Akairo had joined the other survivors for breakfast in a tent that was at the centre of the survivor site. He had just come from the tent which functioned as the communal shower although he had been given his own little space due to his burns.
He was also given a medicinal ointment and a new set of bandages which he applied to himself. He then slipped into his clothes and joined everyone in the tent which functioned as a mess hall.
He sat along countless crestfallen souls who all ate the greyish-brown paste they’d been served.
According to the holographic displays by the serving area, the paste contained all the nutrients they’d need.
This didn’t stop the crestfallen from muttering how they wished it was more appetizing.
Akairo didn’t complain, however.
He knew every meal counted and chose to focus on the display which floated in the center of the tent.
It displayed the news and although Akairo never particularly paid attention to the news before, he was all ears in this moment.
[The Supreme General, Galvan Ungta, was supposed to address the nation yesterday but sources say he is unable to because of an important family matter. Rumours suggest that he may have lost someone important to him in what is grimly being referred as the two “Annihilation Events”.]
The man on the display said.
Akairo’s brows twitched a little as visions of the red sky flashed in his mind but he took deep and calming breaths, keeping any embers from forming in his breath.
The display then showed footage of a grand coliseum which stood in the heart of a city which Akairo recognized as Babilu.
The city was shaped like a right trapezium and was divided into two vertical sections. These sections were all part of what appeared to be a great tower.
Akairo wanted to inspect the city further but the video zoomed in on the coliseum which was filled with people.
[This news was brought to you by the Cardinal League – Through Strife and Triumph Are We Made! Enter the Gauntlet, challenge the champions and claim the grand prize of Z10 000 000]
Several images of fighters appeared on the screen but all Akairo could think about was the prize money.
If he had that kind of money… he could go wherever he wanted.
He could be safe.
But according to the terms of the League, you could only enter it by knocking out the sixteenth seat.
The current sixteenth seat, according to the chart on the display, was a man named Atsáli Theseus.
Apparently, he was the underdog of the league and no one in the tent really thought he was going to win.
The man at the top spot was a man known only as The Reverend although it didn’t seem like anyone liked him either.
Akairo wondered if it was even conceivable for him to stand against the members of the League.
Fortunately, there was a separate competition known as the Galvan Gauntlet where people went to test their skills.
It apparently had no admission fee and asked only that competitors strive for improvement.
The coliseum also seemed to generate revenue via the fact that bets could be placed on fighters.
Akairo watched some of the fights and was immediately awestruck at just how fierce it all was.
Competitors fought with their bare hands for the most part but some of them threw orbs of fire and ice at each other while others made whirlwinds, sending their opponents flying.
He glanced at himself and saw that he was nowhere near as big as some of the fighters.
He also knew without a doubt that he wasn’t as strong and this made him deflate with a sigh.
Breakfast eventually came to an end and Akairo joined everyone in returning their stainless steel plates.
He then returned to his tent but before he entered it, he took the opportunity to look up in search of the stars but was met with disappointment as none were visible since the second level of the city was sitting darkly above.
He entered the tent and sat on his bed where he pondered on what he would have to do to increase his chances of winning if he were to enter the Galvan Gauntlet.
He had learnt from Hamia that exercise was important in becoming strong and so that’s where he decided to begin.
After sneaking back out of the tent and making his way behind it where he thought about all the things he’d seen Hamia do.
Push-ups, squads and a lot of running.
Akairo could do the first two without issue but he realized that he would have to set aside his fear of embarrassment and run around the survivor site.
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And so that is what he did.
He pushed his small body as far as it could go while fighting the pain from his wounds.
He distracted himself from the pain by thinking about his goal and the Cardinal League itself.
He had learnt that the league was made of sixteen contestants who fought for spots on the ladder.
The higher their rank, the more money they’d earn at the end of the season which lasted three months. Contestants would also be paid for every match they won with higher-ranking matches granting more money.
This all culminated in a championship where one final series of matches would take place until one ultimate victor was chosen and they would be named champion until the end of the next season.
A person from outside the League could also challenge the sixteenth-ranked person for a spot.
Akairo’s body eventually began to sieze as fatigue overwhelmed him.
He returned to his tent and while those inside gave him questioning glances at first, they returned to their business shortly after.
Akairo dragged himself to his bed where he wheezed through every breath.
But he knew that it would be worth it.
He could feel it.
There had to be an end to the pain.
Shelter from the cold.
Light in the darkness.
And if he couldn’t find any, he would make some for himself.
.
..
Lunchtime eventually came and while downing his food, Akairo kept a keen eye on the holographic which showed one of Atsáli Theseus's matches. He was more commonly referred to as Atsáli and had gained the nickname of “The Bare Fist Brawler”.
This was because while some fighters manipulated the elements to aid them in battle, he used nothing but his fists.
Something which Akairo admired.
He watched highlights of his matches in the Gauntlet and his nickname was accurate. He never used any fancy martial arts or threw fireballs at anyone.
