Three weeks and three days after the Orchid event, Marlon was finally ready.

He stood beside Jacob in the bowels of the arena as Jacob explained to him the proceedings of the Tournament that would begin the next day. There were gladiators and warriors on all sides, coming and going in an electric atmosphere.

"The tournament will consist of one-on-one elimination bouts only. You'll be up against all kinds of opponents if you make it to the finals, so don't be too confident. I won't tell you what their abilities are, because that would make it too easy for you, but they will be in the dark as well."

Marlon nodded, adjusting the straps of the leather armor his instructor had given him a few minutes earlier.

"You are allowed all the equipment your Class may require. A healing potion is only allowed, but if you have other abilities that allow you to heal yourself, no limitations are in place."

"So if I want to take scrolls galore with me, that's okay?"

"None, but avoid relying solely on that. Don't forget all the teachings you've been given and you should be fine. Also try to control yourself, if you can. Fights only stop when one of the fighters surrenders or dies, or is too incapacitated to continue the fight. But if you don't respect the judge's ruling, you will be disqualified..."

The future fighter nodded once more and opened his mouth before closing it again, hesitating to ask his mentor for one more favor. Luna purred at her feet and didn't move a muscle, occasionally glancing at the other fighters walking the halls.

"What's the matter? Say it, go ahead."

Jacob had sensed the question Marlon didn't dare ask, beginning to know his student accurately and precisely, knowing full well when something was wrong.

"Would you mind if I stayed here for the duration of the Tournament? It would be much more convenient with Luna and it would allow me to rest more effectively between fights."

Jacob swept the air with his hand and nodded firmly.

"Of course! You don't have to worry, you are welcome here, as long as you want. You know that very well..."

"Why don't you tell him you're just lazy to go back and forth, hahaha?"

Marlon ignored Loki's sharp remark and thanked his instructor before slipping away and putting his pack in the room that would serve as his bedroom for the next few days. Coincidentally or not, he occupied exactly the same room as the one he had during his first training with Jacob, and this made a sour smile rise on his lips.

The last three weeks had gone by very quickly, in a flash, and the young man felt inwardly pleased with all he had accomplished.

Since the Orchid incident, he had spent his entire day training. From sunrise to sunset, he was with Djilany, trying out new combinations or perfecting the ones he already knew, some of which cost him and the mage significant injuries.

He had been able to experiment for many hours with his mana consumption, the interface being a great help in gauging what he had left or not. But physical symptoms also appeared when he started to run out.

Migraine, narrowing vision, shortness of breath...

Such were the symptoms of mana shortage, and Marlon had suffered it many times as an experiment. He had never consumed so many Spirit Care spells, but Djilany had bought him a large number of scrolls and rat blood, the basics for such experiments according to him, so he had never worried about running out of raw materials.

At the same time, he was able to save all his vials of Arbol blood for the Tournament, as the magical potential of this catalyst was much higher.

After practicing, Marlon had a pleasant surprise: a skill.

Inexistent until then, this one had appeared in his mind just like the knowledge instilled by his tattoos: suddenly and as if it had always been there, waiting in a corner of his brain.

[Velocity Hand] ...an ability to increase writing speed by a factor of ten over some time. Essential, for his class. Loki had also been surprised, his consciousness perceiving the appearance of the skill as a mana stream superimposed on Marlon's. He had laughed at the young man because of his lack of aggression, but that had stopped when he had drawn a [Fire Tracker] in less than a second.

After asking the Runist mage, it turned out that he also possessed this technique, but had little use for it, fighting very rarely.

The only drawback was that [Speedy Hand] consumed mana the entire time it was activated, which could be problematic during long drawn out battles, but he would have the opportunity to test the limits of this power during the tournament.

He also learned two more Runes, and this was very complicated for him, who was used to grasping the knowledge magically when he killed another earthling thanks to the blessing he was the holder of.

