Stepping out onto the bustling streets at ten, the sun hung high, casting elongated shadows that stretched across the pavement as Aroha and I began our walk. The book was nestled securely in my bag, by the way. Amidst the rhythmic cadence of our footsteps, Aroha's inquisitive voice cut through the air. "Hold on, you've faced him before?" Her concern etched into the furrowed lines of her brow, her eyes fixed intently on me, seeking clarity amid the unexpected disclosure. "Yeah, it was roughly a month ago," I confessed, the memory of the intense showdown flooding back, each moment etched vividly in my mind. "We reached a forced draw, but if the match had persisted, the outcome might have tipped in his favor."
Aroha was surprised and soon responded tinged with a trace of gentle reproach. "Why keep this from me until now?" Her worry for me has never stopped. "I didn't want to burden you with unnecessary concern," I explained, a sense of regret lacing my response. "I already feel like I cause you enough worry as it is." Aroha's voice resonated with authority as she spoke, "From now on, keep me informed about those matters." Her words held a firmness that demanded attention, and I acknowledged her request with a silent nod, understanding the gravity of her concern.
We started talking about the fighters themselves in more detail. Yet, amidst our discussion, I voiced a perspective that sparked disagreement. "I must this tournament as a glimpse into who the Criminal Alliance might recruit in the future. It's crucial to approach the fighters with severity, to move them off the path of joining it." I asserted, my tone weighted with a sense of duty. Aroha swiftly interjected, her dissent palpable. "No, I disagree. Could you consider someone like the Heart joining the Alliance? No way. There's likely manipulation at play." she countered, prompting a moment of contemplation within me. Lost in thought, a troubling notion surfaced. Could the bastards I literally killed when Aroha was taken captive have been under some form of mind control? The notion seemed preposterous, conflicting with the established boundaries of abilities, which were tethered to physicality and force.
Yet, a chilling overcame me, reflected in the icy stare I directed at Aroha. "My pride lies in ridding the streets of criminals. I ensure they never rise again." I stated flatly, my words being ones I truly meant. Aroha lapsed into silence for the remainder of our walk, her contemplative demeanor speaking volumes, a silent exchange of thoughts and unspoken conflict.
Entering the arena a tad behind schedule, an unsettling silence lingered between us once more. Sensing her withdrawal, I offered an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry. Things feel rough right now. But if there's even a chance they're being manipulated, I wouldn't kill them, of course." The weight of uncertainty colored my words, hoping to ease the starkness of my earlier resolve. Unexpectedly, Aroha turned, playfully tapping my shoulder. "That's the consideration I was hoping for. Killing should only be a last resort in self-defense. I had a moment there, feeling like I was with a serial killer," she quipped with a soft smile, her worry fading into a moment of jest. "I'll head to our seats from yesterday. I'll be cheering for your victory," she added, walking away as we parted.
Left to my thoughts, I reassured myself in a quiet monologue, "I'll emerge victorious, no doubt." But amidst my confidence, a pressing query lingered. I wandered, seeking reception to resolve the uncertainty gnawing at me. The tournament's progression was never explained to me—beyond the schedule and brackets, I lacked insight into the finer details Amidst the arena's bustling ambiance, a surge of cheers pierced through the air, interrupting my contemplation. A call from Aroha illuminated my screen, and without hesitation I answere.
With a shocked tone, Aroha exclaimed, "Oh my God, the Samurai won! Wait, weapons are allowed in this tournament?" Her astonishment resonated through the phone, prompting me to respond, "It must be connected to his skill. But why call me for this? Is it that crucial?"
She hurriedly clarified, "The Red Samurai surpasses the Heart in strength but not speed. When he wields swords, his speed and strength increase by 50. Plus, there's this skill of his that allows any blade he wields to cut through Gifted individuals as easily as anyone else. Are you still planning to compete? The Prodigy might actually die." Overconfidence seeped into my reply, "I'll win, trust me. Like you've always said, I've managed to pull through, haven't I?"
Love laced her request, "If there's ever a moment where you feel defeat looming, promise me you'll withdraw from the tournament. Your safety matters more than the mission." I felt the weight of her worry and swiftly agreed, "Yes, I promise you, if it comes to that, I'll withdraw. I can't risk getting permanently injured and leaving you alone." Relief washed over her voice, a visible exhale in her words. "Okay then. Take care. I'll eagerly await your fight," she concluded, ending the call, leaving a sense of reassurance in her parting words.
