The servant nodded, bringing Liam to a specific cabinet.
“You will be the eighth bout, sir,” the man said before leaving with Liam’s permission.
Liam browsed through the many face coverings… eventually finding one that he saw suitable to wear.
Done with that task, Liam sat at the large table and began wolfing down his meals.
Soon enough, night fell.
Just then, an enthusiastic voice rang out in Liam’s room, followed by the mirror opposite him flickering with lights across its reflective surface… revealing the vast stadium from an above angle.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome… to the Regional Power Tournament!”
Thousands of seats were filled with cheering nobles, divided into six sections by their familial colors.
Liam’s eye widened in amazement as he astutely scanned the ‘TV’ screen.
Through the King’s Eye, he could spot meticulous writings behind the mirror, which ran through the walls and presumably converged to a ‘camera’ (or something similar) on the other side.
‘…I can use the King’s eye through the mirror too!’ Liam thought, capable of seeing countless aura’s and mental energies among the crowd. ‘It’s probably using the inscriptions to redirect what the mirrors reflect.’
An announcer stood on a floating platform way above the stadium – two women standing behind him.
The middle-aged man wore a pearl-colored suit, a monocle on his right eye. White, slicked-back hair gave him a posh appearance, not to mention the gray and white goatee on his chin.
Liam didn’t see a microphone in his hands, which meant the man used some sort of spell or technique to amplify his voice.
Dozens of dazzling, blinding lights of interchanging colors flashed across the stadium stalls and arena, illuminating the night sky above.
At the same time, around the perimeter of the large arena, a group of musicians started banging on massive war drums, following a catchy and rhythmic beat.
The music, crowd’s cheering, the announcer’s shouts created an exciting cacophony – which all sounded muffled from where Liam sat.
Eventually, all the lights turned white, converging on the announcer’s sparkling suit.
“I’ll be your favorite host, Whyte!” he smiled warmly, displaying his glimmering white teeth. “Please give a roaring welcome to the ruling families!”
Cheers grew louder, mixed with whistles and other unintelligible sounds.
Stationed above the crowds were special structures designed specifically for the rulers – a note of their superiority, no one could see through the one way mirrors.
Something to note was the lack of clan patriarchs around the stadium.
…After all, politics were a mortal construct.
Zenith ranked cultivators focused more on themselves than anyone around them, even if they were important figures with powerful authority.
Liam hadn’t seen patriarch Edwin since the first meeting, and was told for a Zenith to make time for a Mortal was quite remarkable – a clear indication of how rare a darkness element was.
“Without further delay, let us begin!” Whyte spread his arms and shouted. “Starting with the rules!”
“All fighters have been verified for their ages and strengths – everyone is roughly at the same level, but with minor differences. Techniques, spells and forged/inscribed weapons of any kind are allowed – it’s up to you to win!”
“Pills and elixirs are strictly banned! Failure to comply with this rule results in an instant disqualification!”
“To win, your opponent must be incapacitated or forfeit of their own will. If you need me to spell it for you – wounds are absolutely allowed.”
“Fear not! The famous Yin & Yang Sisters are on standby. Any injuries or wounds you accumulated will be healed by the end of your bout. Break a leg – they’ll fix it for you!”
The spotlight fell on the two women behind Whyte.
Their beautiful appearance was in stark contrast to one another – despite looking like twins, the color of their hair, eyelashes, eyes, and robe was milky white for one, and silky black for the other.
They nodded with a synchronized, dazzling smile.
With the spotlight returning back to Whyte, the man grinned ear-to-ear before shouting:
“Onto the first bout!”
The crowd burst with another frenzy of cheers, as the bright lights split to two, centering around a small circular formation on the opposite ends of the arena floor.
“Please welcome – from the great city of Crigate – the ‘Rain Fairy’, Jane Phelross!”
Bright light gradually took the form of a human figure in one of those formations – the light dissipated, revealing a tall, young lady wearing an inscribed crimson robe.
Shimmering blonde hair fell to her shoulders, and her crystal blue eyes were sharp.
She didn’t wield any weapon, but looked relaxed and confident.
“And from the opposite side, hailing from Erivol, please cheer for the ‘Phoenix’, Jacob Ovlar!”
The formation on the opposite side glowed with a white light – a short but lean young man appeared, donning a tight yellow robe.
His face was squared, eyes brown and condescending. Disturbingly, the young man’s face looked euphoric from the attention he was receiving.
Jacob held an inscribed spear, covered with intricate drawings and designs of a Phoenix. 𝒃𝙚𝙤𝙫𝒆𝒍．𝙘𝒐𝙢
Meanwhile, Liam hummed in understanding. ‘Ovlar… that’s Revel’s family.’
Liam remembered the inscription-master’s first request. ‘Kill any of my family members you can.’
…Obviously, he would never actually attempt something like that. At least, without any sort of planning or reason.
Nonetheless, he shifted his focus towards the ‘TV’.
An array caused the vast arena floor to glow brightly, before an invisible wall of force grew around it – protecting the stadium stalls from any dangerous attack.
The wall was only visible to Liam’s eye, though, judging by the confused looks from some of the crowd members.
Whyte’s thunderous voice rang in everyone’s ears:
“Begin!”
Jacob moved first, cocking his feet and shooting towards Jane like a bullet, stretching his spear forward.
Simultaneously, an azure whip made of tight, condensed water materialized in Jane’s hands, which she held passively for Jacob’s arrival.
Jacob saw the spell, but simply scoffed, refusing to shift his trajectory. His body pulsed, while his muscles grew thick with bulging veins, growing aggressively stronger.
At the same time, the noble’s inscribed spear burst with violent red flames.
