Warnings: possible dark themes, psychologically dark-ish? (apathetic) Harry, no magic, virtual reality gaming AU

Pairing: TMR/HP (Tom Marvolo Riddle/Harry Potter)

Summary: Voldemort was just supposed to be the bored necromancer who had a slightly creepy obsession with the undead. Scarred was just supposed to be a berserker-but things never quite work out that way.

For one, he isn't a berserker. He's a bishop. For two, he isn't just anything-he's the renegade High Priest of Gryffindor. For three, well... let's just say Voldemort's slightly creepy obsession wasn't on the undead anymore.

Glitches were so inconvenient.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter series - J.K. Rowling; this story was also inspired by Legendary Moonlight Sculptor by Nam Hee Sung, a korean light novel about a virtual reality game called Royal Road and a main character who wants to conquer it all (for money). You can read it at:

www(period)rainbowturtletranslation(period)com(slash)legendary-moonlight-sculptor-table-of-contents(slash)

Also, 1/2 Prince by Yu Wo inspired this story too! A Chinese VR-MMORPG light novel (adapted as a manga as well) about a girl who plays as a handsome male elven warrior. Read it now at princerevolution(period)org! The manhua can be read at mangahere or mangafox, or probably any of your favorite manga reading sites.

Third shout-out of inspiration to The Gamer by Sung San-young, a manhwa/web comic about a main character who gains the ability to live life as a game character. Read it at mangahere, or probably any of your favorite manga reading websites.

Fishing in-land in the North was about as pleasant as driving along a pothole-filled road. The frigid air stung—as always—but players couldn't even move around to get warm. Some didn't have the skillset to go ice fishing, and so they stuck to the rapid rivers that moved through inconvenient locations.

No, the best place to fish was the ocean; ice fishing rarely lead to the haul those at the coast got. Very few players bothered with fish in the North, unless they absolutely couldn't find any meat to roast. It was a matter of what could kill them more—hunting, or the time-consuming task of fishing. Would they get killed by a mob, or die to the harsh weather before they caught a fish?

Many Northern players, Gryffindors, usually decided it wasn't worth it to learn the fishing skill. Scarred had been of the same opinion until he learned Herbalism and took an interest in the Cooking skill as well. After all, when most of the things he killed could be eaten, going fishing was a tedious activity just to get a bit of food.

You have made a new recipe. Name your dish?

Harry shrugged. "Sure, why not. Let's call it 'Calamity Sushi.'"

New dish: Calamity Sushi has been recorded.

Cooking has leveled up.

"Toxic Chef" title has been upgraded to "Danger in the Kitchen". Fame +25.

Title: Danger in the Kitchen

[Master Tier]

A title gained by a player who has created over a hundred different poisonous recipes, and has mastered the delicate balance between deadly and delicious. If a player is able to survive their cooking, who knows what sort of mysterious power they will be granted…

Intelligence +20

Poison Resistance +200%

Poison Affinity +200%

High chance to add effect bonuses to your cooking when using normal ingredients

High chance to poison your cooking when using non-toxic ingredients

Burned dishes are salvageable

Increased damage to poison-affinity monsters

Chance to add poison status effect to your basic attacks

Scarred bashfully scratched his head. "Is this sort of thing an insult or a compliment, I wonder…"

A Master tier title! It was the highest 'level' of a title that could be earned, as far as the current information base knew. The rankings went as such: Basic, Advanced, Master. It wasn't an exaggeration to say Harry had gotten this Master tier absurdly early—these sorts of titles were usually only earned once a player had reached the Advanced level in their skill.

Because Harry almost exclusively cooked 'odd' food, the result was upgrading his Toxic Chef title to the Master tier Danger in the Kitchen title at only Intermediate Level 5 Cooking.

"This is actually a pretty good title. Too bad my current one is better, otherwise I'd use it."

Scarred's current title, Slayer Known Around the World, was a monster hunting-type title. These were considered the easiest titles to get; many earned them simply by training. The irony was, Scarred's title was one of the most difficult to obtain in the game. If there was a tier list of titles ranked by difficulty, his was in the top one percent at least.

It required an absurd amount of work within a six month time frame—possessing at least one hundred Master tier monster hunting-type titles, each of which must be of different monster types, killing a hundred thousand monsters within a week, killing a hundred mini-bosses within a week, killing five boss-level monsters within a week, completing at least three hundred monster hunting-type quests (5 of which must be A difficulty and above, 50 of which must be B difficulty and above, 100 of which must be C difficulty and above, exclusive), clearing at least fifty dungeons by oneself or in one party, each of which must be cleared within a week…

To top it all off, the monsters he killed for the title (barring the Master tier title requirement) had to be around his level. He couldn't simply hunt newbie monsters all day!

Scarred had worked his ass off—sometimes literally—to get it. Deciding to chase after the title hadn't been an easy decision, since it was committing time due to the time-related requirements, but he'd ended up using some of his vacation hours during an off-holiday month and shot for it. He'd only asked for a couple days here and there, usually coinciding with a weekend for either a three or four-day break, and then made up for it by working over the holidays when everyone took time off.

In the end, he'd gotten it, and now every other title he had was collecting dust in his profile.

