[05/01/2022, One Day Before]

Veno- "There are rules, parameters to the game. In the first round of the tournament, four fights happen simultaneously. They are thirty minutes long. Whether they go unconscious or die, they lose. Pretty much the same as it was in the Netherly Arenas, which you are familiar with. However, you ain't familiar with losing or taking damage. I went back and saw your reels. You were flawless."

Denarrow- "Damn, you must be very passionate about this."

Veno- "Well it's sort of my job to be so. And we got trills on the tables, an opportunity irreplaceable. Moving on, you were flawless, however your competition was-"

Denarrow- "Weak."

Ace finished Veno's sentence in a tone of agreement.

Veno- "Exactly and-"

Denarrow- "I get it. I can't just simply dodge and attack head on to win against opponents that can reshape environments with the snap of their fingers. I understand that part more than well. But you were going about damage, is it different in the Ƶ-Simulation thingy."

Veno paused for a moment, understanding that Ace might not appear or act all that bright but isn’t ignorant to the art of combat, specifically Paradise combat.

Veno- "Yes, damage, umm… In a fight, if neither fighter go down in a knockout or in death, then the winner is calculated from damage done. The Ƶ-Simulation calculates the 'health bar' for a fighter taking into account physical damage and fatigue."

Denarrow- "In what way type of fatigue?"

Veno- "Is based on who's physically and mentally tired, a stamina bar you could say. It's a very complex system of calculation only possible in the Ƶ-Simulation. If the results are too close, then a special council of judges review footage and declare fights like the old ways, by landed hits."

Ace takes into fact and ponders on what Veno said.

Veno- "The second part I wanted to talk to you about, is the Auron Goose."

Denarrow- "The fuck is that?"

Veno- "It's a title largely relating to betting. But it's awarded to the person who's most likely going to win the tournament."

Denarrow- "Why does that matter?"

Veno- "I know I know, you lookin to win no matter who. But I'm just letting you know now, she's most likely who you're going to face off against in the finals or semi-finals, so keep that in mind."

Denarrow- "Word."

Veno- "I not only had to bribe somebody to leave the tournament last minute but made sure that nobody else could bet on you like I originally promised I’d make happen."

There is a pause and stare from Vego, insinuating he wants some type of congratulations.

Denarrow- “Okay… Do you want a hug or something?”

Veno- "I just want the fruits of my hard work to come in full bloom. Right now everything is going just as planned. You ain't known by a single person, neither recognized by anybody else. If my trust in you and Handu pays off, we all get paid off."

Denarrow- “Word.”

Ace then nods in understanding.

[11:05, The Present]

Malala Hawk stands at five feet and four inches tall and weighs no more than one hundred and twenty pounds. She has white skin, long straight black hair, and blue eyes. Despite being twenty years of age, she looks like an adolescent. From an external perspective, she looks non-threatening at an event where violence is the answer to winning. Yet behind that child-like face, she's cold, stoic-like, and observant.

Malala- 'The competition reminds me of high school. I can tell who the big-mouth jocks are, the quiet ones, the in-betweens of the introverted and extroverted who're often friendly even though we're most likely to kill each other in the simulation, and then the weird.'

She ends her sentence of thought, looking in confusion at a handsome man in pajamas sitting in meditative form.

Malala- 'In all the previous tournaments I've gone to around the world, the weird ones are often those who just want to be different but that sort of makes scouting their power all the more difficult. Usually they don't pose much of a threat but will often surprise if they are yet to be fully known. But anyways, I feel everyone's stare. I can almost be able to read their thoughts when they look right at me. Like my brother said, they're all coming after me.'

Stacy- 'I don't know where to start. Where could he be? Who could he be?'

Another young woman from across the large waiting area stands and observes the competition around her. Stacy James stands at a tall six feet, with white skin, blonde hair, and green eyes. Often, she is compared to that of the Great Green General of the Uropean Central, the considerable differentiator being that she has soft freckles and is obviously Amerigan.

Stacy- 'The atmosphere in here is weird.'

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

In a room of over two hundred people, it's surprisingly quiet, with only a few conversations going on. So quiet that the AC can be heard. There are benches available but clearly not enough for every individual to sit; thus, many sit on the floor or simply stand against a wall or a pillar-like Stacy.

Stacy- 'There.'

After surveying the room, she finds an unfamiliar face. Using her strong photographic memory skills, she notices she's never seen this man before.

Stacy- 'I was making my scouting report in the last month. Looking for the strengths and weaknesses of every opponent. Then last night there was 'The Untitled' who replaced 'Vanilla Drop'. When I first saw the title, I couldn't find it anywhere, so I flagged it and spent hours searching for this new fighter. Almost nothing came up. Finally asking my Master Chief to look into the character. Only his age, his perfect twenty five to zero record, and a picture of his masked face showed up. There's no history except for his fighting record which is scary itself. And what's even scarier is that no one knows of him or even talks about him. He only had three bets on him, that should not even be legal. Even some who've come here and don't have much of a chance of winning this thing have at least a million bets placed on them.'

She squints her eyes, getting a better look at him.

