It's been 10 minutes, but not a single player has touched and approached the mini-games stand and food stalls. They gathered with their respective teams; no one had the courage to greet the other players, including the men from team number 25.
Most people fiddle with their wrist-worn gadgets, at least one person on each team. They all begin to understand that they have something in common: wearing TickBit. From that device, it was all started. Each team discussed and shared information in mumbles, trying not to spread any valuable information to the other groups.
Most people also already understand that they will participate in the main game with all the humans in this bazaar, so they will be careful to speak. They scrutinized, staring intently at each other, trying to suppress the other group from afar.
It's really a tense and tedious situation, no fun other than whispering and muttering. This is not the reason why the 'bazaar' was created.
Until one of the girls broke the awkward atmosphere.
"Come on, let's hunt deer!" Shouted the girl. The girl sneaks her arm around the arm of one of the men in her team. Although initially forced, the man becomes interested in the mini-game that the girl refers to after learning that the one being hunted is a living deer, not a doll or a walking board.
[Deer Rush] is a one-on-one competitive mini-game. The rules are simple. Players compete in shooting a deer that will be released into the shooting range using a .22 long rifle. Each player stakes one token to play.
*Bang!*
*Clanks* *Clanks*
*Bang!* *Bang!*
With her fairly good knowledge of rifles, the girl quickly overpowered the man.
“Sigh, I'm not really good at using a pistol… Err or what is this called, a rifle? Is there a knife or something? I'm more comfortable hunting and chasing it directly. Especially if the target is human…”
“This is not that kind of game! Just admit your loss!” the girl tossed her hair on the side that was dyed blood red, pleased with her victory over the man. Although she would have been happier if she could see the man he adored in action, take the still-beating heart out of his victim, and leave a biting mark on it.
All the current players were only paying attention to the excitement the duo were making.
"Hahaha! That's right. This is a bazaar inside an amusement park! Stop being confused. We're both here already, so come on, interact and play as much as you want!” One of the men in the crowd shouted. Thanks to him and the couple, the bazaar becomes more lively, all the players can't wait to do some action.
Everyone, except for Grey. There's one thing that he wants to do first.
Sherwyn, a cursed and spooky item maniac, goes around looking for a place where he can exchange his 'eyeballs' for one of those items. Meanwhile Farkas had been wandering somewhere; no one knows. Grey's focus now is to refute the hypothesis that Johann is involved in the world of the Chronosseum.
In Grey's goggles, all these players were not just 'random people', not ordinary ones he always met on the train or the Oasis. Everyone looks unique.
His eyes can read several people. Grey had already indicated which people to avoid, like that big, stocky half-naked man with messy hair or the woman with stitches all over her face. Such dangerous people are everywhere.
Grey accidentally bumped hard one of the people he considered dangerous. The figure was still able to stand upright while he was thrown and fell on the ground. His sizable body is covered by a puffer jacket, even though it's still autumn. What horrifies him is what he wears on his face, which is a face-hugging mask—a tan '70s hockey goaltender's mask. It covered his entire face except for his mouth, nose, and a small portion of his eyes. His heavy breathing, his snarling mouth, and wide-eyed eyes are enough to make Grey's entire body sluggish. Grey couldn't leave because he couldn't move his body. But he could breathe a sigh of relief when the figure left without bothering him.
The all too sudden encounter with the mysterious figure left him in a state of shock, so Grey spent several minutes just sitting on the stone pavings. Though for him, maybe that person is not the most dangerous one.
Several other individuals, both the scary ones to the most confused-looking ones, passed one after another in front of Grey without paying any heed to him. This makes his search easier though because he sees some of the faces for the first time. Grey also doesn't forget the person standing in front of him from his version of the 'dangerous people' list.
“Wow, that masked dude is a genius. Maybe we should follow in his footsteps.” Grey, at that time, didn't understand the meaning of Farkas' words.
Grey feels he can refute his hypothesis. He calculates one by one the new people he had met in his head. Including Farkas, his count had already reached 97, and he couldn't find Johann. Even though he missed only one player, at least the probability had decreased a lot. His mind became more relaxed.
