Fell Champions

There were three men surrounding that battle royale streamer, the kid that looked like he hadn’t hit puberty yet. They all had knives, the starter ones Holt had given them. The kid was on the ground, holding his own knife out, his hands trembling, a last act of defiance while the three argued about who would get the kill.

The three were nervous. They’d never killed before, and it showed. Probably hadn’t even killed in VR. It tended to unsettle people, the first few times. It tended to look too real. Feel too real. So many advocate groups had tried to shut Grey Gear down over the years, clutching pearls and crying about children. The gun lobby loved it, gave them something to blame mass shootings on. 

People new to the experience tended to get nervous, like a virgin with their first fumbling attempts at sex. They knew what to do, had seen it on all their various screens, had it broadcasted in an easily accessible way to them at probably too young an age. Every part of them was primed for it, wanted it.

But it was a boundary, a border that, once crossed, couldn’t be uncrossed. It was a bold new world on the other side, and few people wanted to be explorers in a time where it was easier just to see someone else do a thing than do it yourself.

Il-Su could relate. He wasn’t a killer. He just played one in video games. And now as he stared at these three, completely oblivious to him, he had to grapple with a decision. If he killed them, it meant he was a killer. For real this time. Not just video game characters.

“It should be me,” one of the men said. He looked like an anime pretty boy, a regular JRPG protagonist with ridiculous hair and an almost feminine air about him. “I’m the only one here who’s invested in Strength and Tenacity. I won’t get sick, like you two, and just waste it.”

“That wasn’t the agreement,” 

“Yeah,” the third said. “We agreed to take turns, and do Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who goes first.”

“I am not dropping my guard now and letting him get away to play a stupid game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.”

The third guy kicked the kid, knocking him to the ground, and then stomped a boot down on his chest. He pointed his knife at him.

“Stay still, turkey. We’re trying to decide how to carve you up.”

He laughed to himself, kind of distractedly. Probably trying to put himself into the mindset of a killer. But that was the problem. You either had it, or you didn’t. The more you tried to prepare yourself, the more you talked yourself out of it.

Which was why Il-Su used that moment to strike.

He had to kill to survive. That was inevitable. And he would not die here. He would not cower away from this.

The first man, the one who looked like he’d walked out of a bad anime, was the least desirable of targets. By his own pronouncement, he had invested in Tenacity. He’d be the hardest to kill. But the other two?

His knife went right through the shield of his first target like it was butter, and sank into the man’s back only a half inch. He staggered forward, crying out in pain, but Il-Su put another two knives into him, one into the base of his skull and the other in his spine, before moving on to the next man. This one managed to half-turn, and was surprised when a knife blade suddenly punctured into his cheek. He went down in a surprised cry of pain, clutching his face, not used to this kind of pain.

The first looked around, confusion evident. He drew his knife and set himself in a crouch. Not a real fighting stance, but something ready to pounce, should he see an enemy.

Il-Su started putting knives to work, throwing one after another. The defensive systems of Fell Champions were frustrating to him. They favoured long, gruelling battles of attrition, something that wasn’t his style. Soon, he’d need to either pivot his entire combat style to meet it, or find a way to better burst through the Tenacity of his opponents.

It took five knives to break down his enemy’s defenses, which was for the best, considering Il-Su was beginning to run low. And only once his shield broke did he finally spot where those knives were coming from. Whoever this jackass was, he wasn’t a gamer. His instincts were trash, his eyes not trained for this kind of thing. 

He made it three full steps towards Il-Su before three knives sprouted in his chest, one in each lung, the third in his heart. He made a strange rattling noise, and then fell over. 

Il-Su wondered how realistic that sound was. Did Holt and his developers just guess what a man dying sounded like, or did they sample a noise from the real world? Or was the effect stolen from another game? Or did Holt’s team put together some kind of AI program that conducted simulations from how a real body would work in similar circumstances? The level of detail he’d put into everything was amazing. Why he would ever try to claim it wasn’t his work, and instead make up some fantasy that all of this was real was ridiculous. 

Holt had very obviously lost the plot. But that had been obvious the second he’d announced that he was going to have a handful of live streamers kill each other and blow up his own company.

Il-Su bent down, and began to yank out knives from the two corpses. The second one he’d hit was still alive, but he had plans for him. That one was left alone for now.

Each knife he extracted was carefully cleaned before being resheathed. He needed to take care of his equipment. There was no telling when he’d get new knives. He needed them to last.

He made sure to pick up the weapons from the three he’d just bested. Holt’s weapons weren’t balanced for throwing, but they were better than nothing. They went into sheathes meant for knives he’d lost to the fight with Sami, blades now discarded on a beach in the Silayan Islands. Who knew if he’d ever see those again. 

The kid made a noise, and Il-Su paused in his task to look at him. The kid flinched, crawling backwards away from him.

