A duel…

  Isaac sighed as he gazed upon the ruins of Broken Hopes sprawled out before him. Without wasting another moment, he descended onto what looked like a half-collapsed tower and shifted forms. Taking a seat, he let his legs dangle over the edge.

  Only a few hours had gone by since he had awoken from his slumber. At first, he didn’t even want to get up, but he really didn’t have time to waste. Not now. Every minute, every second he could use to prepare for the upcoming battle mattered.

  And so, he left the comfort of his bed and interrupted the ongoing conversation happening by the table. This time, it was only Marie and Daryl. Their momentary surprise at seeing him awake didn’t last long. Within seconds, they were bombarding him with questions—and, of course, the woman insisted on checking him with her healing skills.

  To no surprise, he was perfectly fine. The timely arrival of James and Elaine had at least saved him from having to answer too many questions. It hadn’t, however, saved him from retelling his meeting with Rakin.

  None of them looked particularly happy after hearing what he had to say, yet no one tried to talk him out of accepting the duel either. It had been their idea to contact their Patrons for aid, after all. That Rakin had chosen to twist that plea into something entirely unexpected was another matter altogether.

  What was done was done.

  Now, all Isaac could do was prepare and hope for the best.

  The others agreed. And, after reassuring him that they could handle the raid’s logistics without him, they all but kicked him out of the house and told him to go train. He would have cursed them if not for the fact that they also swore to be there if he needed them for anything.

  This, and some more thinking, had brought him here, to a cleared stretch of Broken Hopes. As much as he appreciated his friends’ support, he would need more than just them to get ready for the duel. Which was why he already messaged his fellow Pioneers. They were the only ones he knew who could match him in a fight after all.

  They were both late, though…

  Isaac clicked his tongue. He wasn’t even annoyed. It made sense, really. They had just returned from a very long and exhausting expedition. And, unlike him, they didn’t have overpowered regeneration to get them back on their feet in a matter of hours.

  So… waiting it was.

  Not that he stayed idle. That would have been a waste. He raised one of his hands, palm up, and began shaping blood above it, trying to recreate the full might of Crimson Death. As he did that, his mind wandered back to the duel—to the Host he would have to face.

  Would they be a newly awakened child still learning to wield their power? Or maybe it would be some old creature that remained at a low level their whole life?

  He could see the first happening, but the second? Not so much. In a world where power ruled, who would willingly stay weak?

  Isaac shook his head. “Don’t,” he muttered to himself. “Focus. Prepare. Win.”

  Just like that, he banished those useless thoughts from his mind and focused fully on the spear forming above his palm. Whoever his opponent was didn’t matter. If he doubted himself now, he had already lost.

  In the end, Isaac didn’t have to wait long for the two familiar Legacies to appear on the horizon. His fellow Pioneers spotted him right away and also landed on the tower. After quick transformations and brief greetings, they got straight to business.

  “A duel against someone outside the Virus Wars,” Carmela hummed. “I’m a little jealous, honestly.”

  Isaac arched an eyebrow. “I can ask Rakin to find you an opponent, too.”

  He expected a flat refusal, but the woman just smiled. “Maybe, maybe. I certainly wouldn’t be against it… in the future at least. Now, your victory is our priority.”

  “My friend,” Harry said, speaking for the first time, “do we have any intel on your opponent? We could try searching for someone with a similar or the same Origin.”

  Isaac shook his head. “No. Nothing. Even Rakin doesn’t know who I will be facing.”

  “Then you’re at a massive disadvantage,” Carmela noted, crossing her arms. “Not only will you be fighting someone who has lived with their powers their whole life, but they can also watch your every move here. Whatever you prepare, they will know.”

  A grimace crossed Isaac’s face. That, indeed, was a problem, one he had refused to address until now. There wasn’t much he could do about it after all.

  “Any ideas then?” he asked.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  Carmela only shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. Harry, on the other hand, looked anything but concerned. The grin stretching across his face was downright unsettling.

  “Forget about your opponent,” the man said. “They’re just another unknown. Another monster to slay. Don’t treat them as anything else, my friend. As long as you trust your own strength, you won’t fail. And to make sure of that”—his grin widened—“we’re going to put you through hell.”

  Isaac blinked. “Wait, what?”

  Neither of them seemed to hear him.

  “Huh. He’s right,” Carmela said, her bloodthirsty grin making a return. “Your duel might not be to the death, but you should train like it is. No holding back. No hesitation. No breaks unless you break.”

  “Oh… I have so many dreams we can use,” Harry murmured, sounding pleased. “So many nightmares.”

  The woman nodded. “I have some ideas too. And if we bring in a few more people… Yes, yes, I can see it already.”

