The pile of ice that the final attack created began to fade away. All that was left behind was a pile of dust and a torch with a black handle and no flame. In reaching down to grab the torch, however, I found something else.

  I was elated to discover that for our trouble, the monster had left behind another of the glass cards, but this one had a silver trim. Curious, I took out my other card and they merged together—and when they did, my mind loaded with information. The more I looked at the unified card, the more I knew about what we had to do.

  It was so fulfilling!

  “Hey, Noah—“

  “Gah!”

  Noah’s pained yell had me turning on my heels. The first thing I locked on to were the three stone prongs sticking out of his chest.

  “S-Set—“ Noah rasped.

  Stone started to spread from the three prongs. He was being petrified.

  The assailant kicked him in the back and ripped the prongs out as they faded away. Noah, fell onto the grass with a groan, still clutching his chest.

  “Oh, the naked one,” said the new enemy—a malnourished mummy of a man in a long, tattered cloak. “The newbies found each other against all odds.”

  He was so covered in old bandages from head to toe–even below his cloak–that it looked like the bandages were the only thing stopping him from blowing away. Was there someone like this in the crowd. If there was, he wasn’t bandaged up like this in the lobby.

  Many things went through my mind. “Noah, drag yourself away if you can.”

  The mummy man and I were locked in a stare-down. This was the best time for him to try, while he was cautious.

  “G-got it,” Noah replied, still wearing a pained expression.

  “Don’t stand with your back to a path next time,” I said, eyes still on the mummy. Didn’t need to look at him to know that he felt stupid.

  The mummy chuckled. “Good advice.”

  The mummy man’s eyes flicked to him. The moment they did, I held up the torch and fired.

  A giant black snake, further adorned with jewels and spikes, and given really stylistic horns shot out. The mummy man let out a yell right before the black snake hit him and pushed him back down the hedge path and into the hedges at the end.

  I ran toward the mummy right as the snake began to dissipate. The snake was just like my glaive ability. The better my mental image of it, the harder it hit. Good thing snakes were popular in media. My mental images were perfect enough to give that mummy a shock.

  “Noah, you good?” I yelled as I passed by.

  “Go for it!” he yelled back, the pain forcing out his words.

  The snake had faded into flickering black flames. Unlike my glaive, some of the black flames lingered on the shocked mummy’s body.

  The mummy staggered forward a few steps, arms still flickering with black flame. He looked surprised—maybe more by the pain than the attack. Then he smiled, or maybe the cracks in his bandages just bent that way.

  “Cute,” he rasped. “But you’ve lost your torch.”

  I didn’t wait for him. I lunged.

  He moved faster than expected, ducking my hook and swinging a wrapped fist toward my head. I weaved low, caught his wrist in the crook of my elbow, and aimed a gut punch—but he moved with the blow, pivoting his body while his bones cracked.

  “Shit! You actually know what you’re doing!” I yelled.

  “Thanks, young man!” he said, laughing. “You’re bolder than I’d expect a naked man to be!”

  A torch slid out from beneath his cloak and into his hand. Like a magician, he pointed that thing in my face. I quickly pulled away, a vortex of flames singing the tip of my nose. Then, the exhausted torch went flying at my face.

  I parried it, flickering in time to catch his approach and react.

  He stepped in close, both fists raised. We traded fast—my forearm to his jaw, his knee into my ribs. I grunted from both moves, but endured thanks to a well-timed flicker. He swung low. I jumped back. He flinched left. I flickered forward and got in a palm strike that made him move with the blow.

  “Why are you so fluid? Are your bones so broken that you’re like soup in there?!”

  He spun from the momentum, sliding away like a figure skater–it was an unreal move. And then, when he completed the turn, he revealed a second torch.

  His grin mocked me–”Oh? You don’t carry torches around?”

  I didn’t realize, you prick!

  He blasted me again. This time, a searing flash swallowed everything—I couldn’t dodge that.

  I turned on my Levels immediately. I heard his steps, felt the air move–I knew where he was coming from. Something cut through the air–something fast that didn’t make sense.

  “Fine!” I yelled, forcing my blurry eyes open.

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  Metal clanged against metal.

  “An arm?! Seriously, young man!?” the mummy said, New Arm reflected in his eyes.

  I grinned. “You’re not the only one with a Signature Weapon.”

  My New Arm versus his weapon–that three-pronged gray pitchfork he used on Noah. I quickly scanned it and found the core down its length; it was 1/8th of the way up from the end of the weapon.

  Before he reacted, I shifted New Arm, quickly grabbed a prong with my metal hand, and wrenched his arm to the side.

  Before he noticed, my right fist smashed into his face, but this time, I felt some more pain than before.

  “Ouch.” I shook the pain from my hand. “Those bandages are doing more for you than I thought!”

  “Good thing too; you might actually knock me out!”

  The mummy staggered back a step, bandaged face twisted with amusement.

  With a flick of his wrist, the pitchfork dissolved into mist—stone crumbling into dust mid-air—then, with a hair-raising swish, it reformed in his grip, freshly summoned. It gleamed a dull earthen gray, the three prongs jagged like cracked fangs.

  He came again. I raised New Arm.

  The first strike was heavy. The three prongs raked across New Arm’s plating, scraping deep enough to screech. I winced, both from the sound and the fact that it actually damaged New Arm’s durability. From a quick scan, it looked like I went down by five to ten percent.

