Nations of Rothel:

Concordat: The nation of Zeri, Savior of Contracts. His Mark grants the ability to make supernaturally binding agreements between two parties. All potential additional conduits are related to this ability in some manner. Concordatians are renowned the world over as lawyers and businessmen.

There were a number of fighting pits that made up The Pits - which was why it was called ‘The Pits’ rather than ‘The Pit’, I guessed. Supposedly, each one served a slightly different function; I had a difficult time discerning the differences, though. The similarity was far easier to spot.

Bloodsports.

It was amazing how casually violence could be treated when one had the knowledge that any and all injury barring sudden and immediate death could be healed in a mere moment. I still had my doubts as to the legality of the whole thing, but the open and clearly popular nature of the entire affair spoke for itself.

Plus, the waivers I signed voiding the owners of The Pits of any responsibility for possible mental anguish had seemed official enough. Fortunately, they would take responsibility for any healing required - I was told they had quite a number of onstaff Woundshifters, though I didn’t necessarily need them. I still appreciated that they were available; I might have been more disapproving of Roy’s idea of a lawful source of revenue otherwise.

As it was, I was only slightly disapproving, and that mostly because he was currently attempting to persuade me that it was a good idea to tangle with an actual monster - all in the name of earning him some money to dissuade his criminal habits.

“Look, Markus, you already signed the waivers. You’re basically halfway there!”

I gave him a pointed look, raising one brow. “Do you remember when you were terrified of me? I think I miss the you of about two hours ago. Those were better times.”

As nonchalantly as I referred to that little discovery, it had hurt when he first mentioned it. One of the conversations we had held on our way over had touched on your simple everyday topics such as how I ‘looked like a serial killer’ and ‘should try to act less insane’. Wisdom from the mouths of babes - or a teenager, anyway. Close enough.

“Well, people change,” he retorted. “Besides, it could be fun!”

I opened my mouth to refuse once again, but closed it back instead.

I suppose he does have a point...

How did I let Roy talk me into this‽

The crack of a whip sent me diving to the side; the clash of splintering bone as the ground shattered made me grateful I did so. It probably would have missed anyway, but better safe than sorry. See, whips would have been bad enough. This was significantly worse.

“Seriously, what the fuck are you?” I yelled.

Of course, I knew what it was. It was called an Axtail. They told me that already. I was just frustrated that I hadn’t thought to properly clarify what that meant before I finally agreed to fight the damn thing.

My first clue that something was terribly wrong was when I spotted the Marked that controlled the beast. Unlike me, normal Marked of Neladrie had a far more finite amount of life available to reanimate a corpse. So, the fact that the man was in a rudimentary wheelchair, of all things, spelled bad news - mostly because it meant the Axtail had borrowed so much of his life force that he was unable to move his own body due to extreme weakness.

My second clue was the way the crowd grew abruptly quiet when the man was wheeled out, before erupting into thunderous cheers that echoed across the high-arched ceiling and forced the ground to shake beneath me.

My final clue was seeing the Axtail itself.

Really, I would have only needed the third clue.

See, if you weren’t thinking about it, you might hear the name ‘Axtail’ and assume it’s just a name. It wasn’t. Apparently - and I was extremely unhappy to discover this - it was named for the fucking axe attached to its tail. How about that?

Where the hell did this unholy abomination come from?

Not only that, but the name completely discounted the deadliness of its four legs; they were more than able to pierce right through me, I was sure. I really did not want to get sliced open in front of a crowd, though I knew that nothing short of shattering the core nestled within my head would actually put me down.

Either way, if they had shown me a picture beforehand or something, I might have said no. At the very least, I wouldn’t have agreed to be so heavily handicapped.

According to the information I was given prior, a fighter had to declare what - if any - Risen they planned to use for the fight; depending on what was chosen, the rewards for fighting, and especially winning, could vary. That choice could also affect any odds for betting that might take place.

So, naturally, I released a small number of Risen flies that I had been carrying around in my pack and decided to use those. After all, I was near-immortal and challenges, like variety, were the spice of life. Might as well make it fun. That same reasoning was also why I chose to fight the Axtail in the first place and not something weaker.

