Path of the Berserker

Chapter 33

Nerves built within my gut as I approached the arena, but I didn’t bother to turn any of it into Frenzy. I wouldn’t be touching that stuff tonight. Or so was the plan, anyway. I had taken it easy with the practice at work, training till mid-afternoon before reserving the rest of my strength for the tournament. After getting cleaned up at home, I took a quick nap, got up, got dressed and made my way to the stadium just before dusk.

Now the Qi-infused street lighting was already being illuminated to usher in the night and the air was abuzz with the chatter of the quickly building crowd lining up to get inside the stadium.

The numbers were at least twice that of what I saw for the preliminary rounds with a few more artisans and cultivators from the upper end of society mixed in as well. There were two distinct lines funneling the people inside, and the disparity between the two in clothing alone was enough to tell who was within the upper echelons of cultivator society and who was not.

As for me, I joined the much shorter line of competitors waiting to be granted access to the bowels of the stadium to prepare for the night’s entertainment. I sized up the competition as I approached and the head turns I got in response was evidence that they were doing the same. Just like before, there were a large number of teens and adolescents, but there were a couple guys my age and even older.

One of them, a tan-skinned fieldworker by the looks of him, stared at me especially hard, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of competition or kinship, seeing as he looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. The disdain from the younger competitors was much easier to comprehend, so much so that I wondered if Green Bird Girl hadn’t paid a few of them off to give me the stink-eye as I approached.

I paid it all no mind however and instead focused on the memorization of my forms. Tonight was make or break for me—proof that my last two days of intensive training could finally bear fruit.

Eventually the doors opened and we were let inside. Officials in Imperial-colored robes verified our names before giving us numbers according to the order in which we qualified. I was given number 93. The same attendant from a week ago must have recognized me because he grunted when he handed me the keys to my locker.

“Ah, the bull guy,” he said, chuckling. “You can find your mask and weapon inside your locker. Good luck.”

I gave him a nod and then followed the other competitors into the stadium.

* * *

The dank smell of sweat and fear greeted me as I entered the locker room. The place was crowded, barely enough room for me to dress in my white uniform and store my clothes before grabbing my mask and wooden hatchet.

Just as I was about to don my mask, a sudden spike of fear emanated from beside me. I turned to see a beefy guy with a goatee staring back at me. His eyes were wide and trembling, like he’d just seen a ghost or something. I was about to ask him what his problem was, when his jaw fell open to reveal a mouth full of jacked-up teeth.

The face and teeth lined up and then the recognition hit me like a truck.

“Holy shit! You’re that guy from Hein’s crew.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What was your name again? Gu Zu or some shit?”

He backed up immediately, stumbling over people as if trying to flee.

“Hey!” I caught him by his collar, forcing him to stay put. “What the hell are you doing here? Did Hein send you?”

I stared at him with [Fear the Flame] and his insides turned to mush, leaking Frenzy-rich fear all over the floor.

“Please, I don’t want to fight you.” His voice came out in a mumble, like his mouth was full of marbles or something. “If you’re competing, I’m gonna forfeit.”

“Answer my question!”

“No, no!” he said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not in the Silver Leaf Sect anymore. I was kicked out…after what happened.” He then looked down at the floor. “I…I was deemed unworthy.”

I let go of his collar. “So Hein kicked you out because I kicked your ass?”

The big guy nodded sheepishly and I had to admit I felt a little sorry for him.

“Tough break, man,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “Sorry you had to be on the receiving end of that. Nothing personal by the way.”

He stared back at me as if not knowing how to respond.

Perhaps he didn’t.

Cultivators didn’t normally apologize for anything, I supposed.

“Anyway, good luck to you, Gu Zu.”

“It’s ah… it’s Gui Zu,” he said. “My name is Gui Zu. And thank you for sparing my life. One day I hope to become as strong as you have.”

He clasped his hands together and gave me a low bow, his fear turning into lemonade.

It was my turn to stare back blankly now.

Well look at that, I thought.

I returned the bow with a smile. “Don’t mention it, Gui Zu.”

A sharp whistle drew our attention.

There standing on a platform at the front of the room was the same stone-faced lady from before. She waited for the noise to die down and everyone to focus on her before she finally spoke.

