From above, Varian hovered above the assembled competitors, his presence commanding and authoritative. His voice rang out with resonance, capturing everyone's attention.

Varian: “Competitors, welcome to the fourth stage of the Tournament. As our tradition dictates, this stage will be a series of one-on-one battles, designed to test your skills and determination.”

Sorn looked around, noticing that faces varied from confident, anxious, and bloodthirsty.

Varian: “Matchups will work as follows; they are determined by the order in which you arrived. The last person to make it to this stage will face the first person who arrived. Similarly, the second to arrive will go up against the nineteenth, the third will challenge the eighteenth, and so forth. This pattern will continue until all ten matches are complete.”

Immediately everyone turned to each other, trying to figure out who they were fighting against. Already, this process was favored to the ones who arrived earlier. If they were paying attention, they already knew who they would be fighting. Sorn was the fifteenth, so logically he would be up against the sixth person. He felt a massive wave of relief. Keilan, Crystal, and Oden would all be people he wasn’t fighting.

Varian: “These battles are not merely for survival; they are a test of your strength and strategy. A battle will end when a player is unconscious or forfeits. You, the top twenty, have proven yourself worthy. I would like you all alive, so refrain from killing. With that said, only ten will earn the right to proceed to the final round, held in the final stage. In the Royal Palace, the true Champions will be determined.”

At the mentions of ‘Champion’, the expressions of everyone on the stage seemed to perk anyone up. Sorn recalled what Zoe had said to him before, and the words still latched on. He couldn’t comprehend what was so great about being a winner. He thought back to those he had seen die. Surely, this wasn’t worth the risk.

Varian: “May the spirit our benevolent lord Seraph guide you. I wish the best of you the glory that awaits.”

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Varian glanced around, staring down at everyone. The air was silent as his booming voice ceased, and a slight chattering began to rumble amongst the groups. Sorn turned to Crystal to ask her who came sixth, but Varian had raised his hand.

Varian: “Silence.”

From below, five men flew up from underneath, including Jaron, who Sorn had never even had noticed left. They were balancing on sticks of ice.

Oden: “The Spear’s First Division.”

From around the large circle they were standing on, the edges cut off. They were then cut again, giving just enough space for two individuals. Sorn found himself standing next to Aria as they flew into the air. He noticed Oden and Crystal flying on a platform of their own to the opposite side.

They were now significantly above the field, but still below Varian. The First Division all flew up to surround Varian. They lifted their arms in unison, and thick ice walls grew along the edges of the tournament circle. The walls grew until they reached the contestants, who had been hovering evenly amongst the newly formed arena.

Sorn took this moment to turn towards Aria. She had also overcome the moment at the exact same time, as she had turned to face him and spoke first.

Aria: “I would’ve preferred almost anyone above you, outsider.”

Always nice to hear her speak.

Sorn: “I’m sorry about that, but it also means you could’ve gotten worse.”

Aria: “I guess you’re right. Alright then, spit it out. What do you want to ask me about?”

Sorn: “You came in fifth right? Do you remember who came after you?”

Aria: “No I didn’t care enough to keep track. I think Crystal and Oden were though. Shame they’re all the way on the other side.”

Varian and his fellow Spears were discussing something amongst themselves from above, so Sorn thought he could take this chance to get to know one of Crystal’s few friends better.

Sorn: “Is the reason why you don’t like me because I’m an outsider?”

Aria: “No.”

Sorn: “Then-”

Aria: “You’re a wimp who can barely look at someone in the eye. Your hair looks like a wet mop and it’s black like it’s burnt. You walk in a way that makes me mad. You’re shrimpy and your scar is ugly. Your wisps look like my sister throwing up that one time she ate a dead Rabball when we were five. Your dialect sounds like you were educated by a goat. And there’s not a single likable thing about you.”

Sorn: “Oh.”

He didn’t know why he asked. Looking at his hurt expression however, even Aria felt somewhat remorseful.

Aria: “Tell you what though, since you’re Crystal’s friend. If you win your next fight, I’ll try to be nicer to you.”

Sorn’s reply was cut off by Varian’s booming voice. The First Division all stood behind him as he spoke.

Varian: “The first match will be between our tenth and eleventh placers. Please come down, Oden the Marauder, and Ren the Spear.

Both of them stepped off their platforms, stepping down and sliding down the side of the ice wall until they hit the ground. Without being told, they walked to opposite sides of the stage, facing each other. Sorn wasn’t sure, but he could tell Oden was glaring daggers at his opponent. He was a completely different person from who he used to be.

Varian: “You may begin your battle.”

End.