73. Anticipation
By the time they returned to the Old Country, the last event was about to start. Isaac frowned when he saw a large crowd gathered around the center projector screen, which was now hovering a bit lower so it was easier to view up close. It was currently blank, its surface only showing shimmering waves of gold, but spectators waited for it to inevitably shift once the event officially began.
A little ways away, Isaac noticed the tournament participants were gathered in a separate group. Quite a few had weapons out, though there was also a significant chunk that weren’t wearing or carrying anything special, he noted.
“I will leave now,” Igor said, gesturing solemnly to the area. Isaac nodded.
“Thanks again,” he said. “And good luck.”
The corners of the man’s beard twitched upwards as he turned away with a decidedly dignified bow, causing his armor to clank loudly in the process. Isaac wondered if the man was more expressive than usual, or if he’d gotten better at reading his emotions through the eyepatch and beard.
Shaking his head, Isaac stepped over to the stands and found an empty area to take a seat in where he could still see the screen. He found his eyes drifting to the distant commentator’s booth, isolated from the crowds, and frowned.
Speak of the devil, he thought. Just on cue, Fable’s voice echoed around the field followed by the now signature screech of the microphone.
“Okay folks, you already know what’s going on so let’s cut to the chase,” Fable’s voice drawled. “First of all, everyone opting out, step away. Chop chop.”
Isaac turned to the gathered participants in question. There was a brief lull between the announcement and any movement, a few whispers passing through the stands around him. He blinked as, after a few exchanged glances, what looked like damn near all the participants stepped back and headed over to join the spectators. The remaining group was less than a hundred people, which, considering how many there had been at the start, was practically nothing in comparison.
As the participants filled out various empty seats in the stands (which thankfully looked like they’d been expanded in size sometime during the night, as though in anticipation of this) Isaac quickly scanned the remaining participants.
Sharil was easily visible, her massive wings casting long shadows as she hovered slightly above the ground. A little ways away from her, he could make out Aster and then Igor a few feet away from the fey. On the other side of the remaining group, he caught a glimpse of Seaton, spear in hand.
There was a crackling sound over the mic, and Fable’s snickers, projected to over ten times their usual volume, filled the arena.
“There’s more smart people than I thought,” they said. Even from the distance, Isaac could make out Aster’s responding scowl. It took a few more seconds for the laughter to die down, but when it did, a faint light emitted from the tournament participants as each of the tattoos on their hands glowed gold. A few flinched away in surprise, and more than a few looked at their hands warily. By the time the light died down, the projector screen began glowing instead. Its surface swirled in a vortex of gold, and after a flash of light, a large tournament bracket hung over the arena.
Isaac leaned forward, automatically searching for familiar names. His limited human vision wasn’t particularly helpful in this situation, unfortunately. Squinting, Isaac frowned before remembering his tablet. He pulled it out and sure enough, the same bracket was visible there. Well that made things easier, at least.
Sharil was one of the last few matches, though he didn’t recognize the name of her opponent. That being said, he was fairly confident she would do fine, especially given that said opponent’s displayed level was 21, more than 10 levels below her. He paused, glancing up at the broadcasted screen, and saw that the levels were displayed there, too. He frowned. He supposed it made sense to some degree, and it certainly made it easier for anyone placing bets in the audience, but he wasn’t used to stats being displayed so publicly. Then again, from what he knew, some people did share their stats with people, and boasting about level ups and stat and skill increases were fairly common, so maybe it wasn’t such a big deal beyond it potentially being demoralizing.
Shaking his head, he returned his attention to the bracket. Aster’s match was around the middle of the first round, and it was also against someone unfamiliar. He paused when he next reached Igor’s name. His first match was against Seaton.
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Furrowing his brow, Isaac scanned the bracket again, and sure enough, every participant of the final round was over level 20 with the blatant exception of Igor. A small part of him had hoped that Igor could at least make it to the second round, but that didn’t seem to be possible.
Isaac paused, eyes widening slightly in realization. If Aster and Seaton won their respective rounds, they would fight in the second round. He didn’t know either one particularly well, but from what he did know, that sounded like a recipe for disaster, if the opening event had been any indication. Then again, they’d both managed to restrain their killing intent or whatever it was well enough to not trigger the system before, so they’d probably be able to do it again, right?
