“So,” Ned sighed. “Let me get this straight; you don’t remember almost killing me, and you also don’t remember how your first match against Jude ended?”
Hitto nodded his head in response, baffling Ned further. It was the first time in his life he’d heard of such an odd predicament. To start, forgetting whole portions of a fight is not normal, especially when the person is able to recall minute details. Secondly, his encounter with Jude was just under an hour ago, so it wasn’t like a long time had passed. And lastly, he still remembers every detail from his round of sixteen fight.
Is it selective? The rapier wielder pondered. Or is he lying?
“I think it’s trauma,” responded Nally while stroking her chin. “In both instances, he was badly hurt, right? Maybe his body enters some sort of defensive mode when he’s in danger.”
“That’s not a bad theory,” Rurah nodded. “I say we have Dr. Scale look at him after the examination.”
“That crook test administrator?” she frowned. “If he can help, then sure, I guess.”
“W-Wait,” Hitto stammered. “Shouldn’t you ask for my opinion before suggesting treatment?”
Nally broke out into laughter. “Don’t call it treatment! It’ll probably just be a little check-up!”
“I don’t know about that,” he muttered.
Dr. Scale exited the elevator and immediately made his way over to the podium where Isaac Lawt stood. He was accompanied by Fumie and Snowl, who stood behind him as they arrived. The warden then approached them with a wave as he stepped off the podium.
“Guild Master Scale,” he exclaimed. “I was wondering where you disappeared shortly after the tournament began. Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” he sighed. “Just Ozo being Ozo and Snowl being Snowl. Thanks for running everything in my stead while I was gone.”
“No worries,” the warden smiled with a slight bow. “Now that you three are here, I’ll excuse myself and take a much-needed break. Send an invigilator my way if you require any further assistance.”
The three, excluding Snowl, exchanged bows as Isaac left the podium area. Dr. Scale then assumed control of the podium and extended a single arm out. The black box materialized in his hand as he turned on his voice amplifier.
“Hello everyone,” he began. “It is I, Dr. Ferron Scale, head of the Research Guild. I will be hosting the tournament from here on out.”
“We are now in the latter stages of the competition, with the last eight teams ready to compete in the quarterfinals. From here, there will no longer be a random draw but a proper tournament bracket deciding who versus who leading to the final.”
He dropped his spare hand into the box and began to rummage around. “All remaining contestants have been renumbered from one to eight to avoid confusion and or any issues.” His hand raised the first two balls. “Fight one will be between teams one and four; Ned and Rurah versus Jonah and Lancer.”
His hand then plunged back in as he drew two more. “The second fight will be teams two and six: Kai and Ponyo versus Mark and Davidson. These four teams will compete for a chance in the final from their bracket.”
“And on the opposite side,” he continued again, raising two more balls. “We have teams three and eight; Nally and Hitto versus Stefon and Monica.” For the last time, his hand entered the box. “That leaves Malcolm and O’Conner to verse Damon and…. MASK!?”
His pitch heightened on that last word as his hand trembled. Why has an alias been written on the back side of the orb!? I purposely told Isaac and my invigilators to ensure everyone’s names were collected!
The doctor then inhaled and exhaled quickly as murmurs filled the room. “These four,” he continued. “Represent the other side that will compete for a chance to fight in the final.”
The crowd broke out into cheers as the administrator instantly summoned two invigilators. They exchanged some words before phasing out of sight once more.
“Now then,” the doctor began. “Let’s begin the first fight of the quarterfinals: Rurah and Ned vs Jonah and Lancer!”
…
Upon hearing that he’d be facing Jonah, Ned instantly began to fume and rage as his face reddened. He was reminded of their intense rivalry at the academy, his indifference to the war in the southern region, and his annoying meekness.
As he and Rurah made their way over to the arena first, his thoughts became entrenched. The fight was no longer just about winning. It was much, much more. His ideals, values, and purpose now stood on the line. If he were to lose, it would be the same as admitting he’s fine with Jonah’s reluctance to challenge his family.
“Ned, relax,” Rurah smiled while placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I know how you feel about him, but don’t let it get in the way of our fight. Remain calm and continue doing what you’ve learned.”
“I don’t understand,” he gnashed in response. “It’s your people that his family is harming. You should be just as mad as me.”
Rurah let out a sigh. “Alright. Just direct that anger toward winning the fight.”
After getting checked, they entered the ring, awaiting the arrival of Jonah and Lancer. The two weren’t far behind them, and soon everyone was positioned and ready. An Incantation diagram flashed above with the number ‘five’ on it, which quickly began to plummet.
Four
Three
Two
One
BEGIN!
Tension immediately filled the arena as silence befell the crowd. Jonah unsheathed his blade and pointed it at Ned, followed by Lancer, who pulled out a small stick from the sleeve of his ninja-like uniform.
In response, Ned drew his rapier. “Rurah, you take the Assassination Guild lackey while I take Jonah,” he whispered. “They’ve been fighting well together since the first round, so it’d be best to split them up.”
“We’re fine with that,” responded the masked assailant, who took the opportunity to take off his mask. Long strands of purple hair fell to around knee length as he used the mask to tie it up into a bun – revealing his face: fair skin and two noticeable beauty moles underneath purple eyes. “But I’d prefer if you didn’t call me a lackey because I am third in line to inherit the Assassination Guild – Lancer Vargas at your service.”
“You heard me?” Ned questioned. “Well then, if you’re truly his son, why weren’t you at the academy like the other prominent children?”