After standing up with the help of Farkas' hands, Grey thought about enjoying the bazaar while there was still time, maybe joining some mini-games with the other players.
***
Snipe 'em Limbs, Northern Side of Bazaar
Sherwyn had found what he was looking for: a game he thought was worth trying. Not because of the game itself, but because of the grand prizes that come with it.
Super-intelligent puppet robots run all booths and stalls in the bazaar. They can talk, joke, and interact with players like humans; it's like a soul residing in that cold body. This includes a [Snipe 'em Limbs] game booth.
The booth keeper is a robotic puppet with the head of a deer with the body of a half mountain goat and half wild boar. In the game of [Snipe 'em Limbs], players are asked to help avenge the humans who have hunted them and their friends by shooting a complete human anatomy model dressed as an animal hunter with a Beretta 92 pistol model.
Apart from the keepers who are robots, all the booths share other things in common. All of them use eyeball tokens as a medium of exchange. The game booths themselves are almost entirely in the form of a one-on-one competitive game. Players stake one eyeball token; the winner gets his opponent's token plus consolation prize if there's any. The game booth is much more exciting and popular among the players.
[Snipe 'em Limbs] is quite popular in the north side. Not because of the skill of the players, but because of the human model as the target. Sherwyn also hesitated to play at first because the model really looked still 'alive'; his eyeballs were still able to move and shed tears, his blood circulation seemed to be still moving fast, and his teeth could still grit. But Sherwyn couldn't pass up the chance to get a miniature brain in a jar which was one of the grand prizes.
Luckily for Sherwyn, there is someone to meet his challenge playing at the booth. That person is just an ordinary surgeon who wants to play just out of his curiosity and fascination with the details of the human model. For him, there is no anatomical model of the human body that even displays perfect human blood circulation and muscle fibres. Even the hospital where he practices only provides a cheap model.
The rules of play are pretty easy to understand, even for children. [Snipe 'em Limbs] only has one anatomical model of the human body as its main target, located 3 meters from the shooting booth. To the left of the model is a monitor that will show one of two things: a picture or text of an organ to shoot at. The format is the best of 5; the winner is the player who can hit the target first than his opponent in 3 rounds.
Sherwyn and the surgeon were ready to take their positions. Both are inexperienced with semi-automatic pistols, so the deer-goat-pig puppet robot kindly taught them how to use the gun with sufficient detail and thoroughness.
Each shooting booth has a manual on terms as well as pictures and layout of human organs. The surgeon of course didn't need it, while Sherwyn asked his opponent for a few minutes to memorize the book. The surgeon just chuckled; how could a person without a doctoral degree be able to memorize the parts of the human body in just a few minutes. The surgeon himself needs years of college to be able to remember the exact location, and even then, with a note that he has to refresh his memory by rereading thick anatomy books every week.
Monitors, the mixed-animal robots, and spectators shouted the countdown in unison the moment players felt ready.
Round One.
Three! Two! One! Snipe!
*Ding!*
“Oh, the first target still seems easy for-”
*BAM!*
One point for player one, get ready for the next round.
The entire spectator was amazed by the lively and detailed effects. The human anatomical model vomited blood from its mouth as soon as its heart was shot. While the surgeon, even the robot, was even more surprised because it hadn't been 3 seconds after the monitor showed the target, and Sherwyn had been able to shoot it right on the spot.
Hahaha… Maybe the kid was just lucky. The right lobe of the liver is large and visible from the front so it was easy to find, especially when the monitor noticed it in the form of an image, the surgeon thought. He will try his best to win the second round.
Round Two.
Three! Two! One! Snipe!
*Ding!*
-Right Kidney-
*BAM!*
Second point for player one, get ready for the next round.
"Hahaha! Too bad, if the human is still alive, it would be difficult for him to urinate!” Shouted one of the spectators, followed by laughter from the other audience.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Round Three.
Three! Two! One! Snipe!