When a match started, he simply raised his fists and dashed towards his opponents who assumed various stances.
He took each hit his opponents threw head-on while closing in on them.
He would then proceed to deliver hard blows to his opponents which would eventually lead to a victory.
Akairo wondered why none of the hits Me-Atsáli took didn’t affect his body because he watched as several fireballs struck his body with no visible effect.
He eventually learnt, by overhearing some people talking, that all fighters wore thin suits beneath their clothes which nullified any physical damage they took but it in turn would send pain signals to the parts of their bodies that were hit. It was powered by the Coliseum which generated a field which connected with the inbuilt circuits within the suits which kept all contestants from suffering any permanent harm.
Akairo also learnt that people were able to conjure forth the elements and manipulate them using something referred to as Tal Techniques.
He wanted to learn more about them but neither the survivors nor the program on the display elaborated on their nature.
Some whispers said that people were able to use certain techniques due to the blessings given to them by beings known as the Saints of Truth while others said that it was Divine Beasts that were responsible.
This all added to Akairo’s confusion but it also made him ponder his own existence and the nature of his fire.
Perhaps this was some sort of twisted blessing from a Saint or the malformed benediction of some Divine Beast.
Akairo wasn’t sure.
The Display eventually changed to show an elderly man sitting in front of a large crowd in a hall.
He wore a pure white gown and had no hair on his head which was lined with scars that were very close to fully healing.
His full grey eyes scanned the room and he eventually sighed, breaking the silence.
[The flames of war have once again begun to churn.] He said before standing up and leaving the hall with several darkly dressed men in tow.
The hall then erupted in noise with people asking questions at the same time while their cameras flashed, filling the hall with light.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Someone in the tent asked.
“I thought the Great War was over! I thought we won!”
Another cried.
“Would it have bothered the old fart to be more specific? Who are we fighting? Is it the Devout again?”
“I thought it was the Followers of Adder.”
Akairo listened to everyone’s outcries and this further cemented his desire to flee.
If the flames of war were to truly wash over the city, nothing but Ashes would remain and he wanted to be gone by then.
Lunch came to an end and, after returning to his tent, Akairo continued to ponder on his future.
He had long since tuned out the cries of the other survivors.
He would not let their heartbroken wails distract him.
He had his own sorrows and he was determined to endure them alone.
Lest another scar mar his soul.
.
..
A few weeks of consistent exercise passed and while life at the Survivors Site remained relatively the same, a sizable number of people joined the United Armies and it was clear that they wanted revenge on those who had wronged them.
The Annihilation Events were all supposedly the acts of a cult known as the Followers of Adder.
Akairo tried not to think too much about those responsible for everything.
He reasoned that the pain wouldn’t end even if he knew the reason or justification.
The day had come for him to challenge the Gauntlet and so he made his way to the Coliseum which was at the centre of Babilu’s first level.
The Path towards it was pretty straightforward forward and it loomed over all the other buildings so Akairo was sure he wouldn’t get lost.
His goal was just to make an attempt so that he could gauge his own strength.
He eventually found himself at the coliseum’s foot, in a loud and crowded marketplace where all kinds of things were sold.
At the centre of this place of trade was a bronze statue which depicted a man whose muscular body was covered in only a simple robe. He also had long, wavy hair and had a pair of fierce eyes that looked up as if challenging the heavens themselves.
At the base of the statue was a plaque which read “Galvan Ungta – Blue Typhoon”.
Akairo, after walking last countless people, some of whom sold all manner of things at the top of their voices, arrived at the coliseum’s lobby.
Several signs floated in the air and they displayed different instructions.
Akairo’s eyes widened upon seeing a sign which read “GG Sign Up”.
However, just as he took a single step towards the queue for people who wanted to sign up, a scantily dressed woman stepped in front of him.
Her hair, which was so long it almost touched her ankles, glowed brightly blue, matching her tight blue dress.
“Hey, kid. My name is Blue Rose. Wanna sign up for the GG? Well, if you join our agency, we’ll pay you for every match and-“
“Sorry but no, thank you.” Akairo bowed while trying to walk past the woman but she stepped in his way again.
Her expression then changed into one of pain as she looked Akairo over.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“What-“
“You poor thing. The bills are so bad that you have to put your body on the line just to make ends meet, mmm?” She said in a strange voice as she leaned forward but all Akairo could do was frown in confusion.
“Register with our agency, the Charles Pond Zi group and, after a small registration fee, we’ll fully invest in you, who could very well be the next Cardinal Champion. So what do you say?” The woman asked with a sincere expression.
Akairo took a deep breath before brightly smiling.
“Thanks for the offer but it’s alright. I wanna see how far I can go by myself.” He smiled before walking past the woman.
He said those words not only because he didn’t trust her but every time he looked into her eyes, his chest ached as he saw flashes of her death.
The wilting of a Blue Rose.
Akairo eventually joined his desired queue and he couldn’t help but weakly smile as anticipation rushed through his blood.
His heart was racing from a wonderful mixture of anxiety and excitement.