AN:

This took way too long for my liking.

I'd also like to point out that English is not my first language, thus my tenses are all over the place. If reading my sentences feel like you're going to have aneurysm, then I apologize.

CHAPTER 5 – Choosing

We were lounging back in our cell as the guards sent us back so that they could properly clean up the yard. Casanova was looking subdued after seeing his sister, keeping his silence even as he went up to his bed bunk. Jack was still his grouchy self, not commenting on what happened. Ven was the only one that looked cheerful, having an air of amusement floating around him.

"That was pretty impressive." he said to me, laying on his bed casually.

"You think what I did was impressive?" I asked the level 3. Though I was expecting someone to comment on it, praise wasn't the first thing I thought would be said.

"Well, yeah." Ven chuckled, "Not everyone gets to mouth off a goddess and her captain and doesn't get smacked for it. You've got balls, kid."

I frowned, "Oh, right. That. Not impressed at what I did to Colossus, though?"

Ven laughed. Jack, who was lying on the lower bed of their bunk, scoffed at me. "So you managed to smuggle a magic sword into the prison, big deal." The grouchy man said sarcastically. "Doesn't really matter since it's only good for one use."

What a mediocre response, but that was an interesting angle to explain what I did. To their eyes it had been a magic sword that felled the mighty Colossus.

Magic Swords were a rare commodity, especially when they weren't anywhere near Orario or Rakia. Not only were they ruinously expensive, but they were also unreliable after the first swing.

They were magical items imbued with the power of spirits, or at the very least emulate their power. A mighty swing from them could conjure up a storm of flames, devastating winds or various other terrifying elemental expressions. They were, however, very fragile. Depending on the quality of the weapon, they were only good for one use or five. Anything more than that would be considered a national treasure and an impossibility.

They think that I used a magic sword because the practice weapon shattered in my hands after an oversaturation of [Mana Burst]. It was a pretty good guess for what I did, but completely wrong.

They based my action on what they knew about the world and came to their own conclusion. It was either that or a Skill, but with a shattered weapon as their only point of evidence, they defaulted to the one item that does the same thing.

"The fact that you even had a magic sword in the first place was amazing." Ven said, "You definitely didn't have that when they threw you in here, nor did you have it during inspection."

You expected me to have a sword up my ass?

Jack turned on his bed to face me, looking conspiringly intrigued. "So who gave you that sword?"

I wanted to give them all a look of amusement. The fact that they thought that someone gave me an expensive magic item, in prison, was funny. "What makes you think it was a magic sword? It could have been a Skill, you know. Or maybe even magic. Ask Casanova. I hit him with that same sword a few hours before it shattered."

Ven and Jack turned to the upper bed of my bunk. I heard a grunt come from the man up there. "It couldn't have been the same sword. You probably pulled it out from the sand in the middle of the yard. With how much they were kicked up when you were sent rolling, you could have easily switched your training sword with a magic one while everyone's vision was obstructed."

I frowned in confusion. What? I did what?

It was true that the training yard had a layer of sand on the surface of the dirt, to mitigate some damage from bad falls, but there wasn't really enough there to bury an entire sword in the exact length and design of a practice one. Where the hell did this idea even come from?

"There was also the fact that you didn't use it earlier." Casanova continued, sounding like a detective explaining the methods and the intent of a culprit after he figured it out. "Only after a while, when everyone got bored of watching and slowly stopped paying attention, did you pull off the switch and pick up the magic sword while pretending to be hurt and recovering from a bad leg."

No. That injury was real. I just had a power that could fix it immediately, but only after I was already done doing my best impression of a ragdoll. Fixing an injury in a tumble makes recovering a lot messier.

"You were sent here to take out Colossus," Casanova said, "You don't fight like an honorable son of the Empire. You move like the other hired killers from the other familias. The fact that you pulled out an item that wasn't native to the Empire was damning."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." I countered, pointing out to Jack and Ven, "No assassin would ever make a plan so convoluted and relies on too many coincidences to get to their target." A magic sword planted in the field could have been found by anyone. The confrontation between me and Colossus couldn't have been planned unless I had an in-depth understanding of my opponent's personality and thought processes to lure him into the fight. Then there was the exfiltration plan, unless I was willing to die for my supposed mission. "I'm not even from around here. Or are you saying that I was lying about that."

