The next day was looking to be way more profitable.
While the nobility turned their nose up to Ryan for being a filthy, dirty halfling, the commoners of the city came to love the attention of an ice elementalist on such a hot summer day. After the first day's events Ryan went out into the open areas outside the stadium and while the commoners were queuing up to share hay carts back into town, Ryan made massive ice structures and statues for the amusement of the crowd. The ice slide was of particular interest to the children and saw the most use.
This resulted in quite the disconnect as the youth of nobility seemed to want to join the unique opportunity to slide down ice in the hot afternoon, but the parents were stuck denying any requests because they had already made a stand and couldn't allow any child of theirs to use something created by a halfling. It didn't matter that he wasn't even charging any money. It was the fact that this was the creation of one of THOSE and if you gave in here, every other noble would cut them down.
Ironically, Ryan would have loved to know this was happening, but he was having too much fun with the kids to notice. Thus did end the first day of the event, and as the sun set, Ryan and Aldelmo counted up the profits, did some calculations, and resolved to make sure they had more than enough supplies for the next day.
They didn't even come close.
The follow day saw even larger crowds. The first day was just the general eliminations. The next day was when you would see the best of the best. These were the real duels that would be the best of the best. For those who couldn't afford to go both days, the last day was the day you wanted to show up. While the stadium was mostly filled on the first day, the last day was standing room only.
Ryan and Aldelmo had expected this, but there were only so many supplies they could buy and have transported to the stadium. Their reputation had been spread around by those who had come the first day. In fact, there were a number of people who simply asked if Ryan could bring his Snow Cone cart to town next weekend, as people didn't want to have to pay to enter the stadium just to buy frozen treats.
The other strain on the supply was the nobility.
While none of them would be seen 'stooping' to dealing with a halfling, that meant nothing when it came to their servants. Most nobility came with the plan of simply sending a commoner to buy the snow cones them eat them without any question. Ryan and Aldelmo simply didn't factor in that the nobility would break down and 'secretly' make purchases. This was further made an issue because the commoners sent to buy for their masters expected to just cut in line to the front. Neither Ryan nor Aldelmo were particularly happy with the nobles in the stadium and no amount of money was going to change their attitudes. As far as the two were concerned, anyone claiming privilege was sent to the back of the line and given the maximum amount of hassle as well.
On top of all this drama, Ryan was running out of mana potions.
"Al? I'm beat. I thought I brought enough mana but-" The small crowd of people around the cart started to whine, "Just a few more!" someone cried. Ryan looked like he was going to agree, but Aldelmo put a hand over Ryan's mouth, "We're taking a break! Sorry!" He pulled Ryan back and glared at him, "HEY! Who just the other week chewed me out for pushing myself too far?"
Ryan opened his mouth, paused, then dropped his gaze, "You're right. We've over extended." Aldelmo nodded and crossed his arms smugly, "Damn straight. I think we need to tell everyone we're sold out and YOU need a good nap."
Ryan let out a long sigh and was about to agree when he got a dawning look of realization on his face, "Wait. The Stadium keeps a stockpile of mana potions in the tunnels." He perked up, "I could run down there, and.... ahem... acquire a few potions, recharge, and we could get a few more hours of sales." Aldelmo squinted at Ryan, "Aquire?" Ryan hit his friend in the shoulder with the back of his hand, "Relax. I'll pay for it. I'll just throw my weight around. I'm sure the headmaster won't mind."
Before Aldelmo could respond, Ryan was already bouncing down the steps to head to the nearest 'back stage' access to the stadium's tunnels, "I'll be back in two shakes of a lambs tail!" He called out over his shoulder.
Ryan was weaving his way to the storage area when he stumbled upon a restricted area. There were a number of guards up ahead protecting a large metal gate. Ryan held up his hands, "Whoa. Wrong turn fellows! I was-" That's when he noticed that the two guards standing on either side of the gate were a bit... off. Ryan stared at them intently and got a rather shocking surprise when they both registered as 'manufactured objects'. In this case, 'Reanimated corpses'.
"There's something you don't see every day."
