The hour ended with betting and cheering. Everyone had their heroes and many had invested more than just money in the competition. It was a fight for the right to live. A fight for freedom. A fight not to be a slave.
All the contestant and their supporters had arrived by now. There were a lot of audiences in the viewing area. Many of which came from different places in the seven worlds. Some considered the competition as an opportunity to visit the underground cities, something that came not too often.
The contestants seemed eager to fight as they stood around the booths, testing weapons and different battle stances.
In each booth, there was a screen displaying names. In front of every name was a pol that represented the individual's power and also status. Many had their eyes on six names that had the highest pol in the competition. By law, no one above one hundred years would participate in the annual tournament. According to the law, the annual jinzidal was meant for young adults. There was another jinzidal competition which was held after every five years. It was where Benders who were over a hundred years could participate.
The six names that everyone looked at were:
1) Ikenga O Bayajidda: 100 Years (Sword Bender + Djinn)
2) Deniz Bizaya: 100 Years (Nail Bender + Dordor Souls)
3) Han Amuru: 100 years (Fire Bender)
4) Prince Niyashi: 99 Years (Spear Bender + Medical Bender)
5) Prince Kiru: 100 Years (Sword Bender)
6) Ameey Sdique: 97 years (?)
A couple of guards lifted a metal bar on the side of the arena. In response, the ring split into six parts.
Meanwhile, in the glass-enclosed, VIP room, the special guests had arrived. Despite being blocked by the glass, their pol radiated strong energy that reached the audience in their seats.
Rafiya sent commander Asifu, one of their top commanding officers, to serve as a representative of the empire. Mikironomada sent a dark-skinned young woman that looked too young to be there. She was Nusi Djinn. An old man with long white hair and fine tremors in his hands came from the third world to represent Han.
No one had come from Sisiya, which was something that hadn't happened in a long time. The sword Benders respected the tournament and always sent their top commanding officers as representatives.
The second world sent one of their own, a true member of the Ururu, and a commander in the jinzidal army. This was something that didn't happen for a long time especially in the annual tournament.
This man was Uznu Ururu.
He sat in a chair with his eyes tightly closed as if he didn't want something to escape the eyes. The way he sat in the chair and the way his body was positioned in it spoke of so much confidence that it looked like he owned the place. Even the air seemed to be moving steadily around him as if it didn't want to upset the man.
He had lived for so long even before Amri and yet his face showed little signs of aging.
The others in the VIP room made sure not to look in his direction. It was as if everyone was on edge, afraid not to anger the man.
Amid the tension, one old man took his chair and moved closer to Uznu Ururu. He cleared his voice to get the other man's attention. Uznu Ururu turned his head in his direction, and without opening his eyes, half-smiled at him and then looked away.
The white-clad old man was none other than King Deniz Iluru, the king of every Denizen, and the leader of the underground city of Seerish. At first glance, you might not know who the old man was. After all, his clothes were plain and cheap, lacking any of the noble ornaments that defined the hierarchy.
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"Uznu Ururu," said the King. "I did not know you were coming, I would have made special arrangements. I still welcome you to my city though. What brings to this village?"
Uznu Ururu took his time before answering him. "I have a message from the first world."
After this statement, which didn't answer the question posed to him, he didn't add anything, opting to keep his mouth shut and ignored the King.
King Deniz, on the other hand, was thrown into a reverie. What did the first world want with them? What was going on? Was there something hidden from him?
He sighed and ordered the competition to begin.
The King had a massive build that rivaled the description of some giants. How he got so big was still a mystery to scholars and researchers. A man would give birth to a man. And a giant would give birth to a giant. That was the order of the world. So how did the King has the body of a giant and his family and tribe have the same size as every human? Even his son Deniz Bizaya had the same built as an average human.
The King telepathically ordered a young man standing on the podium near the ring to start the match.
The arena was filled with so much shouting and random cheering that it was difficult to hear your voice. But when the young man on the podium spoke, everyone listened.
"Okay... I'll first welcome everyone to the Denizens chronicle of the jinzidal competition. This is the 243rd time we're having this competition here in this arena. I hope everyone returns home safe and sound, including the competitors. I will list the rules and the prizes.
"The rules haven't changed though. We'll have a battle royal that will produce six winners. Then we'll pick four of the six winners who have won their battle royal in the shortest time.
“These four winners will fight in the semifinals, and then in a final. If you win the final, then you can become the next jinzidal King. Whether that is possible depends on you.
"For more than a hundred years, no one has done it. In the history of the seven worlds, only five people have ever held that title."
He raised his head to look at a large screen above the ring where five names had appeared.
Deniz Iluru
Miki Abbas
Han'Ibal
Rafiya Daljari
Bihanzin
He took a deep breath and continued, "It doesn't matter if you become first. You have to cross the Ridge."
He pointed to the screen with the five names on it. A projection of a bridge made of sharp metal appeared between the screen and the ring.
"Of course, you won't be climbing a projection when the time comes. Every year, one person would go to the final round and win the final. But in the last fifty years, no one has been able to cross the bridge. In fact, throughout history, only these five names have ever crossed it. They are the names on the screen and the JINZIDAL KINGS.
"As usual, we divided you into six blocks, A to F. After the first whistle blows, you'll go into your respective rings. And after the second blow, you will start fighting. You will fight until you are the only person standing in your ring. Whether you live or die, Seerish will not take any responsibility.
"Well then, we'll start if there are no questions."
The contestants were silent. Some felt there was no need for any question or clarification since they'd known the rules ever since they were little. And a few were too afraid to speak. A young man with a black scarf on his forehead found his way through the crowd and raised his hand, asking for permission to speak.
The commentator nodded.
"What do the rules say about walking out of the ring?”
The commentator hadn't forgotten about this rule. It was something that everyone knew, so he didn't have to say it. But the young man just had to ask.
"You'll be disqualified," the commentator said.
The crowd pointed at the young man like he was an idiot for asking such a question and a fool for calling the commentator out. It was the first whistle that saved him and turned everyone's attention away from him.
The young man was Armad Wilberforce. His miyura had been missing for over a month, but he was used to tying a scarf around his forehead, so he got a black one.
The contestants ran to their respective rings. A minute later and the second whistle blew. The fights began.
The sound of slashing and the screams of pain filled the arena. Whereas the audience cheered and clapped. It was chaotic fighting and there was no showing of any special skill. Everyone just wanted to finish fast and be the last person standing.
In Group B, Armad stood still and observed the battlefield, only attacking to defend himself. He'd discovered that he wouldn't win by following the line and attacking randomly. So he thought about something that would give him instant success.
Unbeknown to him, five other people, one from each group, came to the same conclusion and had the same idea.
So, just as he raised his sword, another young man raised his spear in Group C with the same intention as Armad.
In Group D, another raised his curved spear.
In Group E, a young man clapped his hands, causing a symbol and a number to appear on his forehead.
In Group A, a young man sheathed his sword. Seeing his actions as foolish, another man approached him with an ax. Instead of drawing his sword to defend himself, the young man took one step closer to the man holding the ax and opened his hands as if to welcome him. It was a daring sight.
Finally in group F, Kiru activated his white blade. The white steel shone brightly as always.