“{As I was saying,}” Cerevil continued after accepting Leonidas, and after Celia stepped off to the side to observe with an encouraging nod, “{becoming part of the Adventurer’s Guild requires focus, dedication, honor among party members, the will to overcome any…}”

Leonidas tuned him out and beelined for a seat three rows up to the west beside one of the other new adventurers, a man around his own age with a shock of blond hair, a set of brown leather armor, and a pair of long knives sheathed on his hips.

The young man, who looked to be in his twenties, had waved him down when he’d turned to find somewhere to sit—and a mix of curiosity and laziness had made the choice for him, as opposed to trying to figure out who wasn’t hostile elsewhere.

“{...ensure that you are fully equipped, prepared, and ready for whatever may come from your arduous delves and lethal challenges within this new, and still-untamed virgin world…}”

When Leonidas finally sat down, the other man turned to him and flashed a winning smile, complete with pronounced canines not unlike those of a wolf. His eyes were a deep gold beneath his bangs of hair, and held an intensity and focus that wasn’t entirely human.

“{Welcome, friend!}” the blond greeted him in a cheerful male soprano. “{The name’s Bardulf! I like your armor.}”

Leonidas raised his eyebrow at the opening line, though it was hidden beneath his helmet. It came off as a mix between genuine enthusiasm and social obliviousness, which he admittedly found somewhat endearing.

“{Kind of you to say.}” Leonidas responded with a hidden smile, “{Though I did not think I would be welcomed by anyone, given the other reactions.}”

“{Oh, don’t mind them,}” Bardulf said with a quiet snort, “{they’re just bitter because you’re a recommendation. Most of them are normal aspirants.}”

“{Are you not?}” Leonidas asked immediately and with a glance at the others.

“{Nope! My father’s one of the Guild’s Platinum Adventurers.}” Bardulf explained with an idle hand-wave toward the distant Guild house. “{We transmigrated with the Incursion, though it wasn’t easy for me to get his approval to join up. He wanted me to be at least level fifteen before I joined.}”

At least that gives me some context on the power scaling, Leonidas considered silently, while nodding along to what the other man was saying and looking out at the rest of the potential Adventurers. If they’re all around that level, it means this may be more winnable than I'd suspected.

“{Mind if I ask your class?}” Bardulf continued, and drew back Leonidas’ attention at the same time.

“{Psiarch}”, Leonidas answered casually, and while keeping in mind Ceruviel’s words of warning during their trip.

“{Tell them your class, but if anyone asks, simply mention it’s a Legacy.}”

“{A Legacy? Like an inherited class?}”

“{Precisely,}” the Duchess had said with a nod. “{It is far easier to explain its oddity that way, and it diverts any questions about your Alphas. You want as little exposure as possible, and the best lie is the one that never needs to leave your lips.}”

“{You want me to let them make the assumptions, and just roll with what they come up with?}”

“{Never confirm, but never deny either.}” Ceruviel had clarified firmly. “{An air of disaffected disinterest is best. They will think it does not matter to you, and in turn, assume your Alphas to be of a low or at least uncommon-at-best level. Never show your hand if you do not need to.}”

“{Just like Poker,}” Leonidas murmured.

“{Ah, yes.}” Ceruviel had said with a grin, “{like Strip Poker, indeed.}”

Leonidas had not wanted to know how the Duchess had heard of strip poker, but neither was he surprised. It wasn’t as if she was quiet about her hedonism.

“{Psiarch, huh?}” the blond asked thoughtfully. “{Is that sort of like a spellblade class with Psi instead of Elemental or Arcane power?}”

Leonidas just nodded his head, but didn’t clarify any further. Instead, he used a casual question to divert the discourse.

“{What about you? I take it you are some manner of Agility or Dexterity-based class?}”

The man grinned at him, and proudly patted his chest.

“{I’m a Shadowblade. Being half-Lycanus gave me crazy strong senses, Agility, and Dexterity—so I just leaned into the natural gifts.}”

“{Lycanus?}” Leonidas asked immediately.

“{I think people on Terra call them ‘Wolfmen’? Look like Terrans, but have the traits of what this world calls ‘Wolves’. Tail, claws, fangs, eyesight, hearing, smell, all that stuff.}”

“{Huh…}” Leonidas responded thoughtfully, and while looking at Bardulf appraisingly from behind his helmet. “{You are not afraid to be open about your advantages.}”

“{I know when to share and when not to,}” the Shadowblade said with a grin. “{One of my Skills is from an inherited trait called Primal Intuition. It tells me when someone is a threat, or a potential ally. The moment I saw you, it told me you were a potential friend—and I’ve learned to trust it pretty much entirely.}”

“{That sounds both useful and burdensome,}” Leonidas responded after a few moments’ thought. “{It must affect your relationships, too, in ways most people would not understand.}”

The other man raised an eyebrow at that, and his canines flashed again in a smile. Leonidas got the distinct impression that his observation, which seemed wholly logical to him given the complexities of sapient interaction, was not a common one Bardulf received.

