Victor of Tucson

Victor looked at his status page and the flashing green button labeled “Class Selection.” He touched the button, and a message overlaid his current view:

***Level 10 Class selection. Class selection is permanent. Human Energy cultivators will next be offered a Class refinement selection at level 20. To view your options and make your selection, use the arrows to page through this interface.***

Victor had talked to Vullu and Yrella about classes quite a lot during his first few days with them. They’d explained that the System put together packages of skills and attribute allocations to help people to focus and apply the growth they experienced through Energy cultivation. He didn’t quite understand it, but he knew about classes or archetypes from playing VR games. It seemed like the same kind of concept. Clicking the first arrow, he saw:

***Class selection option 1: Bruiser - Basic. You use might and brutal tactics to overwhelm your enemies. Class attributes: Strength and Vitality.***

Victor almost swore aloud, but he remembered all the fighters still snoozing around him and kept his outburst down to a quiet scoff. The idea of being a bruiser didn’t exactly excite Victor, but he couldn’t lie - he’d been fighting the way it described. Sighing heavily, he pushed the arrow to see what was next:

***Class selection option 2: Fighter - Basic. You use physical prowess to best your foes with remarkable feats of combat skill. Master weapons and your body to become a force that can change the tide of a battle. Class attributes: Strength, Agility, and Vitality.***

It was another basic class, but it appealed more to Victor. It seemed like it had more potential for growth than the Bruiser option. He touched the “next” arrow:

***Class selection option 3: Berserker - Improved. Fury and overwhelming force guide you on the battlefield. With little concern for your safety, you put the domination of your foes first. Class attributes: Strength, Vitality, Agility, Will.***

“What the fuck?” he said in a hushed voice. Wasn’t he already a berserker because of his Berserk ability? Maybe taking the class would help him improve his ability to control his rage or give him different types of skills to go with it? It was an improved class, also, whatever that meant. He was trying to imagine what other talents he might get with the class when he saw the “next” arrow was still blinking. Another choice then; he touched it:

***Class selection option 4: Spirit Champion - Advanced. Prerequisite: Spirit Core. You hone your will to control the surging tide of your spirit affinity, learning to use it without succumbing to the force of its pull. Class attributes: Will, Vitality, Unbound.***

“Fucking hell….” Victor hissed. Wasn’t this exactly what he needed? He was sorely tempted to push the “select” button, but doubt held him transfixed. It sounded too good to be true. What would he give up by not taking one of the “basic” or “improved” classes? It seemed like they had less to offer, but maybe there were other perks, like, would he get more skills? Faster levels? Maybe Berserker wasn’t what he wanted as much as Spirit Champion, but what if it allowed him to survive longer in this fucking hell hole? Did he just want to survive, though? Victor thought about how he’d felt, standing in the center of the pit, coming back to himself, and finding the Ardeni girl’s corpse held tightly in the crook of his arm. He vaguely remembered the fight, remembered grabbing her, but it was like snippets of a dream. What if Spirit Champion let him hold onto himself a little better and kept him from becoming an absolute monster while in the pit. What if it didn’t? What if it just gave him more skills that utilized his rage affinity? The description sounded promising, but it was maddeningly vague.

Victor’s mind turned to Yund and what he’d want Victor to choose. Victor was pretty damn sure Yund would tell him to select the Berserker option. Then he thought of Yrella, and a smile spread on his face. Yrella would tell him to choose Spirit Champion, no question. Feeling a wave of relief, he reached up and made the selection.

