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I sensed the girl's hand squeeze mine. She didn't say anything, I knew she wouldn't. But I understood well enough. Which eighteen-year-old girl didn't dream of being chosen tournament queen in a real medieval castle by a real champion knight? Regardless of the fact that his name was the opposite of Ivanhoe. Death Knight or not, who cares?

I nodded. I'd made up my mind. I might even enjoy it. "I'm in. Show me where to sign my name on the dotted line... in blood."

Eric dragged me to the main arena, delirious with the opportunity to root for one of his own team. The closest thing to participating, I suppose. The rosy-cheeked Taali trailed along. When I reached a bit of an open space, I sent the demoness a command to rejoin us. I hoped she wouldn't get lost. The entire distance was no more than a hundred feet as the crow flies.

The demoness came running. She resembled a Christmas tree covered with likes, flowers and ribbons of every color.

"So!" Eric and I said in unison.

Apparently, the guests loved the tame inferno creature. We removed and counted the medals: thirty-two in total. But we left her the flowers and ribbons which hopefully made her look innocuous enough.

I got my number and was waiting for the draw to start. In the meantime, Eric was lecturing me on the tournament rules.

"You can't use scrolls, elixirs or other people's buffs. There's a ten grand limit on gear. If you die in the arena, you'll respawn right here. Don't worry, we won't send you all the way to your bind point. Judging by the amount of applications, the winner will have to have five fights. I don't know if you aim for victory but I'm pretty sure you'll get to the quarter finals. There're many strong fighters here today. Some of the favorites are a paladin, a rogue and a warrior, all levels 63 to 66. Would be great if they knocked each other out as soon as possible.

Finally they announced the first pairs. The fighting happened in two arenas at once so we didn't have to wait long. I was lucky with my first opponent, a level 39 enchanter. No idea what had prompted him to participate, but an easy win was always welcome. I decided not to show all my aces prematurely and stashed away all the gear with summon bonuses. The demoness promptly dropped six levels. Then I reached for the primitive sword and shield that the management furnished the fighters with.

"Eric? How's the betting going?"

"It's not. No one's betting on you."

Shame. But I wasn't counting on it, anyway.

We entered the arena. The ref cast a Magic Nullifier and started the timer. We were given one minute of rebuffing and meditation which I used to cast a few buffs over the demoness. The enchanter, on the contrary, was trying too hard, casting all sorts of magic right until the time ran out. I had a funny feeling it wasn't going to help him. I unleashed my cutie.

It was all over in 26 seconds. I hadn't expected him to last that long. In the end, I had to root him to the ground.

Congratulations! You've won 1/16 of the East Castle Guest Tournament!

50 points Fame received!

Aha. Now I could see the logic behind all those low-level entries. The applicants hoped to do a round or two and get their share of freebie fame points.

Eric had definitely warmed to his role as my second. He fanned me with a towel and even tried to massage my shoulders through the steel breastplate. Taali joined the audience on a bench, but I could clearly see her excited face. Could I have thought just a month ago that I would take part in a knights' tournament—my friend spurting out last-minute fighting instructions, my lady fidgeting in her seat clasping her hands in agitation? Never in your life. A month ago I could only think about pain, medication and my looming death. Regardless of how this virtual saga would affect my second life, I knew I wasn't going to complain or regret my decision.

The second fight was equally easy. All the more reason to act it out, wearing a struggling expression, brandishing my sword without really hitting very much, casting DoTs and generally enjoying myself. The level 50 cleric had lasted all of six minutes, having restored his health 100% four times in that period. But still, a healer is no killer; he didn't have a chance against me, especially considering his hard-to-level pattern of a group and raid cleric.

Congratulations! You've won 1/8 of the East Castle Guest Tournament!

100 points Fame received!

Before engaging in that second fight, I had asked Eric about my betting chances. This time there had been a few bets placed.

"Four to one on," he'd said.

"Which means? If I bet four hundred and I win, I get five hundred back, is that right?"

"Precisely."

I'd given it a thought and decided to wage every available penny I had. I just couldn’t see how I could lose to the healer.