Title: Slayer Known Around the World

[Master Tier]

A title gained by a player whose name strikes fear into monsters' hearts everywhere. Even boss-level monsters will recognize their name. Their bloodstained journey will be recorded in the history books, preserved through time as a hero, a villain, and an executioner.

All combat related stats +100

All resistance related stats +200%

All affinity related stats +200%

All combat related skill levels increased by one

Attack doubled when fighting boss monsters

20% chance of all monster types to be paralyzed with fear in battle

Increased drop rate from boss monsters

Increased rewards from monster hunting quests

His title was one of the main reasons Scarred was able to solo bosses. Most bosses required parties (and commonly multiple parties) consisting of a variety of classes to deal balanced damage. They needed a front line to absorb damage, mages for magic attack damage, archers for ranged damage, warriors for physical damage (who could double as a front line, but not always), priests for support… Many different aspects went into a boss hunt.

And yet, Scarred went in alone. Boss monsters weren't easy to hunt for him, of course; they required meticulous preparation. When he was trying to earn the Slayer Known Around the World title, it took four tries to successfully complete the boss hunting requirement. He wasn't able to hunt bosses on a regular basis; it wasn't financially feasible, even for him, and the mental fortitude it took to go after them again and again wasn't worth it.

It was also important to mention that his average success rate while boss hunting was 45 percent! Considering that he was fighting solo, that was a ridiculously high percentage by itself. Still, the reverse meant he had a high percentage of dying, and because he was alone, the hunt would automatically fail. He'd have to start all over again if he wanted revenge.

With this in mind, of course normal, common monsters didn't prove much of a challenge to him! Not even the outstanding Diamondback Yetis kicked up much of a fuss in Scarred's mind.

Speaking of combat assistance, his food was also a large factor. With his high poison resistance, he was no longer effected by most of the dangerous things he cooked, which made getting stat bonuses from them easy. It wasn't as good as normal food made by Advanced Level Cooking, but Scarred thought it suited him.

After all, normal things weren't very fun.

Calamity Sushi

Sushi made using extremely poisonous ingredients. Consuming it will kill an elephant in just under an hour.

Requirement: At least 300% Poison Resistance to survive.

The sushi gave off a foreboding green glow. That was probably the meat of the Noxious Glowfish he'd added in—a monstrous looking fish occasionally hooked from ice fishing. It was also quite high level, 200 on average, and considered unlucky because the only way to release it was to cut the line. Lower leveled players sometimes suffered a death from it due to their ignorance, choosing fishing spots they were underleveled for.

Its scales were coated in poison, and were used by some Northern assassins to enchant their weapons with. Harry had once considered enchanting his weapons with something similar, but he never stuck with one for long enough. It wasn't economically feasible to search out someone with a high Enchant skill and pay services every time he picked up a new one.

Well, it would be waste to make something and not try it. Scarred picked up a random piece and tossed it in his mouth. He didn't have any chopsticks with him now, unfortunately.

There was a kick from the wasabi he'd rolled in with the rice, and the Noxious Glowfish was just the right chewy consistency that he wasn't continuously gnawing on it. His dried seaweed he'd made earlier from his last batch of poisonous seaweed was a good compliment, the saltiness pairing well with the sweet unagi sauce he'd made from the bones of a Stormcloud Eel. The eel itself had a smooth texture on his tongue, barring the small zip and bang that traveled down his throat from eating it.

The Stormcloud Eel was one of the less poisonous things he'd added, though again it was not a recommended fish to eat because of its high Lightning Affinity. After playing W&W, Harry had discovered he'd quite liked the taste of eel. It was a luxury in real life though, so he often only ate it in the game.

There was also the sting of the Ice Avocado he'd added in. It had the creamy texture of regular avocadoes, but it also came with a chilling aura that refreshed his palate, almost like a glass of water. The Ironback Crawfish had also turned out to be a worthwhile addition; it added a heavier savoriness that would've been missing had he only had the lighter Noxious Glowfish.

Then there was the spice of what Harry liked to call his "Toxic Seasoning." It was a mix of a variety of dried poisonous plants and normal herbs that increased the poison level of any dish by 50%! He had a less dangerous spice mix that was comprised of strange plants with odd—but harmless—effects from eating them, like confusion or different eye colors. That one he called "Mystery Seasoning," though he admitted the name didn't encourage an appetite…

The seasoning was spicy, but not overbearing. It sparked along his tongue like pop rock candies, and tied the variety of odd flavors together admirably.

In conclusion, Scarred was content with his newest creation.

You have been fatally poisoned.

Your high poison resistance negates the poison's effects.

By consuming a dish made with strange high quality ingredients, you have received the following temporary effects: Defense +2%, Attack +5%, Mana +5%, Lightning Affinity and Resistance +10% for the next hour.

"Not bad," he murmured. Because his food was different from ordinary dishes that increased stats, the effects he got from them weren't always the same. For example, the next piece of sushi he ate could give him Health +5% instead of Mana, and instead of increasing his attack, it could decrease it!

These things were a hit or miss, but to Harry, that sort of game of chance was enjoyable.

Sushi was best eaten fresh. It was a good thing that putting anything inside his inventory would preserve it until it was taken out again. He'd save the remainder for the next time he fought—which might be soon, with the PvP tournament coming up.