Ryan pulled back his hand, preparing to dispatch both of the fake guards when he felt the room start to swim around his head. His mana started to stagnate and seemed to turn into tar in his body. He stumbled back and fell to the ground, trying to focus his eyes on the ceiling. It felt just like that time he got hit with the white powder from Baron Akar's trap, but not quite as intense. He heard the door open and someone on the other side was speaking in a new language he had not heard before. Fortunately he still had the ability to translate anything.
"That should do it. Send the signal- wait."
Two lanky looking rubbery humanoids with way too many claws and teeth stepped out from the main control room for the Arena's mana suppression field. They both looked at Ryan who was writhing about on the floor. One stepped closer, "Huh. I wonder why he's reacting so-" In that moment, Ryan's mind turned off. Something else took over as he felt himself slip beneath icy waves.
The very next moment saw the hallway coated in demonic ichor.
Up top the crowd was unaware that anything was wrong.
The last battle of the aura users was finally coming to an end. It was Lance, the second prince, against Charles Huntington. The outcome was a forgone conclusion, but the show still had to go on. No one believed that anyone would actually try to win against the prince, but to have the honor to be the last person to lose to the prince was of interest to the crowd. The fact that Charles had gotten this far was to be admired.
Charles couldn’t actually beat the prince. If it looked like he might, he would be honor bound to throw the match. Everyone knew that. This final battle was a formality. However, there were some people with expert eyes that could tell that Charles wasn’t actually holding anything back. If anything, Lance was holding back. Lance and Charles were well known to be friends. They both had the same outlook and demeanor.
Lance was also vastly superior to Charles.
It was clear that Lance didn’t want to beat Charles too badly. An overwhelming win by Lance was to be expected, but would have been humiliating for Charles, and not very entertaining for the audience, either. What was unfolding could be better described as a rather intricate dance. Two expert swords masters displaying their skills in an exchange that was arguably art. A rather dangerous and deadly form of art that could result in the death of either participant, but that wasn’t likely to happen as long as nothing unexpected happened.
Like all conjuration and aura cores being suppressed throughout the entire stadium.
Lance had felt he had put up enough of a display. He had stretched this battle out an ample amount of time. At this point, he had done everything reasonable he could for his friend. Past this point, it would actually seem like he was toying with his opponent. Mocking him one could say.
It was time to put an end to this.
With a flurry of blows that forced Charles up against the edge of the arena itself, Lance moved in to disarm his friend with a rather over the top display of talent. Or rather, it would have been a rather impressive disarm if all magic in the entire area had not suddenly failed. Charles was heavily dependent on the use of his aura for even maintaining the appearance of keeping up with Lance. Lance was just naturally good at combat. He learned to fight first, then he mastered the use of Aura. His reflexes were honed and his blow was right on point.
He just wasn’t expecting Charles to choke.
It was only Lance’s lightning fast reflexes that prevented him from taking off Charles’ arm. Even with his last second change in trajectory, he still sliced right up Charles arm from the elbow to the shoulder. The crowd gasped and most jumped to their feet with this unexpected result.
Most, being the keyword here.
Everyone who had an active conjuration or aura core instead was overcome by a wave of nausea as they felt the mana inside their body turn to sludge. These people, which was nearly every noble present, instead swayed about, doubled over, or in some cases fell to the ground, depending on what they were doing at the time.
Charles dropped his sword and fell, grabbing his wounded arm in an attempt to keep the laceration closed. Lance dropped his weapon as well, falling down next to his friend while fighting down the urge to vomit, “HEALER! NOW!” Lance gritted his teeth as he frowned, rage starting to build inside him as he grasped the wound he inflicted and held the wound closed. His eyes were focused on the red rivulets that flowed between his fingers, instead of where everyone else was looking. Charles was about to say something to Lance when his gaze slid off his friend and focused on that exact same spot.
It was good they had fought to the edge of the area, for in the very center of it, the ground had bulged up and the mouth of a rather wide tunnel was forming. Around the opening glowed red magic circles that propped open the entrance to the subterranean network that had snaked its way under the stadium. At the same time, other smaller passages opened up around the area for small squads of goblins and ogre troops to disgorge themselves into key positions.