“Congratulations, qualifiers!” she shouted. “You are entering the first round of the Wooden Bracket. There will be fifty matches to determine which of you will advance to the semi-final round. Unlike the qualifiers, there are no ring outs. Each battle will conclude when an opponent is either knocked unconscious, injured to the point of not being able to continue or the ten-minute time limit is reached. At that point a judgment will be made for who is the victor. There will be four rings set up to move through the matches quickly tonight. Pay attention to the officials as they call for your numbers. If you are called three times and you do not show, you will be disqualified. Semi-final matches will also happen tonight following the intermission. Finals will be held tomorrow. You may at any time withdraw from the tournament and retain your highest ranking. Rankings 20 and above will qualify for Class-C citizenship and entrance into the Iron Bracket. The winner will gain free access to the Iron Bracket, a value worth 50 spirit stones.”

Damn, I had nearly forgotten about the entry fee. 50 spirit stones was like 500 Taels.

I was already planning to steamroll this thing, but now I had to win it for sure.

“You may view the tournament from the pits as you wait for your match to be called,” she said and then, just like before, leaving no room for questions, the woman turned her back to us and began to walk away. “Follow me.”

As we left the locker room, Gui Zu stuck by my side like a puppy. We took a turn away from the stadium floor and entered a subfloor that ran beneath it. As we passed the doors to the arena though, I caught a glimpse of the crowd and there looked to be a full stadium gathered already.

“Big crowd tonight,” I said, turning to Gui Zu. “It always like this?”

“Not really,” Gui Zu said. “Back when I first competed, the Wooden Bracket matches always drew a crowd, but nothing this big. Must be all the off-worlders.”

“No doubt,” I said. “What do you mean by first competed?”

“Three years ago. Back when I was still in school I entered the Wooden Bracket for the first time. This would be my second time entering now.”

I looked at Gui Zu again. For as big as he was, he looked all of about seventeen in the face. It made me feel even worse for busting his teeth in now, but such was the world of cultivators, I supposed.

“So why are you back here again? You didn’t qualify for the top twenty to enter the Iron Bracket before or something?”

“Oh no, I did,” Gui Zu said with a small hint of pride. “That’s how the Silver Leaf Clan scouted me. As a hopeful. But I still wouldn’t be able to compete in the Iron Bracket. Not even today.”

“Why not?”

He laughed, pointing to his teeth. “You must be joking, right? Did you see what you did to my face?”

I laughed along with him and couldn’t help but think that I’d merely taken him for a clueless meathead crony before. But clearly this guy was a real person with hopes and aspirations of his own and a decent sense of humor to boot. Maybe there was less distinction between us Terrans and the bottom rung of Yee society than I thought.

“Even if you qualify for the Iron Bracket that doesn’t mean you are ready for it,” he continued. “Most who do, spend years training within a sect to be ready to compete at that level.”

Years? That gave me pause considering my own goals. I needed to hit top 20 in the Iron Bracket in a matter of weeks. Was that even possible?

Nah, screw that negativity, I thought.

I would have to make it possible. After the Wooden Bracket I would need to focus on my internal training like never before. I needed to harness that lightning.

“Okay so if you’re not here to qualify, then what are you here for?”

“Hopefully to get scouted again,” he said. “It will be much harder this time though. I’m too old to be inducted into one of the major sects now. But maybe one of the minor sects might see some value in my skills.” He then paused and looked up at me sheepishly again. “I was never that gifted when it came to cultivating.”

“Neither was I,” I said without thinking but regretted it immediately when his brows lowered in confusion.

“What do you mean?” he said. “Even I can sense how strong you’ve become. How did you do it so quickly?”

I shrugged. “Just lucky I guess.”

He didn’t look satisfied by the answer, but I didn’t want to go too far down that road.

As we traversed through the dimly lit hallway, a group of cultivators ahead of us cried out in unison as they jumped to the opposite side of the corridor.

“Keep moving!” the woman leading us shouted, without even looking back at them. “Nothing to be alarmed about.”

Curiosity gripped me as we neared the area that they had passed and when I finally got to see what had startled them, I could completely understand why they tried to jump into the next time zone.

There, behind a grid of rusted iron bars was the largest rapling I’d ever seen.