Wall and Earth, his two new acquisitions generously offered by Djilany.

It had taken him many hours of practice to correctly trace these two Runes, and three times he had nearly ended their lives as his attempts resulted in totally uncontrolled explosions.

So Marlon had discovered another important piece of information. He did not have to kill to learn the runes. It took a little more effort, but he could use books or works of art with runes engraved on them to understand their meaning and try to replicate them.

Once finished with Djilany, he ate, then went to train under the depths of the Arena with Jacob, the other warriors still refusing to fight against him, their memory of Marlon's brutality still fresh in their minds.

His instructor had corrected the defects present in his fighting postures, taken up again and again, fight after fight. He had also shown him how to counter effectively or dodge when it was not possible to do otherwise.

So it had been a productive three weeks, and there was little more he could have done to prepare for what lay ahead. Even Jacob had recognized that Marlon's level was fast approaching the Silver level, only regretting that he had not had the opportunity to further train the young man's archery skills, as the Arena was busy every day with fights between monsters or gladiators.

Before silence fell over the bowels of the building, Jacob knocked on Marlon's bedroom door and asked through the wooden panel:

"I forgot to ask you, but do you want to bet for the Tournament? I'm going to bet some money on you, so don't disappoint me. If you make me lose money, I'll be forced to charge you for every coin you lose!"

Marlon entrusted Jacob with the twenty Amecareth of money he had left, his last savings, so that he could bet on his victory.

If he won the tournament, it would be worth a hundred times his stake...but he still had to get there.

The fighter had asked Jacob about the different prizes for the Tournament, and Jacob had told him that everything would be announced tomorrow when the matches opened. With a wink, he let him know that it would be something valuable, more than he expected.

Once alone, Luna lying at the foot of his bed, he had all the difficulties of the world to find the sleep, a mixture of excitation, anticipation and anguish taking possession of him.

Turning and turning in his bed, he wondered who his opponents would be, what abilities they would have, and especially how many players would be among them, giving him new Runes that would multiply his power.

When Jacob came knocking on his door, he felt as if he had only slept for a few minutes, but a Care of the Mind relieved his fatigue and he threw himself into a basin of cold water to wash away the last remnants of his brain, dressing feverishly.

Even his instructor laughed at him when he saw his hands shaking as he fastened the straps of his new leather armor.

"You look like a virgin about to get married and have her wedding night! Relax, it's just a fight! And if you want, I can still beat the crap out of you before I send you to the Arena, hahaha!"

Marlon smiled and felt some of his tension evaporate as Jacob joked with him. He was right. Even though the fights ahead of him would be intense, it would still be nothing compared to the many near-death experiences he'd had while training intensively with him.

Once ready, Jacob accompanied him in front of the massive double doors where about forty other people were already waiting. His competitors? His instructor seemed to read his mind and nodded, not saying another word as they reached them.

His opponents seemed very disparate. Some of them were as strong as Jacob, others were less muscular, but the look in their eyes when Marlon reached them was filled with a killing intent that left no doubt as to their objective.

Everyone was lined up next to each other, and Marlon's heart began to pound violently in his chest as the massive double doors began to open outward, clamors of anticipation and howls of impatience reaching his ears.

A man in his forties and dressed in a bright red tunic was waiting for them on the hot sand of the arena, and when he spoke, it was in a voice amplified by magic, the sound seeming to be carried by the wind into the stands. His androgynous face was very expressive and every sentence he spoke seemed to be a performance in itself.

They began to move forward at an even pace, and what shocked Marlon was the crowd. The bleachers were black with people, not a single empty seat visible from where he stood. People were standing around shouting their excitement, others were throwing their arms up in the air demanding blood. He could see men, women and even some children in the crowd, an unbelievable and unreal sight if ever there was one.

Standards, as numerous as the number of participants, fluttered in the wind on the railings separating the stands from the sand of the arena, raised several meters exactly like the first time Marlon had seen this breathtaking spectacle.