A rustling sound broke his train of thought, and Isaac glanced up to see a familiar fey take a seat beside him. Yarrow’s long branch hair had been tied back, and they shot him a nervous smile.
“Uh, was anyone sitting here?”
Isaac shook his head, and Yarrow sighed in relief.
“Oh thank god, I thought I came too late and there weren’t gonna be any seats, and then I’d have to stand and couldn’t see anything and Aster’d be mad and—“ their voice broke off and they cleared their throat. “Thanks, I mean.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow and nodded. Around them, he could hear excited chatter and what was definitely a betting pool being started. He ignored them, instead asking, “You’re here to watch Aster, I’m guessing?”
Yarrow nodded. “She, uh, kind of dragged me here.”
That sounded about right. “How’s Gloriana?” he asked. The fey frowned.
“She’s…okay, I think. She doesn’t talk to me much, but I guess I can’t really blame Her Highness for that. She hasn’t run away again since you found her, though. Oh, and thanks again for that! If you weren’t there it would’ve been a total disaster.”
“Mortimer did most of the work.” As expected, the fey didn’t react to the statement, and he sighed and decided to change the subject. This probably wasn’t the time or place to contemplate the fey aversion to acknowledging the undead.
“Aster said you’ve been working a lot,” he noted. Yarrow smiled slightly.
“Yeah, I guess so. I just thought maybe I should take guarding more seriously, you know? Uh, well, I guess I’m not really doing that today.”
Isaac shrugged. “Normal to take breaks.” His eyes drifted back over to the tournament bracket. “You recognize Aster’s opponent?”
They shook their head. “No, but she’ll be fine! Aster’s super strong.” They puffed their chest out slightly in pride, to Isaac’s amusement. “I’m not worried about the first round at all!”
Isaac watched Yarrow’s reaction closely. “What about the second?”
The fey deflated, and Isaac could’ve sworn their hair became more limp as well. They fidgeted. “Uh, well, Aster should be fine, but.” They scowled, deep creases forming between their brows. “I wish she didn’t have to fight a merfolk. Wish none of them were participating in the first place,” they added under their breath.
Before Isaac had a chance to respond, Fable’s voice crackled over the microphone, and he turned back to face the ring.
“I’d ask if everyone’s ready, but I don’t really care, so we’re starting.” Their grin was practically visible in their voice, and Isaac rolled his eyes.
The moment the other Traveler was done speaking, a very loud snapping noise echoed across the field, and Yarrow jumped in surprise beside him. The grass in the center of the plain began to glow gold, and the participants jumped back as the ground began to shake.
The earth rose up, much like the pillar supporting the commentator’s booth, though it was in a much slower and more steady fashion. A large circular platform, a little under 10 feet in height, formed in the center of the stands, easily visible to all the spectators overlooking it. With another ripple of light, the grasses sunk back into the earth and the surface of the platform smoothed into a perfectly even plain, not a bump or crack in sight. The golden glow faded, leaving just the tournament ring and the hovering projector screens.
The large bracket disappeared in a swirl of light. In the next few seconds, the words [ROUND ONE] appeared and disappeared, followed by [MATCH ONE] and two unfamiliar names.
Isaac scooted forward a little, and he could make out two figures breaking away from the gathered participants and heading towards the stage. He heard a few spectators yell out last minute bets. The screen flashed again, and the names gave way to two stat sheets displayed side by side for everyone to see. The volume of the stands increased as some of the more patient ones put in bets as well. Yarrow looked half tempted to join, though Isaac himself had already had quite enough of betting at that point.
“I’m guessing you all remember the rules?” Fable’s voice rang out. “They’re ridiculously simple so if you don't, that's on you. Well, anyway, get in your ready stances or whatever.”
It was a feat in itself that Fable’s lax drawl hadn’t dampened any of the excitement for the upcoming match. Isaac did his best to block out the crowd and focused his eyes on the fighters. One was a demon with purple skin and a whole lot of tails, and the other appeared to be a human carrying what was definitely a flaming sword, except the fire was green.
The microphone let out another ear piercing screech, and once it died down, Fable’s voice could be heard lazily counting down. In his peripheral vision, he could see Yarrow leaning forward in anticipation. He felt his own fingers tighten around the tablet.
The moment the countdown reached zero, the entire surface of the platform lit up with golden light, illuminating the two silhouettes as they sprang forward.