CHAPTER ONE [PART THREE]
The Citadel
103 Years Since the Citadel's Founding
Year of the Void-Scarring Talon, Month of the Egg.
Burst said his farewells to Tatu, and we left ahead of the other students to head back down the elevator, and towards the station. There was still a dense crowd watching the tail-end of the parade while we made our way towards the sub-monorail.
The distance to Freelancer Academy of District 42 wasn’t too far off, though we didn’t get a chance to visit the actual school grounds, instead heading for the detached arena where the Ruby Bowl game would be played.
“I wish I had a professional Arena Battler to explain to you the highs and lows of this game, but I find I’m lacking in those connections, 3451. Fortunately, I happen to be a four time winner in my fantasy league, so I ought to be able to give you a good run down of how this all works.”
“You have fantasy leagues?”
“YOU have fantasy leagues? Of all the possible technological innovations…”
“So how does it all work?” I asked, trying to keep his mind off theoretical inconsistencies in my upbringing.
“Arena Battling takes a lot of principles of rift delving. A well-balanced team, everyone playing their role, a requirement of ingenuity, and even some monster slaying. Used to be they used real monsters, but there were enough complaints about such usage that they were all eventually replaced with constructs.”
“Construct like you?”
“Only in a very narrow sense. There’s two sorts of constructs that they utilize. The smaller constructs don’t have any sort of consciousness to speak of. No soul. No aura. They have precise instructions, and they follow them. Then there’s much bigger constructs dotted around the arena between those passageways, and one on each side of the field, within each team’s base. These constructs have actual… spirits in them, who are heavily limited in what they can do, for they’ve had to sign contracts which stipulates the terms of their presence here beforehand. Any such violation would annihilate them immediately. It would take a tremendous force of will to even try such a thing. And there have been no incident since the transition towards using constructs. You can view me as the latter type of construct, but without the conditions limiting how I’m allowed to behave.”
I was starting to get a simplistic idea of how the game worked, but I thought better to let them in on my knowledge of it and in turn causing Burst to believe qhimphals somehow had Arena Battling too. As far as the matter of binding spirits went, I decided that would be a cause to invest in another day.
“What are the roles, then?”
“Quite simple. See the three passage ways that go across the arena? You can generally tell who plays which roles by where they’re positioned. There’s five people on both teams, as you know. The middle passage is usually only maintained by one player from both sides. They have a good opportunity to leave the middle passageway and enter either the top or bottom one to help out their allies. There’s another position only maintained by one player from both sides, and that’s the top-most one. Some would say the most vital position in a match. Finally, there’s the bottom-most lane, which has two players supporting each other. One more supportive, the other more aggressive. And lastly, there’s a role whose primary job is to wander the areas between the passage ways. They tend to slay monsters within these areas to get extra bonuses, and as the match develops, with good strategizing, can join other passageways to help their allies. There’s a lot more intricacy to it than that, but that’s more or less it. Arena Battling is about teamwork, timing, and chemistry, and each role is important to be successful.”
“And what exactly do these two teams of five do?”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“Fight each other, of course. Or battle, to put it more politely.”
“Is there a limit to how much they’re allowed to hurt each other?”
“You mean how do you stop them from going too far? Every player wears a symbiote that protects them from any real damage. There aren’t any limbs flying or blood spilled. It’s not quite the blood sport you might be thinking. Once they’ve received a certain amount of damage, they’re considered dead. They’re automatically teleported back to their home base on the field, and imprisoned there. The symbiote takes care of that part. They can return to the game after a certain amount of time. The more they die, the longer that time becomes.”
I was wondering how they’d get around the death bit.
“Now, killing your opponent is a vital part of the game, but not the focus. The end goal is to defeat the construct on each team’s base. In Freelancer Academy games, these constructs are limited in power, given the inexperience of the competitors. In the topmost league, they have S-Tier constructs. It’s a sight to behold, to see that much power in a singular entity. Still, being present for an academy game is a bit more affordable. Professional games are so destructive they need dense barriers to protect fans, makes it a lot more expensive, and a bit more distant.”
By the time Burst had finished explaining how Arena Battling worked, the five players on either side had begun making preparations for the start of the match. Six towers were erected on each lane. It was tough to see amidst the tall trees in the jungles separating the passageways, but constructs were emerging through the ground. Overhead, a monitor showed where each participant was on the field.
“Each time you destroy a construct or an opposing player, or one of those towers, you get rewarded. Part of that reward is that you’re granted more aura to reduce the restrictions on your abilities. See, the symbiote limits how much of your own aura you can access. The other part of that reward is that you’re able to equip pre-prepped gear if you return to the base. To start the game, players have a modest amount of currency they can use to wear pre-prepped gear. The currency you have is maintained by the symbiote suit you wear, and the amount of gear equipped is likewise limited by the suits. Now that they’ve got their equipment of choice, they’ll march down the passageways. You see those small constructs ahead. They’re a buffer of sort. Especially early on, the players focus on destroying opposing constructs while waiting for an opportunity to strike the other player.”
“You recognize the players from District 42? Are they any good?”
“They’ve got a pretty good team. A good system. They usually fall out early on in the end of season tournament. A few years ago they got to the finals of the Citadel-wide tournament. Didn’t win though. They’ve got a lot of potential. A good developing coach. A lot of improving players. There’s Snow. He’s a second year. He’s a bit famous because of his father, talented musician and duelist. Snow can take a lot of damage. Very abrasive and spirited. He’s the heart of the team. That’s Trainwreck. His name’s a bit misleading. He’s quite versatile, not nearly as rambunctious as his name may suggest. Plays largely in the middle passageway. Then there’s the crown jewel of the team. Horn. Just a bit smaller than Snow, but even more capable. He’s not as loud, more of a calm presence for the team. Rounding it out, there’s Kie, a good marksman in the bottom passageway. Finally, there’s Orange. Reliable, if unexceptional. They’re poised for a pretty big year. If you become a fan of Arena Battling, you’ll have a good time at the games. Well, I’ve rambled enough, let’s get lost in the spirit of the game, shall we?”
In truth, I wasn’t much of a fan of sporting events. Better yet, I would say, sporting events seemed to have an energy about it I was rarely ever able to match. And in that way, I was quite self-conscious that I would somehow ruin the moment for those around me. The songs serenading the players, the explosion of enthusiasm when Horn slew three players in the span of seconds, and the despair as the end went other than was expected.
That said, the match itself was a good distraction from the creeping anxiousness of this new world I’d found myself in. Each player, it seemed, had a unique set of aura-fueled abilities, and likewise, their own sets of equipment. Both of these grew more impressive in power as the match went on, increasing the intricacy in the manner of there being used. Whatever Burst had to say about the limitations of home base constructs in academy games, their eventual emergence still left me in awe. The constructs must’ve been at least one hundred feet tall. They were veritable walking skyscapers. Watching them emerge from the ground once the base had been breached left me feeling ant-like. I expected that District 42 would win, having reached the opposing base sooner, but District 41 pulled away after some mistaken aggression on the part of Kie and Orange led to the entire team being wiped. Our section of the crowd calmed down after the deflating ending, though that only lasted briefly. As one might expect from a sports game, most people were eager to inundate themselves with drinks in the aftermath.
“Are constructs always sober?” I asked, half-interested.
“Yes. Though we’re also immune to most common types of poisons and illnesses. It has its benefits.”
“I don’t know. I think I’d be willing to bite the bullet on illnesses and poisons if it meant being able to get high.”
“You have bullets where you come from?”
I was too disappointed by the existence of bullets in this world to deny it.