In The Stands, there was chaos.

The Stands, of course, being the name the crew used for the room they scry'd on the show from. It was equipped with all the magical equipment needed to keep things running smoothly, the ventriloquy amplifier, the emergency fairy lights, The Flood,  the waterfall they watched the game on, the controls for the scry-bulbs, etcetera and etcetera.

Anyways, again, there was chaos in the stands.

The audience watching the show was growing increasingly uneasy. Nobody was sure what that was, where it came from or what it was doing there, but, above all else, it was terrifying.

And the crew knew that terror plus unease, was just 1 step away from all out panic. This was rule 42 in the handbook, everyone knew this. Things were 'calm' for now, but they knew that all it would take was one particularly rowdy individual to start screaming, and the house of cards wouldn't just collapse, it'd explode. 

Panic leads to running and screaming, and running and screaming leads to an all out riot. 

That would be a PR disaster.

The game would be ruined! Viewers would plummet! Sponsors would leave! The layoffs, the layoffs! 

Frantically, anybody who was anybody was paging through their handbooks, looking over all the buttons, rocking back and forth in dark corners, but despite their best efforts, nobody could find the remedy for 'eldritch monstrosity appearing in the seats and disappears with screaming children!' All hope was lost! THE LAYOFFS!

"G-GREGOR! GREGOR!" 

"DAMNIT, THIS BETTER BE IMPORTANT, TED." Shouted Gregor, who, being a man of talent and quality, was doing all three of the actions listed above.

"T-THE SCREEN! GRIGOR'S TRYING TO-"

Despite everything, Grigor was calm as ever. With his stare was dead set on the orb, he raised his hand, and waved three fingers. Pointer, ring, pinky.

"THAT'S THE SIGNAL! OWYN! PUT HIM ON!" Gregor commanded.

Owyn, taking his thumb out of his mouth and putting his book down, pressed some glowing buttons, and wind began flowing into Gregor's magic-sound-transmitting-device. Better name pending.

Grigor put two fingers to his right ear, and spoke simply, "I want sound on me."

"What? Grig, what could you-" 

"We don't have time for this. Come now, have I ever let you down before?"

Gregor sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Though he didn't want to admit it, the guy was right on both accounts. "Alright." He said, giving his signal to the crew. "Screw this up and its all our asses, got it?"

"Good. I like a little danger." Grigor said with a confident grin.

"You're gonna look really stupid if you fail, you know that?" Gregor added, sliding the magic volume adjusters upward.

Of course, Grigor couldn't actually respond to that, because he was now audible to the entire arena.

"Ahem." He began, momentarily directing everyone's attention as his voice boomed throughout the arena.

For a moment, the people's murmurings ceased. And the man began his speech.

"Friends. Countrymen. First and foremost, I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out here today, to celebrate and delight in this great nation of ours, in the spirit of sportsmanship, companionship, and the strength that us all."

"What we have here today is a gathering of the best, the brightest, and the most proud warriors this nation, nay, this world has to offer. And I promise you that each and every one of us is willing and capable of laying down our lives for the people of this great nation, for each and every one of you. Come rain, come shine, come man, come monster, we will be here. And we will be ready."

"And let it be known that I, Grigor the Eye, will do everything in my power to ensure that this tournament concludes smoothly and safely, for that is my love for this land and her beautiful people. So, please. Relax. For you are in the greatest of hands."

And, like dust settling upon ash after a fire, all was silent, and all was still.

And then came the applause. 

The people were screaming, not in terror, but in joy. Hands were clapped, tears were shed, again, ones of joy, praise was shouted to the clouds, and, in that moment, all seemed right in the world.

"Did... Did he fix it?" Ted loudly whispered, short of breath though he hasn't really done anything.

"No." Said Gregor, making sure his sound wasn't being broadcasted, "He didn't do a thing. Just said a buncha meaningless bullshit and flowery words. We still have no damn clue what whatever that was, and certainly no idea what to do about it. All he did was give those emotionally fragile idiots something to desperately cling onto so they wouldn't have to think too hard, which calmed 'em down." 

Gregor sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose once more.

"But," He continued, "for now, anyway, looks like nobody's gettin' laid off!" He shouted, raising his fist high into the air!

And the crew celebrated with glee. 

"Thank heavens nobody noticed that he said 'each and every one of you', like, 4 times..." Gregor whispered to himself as he took a swig from his flask of homemade cocktail. 70% liquor, 29% coffee, and 1% hatred. It didn't taste good. It never did.

"Man..." Owyn began, gazing longingly into the waterfall, "His voice is so sexy."