*Ding!*
-Right Eye-
Wait! Wait! How can I aim at such a tiny target-
*BAM!*
Game, player one wins!
Sherwyn didn't need five rounds to beat the surgeon.
Because he won perfectly, Sherwyn had a right to choose one of the disgusting miniatures that had been provided as the grand prize. Of course, he chooses the miniature brain in the jar which he had been after.
Actually, Sherwyn has no other business in the booth anymore. But several other players stopped his steps. The players made him play another match, challenging his shooting skills.
The following two matches came to the same conclusion: Sherwyn wiped out both competitors with three points without answer in a relatively short time. Also, the same as before; Sherwyn hit right on in just 2-3 seconds after the monitor gave the target, even at the smallest or hidden targets such as the occipital lobes.
“P-Perfect Quickfire? Just who the hell are you?!” asked his last opponent, an ex-military. He had mixed feelings of disappointment at being defeated by an ordinary person in a shoot-on-target game.
“I-I'm just an ordinary mini-market staff…” Sherwyn replied shakily, raising both his hands even though no police officer told him to. He didn't mean to get into trouble with or offend the ex-military by winning the game.
Not only the ex-military but the entire spectator was also wide-eyed, speechless in disbelief at the results of Sherwyn's third match. The crowd had been so confident that the ex-military could defeat Sherwyn.
C-Crazy! I don't regret pursuing the highest score and fastest time in Time Crisis! Sherwyn muttered as he secured the jar containing the human brain model in his arms and steered away from the players that had already started to crowd. He also didn't believe in his shooting ability himself, even though it wasn't his true ability.
Those who were only fascinated by insignificant things initially had now started to open their eyes to Sherwyn's presence. They watch intently at the young adult with a basketball cap who had walked away. This is when the players have begun to consider Sherwyn as one of the players they should be aware of.
***
Southern Side of Bazaar
“Dammit, shouldn't that game be at a carnival like this?!” This was already the third lap for Farkas, circling the bazaar wildly like an animal but never finding what he was looking for. Although he had not searched more thoroughly and effectively, almost the whole lap is done just to avoid the creepy puppet robots.
Farkas had not searched until the remote corner of the bazaar; because he thought the game was a famous one. But he could easily find the tower once he went to one of the remote southern parts. It seems that he has to admit that his all-time favourite game is not the favourite among the players as well as the Chronosseum organizer. They certainly wouldn't alienate a game that could attract a lot of people, would they?
The game is less well-known among thin and weak people, who probably are most of the players. If the companions and spectators were omitted, the group of people who had gathered in front of the game had one thing in common: huge muscles and abundant brute strength.
“Hey, heyyyy, this little stature uncle wants to come to play with us? Seriouslyyyy? Do you have enough muscle, though?” Said one of the big men in a feminine tone. The bearded man with long flowing pink hair knows Farkas' muscle mass by fondling his body. Farkas is indeed the weakest and thinnest among those people, even though his own body was already quite large.
“U-Ugh, get your hands off me, you tin hermaphrodite! Why have you dressed so sexy? Your breasts can't produce milk anyway!" Farkas scanned the person quickly before finally withdrawing his gaze. Now a question arose in his mind: why do most of the canned sissies I meet always have incredibly thick muscles? Oh, that is quite a thigh.
"You're a baddy, uncle! This is called styyyyle, you know!” Exclaimed the pink-haired man while squeezing his both 'breasts', teasing Farkas.
Meanwhile, Farkas thought the other two big men much more 'normal'. One person is just a construction worker dressed as a professional wrestler. While the other is the burliest and bulky person of them all. He has hair that is also long but dull and messy. He is scantily clad like Tarzan: only a dirty, tattered cloth covers his crotch. Farkas always chuckles when he sees the Tarzan-like person because being half-naked while wearing a TickBit on his wrist is an absurd appearance.