The creature was as big as a crocodile, with leathery green skin and a yellow underbelly. If not for the distinctive colors, I would have almost taken it for a salamander. But this was no ordinary rapling either.

It was a brood mother.

The sight of it didn’t fill me with the same fear as Gui Zu and the others around me as they backed away—I was way too desensitized for that—but it was surreal to see a C-Class monster here in the heart of the city, behind the dome. It just didn’t make sense.

“How is this possible? The barrier should be driving this thing crazy.”

“Special Qi stones negate the effect of the barrier.” Gui Zu pointed to some faintly glowing rocks inside the cage as we passed by. “You never seen an intermission before?”

“Never,” I admitted. I’m sure that if I could sense Qi, the stones would probably be radiating like kryptonite. “Is that what it’s here for?”

Gui Zu merely chuckled. “You’ll see.”

* * *

The tournament started much the same as the preliminaries. The Imperial Anthem was played followed by a propaganda-filled fairy tale, compliments of our lord and savior, Royal Princess Lunalah. I viewed all this with disdain from the so-called ‘pits’, which were actually the old dugouts used back when the stadium hosted baseball games instead of blood sports.

The blood sport in question soon started with the first four matches being called. I watched with rapt attention as the fights played out, trying to get a sense of the level of competition. Now, being more versed in what forms and techniques actually were, I could truly appreciate how skilled some of these kids were. Most used the sword or staff and the hollow clacks of wood on wood echoed throughout the stadium as cheers and whistles went up from the crowd.

The matches went quickly and soon Gui Zu was called.

“Wish me luck, eh?” he said with a jacked-up smile.

I gave him a thumbs up, which I’m not sure he quite understood, but he smiled at me again anyway. I watched as he entered the ring with a kid at least five years his junior, wielding a staff as he was. The match commenced and Gui Zu became a whirling dervish, moving across the mat with impeccable footwork and precisely controlled forms. The kid he was up against was no slouch either, matching Gui Zu’s movements to a tee.

The two staffs clicked and clacked against one another for a good five minutes, Gui Zu proving surprisingly nimble for his size. But eventually it boiled down to endurance and the fight became a battle of attrition. Gui Zu finally claimed victory by landing a heavy strike to the kid’s thigh that took him out of the match with a broken leg.

Above the ring, the Qi-infused score boards moved his number 82, to rank 16 on the score boards. I barely had time to congratulate him before my own number was called.

“Numbers 93 and 94!” the official shouted. “Ring number one!”

Gui Zu gave me a fist bump. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, man.”

Donning my mask, I clambered up the steps and entered into the stadium. The intensity of the lights was almost blinding as I made my way into the ring. Not surprisingly, across from me was another adolescent—a boy of maybe fourteen who chose to go without a mask.

I noticed the mask wearing itself was split about fifty-fifty. For me it was a requirement. The less people who knew I was doing this the better. But I imagined if people were looking to be scouted like Gui Zu, they wanted their faces to be seen.

I prepared myself as I waited for the bell to ring, forcing my mind to focus on the fight.

No Frenzy. All skill.

The bell rang and the boy advanced with an aggressive strike for my head.

I forced myself not to react with instinct, using [3rd Form] to retreat instead of merely hopping backwards as I normally would. The split second of hesitation cost me, and I took a slap to my arm as a penalty. It was a killing blow, enough to break my arm, but it didn’t hurt of course. Still, it was a failure in my mind. The kid came at me again and I maneuvered out of his reach using [1st Form]. He wheeled behind me, and cracked me across the back.

Shit!

Irritation filled me as we repositioned and the kid gave me a smirk of superiority. The little punk. I could power through his attacks and put him on his back, but that wasn’t the point here. Fact was he was winning and I needed to up my game. Using a six-foot staff against my two-foot hatchet, he already had a huge advantage over me, but I decided to revel in it instead of growing perturbed.

This was the kind of challenge I needed.

The difficulty to grow stronger—not just in strength but in skill.

