He hears the manager’s trumpets call “Match Begins” in the very back of his mind. Already immersed in the moment, he quickly surveys the arena before him. Whispering a word of power, his limbs blur as he runs with unbelievable speed up the stairs of the ziggurat occupying the center of the room. There he settles himself to wait, peering over the top step with his bow in hand. He knows he has to be careful today — he stands no chance if he lets his opponent lay hands upon him. Seconds later, he finally sees the giant’s massive head cresting the building’s far side, and quickly releases an arrow. He waits long enough to see the arrow merely graze the creature’s temple, then swears and lowers himself back into hiding.

How did I get myself into this? he asks himself. Usually he manages to only fight newcomers, making the small but livable wages that such a strategy pays. Thinking of the tiny rapier hanging at his waist, Jack shudders and begins backing down the stairs.