"Doesn't matter," Casanova retorted, sounding very confident on his bed, "In the eyes of everyone else, you used one of the only tools available to anyone in the lower level to kill those above them. They'll think that this was an assassination plot, and that you were just here to take the fall. It didn't help that the goddess of Justice herself questioned you in front of everyone, making you suspicious by default."

That is the most convoluted nonsense that I have ever heard in my life. And that's saying a lot for someone who used to read too much fanfiction.

"Oh dear gods," I muttered, "It feels like I just stumbled into someone's plotline. I didn't even get any time to settle in before I stumbled into the Plot." Casanova sounds like he's one of those guys who like to speculate and share his supposed findings to others, where it would then cause confusion and misinformation to propagate.

Ven snorted in amusement. "You don't sound worried."

"Not really, no." I sighed in exasperation. Because unlike most people in this world, I had a more in-depth understanding of how things work, as well as how the falna affects their hosts. My powers were an unfair advantage, and it was for this very reason that I thought that I would have an easier time getting other people to get off my case when I was having fun.

My base form [Reinforcement] made me equal to a level 1 with high stats. My mutated [Reinforcement] gave me enough reaction speed to survive an angry level 4, and abusing my magic arsenal made me capable of outright killing one.

Powerful magic in this world, especially those that could be quickly cast, were game-changers in battles.

I frowned at that thought. "Say, Ven? What are the other inmates likely to do with their suspicions?"

"Nothing." he said simply, "Majority of them at least. However, the others who're in the same familia as Colossus would probably start making trouble for you."

I blinked, "Oh yeah. I never did ask which familia he's part of." I looked at Ven, who had a very amused look on his face. "So? Which one is it?"

It was Casanova who answered. "Colossus is an executive of the Empire's largest familia, the ones who normally spearhead most of the Empire's conquests." he said, "Boasting over ten thousand members, with several level 2s and two level 3s elevated through the coliseum. His patron goddess is the lady of war herself."

I paused in thought. "Athena?"

Ven gave me an odd look. "No…" he said, "It's goddess Bellona, the goddess of war."

Oh right, Athena founded this world's version of Hogwarts.

Next morning, on the day of the choosing ceremony, I found out that the news had already spread all the way to the other end of the prison. People from Bellona familia were eyeing me hatefully and didn't bother hiding it. When they approached me, they made a show to the guards asking me to be their sparring partner. The guards were even ignoring the number of people already in a queue to face me.

I'll be honest. I'm not even mad. The fodders were a good way to measure myself in terms of capabilities. If a mook could knock me down, then the upper echelon would absolutely thrash me. Unfortunately, I didn't get much out of them.

One of the primary rules of the training yard was that everything has to be one versus one. No one was allowed to gang up on anyone, and no one was to use lethal force or else they would be summarily executed. The Empire still needs their entertainment, after all. Of course, the latter rule didn't really apply to those above level 2, and it wasn't like the guards could do anything to stop them.

I was surrounded by a bunch of Bellona familia members. They were trying to keep me from running away while one of them stepped into the circle to try and beat me down. They thought that running me through a gauntlet of fights would tire me out, but they didn't know that I had an ability to restore myself to perfect condition anytime I wanted.

Fighting their level 1s was disappointing. Sure, they were trained in the basic fighting style of the Empire, but it was easy to see that not a lot of them had any experience fighting against someone so flamboyant like me. Even without the aid of magic, I was just too… lively for them to score a hit.

Their level 2s were a bit better, but I was already familiar with fighting them thanks to Casanova. A few days with [Fast Learning] was enough to get me adjusted just to their strength and speed. Their skills were barely beyond the basics, and they relied too much on the boost of their blessing to be any threat to me. And this was me without my [Reinforcement]. High strength and speed didn't matter if they didn't even know how to use them properly.

I will say that I was a bit confused about that. Based on my research, and the information that I got from {Encyclopedic Knowledge}, I should've had a harder time keeping up with the level 2s, especially with their elevated status.

But… then again, these people were pretty much just average mortals with enhanced capabilities. They don't train to be their best, or bring out the best of their bodies. They train just enough to reach level 2 and let their blessings carry them through their careers.

There was just something about their movements that were too… human. They didn't have any moves that surprised me. They didn't break any physics or did anything anime-like that disconcerted me and caught me off guard.

I think that fighting the Newman may have over-prepared me against super-powered opponents in general. Colossus and Judex were the only people here to actually give me some distress, but only because I didn't use [Mutation] against the former and I was hallucinating in the fight with the latter.

