“And Htet takes another blast from Shunji, who has kept him on guard this entire time!” A commentator reverberated throughout the stadium with a microphone. Thousands of people cheered on, while Kwazhak and Toya watched silently. If he recalled, his match with Ki Lanu was directly after them. He decided to go for it. For his mother, who he had chased for her past for so long, he wasn’t even confident if the champion could understand it, but there was no doubt that Ayai Toya was of the same lineage. After all, Madam Thoj, Kwazhak’s mother, had silver-blonde hair and sea blue eyes.
“Lus yog lub ntiaj teb no.”
“...” Her shoulders perked, turning her head slowly. As if he had said something obscene. “How do you know that?”
“Now look who’s talkin’,” Kwazhak laughed, wondering if it worked. “But if you want to know how, gotta answer mine own.”
“Your tone changed…” Toya set her hand down. “Is this how a true Laoyuang speaks? Were you sent here to pity me?”
“Unfortunately, I’m merely imitating some close friends of mine. From the way thou hath told me, one has only heard of the Laoyuang’s through oral stories. If it is at one’s discretion, thy tribe, the Máak is who you associate your heritage with?”
“...”
No reply. There was no doubt, he thought. However, Kwazhak’s father only rose to power in the Laoyuang House in 1939, where supposedly the Khoitan tribe went extinct one year later.
“I was told that the Laoyuang’s were the ones that brought destruction to our home,” She finally answered, before sticking her finger at him. “Now, since you wanted a question for a question, why do you know those words of that language?”
“I am a Laoyuang born to a Laoyuang father and a Máak mother.”
“That explains your given name, Kwazhak Laoyuang. An aristocratic mongrel born from slavery, by the nations that sought to colonize the world. But why do you know that language?”
“I dabble in the world of linguistics, in which it pleases me so. From language, peace can be made.”
“Even if something is said in every language known to humankind, it will never be understood,” She scoffed at his ideals, folding her arms.
“And the winner of the duel is… Niktar Shunji!” The announcer shouted at the top of their lungs. Kwazhak looked down. Down below, only one of the fighters was alive. The other’s body vaporized on the ground. The genocide was going to continue. “Congrats to all that placed the money on him, pretty sure your pockets are stuffed right now! However, in the next slot we will have a popular character rise to the scene!”
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Knowing that he was next, Kwazhak immediately rose up.
“I guess we’ll be seeing each other in the Terminus?” Toya closed her eyes, finding no interest in the winner.
“Hah, One amuses me. Alas, I will not be the one to survive in the end,” He walked out, stretching his arms. “An old comrade of mine has asked of me for a certain person to be kept alive, and surely they are strong enough to meet Miss Toya in the final battle between destiny.”
Walking through the arena entrance, Kwazhak met Shunji heading back in the opposite direction. They stopped once their shoulders aligned. The light from the outside beamed from the contrast of the dark corridor, where only the wind blew.
“Niktar, are you really fine with this?...” Kwazhak asked him, who was smeared in the blood of his ally.
“Don’t call me by my given name,” Shunji looked at his bloodied hands. “As expected, that Buhang and your plan will never work out. We’ll all be dead by the time we find a way out,” He began walking again, before hesitating at Kwazhak’s response.
“Did you at least discover any details about the arena?”
“Find out yourself, Prince. I’m done with this crap. I just want to live.”
Kwazhak leaned against the wall as he awaited the next round. He tapped finger, pondering about whether there really was a way out. In a place where death was normal, a place of enlightenment, he wasn’t competent. If he was like his older brother or L, then perhaps he would’ve thought of something. If he had been wiser, and attentive, Khouw wouldn’t have died. But it was his obligation to at least save the one person L entrusted in their care.
Workers soon filed out, having finished extracting the fighter’s body and cleaning the field. Loud music began to blare through the complex, with the crowd going wild.
“And our second match of the day, one of our most awaited ones, featuring a famous figure born of a nobleman’s blood, Laoyuang versus Lanu!”
A hologram appeared from Kwazhak’s bracelet, and there was a sweet release. Particles were flowing throughout his body. He considered the thought of using the time to escape, but it perished when guards surrounded the corridor’s exit. The shackle on his hand loosened, and with coordinated steps he went into the arena.
A large band covered the walls as the seating wrapped around in huge rows. The sandy ground bore etchings of disturbance and violence. A giant, omniscient dome separated the field from the crowd. From the other side, Ki Lanu also entered in slowly.
“For this match’s saharic density level is…” A spinner spun on a hologram, labeled in measurable units. “Fourteen hyakume! A low saharic density battleground will be set!”
Their bracelets made an alarm as the particles lessen throughout the area. The entire place could house a modified environment in a closed space, just like Suruj had told them before.
The two of them met face to face in the center, waiting for the signal to be called. After seeing what Shunji had done, he needed to make sure that the people he met with could be trusted. It would be a suffering blow if derision had taken hold of everyone.
“The Laoyuang seems to be confident in his ability, staring a hole into his opponent! This is the most money placed on somebody since Thiệu of the forty-eighth tournament! Any sahar spells are permitted in the specified field, and the match is over when one fighter is remaining,” The narration continued, “Easy? We shall pay the Yyvubia in blood.”
A countdown appeared in the center, starting from ten. If by chance that Ki Lanu was out to kill Kwazhak, then he would make sure he himself would attain swift victory.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three… two…”