“Hey gentlemennnn, since there are four of us, I have an idea~ how about we run a little competition in this [Head Striker] game? We divide into two groups; players in one group will play one-on-one. The winner advances to the finals and competes with the winners from other groups! How's that? It's fun, isn't it!! Oh, I didn't count those little creatures swarming over there, yeah~.”
“Hmm, the sissy's idea is interesting! That means we go straight into the semi-finals, right!” Farkas nodded, wolf-grinning in excitement.
"Whatever, I just wanted to hit something." Exclaimed the construction worker, stretching his muscles.
"Definitely exciting! I agree."
“Hey, sweet smoll girl, I told you I don't invite you to the game! Ughh, I'm so furious!"
"I'm his spokesperson." Explained the girl with bangs who wears glasses while pointing at the half-naked man. She then speaks and explains to him using sign language, and the half-naked man excessive-nodding his head.
“H-Huh…” No one expected the half-naked man to be speech impaired, “W-Well then, now everyone has agreed~ Let's decide the groups!”
The pink-haired man makes a random selection of groups using counting rhymes. His 'Eeny-meeny-miny-moe' is so distinctive and rhythmic that it engrained in Farkas' head. He keeps shaking his head to get it out of his mind.
[Head Striker] is a one-on-one game that relies not only on pure muscle strength but also on precise technique. Players are given a large mallet as a tool to hit a target which, if hit hard enough, can hurl an iron puck that is attached to the tower. The player's goal is to score higher than the opponent if they can't ring the bell at the top of the tower with the iron puck.
What makes Farkas uncomfortable is the target, even though he already knows very well how his favourite game worked. It isn't the spring-loaded rubber pad he used to see in the same model game elsewhere; it's a human head. Farkas is hesitant to participate because he feels like he is going to kill another person by smashing his head before being convinced by the headless booth keeper robot, which also makes Farkas hysterical in fear.
The headless robot explains the story behind the game, that he is looking for a worthy human, a person who has great power on his shoulders. And to be able to find such a human, the robot can judge it by the extent to which the person can hit its robust head.
The pink-haired man vs the half-naked man
The pink-haired man tells the half-naked man's spokeswoman that he is giving him the first turn.
*BAMM!*
“Waaa~ Leo is the best!” The whole team, including the spokeswoman, screamed hysterically in admiration of the beauty of Leo's hitting moves. His handsomeness when he tried to hit the target hard made them melt. No one paid attention to the details of the target; his head became battered and vomited a lot of blood after being struck.
The other spectator and the other three big men are the same, hysterically gasping. The tower's height isn't the same as in a typical High Striker game; it's elevated upwards with the bell being at the score of 2000. So it's no wonder they were surprised when Leo scored 1200 with a hammering hand, using his only bare hands.
“O-Oh, you handsome big boy... You just have big muscles but no big brain! It must be hit using this!” Shouted the pink-haired man while raising the mallet that is as big as his thigh with both hands. He's nervous, his confidence has dropped a little, but he feels he could win this match due to the folly of his opponent. While Leo just tilted his head, not understanding a single word that came out of the pink-haired man's mouth.
“You can hear the ringing sound if you hit it hard with the hammer just like thiiiuuuuaaaAARGGHHH!” The pink-haired man left his feminine tone as he struck, screaming in a strong, deep manly voice like a war commander.
*BAMM!*
*Clink!*
The pink-haired man managed to ring the bell and dance with joy to it. The stomping of his feet made the ground around him tremble a little, while his dance moves made the audience uncomfortable.
Farkas vs the construction worker
The construction worker gets the first turn. He refuses to use the mallet provided; he uses his trusted hand mallet instead. This makes the whole spectator wonder how he brought or got the thing, except for Farkas, of course.
*BAMM!*
The construction worker struck as hard as possible after being allowed by the headless robot and his opponent. His scores aren't bad, 1850, almost ringing the bell. The spectator, now much more crowded because of the bell's ringing earlier, clapped their hand loudly, though Farkas didn't feel pressured or worried at all.
“W-What's the matter with these powerful gentlemen…? O-Oh~ I'm melting~” The pink-haired man shivered; he hugged his own body.