  As the two continued muttering to themselves and each other, Isaac could only stare, mouth slightly open. He had never doubted their willingness to help, but this? Every word coming out of their mouths sounded less like a training plan and more like a murder plot.

  What did I just get myself into?

  If Isaac had thought those twelve hours of S-rank Infamy were rough, they were nothing compared to what he had endured over the past few days. Really, he might have been impressed with Carmela, Harry, and his friends, if not for the fact that he had been the sole target of their twisted training ideas.

  Hundreds of spars against multiple opponents. Nightmares that sometimes felt more real than reality itself. And so much more.

  If not for the rare moments of actual sleep, he probably would have dropped dead sometime during the third day when he had to face his fellow Pioneers and two other high-level Hosts in a spar. He had lost, of course, but surviving for over two minutes against enemies of such caliber was enough for him. By the end of the fifth day, he had doubled that time.

  Seeing that, Isaac never complained, never protested when his friends threw him into another arena. Hell, he even earned another level and a few skill tier-ups along the way.

  Still, when the fifth day finally ended, he had to stop. Rakin had reached out, his message short and to the point. The duel would take place in exactly twenty-four hours.

  So, here he was, back on Earth, sitting alone in the middle of an empty plain. Sometimes, a group of Hosts or monsters would scurry by, but they never bothered him. A small mercy that one. After the last few days, he had enough human contact to last a few months, or years…

  A notification blinked into existence before him.

  [A message from your Patron: It’s time, kid. I’m teleporting you in a minute. See you soon.]

  Isaac smiled and quickly sent a short message in the group chat he shared with his friends and close allies. Then, he dismissed the Interface and reached into himself, toward the Root and the Virus Core.

  “Ready?” he asked quietly.

  “Always.”

  A heartbeat later, darkness consumed him. He didn’t lose consciousness, though. No, instead, he felt as if his body was pulled through some endless void. There were no colors, no stars around him. Only the dark.

  He closed his eyes.

  How much time passed in the void, he had no idea. But considering that the duel had to happen soon, it couldn’t have been long before solid ground materialized beneath his feet again. A rich aroma—coffee, chocolate, and something else he couldn’t name—reached his nose.

  Isaac opened his eyes.

  He was standing in a small room with no windows or doors. Polished dark wood covered the floor and walls. A crimson couch and several matching armchairs surrounded a low table laden with drinks. In short, everything here looked like it was plucked straight from an old mansion only a millionaire could afford.

  And judging by the only other person in the room, that assumption wasn’t far off.

  “Rakin,” Isaac greeted slowly, glancing at the Overlord lounging on the crimson couch. For once, the alien had swapped his usual black coat for one in shades of deep blue. “Where are we?”

  Rakin grinned, silver eyes glinting. “Your waiting room. You still have some time to freshen up before the duel begins.”

  Isaac scanned the room again, frowning when he didn’t find what he was looking for. He turned back to the Overlord, one eyebrow raised.

  “Freshen up? Where exactly?”

  Rakin chuckled and snapped his fingers. A door shimmered into existence on one of the walls. “One bathroom coming right up,” he said. “Before you go, though, sit down. I have some info for you.”

  Let’s hear it then, Isaac thought, taking the armchair across.

  “Your opponent…” Rakin began, frowning a little. “His name is Nak’Lin. By all means, nobody that special in our world. The problem is that he’s old and experienced. A beast in his weight class. Skill alone won’t win you this fight.”

  Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would someone like that still be around my level? Is he holding himself back on purpose?”

  The Overlord snorted. “Nothing like that. Nobody is that stupid. No, he just had a run of bad luck. Got his Virus Core shattered when he was young. There is no coming back from that. You get to keep most of your power, but that’s about it. No more levels. No Origin or Legacy progression.”

  “Damn…” Isaac muttered, grimacing. “So what should I expect?”

  “Abilities honed to perfection,” Rakin answered. “You have the advantage in raw power, but he’s had years to sharpen his skills into a blade that can cut beings beyond his power level. Be careful out there, kid.”

  “Origin?” Isaac pressed.

  Rakin’s grin returned full force. “Ah! That I’m keeping a secret. Can’t give you everything, right?” He laughed, ignoring Isaac’s glare. “But I wouldn’t worry. It’s nothing you can’t handle.”

  Don’t punch him. Don’t punch him, Isaac repeated in his head, offering the alien a stiff nod instead.

  Rakin chuckled again and clapped his hands together. “There you have it, then. Take a bath if you want. Change into some fresh clothes, and wait for the portal to the arena to appear. The rest is in your hands. Win and become great. Lose and be forgotten.”

  With that, the Overlord stood, giving Isaac a mock salute.

  “Good luck, kid. I will be watching.”

  Read 20 chapters ahead (Book 2 finished):