Stacy- 'But I think I found him. I've looked through the data and never saw his face and someone wearing pajamas to an event like this is suspectually weird. I'll talk to him and-'

As she's about to get off the wall, the speaker in the ceiling says something.

Speaker- "Gladiators Sixty-Three and Eighty-Nine, enter Tunnel One for battle. Repeat. Gladiators Sixty-Three and Eighty-Nine, enter Tunnel one for battle."

Stacy- 'Shit that's me. I'll have to check up on him later.'

Denarrow- 'They call out by numbers? What was my number?'

He opens his eyes for the first time since he sat down. He then realizes he doesn't have his phone, unable to check which number he got. He left it back home on the charger by accident. He then remembers that he was given a metal wrist band, given to everyone before entering the waiting room which he had to enter his tournament credentials into, and gave him a digital number. He looks at it, seeing nothing but a dark blank screen on the band. When he brings the band closer to his face, it turns on displaying the number forty-four.

He then brings down his arm from his face and a person stands right in front of his view, intensely looking down at him. This man has white skin, straight brown hair, intense brown eyes, and an unusually wide square chin with an equally wide rectangular jaw. He's wearing nice blue dress pants, a red buttoned shirt, and a black blazer jacket. Ace flinches internally, not expecting someone to stare right into his eyes. Ace's eyes move around, seeing that other people now look at him, just not intensely or as obviously as the random man in front of him. He looks back up at the man who's still staring down at him.

Denarrow- 'I don't care. I do not care.'

He then looks ahead and closes his eyes to return to meditating. The man who's staring at Ace then squats down with his bottom almost reaching the ground and continues to stare right at Ace's closed eyes at the same level of height.

Malala- 'What is happening?'

Miss Hawk can tell everyone's attention gravitates further towards two individuals. The first one being the pajama man meditating on the ground with his legs crossed and hands on his knees. And the second one being the man right in front who's intrusively eyeballing at the meditator.

Malala- "Hmm…"

She recognizes the man with brown hair and an abnormally wide lower face.

Malala- 'That's Waldu Rare, his title The Flaming Rare.'

Talk about the two begin to hit the waiting room’s rumor mill.

Random Gladiator 1- "What's his problem?"

Random Gladiator 2- "That's just Waldu The Flaming Rare, he's just like that."

Malala- 'Indeed. He's known to be an asshole and often tries to intimidate or mess with his opponents before matches. But why is he trying to start something with him? And why now? The first round, 'Opening Madness', we don't know who we face against until the numbers are called. We don't even know who's on which side of the bracket. He couldn't know that unless he somehow does.'

Waldu- "Oi."

Ace leaves his eyes closed as he speaks.

Denarrow- "What?"

Waldu- "Who're you?"

There is a slight tone of disrespect in his voice.

Denarrow- "Denarrow… I mean the Untitled."

Waldu- "Well Dinero, why ya tryin to stand out so bad."

Denarrow- "Why does it matter?"

Waldu- "Ya just making yourself look like a fool."

Denarrow- "So? If I win, what does it matter?"

Waldu- "So you're going to win this tourney?"

He says with high levels of sarcasm. Ace responds keeping his monotonous tone.

Denarrow- "Yeah."

Waldu- "Interesting. I'm looking forward to beating ya till your eyes force open."

He stands up from his squatting position and stands over Ace. His foot is raised from the ground, but he feels a sudden cool air over him and gives goosebumps. It stops him from bending his leg ninety degrees and eventually kicking Ace over. He puts his foot back down and walks away. Not knowing why he felt a sudden fear makes him even more anxious to get into the ring.

[22:56]

Many hours went by. During the passing of time, a buffet dinner was provided, and more than a third of the fighters were gone allowing the freeing up of space. Regardless of the time passing by, Ace remains in the same state. He continues to sit in meditation, not moving once for food, water, or even an itch. Others continually make their glances in awe that a person could stay so still and in place for so long. But more than often, they were watching the televisions on the walls displaying the fights live. One individual in particular keeps his eyes on Ace periodically.

Marco- "Why da you kuup lookin at zat man."

Waldu- "You're Inglish is shit."

Marco- "But why?"

Marco Danny then looks on at Ace. Waldu sits on a bench facing Ace; Marco only just recently sat down next to Waldu.

Waldu- "I only went up to him cuz he just diff and I like messin wit dem types of people. But da stoic arrogance and vibez I got fra him makes me wanna fight him."

Marco- "Hmm…"

He looks at the meditating Ace.

Marco- 'Now I want to fight him, but….'

He then looks at Malala, who's sitting on another bench minding her own business.

Marco- "What abouit her?"

Waldu- "We're not on the same side of the bracket."

Marco- "Ow do you-"

Speaker- "Gladiators Twenty-Two and Fifty, enter Tunnel Four for battle. Repeat. Gladiators Twenty-Two and Fifty, enter Tunnel Four for battle."

Waldu sighs in frustration, knowing his number is called and an opponent other than the pajama man heads towards the tunnel.

Waldu- "Fuck. I bet the next round it'll be him."