Lance turned to look at the bulge that suddenly popped open like a zit to allow even more demonic humanoids to come boiling out. Behind them all was a giant, fat, horned, blue skinned giant that had to stoop to come up the tunnel. As it stepped out, it stood firm, planting its feet and allowing the rest of the troops to come out between his legs.
Lance stood up, grabbed his weapon and…
Nothing.
He couldn’t muster a single drop of mana. He narrowed his eyes as he prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible when Charles grabbed him by the leg, “Can’t you feel it? The suppression generators! They have to have gotten to the generators!” Lance frowned, torn between what he wanted to do, and what he knew he had to do. Lance turned to head down the nearest entrance to the maintenance tunnels under the Stadium.
People were rather shocked when it looked like, on the surface, Lance was running away.
The creatures started spreading out. The exits had been blocked off. They were herding the people present into groups. Those with weapons formed up defensive lines, but the many goblins seemed to be waiting for something.
The towering blue giant raised its arms and called out, “Before you all die, I wish to explain exactly what your crime was.”
Lance could hear the creatures words come echoing down the corridor behind him. He didn’t have time to contemplate them, instead he was formulating various options and scenarios for when he encountered resistance. The enemy clearly had gotten to the suppression generators and there is no way they would leave them unguarded. He would have to find a way to lure them away or kill them. He wasn’t sure how he would even shut down the generators without his mana. This might not be a situation where breaking everything solved the problem. As he rounded the corner, blade in hand, he was prepared for almost anything.
He was not expecting this.
The corridor was littered with bodies. The area was sprayed with green goblin blood, black demonic ichor, and the puss yellow innards of some sort of giant, bug-like, burrowing creature. The last remains of which were blocking half the passageway to the double doors for the generator room.
Said doors were wide open.
Lance froze.
His mind quickly raced through the possible reasons. His mind absorbed the image of the carnage and his mind began to rapidly reconstruct the battle. The way fluids arced on the wall from an arterial strike told him where the target was standing and how much force was used to tear out his throat. The pattern of gore against one wall indicated that a demon was literally exploded from the inside out. The bits and pieces of evidence arranged themselves in his mind’s eye as he turned back the clock. There was only one fighter. The fighter was small, nimble, and ruthless. He had the ability to rend his enemies with claws and detonate his enemies. Lance came to one inescapable conclusion.
Reed.
Lance looked about. He couldn’t see the bastard anywhere. This was clearly his handy work, and yet Reed was not here. The Generators were still working. Did he get killed? Was he forced to retreat? Regardless of what happened to him, Lance would finish the job. He managed to take one step towards the generators when Reed dropped from the ceiling on him.
Normally Lance would have been able to put up much more of a fight, but against a Reed riding high on demonic power, he was no match. It took only a moment for Reed to bash Lance against the wall before pinning him to the ground with ice at the wrists and ankles. Lance was flat on his back as Reed crawled up into view, coming face to face.
Lance was initially enraged, but his anger faded when he saw Reed’s face. At least, it appeared to be Reed. His face was rippling, his pupils were slits, his body moved like he no longer had joints. Every action was sudden and insect-like. An oddly hollow, echoing clicking sound issued forth from Reed’s gaping mouth which no longer appeared to have a tongue. Across his face was chitinous residue left over from apparently whatever he had been eating. Reed’s mouth opened wider and wider as if his jaw was no longer hinged.
Lance yelled in his face, “REED!”
He pulled away with a jolt. The act of hearing his name had seemed to confuse him. His appearance shifted to become more human-like. He stared down at Lance and blinked several times before saying, “Reed?”
Lance nodded, “YES! Snap Out Of It! We-” Abruptly a loud boom came down the corridor from hence Lance had just arrived. Reed’s head twisted at an unnatural angle and looked in that direction. Abruptly he launched himself down the corridor, traveling on all fours as he went in search of the sound.
Leaving Lance frozen against the ground, less than fifty feet from his objective.
