“| Welcome to All! |” A kind and charismatic voice resounded everywhere inside the Arena.
Rakna’s ears perked up as he, along with everyone riding the same boat as him, landed on the top floor of the grand building. The very top of the Arena was a garden filled with verdure and streams of water going in and out of the ground.
The center was hollowed out and gave a direct view of the ‘stage’ for the games. It was surrounded by rows of spectators spread across several floors.
However, it wasn’t as simple as that. If you looked inside the hole from the top floor, your brain would be overwhelmed due to the sheer spatial refraction going on inside. Atlantis’ Arena was one of the most spatially expanded buildings in the entire System.
It was a known fact that the Arena Games were supported by the System itself. Eva had approved the Arena as a place beneficial to the Hosts and Locals, on par with Trials and Ordeals. As such, the kinds of matches that could occur within it were varied and notoriously hard to reproduce.
“How many participants?” Rakna asked as he looked down at the well of spatial distortions while leaning on the railings. His extreme senses and Eye of Symphony allowed him to observe it with barely any discomfort. Sometimes, the layers of space would intersect and he would see more than a dozen different stages being prepared, all of them diverse in nature.
“This year, we have about three hundred,” Michael answered respectfully.
“Oh? More than usual,” Zialtra commented with a grin. “Last I heard, the number was always about two hundred or one hundred. I know you guys pick based on potential; are there that many good ones this time?”
“Indeed. Their combined potential is high,” the nobleman nodded. “Our examinators were all quite positive about these participants’ prospects. Undertaker contributed to the auditions last month as well and few can escape his eye when it comes to latent power.”
Rakna’s eyebrow twitched at the name but otherwise refrained from commenting on it. However, he did glance in a certain direction on the other side of the roof. The Arena was so large that one with an ordinary vision would have barely been able to see people moving. But to the therian, the distance was inconsequential.
There stood a tall and well-built man, with grayish curly hair and a burn scar on his face. His red eyes glowed and a smirk spread on his face as he returned Rakna’s look with a playful wave.
“Undertaker?” Nyx was the one instead to raise the question with a wary look.
“Treiber Sterben. Leader of Friedhof, a notorious mercenary Guild,” Kryas answered, lazily eyeing the same place that Rakna was focused on. “Arguably the biggest Guild in terms of headcount as well as the undisputed pinnacle of hired hands. Resourceful, loyal, powerful, connected… a reliable bunch.”
“Albeit lacking any sort of moral compass,” Zialtra snickered. “And loyalty goes out the window if your enemy hires them after you. Well, as long as your contract with them is not active. Then, yes, they’re quite loyal. They never betray their employers for a bigger reward.”
“Hm…” Rakna hummed casually and looked away. “Good to know, I suppose.”
“Well, let’s go inside, shall we?” Azheim proposed as he began to walk toward an open staircase in the ground, his cane tapping the grass. “I do not know about you, gentlemen, but I haven’t eaten my breakfast today, so I’m quite hungry.”
“Honestly, I could go for a snack too…” Allan grumbled as he started to follow. “Anything to get rid of the smell of blood. Pain in the ass, this ability.”
“Control your senses, boy,” Akronis shook his head in disappointment. “Your werewolf friend does not complain about his sensory abilities, does he? He has a firm handle on them.”
“You can’t compare me to Rak! He’s basically half-machine at this point! He can filter shit out with a thought… And who cares about a cheater’s accomplishments anyway?” The blond huffed.
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“…touché,” the white bat easily admitted to that.
“I can hear you,” the therian deadpanned, beckoning Ceresta to come with everyone else, ending her brief debate with Ciel about the metal and stone spires built over the Arena acting as linchpins for the spatial dilation… whatever that meant.
“| It is soon time for the First Game to begin! |” The cheerful voice once echoed as the group made their way down the stairs, guided by Michael. “| Please head to your arranged seats. The Game will begin in fifteen minutes. In the meantime, you can consult today’s planning with the info cards. |”
“Such a jolly mood,” Flavia commented smilingly as they arrived at an open wall leading to a large hall fused with a restaurant. Other people were coming in from other entrances but most of them seemed to be already seated.
The hall itself had two floors, but they were not fully separated, with one of them giving a view of the one below. As far as decoration went, several chandeliers hung from the ceiling, paintings were strewn over the walls, planted vases sat in corners and pots in the middle of tables, and finally, the outermost wall shared by both floors was entirely made of glass to watch the Arena’s stage.
“…that glass wall’s giving me a headache. It feels blurry and clear at the same time,” Allan groaned as they strode into the second floor.
“Space is being reflected onto it,” Kaelith said casually as Michael led them to their table under the scrutiny of every other guest. “Focus a bit and then you’ll see the outlook of the arena flicker.”
Rakna tried himself and as she said, at one moment, it was a simple square fighting stage, but then it would change into a stage filled with water and stone pillars; a sphere of floating water hovering above a blue granite floor; a white space with no gravity; a stage of fire and ice; and even several natural sceneries that seemed far vaster than should be possible with the size of the Arena viewed from outside.