***Congratulations! You’ve gained your first Class: Spirit Champion. Class skill gained: Sovereign Will - Basic. Class skill gained: Channel Spirit - Basic***

***Sovereign Will - Basic: As an act of concentration, you can apply up to 25% of your total Will to any physical attribute.***

***Channel Spirit - Basic: Apply your Core’s Energy to your physical attacks, manifesting your attuned Energy as a destructive force. This skill will bypass the usual effect spirit affinities have on the cultivator’s emotional state. Energy Cost: 25. Cooldown: Minimal***

Victor lay there on the straw-covered floorboards, thinking about the notifications he’d just read. Everything sounded great to him, but he was plagued by doubt. Had he been too impulsive? Should he have picked the Berserker? His immediate future seemed to have a lot of fighting in store for him, and maybe it would have been wiser. Still, the skills sounded great - one that would allow him to improve his strength or speed and another that would make channeling Energy into his attacks a lot easier. Or so it seemed based on the descriptions.

The Sovereign Will ability got him thinking about his attributes, and he remembered he had ten points to spend. Should he bump up his strength, or should he push it into his will? It seemed that if he could use will to improve his strength, dexterity, or agility, maybe he should keep building it up. Perhaps when he got a higher-tier version of the skill, it would allow for a higher percentage. Ultimately he decided against it - according to his class description, he’d be getting more will with each level. He’d want to make sure his base fighting stats were good with or without his new ability. He decided to put five into agility and five into dexterity as they’d been lagging behind his strength and vitality.

When he got done, Victor felt incredible. He was clean for the first time in a long while, and his physical attributes were all more than double what they’d been when he came to this world. He flipped over in the dim, nearly dark light of the closed-up pen hall and cranked out more pushups than he’d ever been able to do at his peak wrestling shape. When he stopped, he wasn’t even that winded, and he felt like he could do another set after just a couple of minutes. Would he keep these improvements if he somehow returned to Earth? Would the Energy in his Core sustain him? Would he slowly bleed off his Core’s power and lose his gains if there wasn't Energy around Earth? He had no way of knowing, and he wondered if anyone did. “Great; one more thing to worry about,” he grumbled, becoming aware that many of the prisoners were stirring, yawning, and talking quietly in the other cages.

Victor sat quietly, using his unorthodox method of concentrating on stuff that pissed him off to cultivate some more rage-attuned Energy, and the morning hours slipped away. He’d made some good progress when the door slammed open, and Urt, Ponda’s less friendly contemporary, strode into the pen hall, hawking up a great gob of phlegm and spitting it on the floor. “Alright, lazy time’s over. Victor, Boss wants to see you. Everyone else, line up for mess hall and exercise rounds!” Victor stood up and waited for the crabby, clean-shaven Ardeni to open his cage. “Come on. Move quick; I have a lot of shit to do.” Urt strode to the other door, and Victor kept close to his heels, not wanting to piss the guy off any more. They crossed the exercise hall, then Urt rapped lightly on Yund’s door, pulled it open, and waved Victor through.

Once again, Victor sat down across from the large, red man, trying to determine if he was angry or just always had that expression on his face. “You wanted to see me, Boss? This about my contract?”

“Oh, want to make sure I remember what I promised, eh?” Yund snorted and leaned his wooden chair back precariously under his bulk. “Well, you’re in luck. I’ve got one written up here. Now, I tried to be fair, thinking about how you got here. I also had to think about my bottom line and how I’ve lost a lot of good fighters. Not to mention all the help I’ve given you - putting you with my best fighters for some training, buying you help with your Core, and arranging good fights for you. That said, here’s the contract.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of thick, cream-colored paper, pushing it across the desk to Victor. Victor read it:

Contract of service between Yund’s Wagon Wheel Fighting Troupe (the Wagon Wheel) and Victor of Tucson (Victor),

“How’d you know how to spell Tucson?” Victor couldn’t help asking.

“I got it right? Honestly, I don’t know. The System Language Integration is some strange magic.” Yund shrugged, and Victor kept reading:

Contract of service between Yund’s Wagon Wheel Fighting Troupe (the Wagon Wheel) and Victor of Tucson (Victor), wherein Victor agrees to fight for Yund’s Wagon Wheel Fighting Troupe for no less than five years, and wherein the Wagon Wheel agrees to remove one month of Victor’s term of indenture for each of his victories. Additionally, the Wagon Wheel agrees to provide opportunities for Victor to improve his combat prowess and readiness as rewards for exceptional accomplishments.