*WHOOSH*
*KABOOM!!*
*DOOOOOOOONG!*
The smoky wind blew hard. His punch was as hard as a cannon. Many of the players thought it was a bomb explosion. The bells resounded loudly like church bells. A flock of crows flew away from the direction of the sound, one after another from their perch, instinct of danger. The bazaar was silent for a few seconds. No one uttered a single word; only the screams of the bells echoed throughout the bazaar.
Final Match, Farkas vs the pink-haired man
Again the pressure was on the pink-haired man. After hearing the chime from his opponent's hit, to him, Farkas is a monster that is on an entirely different level from him.
Why is this skinny uncle so scary? His mere presence really depresses me now... Uh-oh, why am I hearing boss music right now! My ears, please stop!
Even though he wanted to, the pink-haired man couldn't withdraw from the match because of the gentleman values he holds dear. He continued this little competition with great suspense.
The pink-haired man took his stance while gulping down a large amount of saliva, positioning his body sideways from the target. His two hands had already raised the giant mallet in front of him, ready to swing it. His eyes stared keenly at the target beneath his feet. He had never felt this steady and focused.
“URRRYAAAAAA!”
*BOOM*
*Diiiiing!*
Even though he hit much stronger than before and made the bell's ring even longer, he wasn't sure he could beat Farkas. And his hunch was answered again with another explosion-like blow by Farkas.
“O-One-Once more! I want to challenge you one more time! Rematch! You must be doing something underhanded!” The pink-haired man grasped a token in his hand shakily and handed it to the headless robot directly.
“Cheating? Hah! Don't make me laugh, tin sissy! You're like a big baby. Well, if you insist, this will be the last.” Farkas smirked like a wolf and asked one of the spectators for help one more time to get the eyeball token from his coat pocket.
The pink-haired man then hit as hard as he could. But unlucky, not even nudging the bell. Even though he felt like he had put all his strength into that final blow. Because hampered by his rigid grip and not matched by the flexibility of his movement, the pounding of his brute power did not reach the target.
"Hahaha! Your muscles are just a display, aren't they? Compared to a mushy guy like you, those dudes are much stronger! Oh, let me tell you one other thing. I don't use as much power as you. Turns out you're weaker than a baby, huh?!"
Farkas put his already lit cigarette in his mouth and took a stance, positioning his body right in front of the target. He lifted the hammer behind his back with both hands. His eyes glared intently, focusing right on the target's midpoint.
He swings weakly at the start but shoots a high swing speed over time, generating much higher momentum. The smoky wind is blowing quite strong due to the swing speed. It isn't the movement of someone 'striking' with a mallet. It would be more correct to call it 'whipping' with a mallet.
*WHOOSH*
*KABOOOM!*
The church bells shouted the third time. The pink-haired man now felt completely defeated. Instead of being disappointed, he felt an immense hatred fiery within him. Not only was he annoyed because Farkas constantly mocked his appearance, but he felt belittled. He had never felt humiliated like this.
The pink-haired man insisted on playing one more time. But rules are rules; The headless robot didn't give him other chances because he had already played three times. The pink-haired man was too adamant; the headless robot almost shot him with a rifle. Luckily Leo could stop him. The pink-haired man now had to settle for two tokens remaining, one each in his placket.
"Okay, alright, if you really that want to lose again, I'll be more than happy to serve you in the next games. Remember, we will also play 'that' game in this world! A more cruel and virulent game, not just a game for children like this."
Farkas' statement had made the spectators awaken to a reality; that they were in the middle of nowhere, somewhere called Chronosseum, forced into a game that might cost their lives. Meanwhile, the pink-haired man is getting more and more enraged by Farkas' challenge. The man vowed to repay him someday.
"Bye, I'm waiting for all of you in the 'real game', the big boys and, uh, you, the obscure living thing over there!"
Farkas pinching his fingers as small as he can, disgustedly puts all six of his winning eyeball tokens in his coat pocket and tries not to touch them again, ever.