Dungeon Sniper

The crowd was booing at me, but I had zero f.u.c.k to give.

I held Elysia and together we rolled on the ground, narrowly missing Moniqa's greatsword. Moniqa, as soon as she knew she missed, grunted and even did an impossible horizontal sweep at our trail. That, we evaded too, but through sheer luck.

I realized that the greatsword got me and grazed my back. Nothing deep or serious, but it was enough to give me a chill at the superb reflex and athleticism of the Orc champion, now fuming and glaring at me with deathly intent.

"What is the meaning of this?" barked Moniqa.

Elysia had passed out in my arms, and I held her more tightly as I watched three Orc officiators running towards me furiously.

Meanwhile, almost everyone in the stand was standing up and clamoring two-syllable words down at me: DQ.

"You have officially been disqualified, Elysia of the Elves."

One of the officiators growled towards the unconscious Elysia.

And then he turned his contemptuous face toward me.

"And you too, Beta of the Humans. You are disqualified from future matches. "

"No!"

I did not say anything. I kind of expected that to happen.

But it was Moniqa who yelled out against my much-deserved disqualification.

"The Human stays in the tournament," said Moniqa authoritatively.

"Moniqa, my lady, the Human committed a flagrant violation of the sacred ritual," said the other officiator, but with the same gravity in his voice as his colleague.

"In this fight only. He has not cheated in his own match. He is a mere accessory to the weak Elf's cheating, nothing more, nothing less."

Why was this curvy, muscular Orcina defending me? I was dumbfounded and confused.

But it came clear right away when Moniqa showed her vicious, hungry face to me and broke a savage, and eerily seductive, grin.

"Do not rob me of a chance to slash my opponents. I have already witnessed two champions walk out of this arena alive."

So she just wanted to have a chance to kill me. And by the looks of it, the chance of that happening was pretty high.

"And you, Human. Do not think I kept you in the tournament because I like you," Moniqa pointed her greatsword at my face, lifting the giant thing with one hand as if it weighed nothing.

"I mistake a lot of things, but your affection would be the last thing I'd dream of," I shrugged, but with difficulty as I had a fainted Elysia drooped over my body. Elysia was as light as a feather, of course, but I had to hold her tight to stop her from sliding out of my hands.

"Your continued participation in the Colosseum comes with a condition. It is not exactly a condition, but the Panchampion's right."

"The Panchampion, is that what you call the winner of this stupid tournament?"

"You dare call our tradition stupid?"

"Do I dare? I've been calling it stupid at every chance I get."

It was then at the corner of my eyes I saw the familiar faces with familiar gray attire running towards us. The Runnels have come to get Elysia, with the uniform worried look on their faces.

"She needs to be treated right now," said Kevlon with a pale face to the Orcs. Lapines and Worra helped Dumont carry Elysia on his back.

"The Elves have no objection to your champion's disqualification?" asked the Orc impassively.

"We don't give a damn anymore. Can we go now?" spat Worra.

"Remember. The Human is still in," growled Moniqa at his kin, who respectfully bowed their heads at the fierce Orcina.

The Orc officiators exchanged final looks between themselves and before they marched up to the center of the arena. One of them inhaled until his c.h.e.s.t expanded almost twice the original size—and let go to bellow out the thunderous words that rang inside the uproarious Colosseum.

"Elysia of the Elves has been disqualified due to a violation of the 'no-intervention rule.' However, Beta of the Humans is still in the tournament, as per the request of the affected party of the said violation. The semifinal round of Colosseum Ultimatum will be resumed shortly!"

Meanwhile, I watched the Runnels take away Elysia.

"Are you coming, Beta?" asked Illisiv. The other Runnels had already reached the exit and were soon out of the sight from where I stood.

"I'll be right inside," I said, turning back to the c.o.c.ky Orcina in front of me.

"Where were we? Oh, yes, the Panchampion's right."

Moniqa put the greatsword away with a flourish, producing a deliberate gust thrown at my face.

"Get on with it, Pochahontas," I coughed.

"My name is Moniqa," frowned the Orc beauty.

The Orc officiators had also come back, waiting patiently for their 'princess' to finish talking.