Damn, I feel really stupid right about now.

It actually wasn’t very fun.

There was a silver lining, though. There were some official rules of engagement involved in pit fights. The first rule was important: no killing. That was good. I could agree with that. The second rule also earned my approval: keep any maiming under control. That was about it, though. Hence my current issue: a giant mutant abomination that very much intended to maim me - which was annoying, because I didn’t feel very in control.

That’s probably not what the second rule actually meant, but knowing that didn’t help my mood very much.

I backpedaled furiously, the Axtail’s namesake whipping through the air in my direction. It fell short, the dual cracks of its whipcord-thin tail breaking the sound barrier and the sharp, hatchet-like tip shattering the floor following my steps.

The monster ambled forward, its four spider-like jointed legs scraping against the floor as it went.

Again and again its axe came down, hemming me in with every whip crack.

I dodged another slash, keeping my eyes on the beast while it tugged at the axehead now buried in the ground to my side. It was only the vision of my crow-self perched upon Roy’s shoulder that averted disaster. From that angle, I was able to watch as the tail pulled free and whipped sideways from my blindspot - all without returning to its starting position, a tactic and range of motion hitherto unseen in the fight.

I shifted frantically, the slice that would have cleaved full across my ankle managing to slice completely through my achilles instead.

White-hot pain filled me for a moment, only the dissociative nature of a Risen’s sensation keeping a scream from my lips. Instead, I hobbled backwards on my crippled foot, stagnant blood seeping forth all the while.

The cold bone of the pit’s outer wall soon pressed against my back, promising the end of the line.

The Axtail’s axetail whipped forward again.

Unable to move, I only had one option.

[Swap].

The world shifted. My viewpoint changed. Just like that, I stood directly behind one of the creature’s hind legs.

A deafening clamor reverberated across the walls as the axe buried itself deeper than ever before. I reached to my side, unsheathing a small blade - one of the few weapons actually small enough to be transported alongside me - and stabbed into the unarmored joint of its knee.

Unwilling to leave it at that, I placed my hand against the beast’s side for leverage. With a jerk, I twisted the blade and turned abruptly, tearing the sharp metal through dense flesh.

At the same time, I activated [Woundshift] to heal my crippled ankle. That, to my chagrin, was unsuccessful; the beast was under [Unity] and thus required the same sort of permission that I had earlier received from Roy.

I had my doubts that the Axtail’s Marked would be quite so accommodating.

Finally, the tail was ripped free from the wall’s grasp. Faster than I would have expected, the Axtail tucked its uninjured legs in awkwardly, collapsing to the ground and rolling against me. Just before my legs were pulped, I activated [Swap] on a different Risen bug.

The world shifted again.

I grimaced as the conduit’s pool emptied further; only a single use remained. The beast finished its heavy roll, coming all the way back around and clambering back to its feet. I offered a silent salute to the brave little Risen that was pulped in my stead.

The Axtail waved its tail, the bladed end undulating back and forth dangerously. In return, I waved my own small blade, matching its threat.

It probably looked a little less imposing than I had hoped.

The tail made the first move. This time, I didn’t teleport, preferring to save my final charge. Instead, I pushed off my uninjured foot, diving at an angle towards the beast as the axe landed behind me.

It reared up as I found my feet, its own front legs bent for a thrust.

With no other option, I threw my knife. The glinting metal tumbled through the air and, in a stroke of luck, managed to bury its length in one of the eyes that lined the monster’s face.

Pained and startled, the Axtail dropped back down, abandoning the thrust in the midst of its surprise. I dove underneath now-stationary legs, coming back behind the same hind leg as before and pulling out a second blade.

This time, however, the Axtail was ready. Despite its recent injury, the leg bent at the joint at an unexpected angle, stabbing behind itself.

Startled, I fell backwards, dropping my weapon and grasping at the leg in a desperate attempt to catch it.

Instead, I caught it through the side. The leg pierced through flesh, glancing off the bone of my hip.