“{Not many people pick up on the downsides,}” the other man said in a tone that sounded approving. “{I knew I liked you for a reason, Achilles.}”

“{You are not so bad yourself, Bardulf.}” Leonidas responded with genuine amusement, and turned to look down at Cerevil, who was still speaking about expectations. “{How long until we fight?}”

“{Well, given the fact that Cerevil finally appears to have exhausted his speechmaking, I’d say we’ll be—}”

“{Achilles!}” Cerevil barked immediately. “{We’ll start alphabetically. You’ll be up first, against Zalaza.}”

Leonidas snorted quietly under his helmet, and Bardulf chuckled beside him.

“{Good luck!}” his new acquaintance said cheerfully.

“{Thanks,}” Leonidas said simply, and rose from his seat.

To the South, a woman who looked like a mix between a mermaid and an elf—due to the aquatic fins in place of ears, and small coral-hued scales down her arms and the sides of her face—descended from the highest seat toward the sandy arena below. Her voice carried when she shared a laughing comment with another of her kind, and Leonidas registered the sound immediately.

She was one of those that had spoken rudely about him at his arrival.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Leonidas mirrored her movements with his curiosity and analysis hidden beneath his helmet as he descended. Zalaza wore a set of simple leather, cut tight against her petite body, and had a spilling wave of aquamarine hair along her front and back. Her eyes, he noticed when he stepped onto the sand, were large and black—with no discernible pupil or iris separation.

“{Take a position opposite one another,}” Cerevil said authoritatively. “{The rules are simple: No killing. Our healers can fix anything less than that, including dismemberment, disembowelment, and gratuitous maiming. You are reminded that an Adventurer is a beacon of honor in a world gone mad, and should act that way at all times!}”

A few laughs echoed among the crowd at his words, and Cerevil ignored them.

Leonidas, however, took careful note of that reaction. While the proctor seemed earnest about his statement, it was very likely that it was an expectation the Guild very likely turned a blind eye to outside of truly egregious circumstances. The chances that every member was an upstanding representation of honor were slim to none, and Leonidas kept that in mind.

Besides, the woman had been one of those that had mocked him on arrival.

He wanted to get the match done quickly to keep within Ceruviel’s timeframe, and yet also wanted to test himself against people that were technically his peers. Zalaza provided a unique target for both, given she had already made herself an antagonistic presence.

He intended on disabusing her of the notion he was a ‘trumped up fop’, as she put it. It was not simply a pride or ego thing, either, but instead an important first impression. The people watching, including Zalaza, were going to be his guild contemporaries for the immediate future. He needed to make a strong impression, in order to guarantee the best possible party with which to Delve.

With that focus in mind, Leonidas took position opposite the woman, and she mirrored him. Twenty feet separated them across the sandy arena, and he immediately breathed out and let himself slip into his Battle Meditation while activating his [Psionic Focus] and targeting her specifically. It was like a mental ‘target acquisition’ feature, after the Amplifier’s integration, and he felt like he’d ‘locked on’ like he were in a VRMMO.

“{Fighters ready!}” Cerevil barked.

Leonidas extended his right hand and summoned his [Archon’s Psiblade] in a flash of scarlet lightning, which resulted in more than a few surprised mutters and murmurs among the crowd, and inspired a tightening of Zalaza’s expression as well. He could almost feel the trepidation suddenly slithering through the woman’s mind, and infecting some of her confidence while she drew a rapier from her left hip.

Leonidas didn’t, however, choose to activate his [Psionic Swordforce].

He wanted instead to experience what he was up against, using Zalaza as an initial measuring stick. His Swordforce would end the fight far too quickly, if what Ceruviel had said about its rarity and potency held true; which he had no reason to doubt. The Dusk-Lord did not seem like the kind of person who exaggerated her praise, and she had praised him for acquiring the skill.

For the purposes of making his statement however, he let his [Cataclysm Core] rev with purpose in his body. When Leonidas felt his Cataclysm Mana surge through his veins in a tidal wave of power and fury, he sighed out his mild anxiety and smiled with a savage edge beneath his helmet.

There was a dark satisfaction in letting its hunger for destruction ease his restraint, and he banished the voice of warning in his mind in favor of embracing the simplistic, seething fury of his Core’s power.

“{Fighters salute!}” Cerevil commanded.

Leonidas snapped his sword up in a salute, and Zalaza lifted her rapier in kind.

His [Cataclysm Core] raged in his body.

