Chapter 10: Fight Club
The journey to the hidden world had certainly taken a toll on Magnus's body and mind. For nearly a week, even with his excellent physical and mental condition, he could barely move, barely form a centered thought in his head, and was bedridden for the first time in his life. Kual and his students were taking care of anything he might require, knowing that he was certainly lucky to be alive.
Of course, Magnus concentrated all of his willpower to heal faster, as the damage had hardly been physical but mental, and repairing psychic damage was something he was quite adept at. Regardless, he spent more hours resting in bed than he would have liked. And the voices were certainly not aiding his recovery any.
"I must say," came a voice from nowhere, "You certainly are interesting to watch." Magnus didn't bother lifting his head to glance around the room. He knew there was no one there; the voice that was sounding was in his own mind. A familiar higher force from another plane was speaking to him.
"Glad…" he coughed, "I'm amusing you."
"Now now, no need to be upset. As if anyone should be upset here, it would be me. I suppose I don't need to tell you how close you came to death in your mad quest for answers? Need I remind you again, that you are far too valuable to be throwing your now immortal life around for fanciful purposes as you have? If you had perished in that foolish pursuit, it would have been a blow to this world, and could have spelled the doom of all things. I don't think you truly understand the magnitude of your importance…"
"You're being a bit dramatic," Magnus told the god with wry amusement, "Besides, I would hardly call it fanciful. It needed to be done."
"Oh," the unseen god pressed, his booming voice sounding almost teasing and intrigued, "And why is that? Why could you simply not continue your training without the unnecessary risk?"
Magnus pulled and strained, lifting himself to a sitting position. "Had I done nothing, my position as your demi-god would have been compromised, and your efforts would have been short-lived and wasted anyway." There was no response, the voice waiting for him to obviously explain himself. "Had I been plagued by those questions, with no chance or thought of an answer, it would have driven me mad eventually. And madness is not a trait one wants in their demi-god protector, I'm sure."
"Indeed? I presume not. Which would mean I suppose you are fortunate to have come out of that life-threatening situation with a bit more peace of mind. And hopefully, a bit more sense as well. Do try and be careful, hmm? With any luck, your next leg of training will be less hazardous to life and limb. But I'll let you decide that I suppose and put a small measure of trust in you irrational and dare I say absurd way of thinking." And just like that, the presence was gone. Magnus laid back down, redoubling efforts to heal himself.
"I've got to get out of this bed."
--
--
--
"Are you certain you're well enough for this?" Kual asked, his expression not betraying the fact that he was both impressed by Magnus's resilience and amused by his lack of patience, "You did have a near death experience and that is something not to be taken lightly, god-power or no." Magnus readjusted his sword belt and donned his black coat.
"I am in no danger of dying," he answered, "And I have the strength to continue my quest. It's not as though I have the time to lie idle. There are still many things about myself that I must discover; these riddles and enigmas only serve to further raise my curiosity."
"I assume you are speaking about you inner self's words?" Magnus checked the remainder of his gear, thinking back to the words spoken to him. When he had recovered his voice, he had told Kual of what he had witnessed. Even the telepathic master was bemused at its meaning, stating the only Magnus could find the answers.
"Yes. Its directions towards my future were enigmatic at best. But I do believe I made part of it out, something that I had intended to, once I was strong enough. Now I am eager to become strong enough, so that I may see if I am right. However, in order to do this, I am in need of strengthening myself further, and for that, I must go and seek another teacher." Kual nodded, and walked with Magnus out to the front of the monastery, the two striding side by side in silence.
"Already leaving us?" Kual noted as the walked, "Learning from a master only to move on to the next? Your appetite for knowledge seems insatiable."
"You make it sound like I'm some sort of parasite," Magnus pointed out with a thin smile, "It is true yes, yet I am leaving here with more than what you have educated me in. I leave with a friendship and kinship between us. And that is more than I would have asked for."
"That pleases me to hear, as in your time here, you have become much like a brother to me, and all of my students. But where shall you travel from here?" Magnus hadn't thought of that, but the answer nonetheless came quickly.
"I've decided to explore other avenues of strength rather than the mind. And I've learned that a skill with the sword, though more violent than psionic combat is nevertheless a useful skill to be schooled in."
"Ah, an interesting choice. Well, I merely hope you can apply you teachings here in that field to better yourself elsewhere. A pity, that as you progress with this destiny of yours, I will be merely content to watch from afar. You have my envy in this."
"I will not forget your teachings and put everything I have learned to good use," Magnus assured the master, "And make no mistake, when I understand the meaning of what it is I am to do, I shall be sure to tell you. After all, we now can communicate anytime we wish."