The bladed tail prepared to whip towards me again. Pinned as I was, I wrapped my arms around the leg that served as my captor. Muscles and tendons shredded painfully as I wrenched with a vicious strength, overexerting them far beyond a normal human could manage, though they were ruined in the process.

The massive beast stumbled mid-strike, the awkward striking angle and sudden lurch throwing it off balance enough for me to use its injured leg as a makeshift shield; the tail buried itself in the damaged joint. I finished the job with a twist; the leg came free, freeing me in the process.

A trail of blood streamed behind me as I pulled the limb from my side and rolled away; the monster stumbled, wobbling as it adjusted to standing on one fewer leg. Coming to my feet, I brandished my impromptu lance, favoring my uninjured side. Fortunately, the damage had erred to the outside of my hip, safely away from the femoral artery; not that bleeding was a real concern, but it would be expected to be one by any spectators. As things stood, I had no wish for the fight to be called off for fear of me bleeding out. I was finally feeling like I had a fair chance.

Maybe this was fun.

I circled the wobbling beast with slumping muscles and hobbling steps. It, too, moved with great difficulty; the large monster tilted back and forth on its three legs, forced to rest a bit of its weight on the base of its tail. That same tail whipped towards me - yet, this time, far more slowly.

I stumbled backwards.

It fell far from the mark.

Despite its injuries, though, I was still in danger. The bladed tail whipped back and forth, sacrificing strength and overall lethality in favor of pure relentlessness. Not a bad idea, considering the tireless stamina a Risen held. The human piloting it was likely hoping I would tire and give up.

That wouldn’t be the case; I was just as tireless as he.

More than anything at this point, it was my destroyed musculature that hindered me, preventing proper strength and movement. The fight drifted into a sluggish draw, both of us crippled by injury and moving cautiously.

The crowd roared, passions stoked by the rivers of blood feeding into the ground. I breathed in for the first time since the battle began, letting out a sigh.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give up and call it quits?”

I never received a word of answer. Instead, the tail whipped towards me once again, this time lifting its base off the ground somewhat in an attempt to extend its range.

At the same time, I charged with my stumbling gait, lance-leg at the ready.

Bladed tail met yielding flesh, scoring deep into the meaty edge of my shoulder before bidding its farewell at the other end.

Still I charged, leaving a large chunk of flesh behind me.

Lance-leg challenged leg-leg.

Powered by the force of my movement, lance-leg won; another of the beast’s limbs was lost in a spurt of dark blood, imbalancing the thing and sending it toppling to the ground.

I pulled myself onto its back, freeing a final knife.

Roaring again and again, I carved in deep with my uninjured arm.

Again and again and again and again and again - until, finally, the monster’s deadly blade came to reap its toll.

A separate part of me watched as I yelled and stabbed like a madman, coated in the blood of both monster and man. It watched as that deadly blade rose up, coiling to strike. It watched as the executioner’s axe came down.

It watched as I disappeared.

A moment later, I observed from above as the axehead buried itself in the creature’s own flesh.

After that, I fell, plummeting from the high ceiling. I think I heard Roy scream in my crow-self’s ear as I went.

Downwards, downwards, downwards.

Whistling wind filled my ears - but this time was different than the last.

I giggled at the thought.

My feet touched down, slamming into the blocky rear of the axelike tail. The bones of my legs snapped with an audible pop, the impetus of the landing sending the blade entirely through the monster’s spine, cleaving it in twain.

It wasn’t much of a threat after that.

With the fight over, medics rushed into the arena. As my legs were completely shattered, I could only wait for them to arrive, stewing in sanguine fluid and sanguine victory alike.

Roy had been right; the fight had been fun, all told.

When they arrived, I declined the medics’ assistance, though I did make use of their Risen to perform my own healing. Good as new and right as rain, I walked out of the bloody pit.

Roy met me at the exit with crossed arms and a scowl, my crow-self resting on his shoulder.

“Remember how I told you to act less insane? Not doing a great job.” After a moment, he smirked. “Still looked pretty damn cool, though.”

I stared at him, not bothering to blink this time. Finally, I spoke.

“It’s your turn next.”

The smile vanished.