Skills are what makes the people of this world special. Magic, though difficult to use, was possible to execute as long as you had the right tools and knowledge even without the gods' blessing. The Skills, however, were the ones that make each individual person special and unique. It was an advantage that set people apart from cannon fodder.

The ring of Bellona familia members around me were definitely in the cannon fodder category. They use the same moves and style, with just varying levels of speed and endurance. They also suck at 1V1 since Empire combat was mostly focused on coordination and seamless combination.

Well, if anything, it's cathartic to smack them around for trying to bully me into submission. Accepting the fact that violence was now my new normal, and that I'm not obligated to just be someone's doormat was liberating.

There was still some lingering guilt, however. Being raised as a good christian boy, hurting others still made me cringe somewhat when I'm not completely insane with rage. I think it's a good thing that I still have that small sense of empathy. Even if I've decided to embrace that frothing monster inside me, I still didn't want to become an asshole that made other people miserable because I felt like it.

There should be a fine line between a psycho and an ass. One is subjectively worse than the other. Where one would kill you in the most brutal and painful ways possible, the other could leave you alive but haunted for the rest of your life.

As fun as it was to humiliate the people who wanted to do me harm, it was starting to get tedious the longer it continued. The Bellona familia were strong and fast for their levels, and they all started with impressive spite, but they simply didn't have anything else up their sleeve to actually beat me. Not even a 'Sand to the Eyes' kind of Skill.

With a huff, I steeled my nerves. At this rate they were just going to keep rotating until feeding time. Then they were probably just going to resume again after that.

Without any warning, I started a more aggressive stance against them. The meaty smacks my weapon made on contact, and the screams of pain they elicited, made the ring of people around me wince. When my opponent cried out every time he tried to get back up, the faces of the Bellona familia members darkened in realization.

They're only fractures. Lighten up.

Someone called for the guards to pick up my opponent, but the ring of Bellona members didn't disperse. If anything, the sight of their friend only seemed to embolden them to their task of beating me down.

They didn't stand a chance.

One beat down later, I ignored the heated looks that they sent me as they were dragged away. People with falna heal faster than normal people. They'll be fine after a few days.

I got rid of my sweat with a quick restore, and was about to take a break. The ones watching on the sides finally turned away once the show was over, prompting them to find another source of entertainment from the other fights in the yard.

"You mind having one last spar before lunch?"

I glanced to the side and watched Casanova approach me with his own blunted sword. I noticed him earlier, while I was still surrounded, that he had a troubled expression on his face as he watched me. I shrugged my shoulders and gestured for him to come at me, "Sure, why not? I'm surprised that my little exhibition didn't scare you away."

"I've seen worse. None of them were crippled for life, from what I saw" he said, before lunging forward without warning. Potions were less effective here since a lot of the high quality drops only came from the Dungeon, and importing the ones from Orario were too expensive for anyone living outside the city to order in bulk.

I parried his sword and stepped back in retreat. "Wasn't really anything personal in it. They wanted to hurt me because I downed their buddy, so I went and hurt them in protection of myself. Since it's also one-against-many I had to get really convincing to make them go away." If any of them had been a bigger threat, then I'd have definitely gone for permanent damage.

Casanova grunted in affirmation, blocking my overhead strike and leaving his body exposed for my kick to slip in. He winced, but that was all he did since I didn't put any weight in my attack. "Tell me, did someone put you up to this? It's weird enough for someone outside of the Empire to get sent to Level Down, but to almost kill one of the most prominent member of the biggest familia in the Empire… that sounds like someone plotting against my home."

Such patriotism!

"No." I side in quick dismissal. There was no need to think or contemplate. The Empire and its people didn't mean anything to me, and I was just here because this was where my CYOA sent me. That's all there is. "I didn't know who the big fucker was or what familia he was part of. He picked a fight with me and tried to make me look like the prison bitch to everyone in the yard. He was lucky that there had been someone there to rescue him, or else I would have taken his head right then."

We exchanged a few more passes, saying nothing to each other the entire time. He had a distracted look on his face, but I didn't take advantage of it and just enjoyed the harmless sword clashes.

"What level are you?" he asked in the lull of our spar.

I gave him a raised brow in question. "You really expect me to answer that?"

"No." he said, "I think you're a level 2, but… watching you move feels like watching a high level 1. Your attacks get stronger and weaker at random intervals, but each time you look like you're exerting the same amount of force and effort into them. It's disorienting."