  He spun and thrust again. I understood the momentum gain from the spin, but it gave me time to react and deflect with New Arm.

  He pressed the attack hard. The pitchfork arced around like a whip, sometimes spinning mid-thrust, always aiming to slip past my defense. I kept pivoting, blocking again and again with New Arm. My right hand hovered near my hip, twitching to strike, but I held it back.

  The mummy kept going. I hated how much control he had on that fork. We were essentially in a hallway, but the way he kept adjusting his grip saved him from the drawbacks of such a long weapon. Heck, I was pretty sure I was catching some trick he was doing with his bandages to keep the pitchfork from going too far–shit! That’s the gimmick!

  His arm suddenly pulled back right as I landed from a backward hop. And then he fired the pitchfork straight at me. I leaped to the right, hopping onto the wall. The pitchfork–with bandages wrapped around its shaft–tore through the air flying straight through the spot I had occupied a moment ago.

  My eyes met his shocked ones. I leaped from the wall, right fist cocked. There was no time. I predicted the move. My fist flew straight into his face while he had no choice but to watch it coming like an inescapable meteor.

  And then, golden winds erupted–

  [Divine Smite!]

  “Hell yeah!” I roared.

  It was pressure. A divine presence made real—rippling outward from my knuckles like a solar flare tearing through flesh and fabric. It howled with holiness, light without mercy, bending the grass and rattling the trees behind him. The mummy’s head jerked back, bandages unspooling mid-air like streamers fleeing a bomb. For one glorious instant, time stuttered around the impact point.

  The mummy struck the dirt so hard the ground cratered—and the impact bounced him twice before he slammed into the hedge wall. When the winds ended, the mummy was embedded in the hedges, and I was staring at my fist, a little shaken.

  “Did that punch… bypass defenses?”

  Behind me, I heard a strained wheeze that brought me back to reality.

  “Noah, are you still dealing with stone?”

  “Y-yeah,” he groaned. “That was… amazing, though…”

  The mummy groaned. “I agree.”

  My eyes leveled on him as he stumbled out of the hedges. I sighed, sad that he didn’t get tangled up.

  He was panting now. Audible, ragged, like every movement was pulling a cost. “You’re a… real rising star, aren’t you, naked man?”

  “Hey, you’ve been the most educational fight so far.”

  The mummy chuckled as his bandages tightened on his body. His wrist flicked. I flickered and reacted, just barely deflecting the pitchfork as he reeled it back in.

  “Darn,” he groaned.

  “It’s a nice gimmick,” I shot back.

  “Don’t be so cocky,” he spat, clearly annoyed his surprise attacks didn’t work.

  “Why not? I’m winning this.”

  We stood a few feet apart, the few normal torches flickering between us, both catching our breath. New Arm hung at the ready. My real hand clenched and unclenched, eager to get involved.

  His shoulders fell slack, exhaustion winning for a little. I realized at that moment–both he and I were tired. His wounds had healed, so he still had HP. Same for me. Was it the Smite? Did it have an effect on our stamina?

  “Heh. Do you know how many of my attacks you blocked?” he asked. “Your arm should be close to useless now.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t try to hide it. You are as good as disabled.”

  A smile spread across my face. “Oh. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

  He raised a brow and smirked. “I disagree–”

  “You didn’t notice, friend.” I held New Arm up and waved.

  His eyes squinted—then widened as it clicked for him.

  “This thing isn’t flesh and bone.” I sneered. “I don’t think it gets affected by Petrification Attack.”

  His breathing faltered for a second as his body lurched forward just a little bit more.

  I pointed at his pitchfork. “That’s what your core does, right? Petrification Attack?” I exercised my fingers as I spoke. “I bet that metal couldn’t be petrified. I was right.”

  I celebrated myself. If there was a singular great choice I made during my journey, it was taking the time to learn all the options available to a Signature Weapon. It was a pain to recall, but I remembered that cores had status ailment attacks like poison and petrification, and that there were a set of gimmicks that involved ropes or chains, or so on, that could further control weapons. His gimmick was a bandage version that let him reinforce and boost the weapon, along with giving him great control of its trajectories.

  He let out a heavy breath. “Young man, be careful about how much leaves your lips. Information is a weapon.”

  “Yeah, I noticed how you guys operate.”

  He readied his pitchfork. I was done, though. I quickly hopped and landed on a patch of grass three paces from me.

  “Guess you can’t see this!” I declared.

  He laughed at himself. “Ahh! You had enough cards! Damn!”

  That was right. Getting the cards did something weird–it let me see where hidden trap panels were, among other things.

  Green magic pulsed beneath my heels, forming a glowing vein that streaked across the grass, linking my patch to his–just like how I envisioned it. He groaned and grit his teeth, too slow to move, but fully aware of what was coming.

  A violent stream of green magic erupted from below him, drowning out his agony and obscuring his body.

  No mercy. I sprinted to him and leaped. The burst waned while I was mid-air. He was trapped in green, magic energy-made vines. He could only watch my fist as it approached. Just like the last time. With any luck, he would set me up for another Smite.

  And then, he did it. His jaw clenched, and I picked up on a shift. I threw my shift, with full confidence that I would land it.

  Prove me right!

  It boomed.

  [Divine Smite!]

  I got it.