A few minutes later, Straf and Cycelia crunch their wafer cones and finally enter the coliseum proper. The open lobby room branches away into twisting hallways around the coliseum leading to private booths, as well as upstairs to the arena. The queue splits at the front, at a long desk in the center.
「You're just going to watch, right, Lia?」
Straf asks as he's looking at the signs hanging above off the high ceiling, they point in different directions, but both lead towards the desk. One sign says 「Spectators」, and the other 「Participants」.
「Ah, yes. I'm not really good at fighting, despite everything… And it would be a bad idea to bring attention to myself.」
「Okay. Here, take this.」
Straf holds out a gold coin, Cycelia once again takes it without thinking.
「Huh!? Why!?」
「It's for your ticket. And if for some reason the entry is free, the change is your betting money. Just, uh…」
Cycelia stares bewildered at the gold coin in her hands. Straf gains a grimace on his face as he looks for a good phrasing to use, but gives up.
「…Don't bet on me. Okay?」
Straf looks Cycelia in her confused, emerald eyes. She blinks a few times, then nods.
「Um… Okay. But why?」
「Just don't. It's your play money, now go get your ticket. I'm going to register.」
Straf lifts his hand for a lazy wave, and walks away, bidding Cycelia a temporary farewell. He walks up to the segment of the desk the 「Participants」 sign was pointing to.
「Participating in the contest?」
The man sitting at the desk asks Straf as he walks up.
「Yup.」
「Name?」
「Straf. Katastrof. Vindict.」
Straf enunciates every part.
「Uh-huh. Sign this.」
The man slides a form towards Straf, pointing towards the quill and ink.
「What's this?」
Straf asks as he skims through the form.
「A waiver of responsibility. It's so your family can't get anything from us if you die.」
「Wait, so it's a fight to the death?」
The man clicks his tongue and rubs his eyes.
「…Why does everyone keep asking that. No, you fight until one of you is no longer able to, or someone surrenders. The waiver is for accidental deaths.」
Straf smirks and puts the waiver back down.
「Sweet, so I can kill with impunity as long as it's in one hit?」
Straf asks the registration clerk, and the man heavily sighs.
「Great, another one of those… Look, if you accidentally kill someone, you probably won't get into trouble. Everyone knows the risks. But if you murder someone, don't think you'll get away with it.」
「And what's the difference?」
Straf asks with a raised brow.
「The difference is, the fight ends when the gong sounds or when your opponent surrenders. If you kill someone who's begging for mercy on the ground, you're going to swing on a rope.」
Straf takes the quill, still smug and smirking. He signs the form and slides it back to the clerk.
「Yeah, good luck with that. Is that it? I'm registered? No fee?」
「Your registration is your entry fee. You're free to watch the fights until it's your turn. The qualification matches begin today, just after registration closes, which is… 15 minutes from now.」
The clerk pulls out a pocket watch and checks the time.
「By the way, I do get to pick a weapon, right?」
Straf asks, leaning onto the desk towards him. The man furrows his brow with a derisive expression on his face.
「…You don't have a weapon?」
「Nope. Is that a problem?」
Straf asks. The man lowers his head and rubs his eyes again, then sighs once more.
「That happens sometimes. You can rent some weapons from the arena. For example, a sword is just one silver for the duration of the tournament, but…」
「But?」
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「…But if you lose it, steal it, or break it, that's two gold penalty. It will be taken from your winnings or considered a debt to us otherwise if you lose. Think twice whether you want to rip us off.」
The clerk spreads his arms and shrugs.
「Man, that's fucking steep for a penalty. Are you sure you're not the ones ripping people off?」
「If you don't like it, you're free to bring your own.」
「No no, I'll take it. Give me a sword in that case.」
The silver coin clinks as Straf puts it down on the desk. The clerk takes it, hiding it somewhere under the desk. He turns in his chair to an armored colleague standing in a doorway.
「Hey! Bring me a sword with a sheath!」
His colleague nods and disappears for a moment in the doorway. He returns and walks up to the desk, setting down a sword in a leather sheath in front of the clerk. The clerk nods at him as he walks back to the doorway.
「Thank you… Sign here. Weapon loan contract」
The clerk slides another form towards Straf. He signs it without reading a word, and returns it to the man.
「Ah, I get a sheath too. Now that's a good value.」
「Any more questions?」
「Nope, just a request… Get the toughest looking guy into my fight.」
Straf points down at the desk with a smug grin.
「…That's not happening. The fighters are paired at random using our magic sorter.」
「Eh? A magic what?」
「Magic sorter. We feed it names of the contestants, and it spits out random pairs. It's to ensure fair seeding of the qualification matches. The results will be soon, they're available there.」
The clerk points to a wall with channels carved into it. It very strongly resembles a regular tournament bracket.
「Oh yeah, that's a classic. Nice. Alright, I guess I'm good. But, heh…」
Straf turns around, chuckling a little. He looks over his shoulder at the clerk.
「…Your seeding isn't exactly fair with me around.」
Straf walks away, sporting a massive grin while looking for Cycelia. He finds her waiting by a large doorway, through which most of the spectators are streaming up the stairs towards the arena.
「Straf!」
She lifts her hand and waves it a little. Straf walks up and puts his hands on his hips, looking away from Cycelia and towards the coliseum entrance.
「Did you register?」
「Yeah, but I uh… I forgot something. Why don't you grab a seat for me, and I'll be there in just a moment?」
「Um… Okay. How will you find me, though? That's a lot of people.」
She asks, looking at dozens and dozens of people walk past them up the stairs towards the arena seats.
「Don't worry about it, it won't be a problem for me.」
「Okay… I'll see you there, then.」
Cycelia waves at Straf again. She manages to merge into the stream of people and disappear up the stairs. Straf runs out of the coliseum. A few minutes later, a woman arrives inside with the queue, holding up a sign towards the back of the line.
「Ladies and gentlemen, registrations for the tournament are closed from this point onward! Everyone in front of me, please head for spectators' desk instead!」
She announces every dozen seconds or so, as the queue moves onward. The registration part of the desk is mostly empty now, serving only a sparse handful of registrants that managed to squeeze in ahead of the closing time. A conspicuous man in the queue is wearing a dark green hooded cloak and a mask, depicting a very detailed growling wolf head, tinted so dark that it's almost entirely black. He walks up to the registration desk.
「This… Gentleman? Is the last registrant.」
The woman with the sign walks up to the desk with the cloaked man, and informs the clerk. She then returns to the queue, holding the sign so it's visible to everyone in the line, repeating that the registration is closed.
「Registering as a fighter, yes?」
The growling wolf nods in silence.
「…Alright. Sign this. It's a responsibility waiver.」
Without saying a word, he takes the quill and signs it. The clerk takes the form and reads his name.
「Okay… Sturm? Do you know the rules?」
The cloaked man nods, the darkness of his mask hides his eyes. Only a small glint reflects back at the registration clerk. The clerk gets visibly uncomfortable as the wolf stares at him like he's his prey.
「...Oookay. Since the registrations are closed and you're the last one, we're going to sort the fighters now. It'll take just a minute. Results can be found there-」
The man walks off, ignoring the clerk.
「…What a fucking creep.」
The man at the desk mutters under his breath, and gets up from his chair. Sturm walks up to the tournament bracket wall. It lights up with a blue magic glow, displaying dozens and dozens of paired names. Sturm takes a few steps towards the coliseum exit, but pauses to double-take at the bracket wall. Then, he leaves…