just pressed his off button. The crowd was silent.

“Well… This… this is unexpected...” Quil said.