Scarred looked up at the sky, noting the sun's position. He'd gone out early at dawn for some ice fishing, and with his task completed, now was the time to pack up. While in the area, he decided he wanted to hunt some Snow Lupins. Their fur was fairly popular among tailors in town—not as much as the Diamondback Yetis, but they were a nice alternative because they didn't require a high Tailoring level.

The Diamondback Yeti furs could only be used by Intermediate Level 7 and higher tailors, the thickness requiring special needles that wouldn't break under the strain. Snow Lupin furs, on the other hand, could be material for any tailor higher than Intermediate Level 1. Rather than the furs, Scarred was planning on drying the meat to make some jerky. They made an excellent snack during his hunts, because he could pull it out of his inventory and eat it while he fought.

Snow Lupins usually traveled in packs, just like the wolves back in Little Hippogriff. They were convenient and bountiful prey so far out from any town or village. Scarred flexed his hand, feeling the leather of his gauntlets rub against his skin, but not unkindly. Though he'd be fighting in the PvP tournament later, it wouldn't hurt to take the edge off his urge to fight now.

The Ice Fiend's Morningstar had been the last weapon he'd had with no successor; it would be him, the wolves, and his fists from henceforth.

Away from the fragile ice of the frozen lake, Scarred could feel the stares of the Snow Lupins lurking in the tree line. When it was night, they came to hunt outside the forest's protection, but during the day they clung to the shadows they called home. Scarred, unperturbed, walked right in.

Literally a hungry pack of wolves, the Snow Lupins leaped upon him. Scarred twisted; he dodged them as if he had seen their wide gaping maws a mile away. They lunged again, but this time, the berserker was faced forward. He steadied his stance, pulled his arm back, and then when the closest Lupin was in range, Scarred yelled, "Twister!"

The effect was immediate, so he had to be quick. At the same time as mana began to spiral in his right arm, he punched forward and hit the wolf right on the muzzle. The momentum he created sharpened his attack down to the point of a needle while still maintaining all its power. It was the same attack the Alpha Male had used on him, 335 levels ago!

The Snow Lupin fell to a one hit kill. But there was an entire pack of them—Scarred didn't pause as he moved forward again. Outnumbered, the worst possible thing to do was stand still. Rather, Scarred focused them down one by one, dodging when necessary and sometimes nailing several with his blows.

Mana-based attacks were the sole reason Scarred could switch weapons as often as he did. Other berserkers couldn't possibly go through their weapons like him; he treated his weapons as pencil lead at best! Most of them stored a variety of high-class weapons: an elven bow for ranged attacks, a spear for longer melee, a sword (of course), a pair of knucklers for hand-to-hand, and more if they could afford it. They switched between them depending on the situation.

The more weapons a berserker had, the more versatile he was. However, this came with a drawback—certain skills could only be used with certain weapons, meaning most berserkers had lower skill levels. Any skill that could be used across different weapon types was priceless to a berserker, because it meant more opportunities to raise skill level without switching weapons—Scarred's pure mana-based attacks were exactly this.

Because he could manipulate mana, he could adapt Tornado of Mana for a sword, arrows, or even his fists. He had a few others of these types in his arsenal, but Tornado of Mana was his bread-and-butter. Thankfully he had been able to make his own activation word, otherwise that would be a mouthful to shout several times in battle.

Of course, like others of his class, Scarred did keep some weapons—like a bow, because a ranged weapon wasn't too common of a drop, and it was useful for pulling a mob for testing purposes. However, he switched through his melee weapons like he ate his meals: snacks, and often.

Another benefit to Mana Manipulation was the ability to use spells without a staff. Scarred didn't need a conduit, because he could control the mana himself! Staves and wands were used to transmit the mana inside the body to the outside world—they were key in allowing mages to create external phenomena. This was only because most mages and in fact most players couldn't see mana, never mind manipulate it themselves.

Their weapon of choice pulled the mana from their body. The more times they used the skill, the more comfortable their bodies would be with this action, and thus the easier it would occur. This was how skill levels were raised for them.

Scarred did all this manually. His class enabled him to wield a staff, but he couldn't cast magic with it; only mages could. Instead, it was him pulling the mana from his body, him telling it what shape to take on, him telling it how to flow and how to move. The system only allowed him the capability to use this—unlike mages, he had no help during the experimentation process. Only after he learned how to perform the spell perfectly was there some automation to help him.

It was a tedious process to learn, but highly profitable. It meant he could cast spells while using a non-magic weapon!

However useful this was, it was still important that his abilities were kept a secret. He didn't want anyone else stealing the secrets to his success—not to mention, if others knew, it was possible he could be countered or even hunted down! Those who knew him already knew he probably had Weapon Mastery. Scarred was very careful to only use Tornado of Mana when he was using blade-type melee weapons—people would only think he got lucky to find such a skill.

He didn't know how many other people had the Mana Reader skill, if any, and he didn't know how many other people were able to unlock the Mana Manipulation skill either. Scarred was intent to keep it that way.

After collecting loot from a few more packs of Snow Lupins, Scarred turned back toward the capital. He'd make the jerky later. It wouldn't do to be late for the tournament.