I stopped just reacting and started to attack, using my techniques to slip in and out of his range. The boy was good though and recognized the patterns, deflecting my hatchet strikes with poise. I took a few more careless hits as I tried to adjust to the quick tempo of live combat. It was so alien from my savage instincts to just go in for the kill. Were I not already so advanced in my Body Refinement and the fact that I was fighting a kid I would probably have long since lost the match, but I swallowed my pride and kept at it.

[4th Form]

[Swinging Cleave]

[3rd Form] retreat.

[6th Form] parry!

The forms and techniques rolled through my mind milliseconds too slow, but eventually my speed increased. I stopped thinking and started reacting, but not with instinct like before. My muscle memory kicked in and soon I started performing the techniques as naturally as leaping to the side or throwing a careless chop. After a few minutes we were engaged in that deadly dance that I had witnessed from the stands barely a week ago.

A cultivator versus a cultivator.

I was doing it. I was actually doing it!

The thought gave me more confidence, even if I was just fighting against a kid. I kept an eye on the timer, using every opportunity to develop my skills before it hit zero. I had a new revelation while fighting him though. It wasn’t just enough to memorize my own techniques. Recognizing and being able to interpret and anticipate my opponent’s attacks was important also.

I hadn’t studied the spear or sword technique out of the manual yet, but I would after today. The battle wore on and the countenance of the kid’s face changed. Gone was the overconfident smirk of superiority and a sweat-creased scowl of frustration took its place.

Finally, he committed to a powerful spinning attack, leaping through the air.

“[Spinning Leaf Falls]!”

I executed [Sliding Guard Break] in response, shifting to the left to avoid his strike which hammered the floor where I’d stood. I then advanced behind him with [4th Form] and spun, hacking him in the back of his neck with a cleave. My casual strength alone was enough to knock the poor kid unconscious and the bell sounded with just seconds to spare.

“Winner! Number 93! You advance to the next round!”

Looking up at the board, I saw my number jump to rank 17 just behind Gui Zu.

I returned to the pits with a feeling of true accomplishment. I’d done it. I’d won by skill alone. Well…mostly. There was no way the kid could have beaten me anyway by knocking me out or breaking my bones, but that didn’t count. Winning the Bracket was part of my path.

“Nice work!” Gui Zu said with another jacked-up smile as I re-entered the pits. “Looks like we both advanced.”

I smiled in return. “Guess so.”

It was then that I noticed a new fluster of commotion all around us. I’d drawn out the match so long that I didn’t realize we were the last one for the entire round. Presently the entire dugout filled with the winners was starting to leave, each one going to speak with one of the officials.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Gui Zu merely sighed as he looked up at the score board. “Take a look.”

When I turned about, I was just in time to see every contestant number ranked above us suddenly disappear to be replaced with the word “Withdrawn”.

“What the hell, man? What does this mean?”

“Everyone has withdrawn except us it seems.” He then stared at the ground. “It would be my cursed fate to have to fight the likes of you.”

“I don’t understand. Why has everyone withdrawn?”

“The Wooden Bracket is a stepping stone. A place for commoner children to display their skills in hopes to be scouted by a sect like I was, or youngsters from more prestigious families to quickly and quietly qualify for the Iron Bracket. But to actually win the Wooden Bracket and have your name eternally associated with it, is a mark of shame.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe this, but then I remember Mu Lin. “Right. Who would want to be remembered as King of the Shit-Tier League.”

He laughed. “That’s funny, but such is the way, I suppose.” He then shrugged. “Shamefully, I have no further face to lose. And I think winning the Wooden Bracket might be enough for me to draw the attention of the lower-class sects. Having that badge of shame would at least be proof of my skill.” He then gave me a crooked smile. “But, that was before I knew I was going to have to fight against you…”

His words trailed off and I could see the hopelessness and desperation in his face.

This kid was broken and I had a small hand to play in that.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer came over the loudspeaker. “Due to the large number of withdrawals, there will be no semi-final round. After the intermission we will have the final match of the Wooden Bracket Tournament to determine the overall winner.”

The Qi board flashed and changed again.

Wooden Bracket Finals

Rank 16

Rank 17

Number 82

Number 93

A heaviness filled me as I looked up at the board. My path was clear. I needed to win this match to afford the entry fee into the Iron Bracket. But I knew that there would be a price to pay for that now. Following the intermission, I would once again have to fight and defeat poor Gui Zu.