"In the early years of Colosseum Ultimatum, the Panchampion had a right to execute any and all remaining champions upon seizing the final victory. Sadly, that is not the case today. The Panchampion can only 'order' executions of the champions who were involved in direct fights with her. For example, the snake girl you fought in the first round will still live when I become the Panchampion."

"If you become that."

"Talk brave all you want, but I will become the Panchampion, and I will have five deaths on me when I watch the Gate open for the first time in the last fifty years!"

Moniqa was no longer smiling. She was dead serious, and she looked it too.

"You just said yourself the Reptil champion is out of your reach, whether or not you win it all in the end. So, yeah, good luck prying that giant thing opened with just one death count so far," I pointed to the giant floating Gate above our heads.

"At the end of the day, I will have four dead champions on my feet."

"I hate to say this, and I don't want to bash on your schooling system—if you have one that is—but four is not equal to five. Now, maybe if you had spent more time learning basic arithmetic instead of working out to keep that body—"

"But four can be five. And that's where our little 'pact' comes into play."

"I don't like the way you smile," I said warily.

"I do not like you, period," smiled Moniqa viciously.

.

.

.

"I mean, I'm used to girls not liking me, but come on."

I was in the waiting room with Alstair, materialized again through the power of the Orb and the Gate. The smashed Orb had been replaced by the friendly Reptil from before. The staunch, magic-phone Orc officiator had been replaced by another that looked and talked just the same, with a slightly less aversion to magic and more contempt for me.

"Remember that you are still here solely through the grace of Lady Moniqa."

"Look, I can tell you guys are crazy about her, and she's pretty hot, I'll give you that, but she's only a solid ten to you people. To me, she's a sevenish, at most."

"What ten? What seven?" the officiator had asked dumbly?

"Numbers again. They really don't teach you anything, do they?"

I was also not allowed to see Elysia, but I was able to meet Worra who snuck out of the room like a ninja she was and talk briefly and uninterrupted for a few minutes in the hallway.

"She's doing fine. Nothing critical."

"Good. Good."

Worra had placed a hand over my shoulder, the most gentle and affectionate gesture she had ever shown.

"You did the right thing. And I thank you, sincerely, for saving my friend."

"She's my friend too, Worra."

"Just friend?"

"Well, I guess I've been too obvious recently, right?"

"Yeah, unlike me."

"What's that?"

"Nothing," Worra had sighed before leaving.

The Orb was off, and the Orc officiator was back from the restroom break and standing outside the waiting room by the door. It was just Alstair and me inside the room.

"Don't tell me you're that dense, Beta," said Alstair.

"Dense at what?"

I had just told him about the abrupt ending to the covert meeting with Worra.

"Never mind that. And trust me. You have plenty of female fans on your side."

"Yeah, right, what do you know about begging girls to like you, handsome? Like you had any problem when you were alive."

"Is this really the right time to talk about your love life, Beta?"

"No, you're right. Strategies. And more importantly, clarifications."

I did not need to explain to Alstair what had happened. He had seen everything through me. But I did not know what Alstair was thinking, or how much he knew about, well, practically everything.

"First off, Moniqa knows the tradition well. The Panchampion can ask for a felled champion's 'right' over the previous opponents' lives to be delegated."

"Can you try to be less complicated?"

"In other words, your current right over your felled opponent, Laania, can be transferred to the Panchampion only if you have agreed for the arrangement before the final match and/or death."

"Why do you talk like Moniqa is already the Panchampion?"

"I was only trying to make things simpler for you to understand."

"So, wait. You're saying, right now, I can order Laania to kill herself?"

"If you wanted."

"I don't want that."

"The important thing is, Beta, that Moniqa has probably seen through this once you spared Laania's life. I have a feeling that she even wanted you to intervene for things to have come to where we are right now."

"I don't know, Al, she didn't seem that smart."

"The Orcs may appear simple, but they are quite sharp when they want to be."

Both Alstair and I fell silent for a moment.

"I feel like an idiot," I shook my head.

"You would've been an idiot if you didn't go out there and save the life of someone you love."

"What if I turn down the offer? Just walk away from the whole thing? I don't my being disqualified. The Gate would still be unopened, and there has to be some other way to get to the next Level, right?"

