Chapter 70: Training

The announcer docked his disk at the cage and made a beeline for Charon, a wide smile splitting his face. "I knew you would come! The truly talented never deny an opportunity to increase their fame, and you are one of the talented! Come, my boy, it’s showtime!" He wrapped his arm around Charon’s shoulder and guided him to the disk, the other fighters giving him strange looks the whole way. ’Must be jealousy.’ Less than a minute later, he was back on the sand, the crowd cheering all around him as he waited for his new opponent. ’Hopefully, this guy is more entertaining than the last.’ When the announcer returned, he brought a short man who wore a black cloak and wielded twin daggers. He was fast, energetically flipping through the air to show off the second he touched down. He was introduced as "The Shader", a moniker Charon found laughable at best. ’The Shader? What does that even mean? I get the "shade" part of it, but why add an "r" at the end? None of that makes sense!’ His combat ability matched his skill at naming himself, as Charon only needed to summon his infantry to deal with him. The moment he made a mistake, a sword found his gut, ending his career. Although he tried to make it entertaining, it was a struggle, with his jokes mostly being responded to with random quips that didn’t make sense. His favorite was "I can’t wait to pop you like concrete!" Shaking his head, he looked up at the announcer and shrugged, unsure what more he wanted. The man gave him a slight frown before floating back up on the disk and grabbing another opponent, this one being a large man with an equally large axe. This battle took slightly longer, with Charon revealing one of his Clown Guard with a huge flourish. The hulking skeletons drew everyone’s eyes, the audience exploding into cheers at the reveal of such powerful creatures in the normally boring Novice fights. They also caused a massive issue, however, as his opponent had no hope of surviving against the unstoppable paladins. By the time Charon had sent the mental command for them to retreat, there was barely anything left of the formerly large enemy. Seeing the blood and viscera coating the sandy floor made Charon queasy, but he ignored it, choosing not to dwell on his actions, even as he scraped gore from his shoes. Given his recent "fight" with Emerius, he found it difficult not to once again reflect on what his friend had said, but he suppressed those feelings. ’All that matters is making it to the top ten. This is what heroes do. They persevere, even when he going gets tough.’ He didn’t think about how easy it felt. This continued for another two hours, with the announcer bringing him opponent after opponent. As the fights drew on, Charon grew better at drawing them out, allowing the crowd to become more immersed. His jokes became sharper and more witty, eliciting more laughs, which he enjoyed immensely. One of the biggest things he noticed was a constant shift in fighting style. Some of his enemies were swift, others were strong, and some were neither. Whether they used ranged weapons or melee, magic or mundane tools, they were all unique in their own ways. It never made the fights challenging, though. After his Skeleton Archers managed to pick off his most recent foe, he gave a deep bow, the smile on his mask impossibly wide. "Straight through the heart, an arrow to blame! You give death a bad name!" The audience roared at his quip, the announcer giving him a short round of applause himself as he floated down to speak to him, the microphones being temporarily disabled. "You’re doing great! The whole evil clown shtick is selling well! One problem, though. We are running low on volunteers. Pickings are already slim for this hour, and you’ve killed the last ten! We gotta give it some time to recoup!" Frowning, Charon shook his head and sighed. "So it’s time to go home?" The announcer shook his head and tapped the floor of his disk, a prompt for Charon to hop on. "No, no, no! Stardom never waits! What you need is a new trick to add to your trade! I have just the pawn to add to the mix!" As they flew to the far side of the arena, a place Charon hadn’t seen before, the man explained. "Your summons are quite the lookers, very on brand. The reviews we are getting, however, mention a certain lack of personal interaction. Talking to the team, we have decided how to solve this lack of performance!" Charon shot the well-dressed man a glance. "The team?" The announcer didn’t respond; instead, he chose to wave at the people they passed. Occasionally, he would blow a kiss, some women fawning at the gesture. ’Some men have it easy.’ They drove into the shadows on the far wall of the cavern, a small opening hidden behind a stone ledge. Floating over it, they dove down through a sheer gap and appeared in a well-lit room. Long rows of fluorescent lights hung from the smooth stone ceiling, illuminating a wide rectangular opening. One area was clearly a landing zone, with painted markings for the disk to direct itself onto. Open passageways connected to the area, leading off into various corridors. No sound could be heard from them, but that might have been due to the sheer volume of the audience. The floor was covered in rubber mats, and a few metal dummies stood along the far wall. All kinds of weapons hung on racks, from laser guns to melee weapons. Parking the disk just beside the edge of the first mat, the announcer stepped off and ushered Charon behind him before marching towards the far wall. Stopping just in front of it, he tapped it with his cane three times, the wall collapsing inward to reveal a comfortable lounging area. It was nearly identical to the one he had found after his first fight, with a fireplace and a few couches. A minibar sat along the wall, but was unattended, the drinks left out on the counter. Charon paused, the entire situation weird. ’Why is he showing me this, and what is the point of bringing me here? Is he planning to jump me?’ His eyes darted to the sides as he scanned the perimeter for threats. He mentally prepared to summon all of his skeletons at a moment’s notice, the Zeta Colossus as well if needed. The announcer must have sensed something and turned around with a sly smile. "Oh calm down, don’t be so tense! It can cause wrinkles, and no one wants an ugly champion!" The man looked at the mask and shrugged. "Actually, tense away. Your costume makes you quite impervious to such attacks." He tapped the couch with his cane and moved to the bar to pour himself a drink, glancing back with a soft chuckle. "This is where the Stadia used to hold its fights, early on. We haven’t used it to host entertainment for years now, and instead, we have converted it into a training yard. All of our hopeful performers come here to practice." He threw his glass back and gulped down a golden liquid in a single breath before spreading his arms out wide. "The team watched your performance tonight, and seeing our lack of volunteers, they decided that you should be given admittance!" The announcer rolled his hands as if to add emphasis, a smug grin on his face. "It is an impeccable gift, darling. You should feel honored, but we seek no thanks. Repay us by bringing in the customers, that is all that matters in showmanship after all." Charon grimaced under his mask, but wasn’t necessarily upset. ’So there is someone higher up pulling strings. That doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing, just that there are more levels to this. I do seem to be doing something right if I’m earning special privileges.’ "What does this have to do with my performance?" The announcer rolled his eyes, the action overwhelmingly theatrical. "Oh, come now, that should be obvious!" Charon tilted his head, prompting the man to raise an eyebrow. "I suppose talent in one area of theater does not guarantee talent in them all. The problem is that the audience is not seeing you perform, only your summons perform." Their shoulders rose slightly in an exaggerated shrug. "Sure, they see you jest and joke, giving credit to your beautifully enticing name, but the dance is undertaken purely by your skinless compatriots." Seeing that Charon hadn’t taken the seat, he walked passed him, extending his cane out to drag him along. They moved onto the training mats, the announcer jutting his head towards the weapon racks. "It is an all-too-common malady for summoners these days, I’m afraid, but one we have the cure to. You will choose a weapon, and train with it until it is positively impossible for the audience to deny your charm with the lethal arts!" Charon smirked, the plan finally making sense. ’So that’s what it’s all about; a better performance. He heard constant criticism about my fights, and wants to fix them. That bodes well for how much he values me.’ It was a huge leap in the right direction as far as he was concerned. Free lessons as well as greater focus during his future fights? Where was the catch? Looking at all of the weapons and noting a scythe, he raised his hands in mock surrender and nodded his understanding. "And who do you plan to be my tutor? You?" The announcer raised a hand to his chest and recoiled. "Me? I have neither the patience nor the talent! I have selected someone far more suited to these sorts of endeavors! I believe you two met during your first fight, earlier today!" As if summoned by his words, a petite girl in a blue dress wandered into the cavern from a connected hallway. ’Wallflower?’