While everyone was looking at the scoreboard, most of them with disappointed looks, Astaroth scanned the names of the players moving to the next stage. He was happy to see four familiar ones.
All the players from their makeshift team from phase one had passed to the next phase, with two of them being very close not to. Gulnur and I’die were talented players but lacked experience, which showed in their scores.
Both of them had lost two fights and won three, putting them at the very bottom of the top thirty-two. But they made the cut as he had expected.
Astaroth stopped looking at the board and started scanning the crowd. He eventually saw who he was looking for and walked his way.
His query was standing only a few meters away, trying to blend into the crowd as much as possible. When he noticed Astaroth walking towards him, he tried disappearing into the crowd.
Astaroth frowned, but didn’t need to search for him much longer, as all the disqualified players exploded into particles and vanished. This exposed the fleeing ash elf and made him sigh.
After closing the distance with swift steps, Astaroth stopped before the man.
“Why are you walking away from me?” He asked the man.
“I don’t want to be associated with you.” The man replied, pulling his hood further over his head.
“Aw, come on man, don’t be like that. I just wanted to ask you how you survived your starting zone.” Astaroth said, trying to look sad.
“What does it matter to you?” The other ash elf asked.
“Simply curious.” Astaroth answered, shrugging his shoulders.
“Most likely the same way you did. I had a caravan take me to a lower-level zone.” The man replied, looking around himself to make sure no one heard.
“Ahh. I should have thought about that.” Astaroth said, scratching the back of his head.
The reply made the other man freeze. He rapidly looked Astaroth in the eyes.
“Wait. How did you do it then?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Easy. I trained and fought my way out.” Astaroth said nonchalantly.
“You fought your way out of a level thirty zone as a level one!?” The man burst out, almost shouting.
“Yeah. Wasn’t that hard.” Astaroth replied, shrugging again.
Of course, he was grossly exaggerating, since it had been tough, and he almost died many times. But he would not admit that now.
The man started mumbling to himself, pacing in a small circle. He looked like a mad scientist that had just had an epiphany.
“Ah. I have another question for you.” Astaroth then said.
“Hmm? What?” The man said, still pacing about.
“Did you go back for your racial passive?” Astaroth asked.
“My racial passive. What racial passive. I thought this race had none.” The man replied, stopping in his tracks.
“Oh no. It has one. So I take it you don’t have it. How are you so fast in combat, then? Your stats shouldn’t be that high.” Astaroth said, bringing his hand to his chin and rubbing it.
“Stats? Does the passive affect the stats?!” The rogue asked, grabbing at Astaroth’s arm.
“Wow, man. Chill out. Don’t get touchy.” Astaroth replied, pushing the man away.
“Answer my question!” The rogue replied, looking at Astaroth intensely.
Astaroth looked at him for a second, pondering if he should. Then he decided against it.
“Forget it. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” He said, before walking away.
As he turned his back on the rogue, wind swooshed past him, and the man was once again in front of him. But this time, his hands were on his daggers.
“I said, answer my question.” He growled.
“Not interested.” Astaroth replied, turning his back to him again.
ƥαṇdαηθνε|
While all this was happening, chairwoman Constantine was explaining how the next phase was going to proceed again. When she saw from above the giant dire wolf pop out of one player and jump on another, she cleared her throat.
“Ahem. I see we have some players eager to fight. Then I shall shorten my explanation and change the fight order a bit.” She said, turning her head to her left and tapping on her keyboard.
The side of the screen with the scoreboard now displayed a chart, with thirty-two names at the bottom, and lines that extended upward, forming the elimination chart.
The first two names on the left were Astaroth and Stinger. Astaroth guessed that was the name of the rogue White was currently holding in his jaws.
“Now. Since we have two eager combatants, I have placed them in the first slot. We will start the last phase of the tournament shortly. May the best win!” Constantine said, smiling widely at everyone.
After she said that, everyone disappeared from the arena again, appearing in the surrounding bleachers. It also transported Astaroth to one side of the arena, with White Death unsummoned.
The other ash elf, Stinger, was now on the opposite end, his daggers still in his hands, a look of anger in his eyes. He crouched down, crossing his daggers before him, ready to lunge forward.
Astaroth sighed, looking at the man.
‘Why is it that everyone is always angry at me?’ He complained in his mind.
Everyone always thought that he owed them everything, and got angry when he didn’t comply with them. He knew that most people in the gaming community were obnoxious, but this was next level.
‘It’s the law of the jungle now, I guess.’ He thought, pulling out his polearm.
He lowered his stance, extending the weapon in front of himself, and awaited the countdown.
He also prepared to meld so he could get his advantage right away. This would be a rough fight.
He had seen Stinger fight, and knew he was a slippery fellow. But he still needed to win this. Seconds ticked away from the timer before a loud gong resounded in the arena.
*Gong!*