"You can't walk away. Elysia is alive for now, but she lost to Moniqa, meaning she owes her life to the Orc champion who will not blink an eye ordering the execution, even just out of spite."

"You're saying I have no choice but to accept Moniqa's term."

"And win. Become the Panchampion. That is the only way to stop Moniqa."

I got up from the chair, setting my mind on the upcoming match... when something bugged me.

"Al?

"Yes, Beta."

"There are three champions remaining for the semifinal."

"Yes, there are."

"So is someone taking a backseat and advancing to the final automatically?"

I was imagining a tournament bracket where one of the three contestants would advance to the next round through a lucky coin toss or something.

"Oh. No. Venerable Velonis, you really don't know anything, do you? Didn't Baraka and others walk you through this?"

"Baraka just said to defeat every opponent that comes in the way."

"Yeah, well, that sounds like Baraka."

"What's going on? Is there a chance that I can bypass a match entirely?"

Alstair blinked.

"I mean, do you want to skip a battle?"

"I wouldn't say no to wait at the top for the tired, beaten-down champion."

"That makes sense, which means almost everyone would think the same... except for the Orcs. They would never turn down a battle."

"Exactly. That's why hoped the hotheaded Moniqa and the empty-headed Goblin champ fight each other to death while I prepare for the final match."

"That's not going to happen, Beta."

"Why not?"

"Because the semifinal round is conducted in a style called a 'mêlée à trois,' or the three-way fight."

"You mean... like a Mexican standoff?"

"I don't know the etymology of the term, but, yes, I've seen it in one of your subconscious cinema."

Alstair told me he had explored my subconscious mind freely, watching movies and learning about the world I had come from in bits and pieces.

Then a thought came. How much did Alstair know about the World Company, GOD, and the beta testing?

"Hey, Al, what did you think about the whole beta testing job?"

"What's beta testing?" asked Alstair nonchalantly.

He really did not know about that deal. Everything but that. I did not know what to think for a second. Were certain ideas and thoughts repressed and blocked from Alstair's reach? What that did that mean? I thought I could use some insight and guidance on the job, but the sickening feeling inside me was telling me to do my job alone, without help, as were the terms.

"Beta?"

I blinked and faced the worried face of Alstair. Right. I had more pressing matters at hand. I could talk about the 'job' with Alstair some other time. Besides, it was not as if he was going anywhere. He was stuck with me, probably for good.

"The three-way fight. I want to say it sounds fun, but I'm the one fighting it, so."

"We have to come up with a strategy. We don't have much time, not when I learned that you just heard about it now," said Alstair seriously.

"Yeah, the funny thing about that, Al. I just had one plan all along. The same plan for every occasion, every opponent."

"Don't tell me you were going to climb up the wall and fly around like the last time."

"It was dope, wasn't it?"

"It had an impact, meaning the other champions have already come up with countermeasures to your flight strategy."

"There's a saying from where I come from. 'Those who control the sky, control the war.' It's called the air supremacy."

"You're not exactly controlling the sky, are you? Unless you're planning to fire down arrows while you're airborne."

I thought about it, and it not only looked ridiculous but impossible.

Also, I remembered the small tornado of a gust Moniqa was able to produce by simply swinging her greatsword. She would swing down any arrow coming her way and also the ones I would have to shoot to the arena wall to climb myself to gain the higher ground.

I did not know much about the Goblin champ, but knowing the Goblins in general, he would choose to dig under the ground in response to my air attacks.

And I had two of them to face me at the same time. Sure, the same condition and pressure were applied to the other two, but I could not help feeling that I would be targeted first. Or would I have to cooperate with another to eliminate either the strongest or the weakest of the three?

Did mêlée à trois even work other than in movies and television shows? Was that even a real thing?

"Why am I even doing this, Al?" I sighed as I sat back down. My brain was about to explode from all the doubts and planning.

"Feeling overwhelmed?" asked Al sympathetically.

"It feels like I never have any control, you know?"

First the poisoned champagne, and then the interview with GOD. The Goblin Lair, Minetown, Deltaris, and now this. One could say I had some control over all of those occasions, like not drink champagne offered by my best friend, turn down the job and head straight to Hell, check whether the rusted dagger, Daggy, was fit for driving through the Goblin skull, and so forth. In hindsight, I was the dumb one. But I knew I would act all the same if I had gone back and repeated the events.