“Each is meant for its own ‘Game’. Survival, Puzzle, Battle Royale, Duel, Point Hunt, Objective Hunt and Capture, Sport, etcetera,” Kaelith listed with one eye open. “They are currently overlaid with Space Magic, of course. Some are bigger, some are smaller.”
“For now, none of them are active,” Kara added. “So, it’s a bit hard to see but when a Game starts, it will consolidate and all you need to do is concentrate, and then your eyes will calibrate to what you want to watch. Afterward, you can switch again by unfocusing; it’s like the lens of a camera.”
Rakna hummed in agreement while Eye of Symphony had already finished dividing the lenses of his eyes for as many layers as there were. In his vision, at any moment, he could already watch all of the stages at the same time as if he was checking security cameras.
“I feel a disturbance,” Higure leaned beside the therian with a teasing smirk. “Have you cheated in some way again, devourer of mine?”
“Who knows? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged at her and his eyes subtly hid their mechanical parts, awaiting further intervention.
“What a sight for sore eyes,” Azheim exclaimed as he beheld the light buffet on the table. “You do not mind if we sit with you, right?” He asked Rakna since technically, in this VIP space, the table in front of them and its area around it was essentially reserved for the therian and his entourage.
“Sure, knock yourself out,” Rakna casually waved his hand as the others picked a seat.
“Well then, I will be taking my leave now,” Michael bowed slightly. “Should there be anything you wish my help with, don’t hesitate to seek me out. And Sir?” He turned toward the therian who gave him a questioning glance in return. “The Nefertrion are also present today. I believe it prudent to inform you.”
Rakna first blinked before realizing, “Ah, the family of the idiot I summoned the Adjudicator on.”
“Really?” Kaelith’s lips twitched with an arm over the back of her chair to look at him. “You forgot the mess you made already? Seriously, who calls an Adjudicator to punish some juvenile noble?”
“Well, I wanted to kill him, to be honest. But I felt like it was a bit reckless,” the therian uttered and everyone sweatdropped. Only Astraea puffed her cheeks in dissent.
“Hmph, that man’s life is forfeit if he dares to show himself in front of me again,” the angel scoffed, still reeling from the affront she had suffered.
Rakna snorted in amusement and idly walked to his seat between Kaelith and Flavia. In the corner of his eyes, he saw the humorous sight of an annoyed Hans fighting Zialtra for the same food due to her attempts at riling him up.
With a hum, he grabbed a muffin from one of the plates and was about to sit when he sensed one familiar presence approaching. He took a bite from the pastry and curiously turned around to see a certain shark merfolk making his way toward them.
“Ah, so you’re here too,” Rakna remarked. “Not in the stands then. I suppose as a King, you do have the authority to get in here.”
Cura grunted in acknowledgment and stopped a few steps away. Without saying anything, his eyes wandered toward the strongest people nearby. He squinted at Merlina, Kryas, and Zialtra but only one of them reacted to it.
“Haha, look here, if it’s not the Shark King,” the Hunting Queen laughed when she noticed him. “It’s a surprise to see you in this place. Looking for a fight again? I can kick your ass if you want. Maybe you’ll last longer this time.”
“…no need, I have a better confrontation in mind,” the shark replied succinctly and silently stared at Rakna as if expecting him to add to that.
The therian smiled wryly. “Yes… I swore it, so I will fight you. It can’t be today, but if you wish, we can do it… well, maybe tomorrow? Or in two days. It’s a bit tough for me since there’s the Myth Council meeting as well as my Guild’s test coming up, but I didn’t forget. Don’t worry.”
Cura narrowed his eyes and ultimately nodded.
Zialtra smiled insidiously. “My, are you saying the boy can provide a better fight than me?”
At her words, Gulon abruptly made itself known and let out an unearthly laugh. Even she couldn’t help but stiffen in response. Her smile dropped a bit as she watched the mouth of the creature grin at her over the merfolk’s shoulder. There was no doubt that she was stronger than Cura but… King Gulon was an existence she knew would forever be greater than herself.
“Roughly…” Cura paused for a second. “What Gul is saying is, ‘You’re damn right. The wolfwalker is an all-eat buffet while you’re just a savage woman. Obviously, he’s a better fight’. His words; not mine.”
Hans audibly repressed a snicker at that and the Hunting Queen merely elbowed him without even looking, causing a small tremor that surprised everyone at the table. She grinned at the Ancient Creature whilst the azure-haired boy held his sides annoyed rather than pained.
“Is that so?” Zialtra leaned back in her seat. “Well, I’m quite eager to see this showcase now,” she said and eyed Rakna like a predator.
He returned the gaze with a blank one. “…no fight for you,” he deadpanned.
“Hahaha!” She burst out laughing. “Refusing before I even ask? How rude,” she snorted.
The short exchange was interrupted by Gulon growling questioningly, and Rakna promptly looked back at him with a huff. “Right, sorry, I’ll tell you why we called you here,” the therian said, making more than a few people raise their eyebrows, alternating between him and King Gulon.
Even Cura seemed startled but Rakna continued unabated, “I’ll make it short. We need you to be the carrier of a certain ‘miracle’…”