Yeah… switching [Reinforcement] between the body and weapon does that. I still have no idea the full depth of my spell, but I was starting to notice that making me stronger and faster wasn't the only thing it did. Those were just the more blatant side effects.

I rested my sword on my shoulder, seeing that Casanova didn't look like he was in the mood to continue. His arms were drooping, and it looked like he had some pretty heavy thoughts on his mind.

"If you have something to say, just say it." I told him, but not unkindly. "I can tell that you're pussyfooting around something and it's pissing me off. It's like an itch in my ass crack. I'd feel embarrassed if I scratched it out in public, but it's not like we can find somewhere private for me to satisfy that itch."

He grimaced in disgust, looking at me and then to my sword– Not that one! "That wasn't a magic sword that you used yesterday, was it? It was the same sword you used against me when we sparred together."

I gave him an odd look. "Funny that you say that after making some pretty convincing deductions yesterday."

"You said it yourself, that it could have been a Skill or Magic." he said, "I… counted the number of swords in the yard, as well as the ones still in the barrel. I've been here long enough to figure out the exact number of training weapons that they have, of how many are used and how many aren't."

"Wow," I said, "Either you were really bored, or no one wanted to play with you."

He gave me a sharp look, something I just shrugged at. "It wasn't a magic sword that you used. It was a Skill. It was too strong for a magic without a chant, so it had to be a Skill. The sword crumbled in your hands made people think it was a magic item, but…" he shook his head sharply. "I don't get why you let the Bellona familia treat you like that. Why did you just let them dictate the fight? Why not just blow them all away and let everyone know not to mess with you?"

Because that would be stupid.

As much as I'd love to just blow away everything that pisses me off, that's not a good way to start off a new life in a new world. I still want to have friends that don't have some sort of agenda concerning my powers. Beside! I'm happy that my powers were still a secret, and no god was out sniffing for my ass.

Being special in this world attracts the attention of the divine brats called Gods. They're worse than flies on shit when it comes to mortals that are unique and/or interesting. They're selfish enough that some of them would do anything to get me to join their familias, or at the very least prevent the other gods from taking people like me.

Unless you're part of a strong familia, then being special would cause nothing but trouble for you. The only reason other people have no problems with this was because they revered the Gods. Without that reverence, forcing people into familias would have been a lot messier.

"Why do you care?" I asked him. "If what I did really was a Skill, then why do you care whether I use it or not?"

"Because that's exactly it, you're not using it! You're hiding the fact that you're actually stronger than they are. If you have the power, you use it! You let everyone know your strength! If you showed it off, then the people here would bow and scrape to give you what you want. Only those with equal strength can oppose you!"

So much passion in his words. I understood, if only a bit, what he was trying to say. Show people that you have a big stick, and others wouldn't bother you unless they have something equal to match.

What a sad life it must be, here in the Empire, if this is what people think was normal. I'm not even sure if it's only the Empire that thinks like this.

In a world where strength is valued greatly, wouldn't that mean that everyone would make a culture around it?

Back on earth, money was power. Influence was power. If you had the reach, then you could practically take anything that you wanted as long as you had the means to obtain it.

In the world of Danmachi, however, physical might is coveted. Martial skill is Power. Those with higher levels are raised on a pedestal, they're valued and idolized. Their personality and character didn't matter. As long as they were strong, they had the right to do whatever they want no matter how many people complain in silence.

I suddenly realized that I had to adopt this way of thinking if I wanted to fit in. Choosing to lower my inhibition in concerns to violence had been the right choice—no, not right. It was the Natural choice to make.

Might makes right, and Mercy is a luxury reserved only for the Strong.

Now I see why Casanova seemed troubled with me hiding my strength. To him, showing off was natural to those who have the strength for it. It was normal to be arrogant about it. It was expected of me to absolutely crush the Bellona Familia members for daring to confront me the way they did. I was actually in the right to cripple them all as a warning.

Tough luck, though. I do what I want.

If I want to kill, then I'll kill. If I want to hurt someone, then I'll hurt them.

But I'll only do those things if I want to do them. No one will dictate what I'll do. I'm the sole operator of my life, now, and no one else. If anyone complains about me choosing bodily injury instead of crippling my opponents, then they can come back at me and piss me off enough to force me to cripple them. But until then, this was my choice and what I've decided to do.