Signed:

Yund, Owner and responsible party for the Wagon Wheel___________________

Victor of Tucson___________________

“Five fucking years, man?”

“Well, don’t forget you can subtract a month for each of your wins! If you fight twelve times, that’s a year off your time! You’ve been here less than two weeks and already fought six times!”

“Look, man, I’m not a genius, but I’m not a dumbass, either. I feel like this language is kinda vague. What does it mean you’ll ‘provide opportunities’ for ‘exceptional accomplishments?’”

“For instance, last night - when you fought that guy outside your tier - I’d reward you for that. Maybe a racial fruit or an attribute boost. Maybe if you had a maiming injury, I’d pay for healing.” Victor grunted at this and leaned back in his chair, thinking. Five years sounded like a hell of a long time to have to fight for his freedom. If he fought once a day, which was impossible, he’d still need two months to clear his debt. Still, it was a goal to work toward.

“Fuck, man. Five years. My friends will be finishing college, well, not most of them, but they’ll be starting their lives, having kids. My Abuela might be dead by then. This fucking sucks, dude. I already won you some fights, and you know I’m not a criminal.”

“Victor, there are a lot worse people that you could have been sold to. This isn’t a bad contract. Now, I think I need you to make a decision before I lose too much patience and just scrap the deal.”

“Hang on,” Victor knew that Yund had him over a barrel, but he also knew he had a little leverage - he was a moneymaker as long as he kept winning. “Can we clarify some language? I want my first six fights to count against my time, and I’ve heard you talking about different types of rewards: silver, gold, etc. Can we put some language in that says you’ll give me a fight that can earn me a gold reward at least once a month?”

“Kinda pushy for someone who lives in my cage.” Yund frowned, but he pulled the contract over in front of himself and produced a long quill and a pot of red ink. He struck through a couple of lines and scribbled some notes; then, he showed the changes to Victor. They were exactly the changes he’d asked for. “Fighters do better when they feel incentivized, Victor. I usually have real scum in my cages, but the ones that aren’t scum, I try to motivate. Your friends Yrella and Vullu were examples of those kinds of fighters. Ponda is another. Did you know he used to be one of my fighters? Tell me something, kid: have you picked your class yet?” The question caught Victor a little off guard, and for some reason, he felt a little guilty when he replied.

“Yeah, this morning.”

“My own fault, I guess. I should have told you to wait. I could’ve given you some advice. What did you pick?”

“Spirit Champion. It's supposed to help me gain more control of my Spirit Core.”

“Spirit Champion? I’m not familiar with it! I thought sure you’d get Berserker or Gladiator. It sounds like it might be what you need, though. This brings me to another problem, though.”

“What’s that?” Victor felt a couple of butterflies start to flutter in his gut.

“Well, you’re getting a little too strong to run around unbound.” He drummed his thick red fingers on the desk.

“But we have a contract now,” Victor replied weakly. He didn’t want to get some kind of fucking tattoo that bound him to these assholes.

“I’ll think on it. Trust me when I say you’d regret making a run for it. Ponda’s tier three and my other managers are all tier two. Don’t get yourself into a mess by trying to run for it.”

“I won’t. You know, I don’t know a single person in this world.” Victor would have said anything at that moment to try to reassure Yund; if he were going to make a break from this place, he absolutely didn’t want a collar or one of those tattoo things. So far he hadn’t seen his moment, his chance to run for it, but he knew sooner or later they’d let their guard down at the wrong moment, and then he’d fucking be gone. No goddamn way was he going to spend five years in this place!

“Well, let’s sign this, and you can go get some practice in,” Yund said after a long, quiet moment. He scribbled his name on his line and passed the quill to Victor. Victor, heart thumping with the implications, signed his name on the contract.