Tournaments, even those as small as this one, tended to attract a crowd. Aside from the participants, there would always be the audience—those two things were mutually exclusive, after all—in this case, he could see a section of players from the Church. It was no wonder though; if this tournament really was sponsored by Gryffindor, naturally they'd advertise it among their members.

As far as Harry was concerned, they could do as they liked.

Another significant group were the couples. Surprising, perhaps, but after attending his fair share of tournaments, he realized that couples truly did gravitate here. If it wasn't because their significant other was participating, then it was to watch a high-tension, blood pumping match while safely ensconced in the arms of their lover.

He wasn't sure if that was the romantic aspect of it—really, there was a hundred other natural sceneries in the game one could argue built a better atmosphere—but they came to watch in droves. The capital was not lacking a player base, especially those who weren't conventional players. Those who stayed in town solely to live another life rather than going out and competing for monsters loved to watch PvP. It was another dimension to W&W that they did not touch, so them it was like watching their favorite television channel...live.

Scarred's eyes lingered on the pairs of twos. When mana trickled between the two, he knew those pairs were married and connected through their wedding rings. The amount of mana crossing between married couples varied depending on the quality of ring they bought, but it was still easy to identify.

His gaze trailed after their easy companionship, attracted for some ineffable reason like a fly to a brightly burning lamplight. Was it warmth that he desired, or just the light—heat that he could not conjure himself, no matter how he directed his mana?

Some held hands. Some simply walked side-by-side, comfortable with a casual brush now and then. There were others who had their arm swung about the smaller of the two, and while some were embroiled in the midst of a captivating conversation (or was it more like a conversation with a captivating person?), others still were content with silence and preferred to observe their surroundings instead.

He could observe all these things in reality, too. Some couples visited the bookstore every now and then, and they weren't rare specimens that couldn't be found on the streets. Couples were everywhere—at the park, at the market, at the beach on the once-in-a-blue-moon occasion that he went…

Harry thought they were, what was the word, cute. He supposed that was the closest term. He'd had relationships in university, of course, both with men and women, but considering that his current relationship status was single, they'd obviously been lacking in some way. Or maybe it was him, and they were looking for more or something else he didn't have.

These couples seemed content with each other. That on its own was enough to make him feel a little bit happier—a bite-sized portion that did nothing to quell his appetite, but still. Nice, yes, that was a good word, too. Secondhand happiness was nice.

Aside from the pairs, there were also the everyday players who wanted to watch, either by themselves or with their friends. Tournaments had an excitable atmosphere; it was like once they started, the entire stadium was a live wire just waiting for the next touch to go off. They chattered among themselves, in groups of three, four, or more, and just from their expressions, Harry felt himself getting eager as well.

Though, he supposed he didn't need any help there. Already the urge to fight and move his body was beginning to wake. He'd successfully set it to sleep before, left in a doze and dormant, but now he could feel it beginning a steady rhythm pumping through his veins. His toes curled and his fingers twitched, his back felt wrong and his legs wanted to move. Restlessness was unbecoming. He felt it anyway.

Because this was virtual reality, there was no need to warm up. Still, some players were in the habit of it, and Scarred himself needed a breather before the tournament began, else he would start too enthusiastic and scare his opponents off. When he first started PvPing, Twist told him he had a bad habit of adopting a nasty, toothy grin in battle. Frankly, it looked like he wanted to rip their head off and eat it for breakfast.

That wasn't exactly the first impression Scarred wanted to give.

He moved away from the stadium and instead toward the barracks, where a few other participants were also warming up. There were some wooden practice dummies set up outside. No one was using them—either preferring to warm up through a few drills or with a few spars—so Scarred chose a random one as his target.

Pak, pak, pak. Each of his blows hit a vulnerable point of the body. Other players looked at him curiously as they passed, but he ignored them all.

The best part about these dummies was their unlimited durability! No matter how hard he hit, Scarred wouldn't destroy them. To him, this was far better than a spar because it wouldn't give away how strong he was! Revealing even one secret before a tournament was stupid. That secret could prove to be his downfall—so much could be ascertained through a battle, whether it was what side one favored or how skilled one's footwork was.

Actually, Scarred wasn't 'warming up' like everyone else. Rather than getting into the groove of battle, he was circulating the mana within his body. It was an exercise of the mind rather than his fists. Because the dummy's small amount of mana was not active, it was easier to focus on his own—like running the television as background noise.

This was how he spent his time up until the tournament began. To recover some fatigue and fullness, Scarred took out a piece or two of his Calamity Sushi and ate it as the announcements were going on. It was a small tournament, so the battles would only need two days. Larger tournaments could go on for a good week; he'd only participated in a few of those before.

If he thought about it, it was kind of strange that the Church's tournament would be this small…

Actually, now that the participants were announced, he'd recognized quite a few names. These players were all high quality!

Had there been an admission process? Scarred couldn't recall one. He'd just signed up as he would to any run-o'-the-mill tourney, giving his name and paying the fee. The registrar had been an NPC, so maybe there had been a minimum fame or level requirement?

"For our next match, we have 'Slayer Known Around the World' Scarred versus 'Gorgon's Gaze' Fury!"

Scarred stepped forward onto the raised platform. He was deaf to the noise of the crowd—they were the background, inconsequential to the fight he was about to have. His opponent, well he knew her, too. Fury was an assassin-type player, known for her mixed damage style. It was said that if a player locked eyes with her or came within her melee range, they'd be dead within the next second!