"Travel well then," Kual told him with a bow, "Go with peace of mind and our friendship. May your answers reveal themselves on your journey." Magnus nodded, took a few steps back, and in another moment, with the flash of brilliance, he was gone.
--
--
--
The great city of Port Ghuran on the southeastern coast of the land of Xon. One of the largest port cities in the known world, it was naturally a haven for all manner of thieves, criminals, smugglers, pirates, and supposedly one very talented sword-master.
Though he had brushed it off, Magnus, in his last psionic endeavor, had gotten closer to death than he was truly comfortable with and had decided to pursue other names on the list that Zigar had given him. The less psionic ones. In truth, his psionic powers had been pushed quite hard in recent months in unlocking the mysteries of telepathy, more than he had ever done in his life, and his head had an aching that was only slowly subsiding.
He would return to those disciplines after his powers calmed themselves from the state of agitation. So he chose to put that on hold and seek out study in another form. And though he was a warrior of the mind, he was nonetheless fascinated by warrior skills of the physical. Swords and armor, sword play and martial arts.
And with a quick teleport from the Hills of Black Lightning, Magnus arrived in the port, searching for Dalan Noh, a man said to be the greatest swordsman of the world. Magnus wouldn't have been surprised if this was an exaggeration, but until he saw for himself, he wasn't going to jump to conclusions. Utilizing his new found abilities of Telepathy, it was a simple matter to track the warrior. He merely had to shift through the thoughts he felt, finding the one he wanted, a calm calculating mind of agility. After that, it was a simple task of following it until he met his target.
Like a magical homing spell, it led him to warehouse down on the docks, where numerous gorilla-like thugs guarded the doors. They bulged with muscle, tattoos and scars across their arms, and their scowls were more than slightly unpleasant. And they only grew worse as he strode up to them, prompting them to move and block the door.
"This ain't no place for some scrawny little cobble-toes. Beat it!" Magnus paused, glancing between the unsightly faces, before listening. He could hear muffled cheering inside, among indiscernible yells, and a sound of clashing steel.
"Fighting going on inside," he pointed out casually. One brute shrugged his shoulders.
"What's it to ya?"
"Isn't it obvious? I too am here to fight."
"Har har," grunted another, "Now why be it that I don'ts really seem ta believe that?"
"Your reasons of doubt are your own, but it's the truth nonetheless. So please, stand aside and let me in." His casual demand must have struck a nerve, as one of the larger goons stepped right in front of him, glowering down, his beefy arms crossed.
"We ain't doin' that, pip-squeak."
"You didn't give that much thought did you?"
"Let's just say I'm feelin' generous. A squawky bony-givelworm like ya wouldn't last one round against them fighters. They're bleedin' animals, they'd rip ya apart. So ya can thank me by leavin'." Magnus gave a sunny grin, as sunny as he possibly could anyways, and dipped his head.
"I'll take my chances, but your warning is much appreciated. Now, if you'll simply move aside…"
"Ain't happenin' runt, not that I wouldn't mind seein' ya torn ta pieces, but we's under orders not to open them doors to fools on the street. So take a walk, else we'll give ya all the fight ya could want."
"I'd rather not waste my efforts fighting against petty thugs," Magnus told them matter-of-factly, "But you're giving me little choice. Here are the two options. Either you can let me in, and continue your fine efforts of guarding this door, or else I can defeat you all, and go in myself. Whichever is fine by me."
The head hoodlum gurgled some bubbly laughter at that, and the remaining doorguards advanced cracking their knuckles, forming a circle around Magnus, who wasn't looking particularly worried.
"Alright, smart-mouth. Now we's gonna show ya some manners and then throw ya to the dogs!"
--
--
--
A few minutes later Magnus was standing amongst the crowd of babbling spectators, hovering slightly off the ground to get a better view of the happenings. Underground fighting was illegal in most cities and in most countries, but as with most illegal activity, it continues to exist anyway; all one has to do is to know where to look, and they'll find it. And this place seemed to be a large operation, with high betting and loads of entertainment.
Two men, two regular looking bandit types were busy fighting in a dirt ring, with wooden boards comprising of the walls. As a sort of gladiator touch, there were numerous iron spikes, and long strands of sharpened wire adorning the walls of the pit, and dozens of weapons lining them. When one man was disarmed, he would duck away from his opponent, dash towards the wall and grab the closest weapon from the racks before resuming combat.
The men in the crowds looked to be mainly comprised of lowly commoners, just looking for some violent entertainment, as well as a chance to make some quick coin with their already pitiful wages of work. However, there was a large section across the pit that was full of a different sort of crowd. Washed men, wearing expensive clothes and having a dignified air about them.