A sharply dressed man approached me, a sleek briefcase clutched in his left hand. "Hey, System." he called out, using my moniker. With a hint of surprise, I responded, "Yes?" He wasted no time, conveying urgent information. "Your fight is due in about three minutes. Follow me to the under halls; I'll brief you on the plan." I hesitated but complied, this is probably related to my fight. Together, we navigated through the colosseum, descending to the bottom level until I found myself in a locker room. Methodically, I settled in, stowing away my backpack securely.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
He assumed a commanding stance by the door, his demeanor serious as he began, "You're here for the tournament, and ever since your victory against the former Rank Nine, you've been on our radar." His words sent a jolt of alarm through me. Was this somehow related to the Alliance? Had I been caught? Suppressing my concern, I maintained a composed exterior, listening intently as he continued. "Here's the deal: betting is in play. If you win, you'll receive a share of the earnings. This is how we get the fighters to really try. The Headmaster's exclusive tutorship sometimes isn't enough." he disclosed, speaking with the matter-of-factness of a professional. He offered a parting directive, "And one last thing: don't behave like God Fist. His strength is commendable, but his conduct... not so much. When that button over there turns green, make your entrance. Goodbye." He then walked away still with the briefcase. Why did he have it in the first place? Was it just work documents or something?
I glanced at the beckoning button, my cue to make an entrance into the arena. That will turn green soon, so I have to decide my entertainment factor. "I could play the relatable laid-back guy," I pondered, considering the appeal of a chilled-out persona that could potentially resonate with the crowd. Then there was the honorable yet tough martial artist, an image steeped in respect and strength. But it was the idea of embodying the lazy prodigy that struck a chord in that critical moment. A character that could intrigue and engage, a departure from the usual tropes, perhaps. As the button unexpectedly lit up green, I made a split-second decision. Briskly striding through the quiet, deserted corridor of the lower level, the sight of the sky signaling my ascent to the stage, I committed to the second option. Why not the honorable yet tough martial artist?
In the vast expanse of the arena, I spotted Nomu, his posture a hunched silhouette on the distant end, hands tucked into his pockets. He seemed a bit broader, but if that was the extent of it, victory felt within reach. Suddenly, a quest board materialized before me. A skill roulette? Perhaps a stroke of luck awaited.
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Quest 8: Round One
Attain victory in round one.
Requirements:
Beat your opponent.
Recommendations:
N/A
Rewards:
3000 points
1 Lvl. 3 Skill Roulette
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But the imminent match drew my focus away, leaving the tantalizing roulette idea unexplored, for now. The announcer's voice pierced the air, booming across the arena, "The Chosen versus the Demon! Can the Chosen escape the Demon's grasp?!" I grimaced at the name, disliking the label, but this was a chance for retribution against that battle-hungry bastard. Revenge was overdue, and I was determined to deliver it.
We both disregarded the announcer's words, engrossed in our private exchange, until she began the countdown. As the numbers fell away, Nomu boasted, "You almost lost to me before! I'm a whole tenth stronger! You're nothing now! This skill will secure my victory in this tournament!" His proclamation spurred a visceral reaction within me. With a deliberate motion, I rolled up my left sleeve and menacingly followed suit with my right, with veins popping out.
In a deeper, more commanding tone than usual, I challenged him, "I challenge you.", reverberating with the finality of a gauntlet thrown. Just as I spoke, the announcer concluded her monologue, ending with the last number "three".
Nomu's teleportation maneuver brought him behind me in an instant, but even with his swift movement, his punch felt oddly sluggish. Reacting swiftly, I spun mid-air with a fluidity that surprised even myself, completing three full rotations before executing a precise ten-eighty degree kick directly to his jaw. The impact caused his jaw to slacken, diverting the force of his punch off its intended trajectory. Calculating my strike meticulously, I aimed for minimal knockback, ensuring he collapsed onto the ground facedown.
The announcer's incredulous voice rang out, "I-i-is that it?! Is he out?!" Her disbelief shining through, as if my victory defied all expectations—even surpassing Time's dominance in the arena. His victory took two seconds, and mine, a mere one. Undoubtedly, Time would interpret this as a bold statement. A rush of cheers and acclaim filled the arena as the announcer declared, "I.. think he is! The System's Chosen wins! What a performance!" The resounding chants of 'amazing, wow, great' echoed, drowning the air around me.
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Quest 8: Round One (COMPLETED)
Good work, get ready for round two.
Rewards:
3000 points
1 Lvl. 3 Skill Roulette
Tips:
It will get much harder from now on.
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Spotting Aroha amidst the crowd, I gestured towards her, silently reassuring her with a thought, "I'm fine, don't worry." A mix of surprise and embarrassment painted her expression, evident even from a distance. The announcer, ever perceptive, remarked, "Wow, is that his girlfriend? I bet she's super proud of him!" Acknowledging the attention, I made my way back into the underhalls, a sense of confidence and assurance brewing. I will win this tournament.
This is even worse than the Heart and Silent Storm. I muttered to my compatriot, who stood steadfast to my right, his expression mirroring my own intensity. "It's like he's making fun of me.", my voice a low rumble. He doesn't know who I am, does he? My comrade's agreement was punctuated by a tight nod. "Yeah, but he won't make it far enough to even fight you." he affirmed, his eyes fixed on the distant sand where the challenge awaited.
A holy smile played across my lips, "Well, if he does somehow, he stands no chance."