“That doesn’t matter,” he smiled. “We’re here to fight, so follow me, big guy.”
Rurah trailed behind Lancer, taking a moment to look at his appearance. His purple hair, those eyes, and the moles underneath them. He did look like a member of the Vargas family. But just looking like a member wasn’t enough, especially with Ned saying he’d never seen him before.
“Are you part of the main family?” he enquired. “Or some separate branch that Guild Master Mollox keeps hidden?”
“Once again,” Lancer sighed. “I’m not here to answer any of your questions. On another note, do you think this is far enough now? They can occupy the right side while we fight here.”
Rurah smiled. “Sure. Though I don’t understand - ”
Lancer’s arm was already extended toward the giant's face, with his palm positioned to strike him on the chin. The titan just barely managed to avoid the attack as he stumbled back, with his assailant closing in the distance once more.
From the inside of Lancer's stretched sleeve, the stick came hurling out, extending at an excessive pace. It collided with Rurah's forehead, causing the titan's head to jerk backward from the impact. Lancer swiftly retracted the staff to its original size and charged at him. Facing an incoming flurry of fists, Rurah quickly readjusted his arms to parry the blows, biding his time for a chance to counter.
Patience rewarded the giant as Lancer threw a weak jab after a long exchange. Rurah quickly grabbed the isolated arm and pulled him in with ridiculous strength. The titan then drew back his spare arm, forming it into a fist as he thrust it forward.
A ‘crack’ blared its way into the audience’s ears as gasps escaped their mouths. Rurah’s fist trembled as his eyes widened in horror. Lancer’s head was practically split from his neck, with blood gushing from the wound. The titan’s grip weakened as he gagged and retched.
Did I do this!? He thought. But I didn’t even feel my fist connect with his head!?
At that exact moment, his vision went hazy as the world around him began to warp. Everything fazed into nothingness – except for the atrocity he had committed. It became more pronounced in the world of black—that decapitated neck, those fractured bones, and the blood that gushed from the wound. It inched closer and closer to his face, and before he knew it, it was the only thing his five senses could pick up.
His knees faltered and shook as he fell to the ground. How could I do this!?
“Yes. How could you do this?” an ominous voice called. “Once again, your strength has done nothing but cause destruction. Why do you continue to curse the world with your presence when chaos is all you bring? Look. At. What. You’ve. Done.”
“I-I’m sorry,” he trembled with fear-struck eyes. “P-Please forgive me.”
“On one condition,” the voice whispered. “Repeat after me: We Forfeit.”
“W-We -”
A warm sensation crept its way into the back of Rurah’s head. At first, he welcomed the feeling as it soothed his mental state, but after a while, it began to throb and pound as pain became more pronounced than pleasure.
“NO!” he yelled while flaring open his eyes. His vision was instantly filled with light as he locked eye contact with Lancer, who loomed over his knelt position – perfectly fine with a stretched-out hand placed on his head.
The titan instantly smacked away the arm as he rose to his feet abruptly, causing the assailant to take a few steps back quickly. Lancer then sighed as he felt his slightly bruised arm. “You broke out?” he questioned. “I was so close.”
“What did you do to me!?” yelled Rurah.
“Fear Manipulation,” responded the assailant. “My Divine Art. Though it looks like you are far stronger mentally than I originally thought.”
“You’re going to regret that,” the giant smirked. “You had the chance to finish me while I was weakened.”
“But that’s no fun,” Lancer chuckled while extending out his hand. “Making you forfeit would’ve been far more enjoyable.”
“Release!” yelled Rurah while crossing his middle and index finger. Bolts of electricity erupted from his body toward Lancer, who reacted fast enough to dodge the strikes. Then, without warning, the titan closed the gap between them instantly. Lancer’s eyes widened at the shock increase in speed as he instinctively positioned his arms in a defensive manner.
From point-blank range, the titan pointed two fingers at the assailant’s face, shaping them like a pistol. “Lightning incantation 10!” he roared as a bolt of electricity shot from his tips. It struck directly into Lancer, who twitched and yelled in pain as his arms went numb from the blast.
“RELEASE!” he screamed while jumping back as a barrage of wooden vines extended outward from his back. They jutted toward the sky before bending in shape and launching toward Rurah at a rapid pace.
The giant skillfully evaded their path while relentlessly pursuing the assailant. Effortlessly parrying every incoming blow from the vines as he closed the distance. Suddenly, Lancer abruptly halted, freezing his wooden vines in place. Seizing the opportunity, Rurah lunged in with a cocked-back fist. In an instant, the vines extended, encircling Rurah within Lancer's reach. Then, they rapidly contracted, constricting the giant against Lancer's body and squeezing tightly.
“What the hell!?” Rurah winced as he struggled against the grip. “What’s up with you?”
“Forfeit,” responded Lancer with a smile. “Then I’ll let you go.”
“Lightning Incantation 65.”
An advance Incantation!? The assailant panicked.
…
A grey cloud formed directly above the ring. Sensing the danger, Fumie quickly stepped forward and hoisted her staff toward it. “Divine Barrier!” She yelled as a golden clear box contained the two fighters and cloud. Ten bolts of thundering electricity then ruptured out of it, devastating the ground it had struck and shaking the arena as if an earthquake had hit it. The crowd gasped in awe at the sight as heaps of mist clouded the inside of the barrier. It was anyone’s guess as to the state of the fighters within it.