"It's like being back in Ancient Rome...different dimension, similar humanity, at least on their bloodlust. Gonna have to give them their money's worth, kid, hahaha!"

They all walked to the middle of the arena and the man in red motioned for them to stop as he finished introducing the tournament. The heat of the sun was beating down on the bodies and Marlon felt sweat start to run down his muscles without him making a move. He felt tiny in front of a crowd like this, having a hard time understanding the excitement they seemed to have for the event. But he was there to win, everything else was secondary.

"...spectacular fights! They are here to show their incredible talents, and win the grand prize of the tournament! Dear audience, please cheer loudly for our twenty-two fighters, all coming from different backgrounds!"

A wave of roars and applause exploded through the arena and seemed to resonate in Marlon's bones, and he was impressed by so much enthusiasm from such a large mass of people. He could even see from where he was standing hawkers moving up and down the rows of bleachers, handing out food and trying not to get caught in the crowd.

"Good! At the end of this tournament will be proclaimed one of the best fighters of Delia! I remind you of all of the limitations of the fight! No combat rank above Silver, all can fight with the items inherent to their class, and only one healing potion allowed per fighter! Battles will be one on one, eliminatory if one of the two dies, surrenders or is incapacitated and can no longer fight. Do you get it, dear audience?!?"

A new round of screams rang out, and the man now turned to the attendees, a predatory smile on his lips and his eyes glistening with the same excitement that seemed to have taken over the audience.

"Your fights will be spread out over several days, and your opponents will be chosen at random. You can still have a series of fights if you are unlucky. Chance is also part of the competition. Do you agree with that?"

All nodded, some grunting their assent and giving the presenter a cold, disdainful look.

"Well, the rules are not many, but stick to them or you will be eliminated without scruples. If I have any doubt of cheating, you're out."

The last part of his sentence had been muted, but when he turned back to the crowd in the stands, the magical volume was once again turned up to maximum.

"Remember that only the winner of this competition will win a prize and not just any prize! For a value of several gold coins, the winner will leave with a dimensional ring and a weapon of his choice from the Arena's treasury! Isn't that a great reward? Do you think this deserves a proper fight?"

Marlon had to admit that the man knew perfectly how to warm up a crowd. Everyone in the stands was now screaming, shouting their anticipation of the fights, and some holding up banners with the name of their favorite participant. It was the ultimate in popular entertainment.

"Well, now our mages will set up to generate a barrier that will protect you all from the spells and weapons of our dear fighters! We will then conduct the coin toss that will determine the first fight!"

He dismissed the participants by pointing to the door from which they had exited, and they all began to walk away. Marlon saw five people emerge as they returned to the backstage area, all wearing long green tunics and all looking like they were from the same mold. The magicians were in charge of protecting the audience. They didn't even bother to look at the fighters and seemed puffed up with pride, their chests bulging and their steps princely, as if they belonged to a superior caste.

Which was surely the case, Marlon reflected afterward as some of the fighters spat at the green-clad men as they passed. A social conflict of which he was ignorant, surely.

Jacob was waiting for him inside, and a few fighters also seemed to have mentors or instructors waiting for them and giving them last-minute advice.

"So, impressive, right?"

Marlon nodded in response to Jacob's question, nervously checking to make sure he still had his Runist gear in the cleverly placed pockets of his leather armor.

Since the fights would alternate, he had taken with him a few blank scrolls but above all a large quantity of spells already ready to be activated, betting on the surprise effect to win the first fights, the time his opponents would adapt to his technique.

Then...well then he would do his best to undo them.

He paid attention to the others and saw that most of them were exactly like him, pawing impatiently as they waited to be randomly drawn and their fight announced. All of them carefully avoided contact with the others, which was understandable given the context.

Marlon turned to Jacob and asked:

"The Treasure of the Arena...is it really that interesting?"