"Oi, that's my brother you're talkin' about, ya friggin' pervert." Gregor barked. "Next time you do that, I'm tellin' your wife."

Gregor took another swig.

"For what it's worth, your voice is pretty sexy, too." Said Owyn.

"You're damn right it is." Gregor stated. "Alright everyone, wrap it up, back to battle stations. We're progressing as normal."

"A-are we gonna do anything about... That?"

"Nope."

"Is that safe?" Someone mused.

"Don't know. Going live in 5, 4, 3..."

Thanks to Grigor's rousing speech, the closing ceremony went along swimmingly. Grigor accepted his victory and his glory with the pride of a champion, and Terrance was able to give the absolute bare minimum of a 2nd place closing speech, though it was evident to all that he didn't think he'd get this far. 

Still, Grigor did well, and that's all most people really cared about. 

Soon enough, it was time for that one thing that was briefly mentioned in chapter 174. The part where, as S described it, they "let total randos take on the big man." Speaking of...

"Weeeeelllll, that is it for the main event, ladies and gentlemen! BUT STICK AROUND! THAT'S RIGHT, WE'RE PUTTING THE BIG MAN THROUUUUUUGH THEEEE GAUNTLEEEEEET!" Shouted Gregor, as Grigor stood on the south end of the arena, looking strong and resolute.

At this point, most of the casual fans had begun to leave, figuring that watching the strongest man in the league effortlessly beat on a bunch of random schmucks might get monotonous after a while. 

"TO START US OFF, WE HAVE  A SURPRISE APPEARENCE FROM NONE OTHER THAN S THE WANDERER! SELF DESCRIBED DOER OF THINGS!"

A general "Huh!" And "Whoah!" bounced around the arena, as many a casual fan returned to their seat. Granted, plenty didn't, either because they didn't know who he was, didn't care, or they simply had other things to do because that's just how life works sometimes, but a significant portion excitedly sat back down.

"Who's this guy again?" Gregor asked his crew once his voice wasn't being broadcasted.

"Uh, l-local celebrity, kind of. He's pretty well known in, uhm, Starsford, but-"

"Your first answer was sufficient." Gregor stated, shutting up his helpful crew member and getting ready to get back to work. 

S walked out of the north end of the arena with a grin on his face, his left hand lazily dragging his wooden sword along the ground, and his right exiting his pocket to wave to the woo-ing crowd around him. He tried to get a look over the north end, to see where his companions were sitting, but he couldn't quite see them from where he was standing. 

He didn't mind, though, he figured he'd get to see see the looks on their faces soon enough.

Although, there was one face he didn't particularly want to see.

But he didn't dwell on such things. 

"NOW, NEITHER OF THESE GENTLEMEN NEED ANY MORE INTRODUCTION, SO LET'S JUST KICK THIS THING OFF, YEAH?"

The audience cheered, Grigor leaned back, as he always did before a fight, and reached his arm, his hand, his finger and his gaze out towards his opponent.

But this time, something quite out of the ordinary happened.

S dodged.

Gasp! 

The disrespect!

This action was met with equal parts booing and light laughter. S didn't seem to mind either way, as he continued simply grinning to himself.

Grigor pointed once again.

And S dodged. Again.

And, before anyone knew what was happening, Grigor was feverishly readjusting his arm and shooting out his finger over and over again with an increasingly nervous look on his face. 

And S continued to dodge.

Reactions on both sides quickly faded out as the audience grew increasingly confused at what exactly the competitors were doing. The champion was waving his arm like a mad man, and the challenger was dancing around nothing but air. The only remaining sound from the audience was hushed whispers an the odd uneasy chuckle. 

"UH... I'M... I'M NOT QUITE SURE WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE, BUT... TO ARMS?" 

Grigor looked up and out of the arena with a horrified look on his face, as S kicked up a cloud of dirt around him and aggressively charged his opponent with incredible speed.

Grigor found himself stepping backward with a terrified look on his face and his sword raised in shaky defense.

S, showing no signs of hesitation, charged all the harder. As soon as he got close, he dropped his sword beside him, and leapt in for a sucker punch aimed clear to the champion's tastefully hairy face.

Grigor uneasily raised his sword a little higher, hopefully just in time to deflect the blow!

Only for S's fist to stop just shy, as he leaned back and shot his other arm directly up the man's torso! A feint!

The man staggered back, finding himself disoriented, dazed. It took him a moment to blink himself back awake.

And when he did,

he found that the boy had picked up and swung his sword.

It was the worst, sloppiest, most juvenile swing the man had ever seen in his life.

But, by the time he could move, 

the blade had struck his arm.

And the match was over.