System Break

The adventurers scrambled after the last match in the round of 32. The guilds hurried back to their halls to hold their meetings behind closed doors. 

There was a rogue outside of the Whitecloaks hall keeping a wary eye on the street. And within the leaders were on the third floor.

"Disastrous." Ying yelled and paced around his council members. "One," he breathed. "We have one team through to the round of sixteen. Statistically we should have two! But we couldn't even manage a passing grade. And Dangerous, Dangerous have three!"

Trik smiled. "Two of theirs are in the lower bracket."

"I don't care." Ying seethed. "We have so much deadwood in this guild it pisses me off."

"We should make plans in case we run up against the Svartalfar," Sandor said. "The others are making shields and barriers right now."

Ying whirled around. "We would have to reach the final. And by what just happened I don't like our chances of doing that."

"We only need to reach the semis," Trik said. "If we can do that, we're in the top four. But if we get knocked out in the quarters, we then have to win two more matches to get fifth."

"Red are good," the brawler said. 

Trik sighed. "You're right we'll probably face Red's second team in the quarters. And if we beat them Red's first team in the semis."

Ying slammed the table. "They only entered two teams."

"No," Trik said. "They had another in the qualifiers. But I get your point, the two from this round both progressed."

Ying's face was twisted in frustration. He exhaled, sat and tried to calm himself. "Who out of the other twenty make for good reserves?"

"I'll knock up a shortlist," Trik said. "I'm sure three or four are okay."

"We just need to be careful," Sandor said.

Ying shook his head, "Anything but. We need to go hard and put everything on the line. I may put in a reserve for the next match just to sacrifice them. We not only need to get smart and we need to get ruthless. Pick the best marksmen from the rogues and have them practise fifty-yard shots until our match."

Trik laughed. "If you can't beat em, join em." He stood. "I'll get right on it."

A couple of hours later the Whitecloaks faced the second team from Dangerous. The brawler Mal, Sandor and Ying the swordsmen took the centre. They were flanked by Trik and another rogue.

"Hey," a dangerous swordsman yelled and pointed. "They have two crossbows each."

The adjudicator shrugged. "Shut up and read the rules next time."  He grumbled, "If there is a next time."

It was the first match of the round of sixteen. The Forest would be in the last.

Dangerous had one rogue, two brawlers and two swordsmen. It was a well-balanced team and they won their last match against Alpha's third handily.

When the red flag dropped, they bolted at their opponents and their rogue walked forward with his crossbow raised. Two bolts from their opposition launched at the lead swordsmen, he dodged as soon as the whistling noise reached his ears and one flew past his left. But he moved into the path of the second which dug into his sword arm.

A heavy metal crossbow bolt lodged in your arm was not something you could shrug off. Not without some serious ability, discipline, or berserker rage. His right arm hung limp, he stopped and switched his sword to his weaker hand.

Crossbows took time to reload except when you brought  a pair which were preloaded. Trik and his fellow rogue dropped their first crossbow and picked up the spare. Before the enemy reached them, they both fired at the second swordsmen.

The opponents rogue let his bolt loose and Ying watched it sail by. It missed him by a yard. When the dangerous rogue began to reload Mal charged him skirting past his surprised opponent.

The second dangerous swordsmen lay on the ground with two bolts in him. One in his sword arm and the other in his chest.

Ying and Sandor spread out with swords drawn. Sandor was taking the wounded opponent and Ying guarding the path to Trik who looked like he was reloading.

The dangerous brawlers charged Ying trying to get to the rogue behind him. The first leaped high aiming a flying kick at the swordsman. Ying stepped, turned and lopped off his foot with a precise slice.

The brawler rolled in the dirt screaming as blood spurted from his ankle. The second skidded by but Trik had dropped his crossbow and drawn his knives. The brawler was stuck with a swordsman behind and a rogue in front. 

Trik laughed and his eyes focused on the rogue until a sword penetrated his back and stuck out the front of his chest. "Ouch," the rogue said.

Sandor exchanged two blows with the wounded swordsman before disarming him. The sword went flying and the Dangerous group leader surrendered at the tip of Sandor's sword.

Mal used qi-body to its full effect and was upon the rogue before he finished reloading. A well-aimed qi-strike to the head knocked him unconscious without much fuss. And the match was over in less than a minute.

Ying looked at Trik who was smiling. A frown appeared on the guild leader's face. "I'm still not happy."

The rogue nodded. "One more to go and we're in the top five. That's what we wanted."

Ying pulled his sword free and wiped it on the enemy player's shirt. "They'll adjust to our tactics," he said.

Trik nodded. "Sure. Let's change up again. My money's on Red."

"Let's watch from the stands." Ying said and walked past the stretcher bearers who raced onto the field.

Trik looked back. "Wonder what it's like."

"Don't want to find out," Ying said.

"He'll lose all his qi and skill progress if he needs a new body."

Ying nodded. "That would suck."

"Death penalty is a bitch in this game. Makes people cautious."

Ying laughed and it was a rough sound. "Cautious with monsters but they think nothing of fighting to death in a tournament."

Trik chuckled. "You didn't have to kill him."

"I was angry, still am." Ying peered at the field from their place in the stands. It was the Alpha's first team against the Red's second.

"My money is on red," Trik said.

"Why? It's Alpha's first team."

"Red are sneaky sons of bitches."