It was odd for a player to be equally capable of ranged and melee damage. Fury's close-range skill with a dagger was equal to her throwing-knives. She incorporated both into her fighting style, making her a troublesome opponent even outside of assassination-type settings. She was another regular participant of PvP tournaments; Scarred had fought her once or twice.

"Lord," Fury cursed upon seeing him. "It's you again. Just my luck… Well, there goes my prize money."

"Sorry," Scarred said with a shrug.

The assassin scoffed. "No you're not."

"I'm not," he agreed.

Fury's irritation was called for. Scarred's style was a strange counter to her's—it left an entire half of her abilities practically useless.

The ring of the bell signified the start of the match. Fury would strike first—assassins were predictable like that—so Scarred didn't waste time and began to apply defensive buffs instead of charging forward. She'd come to him, and that suited him just fine.

"Starburst Strike!"

There she was. Scarred smiled. Fury's preferred opening was the poisonous 'Venom Cutthroat,' but her past experiences with him had already alerted her of his high poison resistance. Starburst Strike was a similar single-target, high-damage move, but rather than poisoning, it paralyzed.

Her mana trail already told him of her location. Scarred swerved, letting her dagger slice through thin air instead of a body. He struck with his leg, but Fury's high evasion let her slip away before contact could be made. An assassin's first move was their most important—now that it had completely failed, she was in a bit of a pickle.

Normally, 'Gorgon's Gaze' Fury actually exceled at this stage. She was a regular PvPer because her ranged skillset allowed her opportunities to create another 'first move' scenario—unfortunately for her, using her ranged attacks against a berserker like Scarred would completely backfire!

"It's not fair," she moaned, retreating to a safer range.

"Just do what you'd normally do," Scarred said. "Pretend I'm just any old 'serker off the street!"

"I'm not an idiot!" Fury hollered back. "Maybe if you had a weapon, I'd be more willing to throw something at you!"

"Oh? You offering?"

"Hell no!"

Their conversation made Scarred laugh. It was always nice for the first fight to be against someone you knew—soothed the nerves, and whatnot. "It's okay. I'll just take yours!" he said, before rushing forward. He didn't even bother to buff his attack—assassins were squishy, and if he circulated his mana just right, it was basically a buff anyway.

"Oh, screw you—"

Scarred's speed cut her off. Fury threw her weight to the side, but he blocked off her retreat with a split step. Assassins had low health, true, but that meant nothing if he couldn't catch one! Unfortunately for him, they were as slippery as they were squishy.

Blocking Fury's slash, he knew he had to get a little creative.

"Mimic!"

The assassin's body leaped backwards. In her place was a clone that looked exactly like her.

Right, now he remembered. Fury had a skill like that, too. He'd have to get a lot creative, Scarred amended, proceeding to dodge a continuous stream of slashes and stabs. It wasn't too hard to figure out what hand she would attack with—the mana inside her body would always concentrate on the next one, mirroring her focus. Even if she didn't use a skill requiring mana, he could still see in what direction her life force flowed.

"Starburst Strike!"

Scarred's eyes narrowed. From behind. He struck forward then, switching from defense to offense against the clone. Surprised, the clone moved backwards, allowing him to dodge the other attack aimed at his neck. The opening he had noticed in the midst of dodging reappeared again, so he aimed a strike there. When the clone shifted to cover the hole, he cut his attack short and sent a manually formed Twister to her head; the damage was enough to dispel the clone and he hadn't casted a word.

It all happened in the span of a second. The real Fury was still behind him, so in one smooth motion he poured his mana into a spinning back kick that cut her next attack short. She hissed as one of her daggers were flung from her hand.

"And so it begins," she grumbled to herself. Just because she spoke didn't mean she paused—there was still one dagger left. "Primal Assault!"

Scarred didn't dodge this one. He let the attack hit him, tanking its entirety without issue, and grabbed the weapon before she could even pull back. The poison coating that immediately took effect didn't bother him; instead, he pulled the dagger to the side and then aimed a blow at her hand, practically twisting the weapon out of her grasp.

"I'll be taking that."

A player who hadn't faced him before would've frozen in shock. Fury, who had seen him before, cursed and flew back, trying to retrieve her second weapon.

"Not so fast! Twister!"

The blow caught her leg. Scarred grinned. He didn't mind the damage he'd taken at all! A relentless chase began in which all her attempts to retrieve her second dagger were foiled.

"Didn't you say you were going to throw something at me now?" he taunted, equally unbothered by the amount of blows she was able to avoid. The game of cat and mouse would always end in favor of the cat, if the mouse didn't have anywhere to hide.

"Ha, right. You've still got another empty hand!"

Even as she said that, Fury threw a knife toward his hand that was wielding the weapon. Out of reflex, Scarred batted it out of the way, leaving him open for the second one she threw. This one, he caught. He knew something was off immediately.

"So I made a couple of plans," the assassin said, juggling a smirk and a shrug, "Shoot me."

"Don't ask for something you can't handle," he retorted. The tension of the wire that had coiled around his arm bit into his gauntlets; his entire arm was growing numb. "Let me guess, your dagger can't cut this, can it?"