They watched the carnage below with slight smiles on their faces, giving the most tentative of claps when a combatant was gouged with a spear or his head was cleaved. These were the nobles of the city, undoubtedly the power behind the pits themselves, having the funding to keep them open, and the ones who did the majority of the betting, turning the greater portion of the profits.
Magnus eased past the rowdy crowd of commoners, pushing towards the front railing closest to the ring. The two men were still battling it out, both scruffy and almost barbaric, trading blows and howling like beasts. Magnus was fairly certain that neither of them was Dalan Noh, as their thoughts were too narrow and filled with bloodlust. He scanned the occupants of the arena, trying to match a face with the thoughts flowing through his mind.
A scream broke his concentration, as one of the fighters had been stabbed through the abdomen, and he now crumpled to the dirt. The other, grinning and gloating from his assured victory, raised his arms to the crowd, hollering at them and growling. The throng responded with yelling of their own. Then, with a single swipe, he took his opponent's head and bathed in his blood. Bestial indeed.
Magnus had no interest in pit fighting, too barbaric and the opponents were hardly worth his time. Even back when he was mere mortal. As he was still scanning the faces, one nobleman from the private booths stood, his being a bit more adorned and elaborate, clapping and then raising his hands for silence, all eyes turning his way.
"Congratulations Figus, you have succeeded in trouncing yet another newcomer to my ring! And to you, the loyal spectators, I have a welcoming surprise in the evening's lineup! Some of my guards have just informed me that an intruder has broken into this warehouse, and even now slips amongst us, like a thief!" There were murmurs of unease, as the anxious crowd was hoping not to be caught by the local law in this place.
"That's right, even now his presence threatens to expose our charming little sport here to the proper authorities, and deny us simple entertainment! I ask you, loyal spectators, do you think he should be allowed to do so?"
"NO!" came a chorus of irate voice. This had drawn Magnus's attention, finding the reactions to his encroachment to be humorous. For the simple reason that he knew what was going to happen. He undoubtedly would be threatened into the pit momentarily, and forced to fight the "champions of the ring" for his survival. The funny part was…these people had no idea who they were messing with.
"Well then," the smug nobleman went on, "Then how about we ask our mysterious trespasser to step in to my ring, and participate? Would that not make for an exciting show?" Again, more cheering and shouting. Magnus knew from the start that there were several people behind him, having snuck up from the shadows and tracking his movements, and only now did they reveal themselves.
"Mr. Lucius would like to see you," one of the assassins whispered into Magnus's ear. "Now." Magnus didn't turn, but couldn't hold a slight grin back.
"Would he? And if I refuse?"
"You can die now, or in the pit. Your choice."
"I see. Well, I suppose then I'll choose the pit. Lead on."
--
--
--
And that is how Magnus ended up standing with his black boots in the dust-filled ring, surrounded by near hysterical masses, throwing curses and screaming obscenities at him. He was the enemy, after all, and he was a threat. He had to die. Magnus however, wasn't quite ready to leave the world just yet.
"Ye ready to die maggot?" the man in armor grinned a mouth of brown teeth, "I can slice ya to shreds fast, or should I make things more interestin' by lettin' ye bleed slow." Magnus wasn't about to acknowledge this dreg with a response, instead, he removed his sword belt, and set it against the wall, and faced the brute, arms out and hands raised.
This action startled Figus, but only for a moment, before yucking it up with more foul laughter.
"So ya don't need a weapon aye? Fine by me, makes it easier to gut ya!" And in a blustering bellow he charged, drawing both the battle-ax and long sword clenched in his meaty hands back, ready to cleave and slice. Magnus had to remind himself not to use his psionic powers here. Yes, he could read his enemy's mind now, knowing where their attacks were going to go before they had even swung, but he was here to test the limits of his sword prowess, not to further exercise his psionic talents.
Not that he needed to read this man's mind to see his next move. Magnus had been trained well with the sword, and he had gained a combat sense that helped face enemies. Though again, he didn't even need that here. His reaction to the ignorant clumsy attack was to simply wait, and as Figus came close, Magnus merely stepped out of the way and stuck out his foot.
The fool's momentum carried him right into it, as he stumbled forward, rolling across the sandy floor, bouncing into several of the iron spikes and barbed wire on the walls. He let out a squall of pain, his left leg having been impaled deeply. He fell, dropping both weapons and clutched his wounded leg, howling as blood mixed with the dust. As he was a threat no more, Magnus turned his dark eyes towards the nobleman from before, the organizer no doubt, as if to say, "Next."