I was always short-handed, but I managed to scr.a.p.e by if only to keep getting myself deep into an uncontrollable, chaotic mess.

Alstair had been staring at me silently before opening his mouth.

"More often than not, you don't choose the life you want. Instead, life chooses you," said Alstair.

"... You really think that helps me right now?"

"I'm just saying that you're not the only one feeling out of control. And it's not about how much control you have over life, but how well you go through things in spite of the lack of control."

"Easier said than done. Besides, I didn't say I had zero control. I mean I've got you—" I scoffed, only to blink with a frozen smirk midway.

"I've got you," I repeated dumbly. I had thought of something, but I could not grasp the idea completely.

"Are you okay—"

"Shh. Shut up for a moment."

Alstair obliged, without a hint of resentment in his calm face.

"I've got you in this room, helping me strategize, even though it's against the rule to have anyone else in the waiting room except for the champion."

"Well, technically, I'm dead, and you're just talking to yourself—"

"I said, shut up, Al. Let me think in silence for a moment."

I had Alstair with me. I also had Mataki with me, but he was away enjoying some next Level travel through some soul exchange or something.

Well, not on my watch.

"Mataki, come back."

"I really don't think you should—"

I silenced Alstair with an irritable finger snap.

Mataki's Blade felt truly dead in my hand for some time, until it began to glow with a faint red light as it always had whenever Mataki talked to me.

[... I am back, young hero.]

I felt a sad tone in Mataki's voice, but I was too busy to care at the moment.

"Good. Did you enjoy your trip? I don't care. Brainstorming time, crew. Mêlée à trois. What's the winning formula?"

[Before we begin, young hero, I have something to tell you.]

"That will have to wait. I have a death match beginning in less than half an hour."

[You do not need to force yourself to win the Colosseum anymore.]

"I said, not now, Mataki."

[No, please listen. There is no need anymore. Everything is lost. Level Two is—]

And we lost connection. Alstair, who had been hearing Mataki's voice the same as I had, turned to me and blinked worriedly.

"I hope that's just the depleted Goblin soul's doing," said Alstair, referring to the running-out-of-batteries equivalent to Mataki's Blade.

"It probably was. Damn it. Intel on how an oversized Goblin fights would have really helped..."

No. That would not have helped anyway.

What I needed was a game-changer. Something like flying, for instance. I broadened the arena and turned my weakness to my strength. My forte lay in long-ranged attacks, but now I realized my opponents would never allow me to gain distance on them, hold on tight and prevent me from getting away far from their weapons' reaches. Fighting melee against Moniqa meant sure death. I doubted I would even hold against the Goblin champion for that matter.

Something still had not clicked. Calling Mataki was a start, but that was not the goal.

The idea was there though. The idea of united, interracial force that I had authority and control over—

I sprang from my seat and, to Alstair's surprise, opened the door to see the back of the dutiful Orc officiator guarding the exit.

I felt Alstair's image disintegrate behind me, but Alstair had done enough.

I had another accomplice to recruit.

"What is it?" the Orc officiator turned and growled irritably.

"The Orcs are conservative, right? You love the tradition, both bad and good."

"What do you want, Human?"

I poked my head out to the empty hallway. The rooms lining up the corridor were mostly empty, except for the six assigned to each champion. One probably had a dead Dwarf's body, waiting for a champion's funeral at the end of the Colosseum. Another room was filled with Elves, Elysia and the fellow Runnels. As much as I wanted to go there and sit by Elysia, I looked away in the other direction with the other three occupied rooms. It was easy to tell which rooms were occupied by the serious-faced Orc officiators standing stoically in front of the doors.

"Which one's the Reptil champion's room?" I asked the officiator casually.

"Why do you want to know?" growled the Orc back.

"Just practicing my right as the victor," I said.

The Orc frowned, only to realize what I was referring to just seconds later.

The thing was, half of the audience at the Colosseum was already thinking I was a cheater.

So I decided to become one and rig the match in my favor: une mêlée à 'quatre' coming right up.