"You could try sawing it," Fury suggested. "Oh, but by that point, I'd have already killed you. Too bad, so sad."

While it would be incredibly simple to end the match by sending a mana attack down the wire—a powered up thunderbolt would finish this faster than his opponent could say "I surrender"—that would reveal far too much information about his skillset. He wasn't ready for that if there was another way to victory.

So he said, "Here's a tip: if you think it's a good plan, there's always something that'll go wrong."

Scarred lunged forward. Just as he expected her to, Fury darted to the side in order to maintain the tension of the wire. He spun his body and continued to throw his weight anyway, trusting in his strength being stronger than hers. Besides, assassins moved for speed—the way they ran, they dodged using their speed, leaving them defenseless if their enemy had already caught them.

Big mistake. Fury yelped, unable to steady herself as she lost her balance. Scarred dropped the throwing knife and fully dedicated one hand to yanking on the wire. In his other hand was the dagger he'd liberated, poison tip pointed to deliver a Twister to the ribs.

Instead, he pinned her to the ground and tossed her a cheeky, "See what I mean?" before slicing her neck like an assassin would've done. She disappeared in a flash of light.

As he dusted himself off, the announcer shouted, "Winner: Scarred!" for the crowd to hear.

Of course, they already knew.

Back waiting with the other participants, Scarred milled about with the rest, included but distant. He leaned against one of the wooden poles and watched the movement of the crowd. With his hood up, no one approached him—or he spoke too soon, because a female player was making her way over right now.

His previous opponent was wearing a different set of clothes, having no need to wear her armor now that she'd lost. Indeed, even the hair that had been pulled up into a high, tight ponytail was now in two loose pigtails. Her dark body-conforming armor had been exchanged for a set of casual clothes—a tunic and cotton pants—as if she was only a civilian, now. Even her walk was different; she didn't walk like an assassin, she walked like a shopper strolling through a strip mall.

Leave it to Fury to change even that. Honestly, how far would this woman go—she was even consciously monitoring her pace and pose, which would've been automatically adjusted by the system according to her high stealth and agility stats. The way she moved now completely hid not only her skill levels, but her stat points!

What a terrifying player. She could make a business out of solo-PKing, if she wanted to.

"Good game," Fury said, extending a hand.

He took it, and they shook like old comrades. "Good game," he replied, as etiquette required. "I have to say, I like the wire."

"Thanks." She smirked. "It's still a work-in-progress. Look out for it—a weapon you can't steal, Weapon Thief!"

"We'll see about that. Have you tried coating it in poison?"

Fury gave him a flat look. "It was poisoned."

"Oh, guess I didn't notice."

Fury clicked her tongue. Before she could say anything else, a shout redirected both of their attentions. Someone else was making her way toward them, only this time, unlike Fury who no one bothered to look at, this person was receiving quite a bit of stares.

"Fee-fi-fo-fum!" she bellowed, quickening her pace to a sprint. When she was close enough, the female player flung herself at Fury and ensnared her in a generous embrace. "I smell the blood of an Englishman."

"Charis," the assassin greeted, and returned the affection with a more subtle enthusiasm.

Charis pulled back. "No, really, who'd you kill, Fifi?"

Fury looked annoyed. "No one, as I'm sure you know sitting up in the audience. This brute—" she pointed toward Scarred, "—is on his way, though. Maybe you smelled him?"

Instead of the childlike glee that had greeted Fury, Charis gave Scarred a benevolent smile fit for a saint. "Good to see you, Weapon Thief. Nice match! My Fury's just been dying to impress you with her new trick—"

"Oh my God, shut up!"

"—Too bad it failed. Well, that's why she admires you anyway; you never fail to get out of a sticky situation."

Scarred tilted his head. "Thanks, I think."

He knew very little about Charis, only that she and Fury were in some sort of relationship. Charis was a muse from Hufflepuff; who knew how she met 'Gorgon's Gaze' Fury, but ever since, she'd sat in the first row audience for all of Fury's matches.

"Do you know who you're up against next?"

To be honest, no, he didn't. He'd tuned the announcer out once he left the stage, and was only listening for his named to be called now. "Not really."

Fury snorted. "Thought so. It doesn't matter anyway, does it? You'll just go in and steal their weapon again—"

"Steal is a very strong word. It's not like I get to keep them," Scarred said, defending himself. It was true. In a PK, the situation was different, but for PvPs, anything that happened during the match was reversed—aside from items that were consumed and equipment that broke, of course.

"And yet you're known as the Weapon Thief."

"Titles aren't made to be accurate," he shrugged, "They're made to sound nice."

"'Thief' is grossly inaccurate," Charis agreed. "You're technically a warrior. Hey, do you think it'd be hard changing your name to 'Weapon Snatcher' instead? Before the match, Fury was—"

Fury cut her off. "And that's our cue to leave. Good luck in your next match, Weapon Thief!"

Her girlfriend struggled against being dragged off. "Aw, Fifi! You never let me have any fun!"

"Your definition of 'fun' is always at my expense!"

Charis huffed. She waved goodbye to him, and as if upon sudden recollection, yelled back, "Thank you, Scarred! I'd hate to be apart from Fury for so long!"