“Stay still,” Il-Su said. 

“You killed them.”

Il-Su sighed. He’d been hoping this kid had a head on his shoulders. Apparently not, if he had to explain very simple things to him.

“Kill or be killed,” he said. “I need three points to live. That’s two down.”

He got to the business of carving out soul crystals, harvesting them with practiced ease. How many times had he done this in Ri Oa? Both too often, and not enough. Why couldn’t this game have respawnable monsters to kill for experience, like most games? Killing the city’s most vulnerable had always felt ghoulish, and had left a bad taste in his mouth. If he’d had any better target, he’d have taken it.

“What about that guy?” the kid said.

He pointed at the man who was now busy trying to crawl away, a knife still stabbed into the side of his face. Why he didn’t rip it out was beyond Il-Su. Maybe he was afraid of bleeding more? 

“That one’s yours,” Il-Su said with a shrug. “Good luck with your next two points.”

“I can’t… I can’t kill him!” 

“Sure you can. Pick up a knife, make stabbing motions. Or pick up a rock, make bashing motions. Humans have been doing it for thousands of years. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Better hurry, or he might get away.”

Unlikely. The force of the throw might’ve concussed the idiot. Or maybe terror had him. He clearly wasn’t thinking of survival, or at least, he wasn’t committed to it.

Still, Il-Su couldn’t walk the kid through it, couldn’t coddle him, or hold his hand. The kid needed to figure it out himself, or he wouldn’t make it out of this.

“Take me with you,” the kid said.

Il-Su closed his eyes and sighed. This was what he’d been afraid of, somewhere in his subconscious. That the kid would demand a babysitter. Not only could he afford the luxury of it, but he also couldn’t trust anyone, especially not this prepubescent little snot. The offer of extra lives would be tempting for anyone. The kid was likely trying to see if he could wait for Il-Su to expose his back.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Il-Su cleaned the blood off the best he could from the first of the soul crystals and swallowed it. A prompt popped up.

Choose Stat to Enhance

Strength / Fortune / Awareness

Well, that was a bother. He’d been hoping for Tenacity, since the owner of this crystal had been boasting about investing in it. Getting some of that might’ve been able to restore some of his own shield. Well, there was nothing for it. He pressed on the button for Strength, and then checked his gains. Only a plus one. Well, it was better than nothing.

“I need you,” the kid said.

God, he sounded pitiful. Or he was a really good actor. It felt like karma, really. 

“I can’t carry about dead weight,” he said, and then swallowed the second crystal.

Choose Stat to Enhance

Agility / Allure / Will

He nearly swore. Well, he was an Agility build. Better to be more graceful and speedy than your opponents than to try to outbrawn them, so he selected that and checked over his stats in his window.

Strength: 20

Agility: 31

Tenacity: 14

Will: 15

Fortune: 10

Awareness: 17

The numbers looked good, but he had no idea what they were like in comparison to other players. When he’d fought Sami, he’d managed to get a good sense of her strength level. They’d been about even, neither physically overpowering the other, but he’d definitely been quicker than her. And by a fair margin. She just somehow managed to anticipate where any of his strikes would go, though.

As much as he hated her, he couldn’t fault her swordsmanship. That woman had placed highly in kendo tournaments in the meat space before ever becoming a gamer, and actually put those skills to use. She was an actual terror with a sword, and it didn’t matter if it was a katana, a jian, a scimitar, a gladius, or a claymore. She’d picked up more fighting styles than was needed, figuring it’d make her a better matchup for anyone who sought to use those weapons against her. She was a genius with a blade, and anyone who went against her was blessed for the experience. 

But still, something furious rumbled in Il-Su’s chest at the constant beatings he’d been forced to endure masked as training. How she’d always had to be superior to him, always had to rub it in his face how much better she was.

Why couldn’t she just help him, without her incessant need to be the better? Why did she always have to do things her way, or abandon whoever didn’t fall in line? Why was she always so self-serving and…

Fuck.

Maybe he wasn’t really angry at Sami in the moment. Well, no, he was definitely angry with her. But not just her. 

“Fine,” Il-Su snapped. “You can come with me. But you have to prove you can…”

He trailed off as the kid picked up a rock and then immediately bludgeoned the man to death. No hesitation. If anything, he’d skipped to it a little too quickly. 

Well, this one would have to be watched closely. 

“What’s your name, kid?”

He looked a little bashful for a second, running his fingers through his blonde hair. “Oh, I’m Slider. Kenny Slider. I mean, uh, Kenneth.”

He was trying to sound more adult. That was kind of embarrassing. Well, Il-Su remembered being that age, all insecurity and limbs that suddenly felt too long.

“Sure thing, Slider. Pick up that idiot’s knife, and cut out his soul crystal. We’re gonna need all the firepower we’ve got, I think.”

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