Jacob burst out laughing, which earned them both many curious or even incensed looks that they could be laughing at such a time.

"You will always amaze me with your ignorance. Yes, it is very... interesting, as you say. The arena has been around for thousands of years and many weapons have been recovered when the champions fell or retreated, which is quite rare in our industry, I must admit. The weapons, which are often artifacts, with magical skills, may not be as rare as those in the Imperial Armory, but at your level it's quite an opportunity!"

Marlon looked thoughtfully at his sword as Jacob explained what the Treasure of the Arena was. It was still in good condition, but a few small chips were beginning to dot the blade here and there, and he began to dream of a superior weapon that would not wear out as quickly as this one.

"Don't get carried away, kid. You still have to win the tournament to get into the Treasury, haha!"

Cheers echoed from outside and after a few seconds one of the mages in green appeared, opening the massive double doors and walking towards the many fighters who had all stiffened when they saw him approach, including Marlon.

He began to speak, in a fluent voice that was totally at odds with the very tense ambient context.

"The first draws have been made. The first two opponents to face each other are Doleon from the Military Quarter and Revenge, from Akranio. Please get ready, your battle will begin in ten minutes."

Marlon felt his heart quicken at the mention of his name, surprised to pass so quickly, but on the other hand glad that the suspense did not last long.

He saw the man he assumed to be his opponent walking toward the door, and he couldn't help but feel a hint of apprehension as he detailed him a little more.

The man was a colossus, one of those whose stature strongly approached Jacob's, and his attire simplistic, pants and leather straps covering vital parts of his body. He clutched an axe with a silver sheen between his two hands, and when his eyes fell on Marlon, he seemed pensive, measuring his opponent's stature as the latter did with him.

The young man had nothing to be ashamed of in comparison. Months of non-stop exercise, hunting and fighting for survival had finished sculpting Marlon's body into an athletic shape. He may not have had Jacob's mass, but every muscle on his body was clearly visible, dry and ready to explode, just like the Runist's impulsive nature.

Doleon nodded at him, seeming to respect the opponent he was about to face. Marlon returned his greeting and also walked towards the entrance of the arena. Jacob grabbed him by the arm and quietly whispered:

"Don't underestimate Doleon. He can fight and has a Warrior class. He's better than you physically, so don't let him get the better of you. And never forget: one well-placed blow is worth ten shallow ones."

Marlon thanked Jacob for his last minute advice and positioned himself in front of the doors which opened wide in front of the two fighters who advanced again on the hot sand, this time still under a rush of encouragements and shouts of all kinds coming from the crowd in delirium.

"And here are our first two fighters, gentlemen and ladies! Doleon, the Warrior of the Military Quarter, adept with the two-handed axe! "

Introducing the warrior, the man in red made big movements and invited the crowd to show their pleasure, which he did without any difficulty. Then he turned to Marlon.

"And his opponent, Revenge, a Runist coming to us straight from Akranio and discovering the wonders of the capital!"

The screams of the crowd redoubled and all were clamoring for the bloody fight they were all looking forward to.

Marlon cringed at the announcer announcing their class out loud, but there was nothing he could do about it. Registering for the tournament required him to fill in his class to find out what equipment was allowed for each fighter. And now that he was facing the colossal Doleon, those concerns seemed far removed.

His heart slowly began to pump adrenaline through his system, and Marlon felt the familiar excitement of the fight wash over him as the red man backed up to the edge of the arena, accessing a reserved section of the bleachers safely behind the magical barrier that shimmered the surrounding air like a mirage.

Marlon's eyes narrowed, his mind became focused only on his opponent, without unnecessary questions, without any apprehension. He already knew what strategy he would use. He didn't want to reveal all his cards so soon in the competition, so he drew his weapon, just like his opponent, taking a fighting stance while waiting for the long-awaited signal to start the fight.
He was going to win this tournament, whatever the cost.

He was going to slaughter them, without mercy, as he did with everything in his path.