Scarred blinked. He must've misheard; still, he waved back to be polite. What a strange pair—that sort of companionship was amusing too, he supposed. A muse and an assassin, getting along like a house on fire… Well, classes only said so much about a person. Not everyone fit their respective stereotypes.

The announcer called his name. Scarred headed for the arena.

There were around twenty participants in the beginning, an incredibly small number considering who was hosting the tournament, but no one in the crowd complained. Each of those twenty players were well known in the PvP circles—from 'Gorgon's Gaze' Fury and 'Spirit of Fire' Pyromaniac to even 'Ageless and Immortal Aegis' Beansprout, and then of course 'Slayer Known Around the World' Scarred; the Weapon Thief himself was in attendance.

After the first round, the numbers were cut down to ten. The second round ended with five players left, and because it was evening by then, the tournament ended, to be resumed the next day.

The third round between the five players was a round robin, where each of the five players fought the other four participants, and the one with the least amount of wins lost. Scarred took three wins for himself, losing to two others, while the only person with one win, Beansprout, graciously left. The crowd, who had all come to see these big names fight in a single tournament, were quite disappointed and shouted farewells to him as he left.

Well, it wasn't surprising. Beansprout was a dwarven paladin, who despite his diminutive size had an iron-clad defense. The dichotomy between what he should've looked like and what he actually was made a funny picture that won him a large fan base.

Defense made an effective offense in other PvP tournaments, however everyone in the top five was an experienced fighter—they wouldn't get tripped up from a turtle with a sword. In a longer battle, they made fewer mistakes and instead bided their time for an opening. Paladins weren't meant for bursting out high damage, and that was what it came down to: damage values.

The fourth round was semi-final round. It was comprised of two matches, as there were four players left. Scarred was pit against Pyromaniac, the only mage among them now. The other two players were a rogue and another warrior.

It wasn't that he hated fighting against mages, they just had their fair share of trouble attached. Sometimes it was difficult to resist using a skill he normally would've in combat, just to keep his skills a secret. There was a roundabout method, of course—using skills through Mana Manipulation didn't require activation words—but that sometimes needed more focus than he could give in a duel.

Actually, unlike his fellow warriors, he found mages to be a rather easy opponent. Every move they made involved their mana, so they never surprised him. Furthermore, he could manipulate his mana to a targeted location on his body, increasing his mana resistance and decreasing their damage done without anyone being the wiser. He had the advantage, and they didn't even know it.

Well, of course it was easier said than done. There was a difference between theory and practicality, after all—if he blocked all their shots that way, he wouldn't be the one attacking never mind moving. No, that was why he preferred dodging; the only time he took a direct blow in a duel was when he was forced to or needed to.

Pyromaniac was, surprise-surprise, a mage who specialized in fire spells. Whether he was an elemental wizard or not, he never confirmed; Scarred didn't need to know his class to know his abilities anyway. The point was, fire magic could be a nasty piece of work. Burns were as bad as poison, only they could be worse depending on the afflicted area.

A burn on the legs would decrease mobility. Getting burned on the hand made it easier to be disarmed. Fatigue increased so drag a battle on too long and it was like setting a death timer for yourself.

Scarred couldn't heal burns through mere circulation. He could decrease their effects, but he couldn't heal them without using Cure. Most healing magic was difficult to manipulate on the fly, so he preferred not to—something about the way mana moved to bless or cure or heal required a finer touch than blasting through walls, go figure.

On top of that, if there was anything to burn, fire magic could be sustained. It could burst or it could spread, and that versatility in offense could be deadly. While it wasn't a protective magic, one could argue that killing your opponent faster than they could attack was the best defense spells could give: complete disability.

It was thus no surprise that fire mages were most of the best PvPers in the mage class. They provided zero support, but the pure damage they provided was valuable all on its own.

That said…

Pyromaniac sighed. "Of course the coin flip would match me against you. Man, would've been cool if I made it to the final round—bragging rights and all that. Welp, karma's a bitch, game is rigged. Hashtag RNGesus pls."

Scarred shrugged. "You win some, you lose some."

"You know, for a Weapon Thief, that's actually the least of your abilities I'm scared of."

"Thanks, I think."

The mage shrugged back—no hard feelings—and shook his hand. "Well, it would've been interesting to go on a quest, but whatever. More time to boss hunt with my guild, I guess."

Scarred blinked. "Quest?"

"Oh? You didn't know?"

Their conversation was cut short by the ringing of the bell. Unlike with Fury, this was a semi-final round—distractions couldn't be afforded.

It wasn't a flawless victory, but it was a decisive one. While Scarred didn't have the innate resistances that caused Fury trouble, Pyromaniac was a mage. If he was defeated by one, he'd be more than a little embarrassed—mana was, well, his, ignoring the fact that he was a berserker anyway.

Besides, Pyromaniac had never won a match against him the several times they clashed. He didn't have a defeatist mentality—proven by how Scarred had ended the match with ten percent of his health left; the mage didn't pull his punches and gave as good as he got—but it had become a running joke between them.

"Hey, Pyro!" he called out, jogging a little to catch up with the mage. "Hey. Good game. About what you were saying—before the match began—"

"'Sup, Weapon Thief. Good game. Oh yeah, about that…" Pyromaniac looked around. Then, without a hint on his face, he switched to whispers. "Well, now that I think about it, it's not surprising that you didn't know. It wasn't public information, really."