Casanova and I stared at each other. His expression was in clear vehemence, while mine was more thoughtful and considering. Any answer I give that didn't comply with his worldview would be taken as an insult.

As much as I wanted to punch his punchable pretty face, Casanova was the closest acquaintance that I have in this prison. Ven and Jack just didn't care, and only traded barbs when they felt like it. Casanova was spiteful enough that I could start a conversation with him with just an opening insult.

He's not a friend, but he's the only one in the last few days that's been keeping me from wallowing in my own thoughts and misery. Sarcastic thoughts can only carry me so far.

"Cass," I looked him in the eye and pulled the only lie I could from my ass. "I do it for the challenge."

His face slackened and morphed into bafflement. "The challenge?"

I grinned, swinging my arm over his shoulder as he was still confused. "That's right. The challenge." I pointed to the sides of the training yard, where the high-ranking level 2s were loitering around after their spars. Only few people could match them in the prison. "Tell me, Cass, what do you see?"

"The… level 2s?"

"And how many spars do you think they had before taking a rest?" I asked.

His brows furrowed in thought. He looked back to the level 2s in the area, and noticed something. "They're not as tired as everyone else."

"That's right!" he cried out in pain as I gave his back a big slap. "Barely any of them have worked up a proper sweat."

While many of the level 1s were dripping with perspiration and panting like a dog, they were still standing in the field and resting just enough to look for someone else free for a spar. While the yard was full of activity, the sides were full of people who've grouped up and were play-fighting instead of full on sparring.

"They've become complacent." I told him. "After reaching level 2 and stagnating for years, they believe that that's as far as they'll go, and any aspirations in going beyond is reserved only for the extraordinary!"

"Oh," Casanova muttered as his shoulders drooped and his expression fell.

I slapped the back of his head for it. "Did I hit a little too close to home?"

Casanova glared at me as he rubbed the back of his head. He didn't reply, but his disgruntled look was enough of an answer to me.

"You all start off by working hard after reaching level 2, still high off of your accomplishment." I explained, "You think, with high hopes, that if you keep at it, you'll reach level 3 and beyond. But several months later your growth slows, your motivation plummets and suddenly all your dreams seem to be out of your reach. Years later and you've already given up."

Casanova had a deep frown on his face. A passing inmate also had the same expression, probably hearing what I said.

"But what you dumbasses don't realize is that your next hurdle comes from within yourselves."

Casanova suddenly looked up. The passing inmate stopped in his tracks and turned to give me a look. I had to roll my eyes at the fact that those around us had also stopped pretending that they weren't eavesdropping on my talk with Casanova. Something in my voice must've piqued their interest. Whether they heard our conversation since the beginning wasn't something I cared about. I had too many secrets to care for one, bad, assumption.

"In order to Level Up you need to do something that even the gods would find impressive." I said to Casanova silently. I ignored the people around us slowly leaning in to listen. "The minimum requirement for that is to have at least one Stat reach the D ranking."

"You know another way to Level Up?" Casanova asked with a profound focus in his eyes.

"It's not a different way." I told him with a deadpan. I'm going off in a tangent, but I already had him distracted so why not? "But more like you have to understand what it means to impress a god."

Fighting isn't the only way to do that. It's more like that it was the most common method that everyone used and was guaranteed to at least gain their divine attention. Overcoming a powerful opponent was the fastest way to gain worth in their eyes. The next Level Up, however, would need something better.

Something with more emotional depth.

"In your first Level Up, you discard your mortal limits and take the first step into the domain of the gods," I told Casanova. And the eavesdroppers, too, I guess. "Through wit or through mettle, you overcame a challenge that the gods have deemed impossible for you to accomplish. You proved them wrong."

I noted that everyone within hearing distance slowly puffed their chests with pride, proving that each and every one of them overcame harrowing tasks that tested their might and gambled their lives in the process. For them to be standing there meant that they won.

"For the next Level Up, you already have the attention of the divine." I told him. "This means that expectations have been laid upon your shoulders, and simply killing a powerful opponent will not be enough for them to commend you. Your next ascension must have meaning."

Fight for your loved ones. Fight for your ideals. Fight for your future, or even fight to protect your peaceful life.

Prove to the gods that you aren't just some mongrel fighting to gain their attention. You have to prove yourself; that you are above and beyond the common rabble. Become the diamond in the rough through sheer will and perseverance. Bear your soul and show the heavens your worth.

See them smile as they watch you with pride.