“{Fighters…}”

Leonidas assumed a ready stance, blade out and to the right, and his [Psikinetic Shield] skill spinning up in his mind.

“{...Begin!}”

Leonidas exploded toward Zalaza at the same time as the woman surged toward him, and he knew immediately that she had a foundational advantage in both speed and dexterity. Her approach was almost twice the acceleration of his own, and when she launched her first jab with her rapier, Leonidas couldn’t have parried it if he’d wanted to.

It was a good thing he hadn’t intended to.

[Psikinetic Shield] erupted into life the moment Zalaza stabbed toward him, and her rapier froze in mid-air. Leonidas hadn’t simply blocked her strike—which actually had been his intention, if he were being honest—but had accidentally managed to catch her blade inside the created square of his psionic ability, and frozen it inches from his helmet.

Zalaza stared at her weapon with wide eyes in surprise, and Leonidas’ Core-motivated savagery allowed for no window of mercy.

His right foot snapped up and he promptly slammed his armored boot into her sternum, while releasing the force holding her rapier in place at the same time.

Zalaza managed to bring her arm around to block part of his kick, but cried out in pain when the limb crunched under the impact, and she was thrown backward onto her ass on the sand.

Leonidas lifted his sword the moment she hit the ground and pointed it at her defiantly.

“{Get up,}” he said simply.

The woman glared up at him, and with a snarl of anger, surged to her feet and tried to once again attack him with a comparatively blindingly fast strike of her rapier. This time, Leonidas leaned on his experiences from Elatra and read the telegraphed nature of her attack before it came. Left foot forward, right shoulder angled low against a taller opponent, and arm tucked against her side.

When the rapier stabbed at his gorget, Leonidas’ psiblade was there to parry it away—and the moment he did, much to Zalaza’s surprise, he subsequently stepped forward and slammed his fist into her face.

Another crunch followed the impact, and the woman cursed out in pain. Her footing, staggered already by the sand, suffered from her sudden disorientation—and her ass hit the sand again.

Leonidas lifted his sword and pointed it once more.

“{Get up,}” he repeated coldly.

Zalaza surged to her feet with a scream of anger when he spoke, and with movements that were not unlike those of a drunk, attempted to slash and stab at him with furious abandon.

Leonidas let himself sink into the rhythm of the fight and his [Archon’s Psiblade] hummed in approval when he used it to parry or block her wild swings. While Zalaza’s speed was superior to his, her strength was barely even at best, and Leonidas found that he had already learned a great deal from the conflict. Min-maxing seemed like it was alive and well within the System, and the mer-elf was a perfect example of that.

She was fast as the wind, but lacked the power to withstand a direct contest.

Very likely she would serve as a harrying or ambushing force in any party she joined, though it certainly wouldn’t be Leonidas’ own. The wild and unexpert nature of her swings told him she’d lost her composure too easily, and the lack of anything resembling actual form told him she relied purely on her speed to make up for half-assed training.

If Miranda had seen such sloppy bladework, she’d have beaten the woman to a pulp with her own hands.

Leonidas dodged back from a wide-angled slash at his gorget, sidestepped a stab at his ribs, and slapped aside a second stab at his visor. When Zalaza lifted her left hand, and started generating a fist full of what looked like Ice, he responded by stepping into her guard and throwing a knee at her stomach.

The woman was forced to snap her hand down and instead generate a small block of ice to stop the attack, which jarred Leonidas’ knee.

At the same time, however, he took advantage of her distraction—and his psiblade-wielding fist crashed into her face again.

This time, Zalaza let out a truly haunted shriek of agony when he cracked her teeth.

The sound of her pain almost made Leonidas hesitate.

Deeply ingrained and far older chivalric lessons from his time in the South very nearly stayed his hand, and almost pushed him to apologize for the hit. He came to the cusp of it, and then a mix of his Elatran memories of Miranda, the specter of Ceruviel’s glare, and his Cataclysm Mana’s raging tide murdered the thought before it could be converted to action.

He’d killed women before. The Tainted hadn’t magically all been male.

And not every enemy he faced had the decency to adhere to his enlightened Earthling cultural sensibilities. In a world of cultivation, women were as dangerous as men in every way that counted—and Leonidas had learned that lesson through blood, pain, and sacrifice over the course of five years.

So when Zalaza staggered and tried to reorient herself, he didn’t hesitate.

Leonidas stepped forward, pivoted off of his left foot, and slammed home a roundhouse kick against the woman’s ribs.

The crunch that followed inspired another snarl from the mer-elf.

Zalaza slammed into the sand with a dull thud, and another cry of pain.

Leonidas stepped forward, and simply pointed his blade at her again.

“{Get up.}”

Extremely Rough Concept art of Leonidas in Armor, as Requested