Scarred thought about Fury, and then he inevitably thought about Charis. Did Charis know? Fury, as an assassin, would no doubt have information networks, and Charis as a muse was linked into that social network as well. Was that enough though?

"My guild was the one who told me," Pyromaniac continued to explain. As a famous PvPer, Pyromaniac was also the member of a high-profile guild, Art of War. They were one of the top guilds in Gryffindor.

Scarred had no guild of his own, nor no real information network, just the word of mouth that he encountered on his adventures.

"You're a good guy—little shady, but that's just 'cause no one really knows anything about you. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, you're a good guy, so I don't mind telling you what I know, if you want."

"I'll owe you one," Scarred offered in return. He was thinking back to what Twist said.

Pyromaniac grinned, and then slapped him on the back like an old friend. "Having Weapon Thief owe me one? Man, my karma's givin' me whiplash! But yeah, sure, thanks, no problem—as long as, you know, you didn't hear anything from me."

That last part was said seriously. Scarred replied with the same understanding. "Of course."

"Cool, cool. Alright, so you must've noticed the absurdly strong people in this small little get-together, right? 'S pretty obvious—I mean, you get Fury, You, Me, Jackal, Gate…all in one tiny tourney? Kinda suspicious, but the stands were loaded so it was more fun than weird. Anyway, turns out, there were three ways to get in."

"Three?" Scarred asked, while the two of them began to move somewhere less crowded. He still had to hang around for the final round, but it was stranger still to stand in a high traffic area talking in whispers.

"Yeah, you heard my words. Three. For this tiny tourney—this ridiculously high level tourney, but I'm getting there. Right, first way to get in was invitational—that was how most of us got in, actually…well, the more popular ones. Let's see, Petals was invitation. I got an invitation. Gate got one, too—not sure about Fury. Second way was through the Church's connection. Beansprout, for example. There was also Heller, and Capricorn—you know, that berserker who goes on a lot of Church missions?"

"Yeah, I know him," Scarred said. That must've been how Twist had found out—Capricorn was a customer of Swan's Smithery.

"Third way was through registration. A bunch of people signed up, but it was filtered—obviously, you see the twenty people participating versus the hundred or so that signed up? Yeah. They caught the hard to contact players through that—like you. That was how you got in, right?"

"Someone mentioned there'd be a tournament, and I was in the area, so I went to sign up," he explained. "I was surprised when I got here and saw all of you."

"Yeah, that'd be a surprise. Anyway, the Church is looking for someone for a quest of sorts—no one knows the details of what the quest is about, top secret…I doubt even Beansprout knows. I've got no idea why they're looking through a PvP tournament, but there you go. My money's on it being pretty big. Secrets? Getting the top PvPers here? Yeah, that quest ain't gonna be for a monster hunt. You feelin' me?"

"I get it. Thanks, Pyro."

Pyromaniac shrugged. "NP, dude. 'S all good. Hey, it should be your turn soon—do me a favor and kick Gate's ass for me, would you? He was being all high-and-mighty for getting his invitation before I got mine, the jerk."

Gate was also a member of Art of War. "You don't want your guild to get the quest?" Scarred asked carefully.

"To the victors go the spoils, man," Pyromaniac replied. "I mean, it'd be great if we did, no doubt about that, but I'm not about that shady life, you feel? If my guild is all up in that, fine, guild wars, cool—but that ain't me here. You're not part of an enemy guild, you're a cool guy, you won fair-and-square—fair is fair, that's how a tournament should be. If Gate wins, we'll go for a drink. If you win, I want Gate's ass kicked while you do it."

"I'll do my best."

"I'll cheer for Gate in the public chat, but if you hand his ass to him, I won't be disappointed."

Scarred grinned. "I'll keep that in mind."

Name: Scarred ~ Level: 350 ~ Race: Human

Faction: Gryffindor ~ Class: Berserker

Title: Slayer Known Around the World ~ Fame: 9056

Health: 75842 (+…) ~ Mana: 45067 (+…)

Strength: 1348 (+…) ~ Stamina: 723 (+…)

Intellect: 553 ~ Wisdom: 611

Luck: 492 ~ Agility: 770 (+…)

Stealth: 121 ~ …

Attack: 1017 (+…) ~ Defense: 679 (+…)

Rage: 0

Fullness: 100 ~ Fatigue: 0

Poison Resistance +500%

Fire Resistance +150%

Ice Resistance +200%

Elemental Resistance +150%

Current Skills: Hippogriff Riding (Inter. lv 7), Mana Reader (Adv. lv 1), Prowl (Inter. lv 1), Luck of the Draw (Inter. lv 1), Patronus Charm (Inter. lv 5), Demonic Metamorphosis (?), Tornado of Mana (Inter. lv 9), Weapon Mastery (Adv. lv 1), Cooking (Inter. lv 5), Herbalism (Inter. lv 6), Mana Manipulation (Inter. lv 9), …

Harry wtf are you doing in the first half, Equilibrium is not a cooking manga

Anyway, thanks for everyone's reviews and favorites/follows. I'm mostly on Ao3 so sometimes I forget about FFnet...I'll try not to.

Sincerely,

R.R.