"I'm not going to be specific," I told them, "I can't tell you what to do or how you should do it, but the important thing for your next Level Up must be your emotional attachment to it. Without this your accomplishments would mean nothing to you, which would also mean that they would mean nothing to the gods. The falna is your connection to your divine patron, and it's through this blessing that they know if your accomplishment is important to you or not. You can't lie to them. Not with this."

It doesn't matter if you get the last hit on a powerful opponent or not. If you felt nothing but clinical attachment to it, then the excelia that you gain from that victory would be diminished significantly. If you didn't give a shit that you won, then the gods, also, wouldn't give a shit that you won.

"Does that actually work?" An eavesdropping inmate stepped forward and asked.

I gave him, and the rest of the eavesdroppers a flat look, then turned back to Casanova. "Ask yourself this question: 'Did any of my accomplishments, up to this day, have any significant effect that it changed my life? Did any of them stuck with me even to this day?'"

Silence came to those who were listening. Casanova and the others looked deep in thought, and I waited for at least one of them to look up. When their frowns deepened and their expressions turned to frustration, I knew I had to break them out of it before they spiral into depression.

"We all struggle. We all despair," I told them all heavily, "But we do not succumb. That is what interests the gods."

The word struck a chord to those who were listening.

"We fight against the disparity; we rise against those that challenge us." I straightened up; my chest held high. Those who were watching seemed to mirror my action. "We don't give up. We don't let hopelessness keep us down. We rise. We stand. We hold out heads up high."

I gave each and every one of them a hard look in their eyes. I held nothing but determination, and they all started to reflect it as well.

"Then we ascend."

Feel pride in your accomplishments. Feel proud of everything that you've achieved. Look to the future and hope, with a smile on your face. When life pushes you down, you stand back up and dust yourself off. You put a smile back on your face and push on.

With the gods as your witness, don't back down or give up. Be cunning, be crafty, be bull-headed or be aloof. As long as you overcome whatever challenge life gives you and you never lose that determination, the gods will smile upon you and give you their blessing.

"You only give up when you lose, and you only lose when you die." I looked at Casanova and the other people I had the attention of, "Where there's life, there's hope. As long as you live and breathe then there's a chance to succeed."

It may sound like I was just spouting out inspirational quotes that meant little to nothing back on earth, but to the people of this world the words meant something deeper to them. Here, if you wanted to grow, then you had to do it yourself. No one can help you, the most that others could do for you was keep you alive long enough to succeed.

A Level Up is an accomplishment that you can only do for yourself. It doesn't necessarily mean that you have to do it by yourself, but motive and drive are both key to someone's ascension.

"Fate often times would throw shit your way to make your lives difficult," I told them, "But that is just the world's way of giving you opportunities to grow. With every adversity you mature as a person. And today, on this day, you are all presented with a chance to have that opportunity."

I directed their attention above and to the side, to the place where a balcony was overlooking the yard. There, Goddess Justitia and Captain Judex were looking in our direction with open consideration in their eyes. They've been there for a while now, having come to watch the inmates work and train for the day's only special occasion.

I could practically see the thrill of fear and excitement that suddenly passed through those that stood around me, my words penetrating their minds and raising one conclusion.

"The choosing ceremony." Casanova muttered.

"It's that time again for people to risk their lives for a chance to ascend." I gave them all a quick look, but their attentions were still on the balcony with the goddess and her captain. "This is your opportunity. Some may consider this a punishment, others to show off and bask in the adulation of the people, but they have forgotten the true purpose of this ceremony."

I grinned and allowed my voice to carry over the sounds of multiple people training in the yard.

"This is where Fate chooses her champions, where the gods will decide who will rise and ascend!" Several more people now turned my way, many of them looking confused. I just laughed at them and focused on those whose hearts I just set ablaze. "So throw away your fears and discard all of your hesitations. This is your chance to seize you're Destiny! Forget about failure, forget about defeat! This is the time where you must only have one thing on your mind, one thing that you must hold above all in your heart and soul! It's the only word that should pass your lips as you stand over your defeated foe! The one word that all who witness will echo to you!"

I heard several bones creak and muscles tense. Fists were clenched as fires of determination ignited and propagated in the eyes of the men who heard my words from the beginning.

I threw my fist up high, "Victory!"

"VICTORY!"

I almost laughed as several people were startled. "Victory!" I cried out.

"Victory!"

