The Challenger was cruising along smoothly in the open seas, leaving a stream of white bubbles in its wake. Waves of sunlight poured onto the bustling open deck, which housed an al fresco cafe, an open-air ice skating rink and a pool. The luxury liner was not only to transport the fighters of God’s Tournament, but also boasted about a hundred paying passengers. They were more than willing to shell out big bucks for highly exclusive VIP tickets to watch the Tournament across countries and a cabin aboard The Challenger where they would have the chance to meet with the fighters up-close and personally. After all, many of them had placed running bets on the fighters and wanted to keep an eye on their investments.
But after the high of the elimination round, it seemed like most passengers seemed more intent on making full use of their all-expenses paid cruise trip to drink like fish and network amongst the high society of the world.
Laughter streamed from the pool and the skating rink, where passengers and fighters frolicked cheerfully with one another. The pool was full of amateur swimmers splashing around in what seemed like a water polo game. Sitting around and suntanning with margaritas in hand were mostly women of all races and nationalities, chatting and relaxing. Over at the skating rink, Gilgamesh had a small audience watching him from the sidelines as he zoomed around on figure skates, spinning and twirling with some impressive jumps.
Across the deck was a rustic, garden-style cafe. Moonbucks was sheltered with lush foliage, soft walnut tables and large, comfortable bean bag chairs. The smell of coffee wafted through the sunlit greenhouse space and jazz played in the background. Felix and Dart waited for their coffee beverages. The mounted sign promised customised latte art; Felix had asked for a swirly design to match his signature hairstyle.
Felix was pissed. He gestured wildly as he finished his story, his pompadour shaking furiously as he got more and more animated.
“And that’s why I don’t like that fucking squirrel,” Felix concluded his story, jabbing his finger on the table in annoyance. He had just finished expounding on how OLO had unfairly put him through extreme agony and anguish.
Dart listened in bewilderment. At the end of it, he blurted out, “You know, even though you’re telling your own story... you do realise you’re the jerk?!”
Felix glowered at Dart. He teased, “Anyway, what’s up with the tiara?”
Dart wore a precious heirloom jewel on his forehead. “It’s not a tiara!” Dart retorted. He reached up and touched it lightly. “This used to be my mother’s necklace. It was broken so I had the jewel attached to my headband. I’ve worn it ever since I was a kid.”
Felix’s expression immediately softened. He realised that he had struck a sensitive topic—Dart’s mother’s death. Dart’s reaction had been so heartfelt and genuine that Felix was worried that Dart had been genuinely insulted by his light banter. He searched his mind for some comforting words, but could only manage to stammer “Oh, I didn't mean… I...”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Dart assured Felix that he was not offended. “Don’t worry. My parents passed away when I was a baby.”
Felix was tearing up, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Dart was an orphan! “Your dad died too!? How did it happen?”
Dart shrugged, “It’s not like I knew them. My uncle told me that they died on the boat and only the two of us survived the journey from Al Tehar.”
Felix was openly weeping now, touched by Dart’s hardships.“Is that why you’re in the tournament? To try to bring them back with your one wish?” He prodded gingerly.
Dart was taken aback by Felix’s suggestion. “That’s actually a pretty good idea,” Dart admitted sheepishly. Using the winner’s wish to get my parents back... I didn’t know I could ask for that.
“Isn’t that why you’re here? Wait. Then what are you fighting for...” Felix was confused.
“No…” Dart searched desperately to change the subject. “Anyway, you look like a Celtian! How come you’re fighting from Vinlan Corp?”
Felix nodded. Felix’s skin was pale and freckled, compared to the typical melanin-filled skin tone of Vinlanders, and he had orangey-blonde hair. That was because his family was of Celtian origin. Dart was only vaguely aware of the history between Celtia and Vinlan. Up till fifty years ago, Vinland Corp had been a colony of Celtia. Rich with resources, the land was the manufacturing hub for its Celtian government. That was, until the revolution to overthrow the exploitative Celtian employers succeeded. Local Vinlanders working in the corporations eventually seized control of the companies and cut off contact with Celtia by refusing to pay taxes or support the supply chain to Celtia. Millions perished as Celtia sent troops to manage the uprising, only for Vinlan Corp to struggle to freedom through sheer determination. It had not been a bloodless war.
Felix’s parents and grandparents had been originally from Celtia. In the midst of the revolution, the Celtian-origin families had flipped from being rich merchant manufacturers and heads of the conglomerates, to being left-behind and unrecognised by their motherland in exile. Left with nowhere to go, Celtia’s lost children like Felix grew up in the slums of Vinlan Corp. They were the bottom of the totem pole in society, living lives that paid for the sins and atrocities of their ancestors upon the land they once subjugated.
He wore that identity on his skin every day, a blemish in society that one could pick out from the crowd. To this day, he was targeted for his Celtian-like features, despite growing up as a Vinlander.
“And that’s why you should be careful when you reach Vinlan. People there are not going to be so friendly towards Celtians,” Felix advised. Vinlan Corp’s independence project had successfully resulted in an economic boom with a rapidly rising standard of living for its people, but scars and wounds remained fresh for the youngest country. Its mountainous borders still saw tensions with Celtia periodically, and the cosmopolitan nouveau riche still regarded their former colonial masters as thieving resource extractors.
“You know, when I was leaving the portal, OLO told me to be careful,” Dart mused. “Danger is not limited to the tournament. I’d advise you to keep your weapon close.” He instinctively felt the hilt of his dagger hanging from his belt.
“Order for Cart and Helix!” The pretty barista announced. Two mocha frappes with whipped cream piled high and each topped with a maraschino cherry were on the counter.
“I… I think that’s us,” Dart said. He stood up. “I’ll get it.”