"Here," I said, "I've got eight hundred gold. Can you place a bet for me, please? An extra two hundred never hurt."

He studied me. "You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I might do the same. Don't let us down, bud."

Now that I'd won, he slapped my shoulders, overjoyed, while I tried to avoid his fists from denting my armor.

"Easy money, bud. Five hundred, that's a windfall. Way to go! Who's next?"

He spoke too soon. The theory of chance put me up against one of the favorites: a level 63 warrior in expensive gear. A sword in each hand, he was a perfect damage dealer. And now, judging by his PvP armor, he was prepared to take on another player. Engaging him in close combat wasn't a good idea. I only needed to know who he thought me to be. If he believed me to be a knight, then he had to have plenty of armor and hit buffs. But if he had taken me for a mage, he had to wear some magic-resisting gear. Me, on the contrary, I was wearing my full combat kit I could use to face any emergency.

"What are the stakes?"

"Seven to one on."

I didn't need to ask more. "Bet two hundred for me. In the worst-case scenario I get to keep it."

Eric scratched his mop of hair. "Okay, you've talked me into it. I'll stake five hundred on you, too. Make sure you don't go down."

When I stepped out into the arena, I had an eerie feeling of déjà vu. It had all happened before. Either I used to be a gladiator in my past life or it was a flashback from a recently seen movie. The sun stood high at its zenith—no good trying to manipulate my opponent to face it. The stands hummed, discussing the just-finished fight in the second arena. Taali sat there, pale, anxious and close-lipped. A fellow paladin, she understood my chances well.

The warrior was good. The judges lingered, discussing some problems with the cost of his gear. Finally, the warrior got fed up. He pulled off a few rings and threw them to his partner. I tensed up, challenged by his defiant confidence. Just you wait, pompous bastard.

"One minute to go," the ref announced.

The warrior didn't move. I, on the contrary, had to work fast. I used the first thirty seconds to cast every buff I could think of over the demoness. Then I got both my shields out and slumped into the arena for a meditation blitz hoping for at least a hundred extra mana. As I warmed my backside in the hot sand, I summoned Teddy. The warrior's eyes squinted to a slit. You didn't expect that, did you?

The bell rang. The warrior charged. Jumping up, I sent both my pets to intercept him while I cast Deadman's Hand hoping to keep him at some distance. Ignoring my pets, he covered fifty feet in two seconds. No way we could stop him. Showered with double-handed hits, I cast the spell three more times. At least the shields absorbed them allowing me to stay concentrated. Seven seconds, minus both shields. The bastard had already dealt me 800 damage. Either he'd figured me out or he was a natural DpS.

Finally, my fourth spell got to him. I ran aside, trying to increase the distance, then cast three more DoTs. Only two worked. My inner clock was pushing me against time to renew the spells. If I failed, I might not get a second chance. The warrior was handling the demoness well, but his choice of speed weapons had played a trick on him. The Fire Shield only dealt 7 points damage, but it did so in response to every hit from that tireless DD.

I cast Deadman's Hand three times—finishing the last one as I faced the lunging warrior, my pets pounding his back. I'd done it. Now he was rooted to the ground in the center of the arena. My reaction times halved. I cast three heals over Teddy before turning back to the warrior. Three DoTs. Deadman's Hand. The warrior was at 40%, my mana at 30%. I didn't want to use Life Absorption: it wouldn't be too productive at the current mana-to-damage ratio. I had to play for time. I healed the demoness again and cast some more DoTs. Now I was almost empty. I had to use mana to immobilize the warrior. He at 10, the demoness at 10, mana at 0. Teddy was fit and healthy. The warrior shouldn't have ignored him, but ignore him he did. I exposed myself, engaging in close combat. That did the trick. Fed up with banging his head against a fire wall, the warrior was tempted with an easy win. He went for me.

Then I knew. I knew why he'd done so. His eyes glinted red. I heard a growl. Ability: Berserk. His blades glittered with Friend of Fire. His armor glowed crimson: Mars' Hand.