The guards looked lost and didn't know what to do. It wasn't an uprising. They had their hands on their weapons, but since no one was attacking, they had no idea what was happening.

"Victory! Victory! Victory!"

Even Judex had to step in front of her goddess as the inmates started chanting the same word again and again. Those who didn't know were baffled at why some of the inmates seemed so fired up.

The trepidation of being chosen to fight in the arena had dissipated. Hope was raised and desire was emboldened. The fear of death was taken from their minds and replaced by the goal of growing stronger, to reach newer heights; to attain a Level Up and become a true champion of their beloved home and Empire.

The choosing ceremony commenced after lunch, where most inmates were filled with trepidation under the gaze of the goddess of Justice. But not all were filled with worry.

My inciting speech, under the influence of my power, had filled those who listened with a sense of excitement. I knew that not all of them would be chosen, and there was also the chance of none of them being chosen at all, but I promised to help them train for the next ceremony if they would get chosen.

I tested them all, and, in turn, they tested me. In terms of physical augmentation, I was high in the level 1 category. However, thanks to my supernatural skills and erratic techniques, I still won handily against even high ranking level 2s.

I was a caster at heart, what with the versatility and devastation that my magic provided, but my powers also allowed me to be proficient in weapons combat where I could mix and match physical and magic techniques and create truly powerful combinations.

Most of what I'm capable of was kept secret from the inmates, showing only enough to make me seem like a competent, if highly skilled adventurer. Though I knew that they suspected that I had a Skill, none of them asked me about it. Casanova had only dared because my actions didn't match his world view. It was rude to ask, but people were free to speculate and even report them to their gods.

Now, with everyone sufficiently distracted from questioning me of my methods and why I was making myself look weak, we watched as the Justitia familia pull out a board with an empty tournament bracket on it.

There was a moment of disgust rise within myself when I saw it.

A fucking tournament. They were going to do things in a tournament style.

There was going to be a literal tournament arc right after I was introduced to some notable people.

I wanted to rage. I didn't like tournament arcs anymore. When I was younger and was still new to anime, tournament arcs were pretty hype events. But after so many years of repeating the formula, I realized that anime tournament arcs were just the author's way to show a dick measuring contest in a different form.

The protagonists were always destined to win. Any opponent they would fight would just become a minor character that'll show up a few times to make people remember that they still exist.

It was the anime and manga world's cheap way to introduce interesting characters. Any character development could just be shown using a flashback, and any bullshit moves could just be explained using the excuse of 'Secret Training'.

The tournament arcs were just stages that people used to show off their characters. It was used to highlight their specialties and talents. And what better way to do that than to make them beat the shit out of a disposable minor character that won't have any relevance after the preliminaries of the tournament.

However, I was surprised when my number wasn't pulled. I was already making plans to ruin the tournament, but after seeing the last empty bracket filled with someone else's number, I was both surprised and relieved.

When Justitia had finished pulling the last number out of the box, she'd given me a look that was mirrored by her captain. It wasn't a friendly look, but neither was it hostile. It was a considering look that panned to the people that I had incited to be more eager to fight in the arena.

The level 3s were separated from the general tournament, as their purpose was more along the lines of professional wrestlers to entertain the crowd, not fodder to be killed to sate the blood thirst of the people. The numbers were shuffled, and they were finally set on the tournament board for all the inmates to see. Only the level 1s and 2s were there.

I heard some excited cheers, as well as some frustrated grumblings. One number on the bracket, however, stood out to me the most.

I patted Casanova's shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

The man was silent, but he nodded his head. His eyes were on the board, similar to the number on his prison shirt.

His eyes then went over to Judex, where she had been looking at him the moment his number had been pulled. There was a long moment where both of them just stared at each other. I didn't know them well enough to guess what they were thinking, but it must've been something deep for them to stare at each other for so long. But then Judex turned away and followed after her retreating goddess.

Not even a nod of encouragement for her own brother.

AN:

My thoughts on how to Level Up in Danmachi:

Character Development = Level Up

That's what the gods are pretty much looking for in their children. They fight, they struggle, they find a nigh impossible challenge and overcome it. This results in a growth within them, of their character and as a person.

I'm not gonna put too much emphasis on the Coliseum. Since I've already shown the gist of what Ciel can do, I'm gonna try and focus on the plot behind the scenes that doesn't involve my OP character throwing his weight around. This is also going to be my attempt in trying to write a character development and see if I can learn how to make it work.