The stands gasped. Eric bellowed, drowning out the noise, "Don't push it! Get back!"

I'd have loved to have gotten back, but one of his combos had paralyzed me for three seconds. I writhed, showered with blows, until I could finally move and duck aside. In a matter of seconds, my hits were in the red zone. The guy was a freakin' killer. Another shield buff. Five minutes down already. With what meager magic I'd saved, I renewed Deadman's Hand. It went through, luckily. The demoness' life started blinking. But it looked like the warrior had lost his abilities and hit a cooldown, losing the last drops of his life. Done.

Congratulations! You've won 1/4 of the East Castle Guest Tournament!

200 points Fame received!

Eric erupted in a volcano of praise. "Max, you're too much, man. Three and a half grand! Plus the five hundred before that! You're my lucky charm!"

Was I really? I suppose so. I stood there, numb with triumph. Had I known the warrior's full potential, I'd have never bet on myself in a thousand years. But here I was, fourteen hundred richer. You couldn't complain, really. Plus the experience earned, priceless in itself.

I collapsed onto the bench Eric had helpfully pushed toward me. Time to regen before the semi.

There I sat, restoring mana and calming my nerves. Eric fussed about, desperate to please me, offering me a drink of water one moment, a cookie the next. Fed up with him flickering in front of me, I asked him to go and check the draw results. I was loosening up now. The inner greedy pig was busy uploading a long shopping list in my brain. The gold windfall was already burning a hole in my pocket.

Eric returned quicker than I'd expected with good news. Firstly, we'd been granted a twenty minutes' break before the semi. Not only for our sake, but also for the audience's who were tired, too. The stands filled in anticipation of the best fights. Secondly, I was going to fight a 59 wizard. Tough enough, but better than the other options: the 63 paladin or the 66 top rogue. Would be great if those two annihilated each other in the process.

"What are the stakes like?" I asked Eric. No point letting the money lie idle. It needed to grow. The first million was the hardest. After that it apparently got easier.

"Three to one."

"Excellent. Every little bit helps."

"It's three to one on
 
you
, bud."

I stared at him. "Pardon me? The wizard is seven levels above me. Why would anyone bet on me?"

Eric shrugged, reluctant to explain the obvious. "For the same reason as you don't seem to doubt your victory. They weren't born yesterday, either. He's not just any old wizard, but a raid nuker, leveled to deal maximum damage in minimum time. His DpS is at least three times yours. But..." he fell silent.

"But what?"

"I think you know it yourself. You just haven't realized it yet, have you? Deep inside, you're calm because you know you can do him."

I had to admit he was right. "I think I can. I can compensate his damage with my combined stats. Plus I have Life Absorption. And I also have two pets. If they end up in a clinch, he'll be finished in fifteen seconds."

Eric nodded. "Exactly. If you only had one pet, two out of three he would've done you. But he won't find it easy trying to control two beasts and kill you at the same time. He might be lucky, of course. His spells might work the first time round dealing lots of crits. It can happen, within statistical error. So three to one is very good."

Behind him, Taali voiced her frustration. "So are you two going to elect the Tournament Queen or are you in it for the money?"

If she wanted to shame Eric, she chose the wrong person. He wasn't the blushing type. "One can have it both ways, can't he, babe? Your knight in shining armor here has already brought me four grand gold and made two more for himself. Oh. Sorry, bud. Hope I haven't said too much."

I shook my head,
 
"It's okay. We haven't reached the family budget stage yet. So I don't squirrel any loose cash away, if that's what you mean." I turned to Taali. "We've made a few bets here, pretty risky ones though. But this fight is as good as fixed. I should stake a few if I were you. It's entirely up to you, of course. It has to be your decision and your responsibility."

"Yes, I heard what you two were saying," she answered. "I suppose I could try. I have eleven hundred gold. That's all I've managed to put aside this month. Where should I take it?"

Her words made me physically sick. If the girl blew all her money now, I'd be the one to blame, no matter what I'd just said. I'd have to compensate her losses. Too late, anyway. I shouldn't have suggested it to begin with. No good deed goes unpunished.