Metsuhai closed the armored car door a bit too hard, almost with a slam. He looked another time at the vehicle, still surprised Chizue organized such a ride just for him, and turned around, taking a deep breath. In front of Metsuhais eyes hundreds of strong men stood in long lines to several small registration booths. Even from far, it was an impressive sight: like an army of mercenaries coated with heavy armors with many colors and symbols. Even more impressive though, stood the massive round arena covering the horizon from side to side. Words could hardly describe how big the arena building really was.
Metsuhai started making his way through the crowd, headed straight to the VIP entrance, leading to the underground rooms where only competitors were allowed to enter. Chizue, who signed Metsuhai in already was supposed to meet him there.
I wish Tsukiyama could see me fight. But it seems the order's long memory had awakened. It was about a week earlier. Tsukiyama stopped Metsuhai in the middle of an endurance exercise, telling him he trained enough before the competition and now must rest. Then he added "Henchmen from the Order of the Sun are lurking around. So I need to go underground for a bit. Lead them away from here so they don't destroy my home. I'll meet up with you as soon as possible."
Metsuhai took another deep breath. He ought to forget about Tsukiyama's conflicts with the order and concentrate on his upcoming challenge. I will definitely not let you down, Chizue.
Metsuhai confidently approached the entrance however…
"Stop right there!"
Two large armored guards holding spears and shields blocked Metsuhais way. On their armors Metsuhai could see the letters FAR and the yellow symbol of a bird taking flight. "This area is restricted. Only participants may proceed."
I don't know what the letters mean but the bird is the symbols of the Freedom Association. These must be ushers. "But I am a participant. My name is…"
The guard to Metsuhais left cut into his sentence "There is no bird talisman on your armor."
"See, all competitors wear them." (Second guard)
Now that it was mentioned, Metsuhai realized many of the men he saw on the way wore identical metallic talismans.
"Wait!" exclaimed the first guard as he seemingly recognized Metsuhai, "Do you know who we're talking to?!"
The second guard scratched his head. "It's the legendary Mordon destroyer… he killed Invados too. They say he has divine power. He can kill legions and summon storms. They say he is obsessed with demon blood. He can kill you in the blink of an eye. Even the Arisu can't tell him what to do!"
"Please enter, sir. No further procedures required" (second guard)
Metsuhai couldn't quite figure out what to say. They clearly knew something he didn't.
"Metsu-san, you are here!" Chizues cheerful voice ended the confusing conversation. Metsuhai turned to her with a smile. To his surprise she was not alone.
On her left stood Marco, wearing his full battle gear. He smiled to Metsuhai as well, although it looked a bit forced. On her right stood the big smoking black veteran known as Lezner. Chizue herself was wearing a beautiful white dress. Waiving her gentle hand towards him.
"Lezner…sensei?!"
Lezner took out his cigar. "What? You want all the attention for yourself? If not for me you wouldn't have got this far."
Metsuhai bowed slightly. "Your contribution can not be denied. Good to see you, Marco-san, Chizue-san."
"Show them what you've got," encouraged Marco, "You better not lose in the elimination round before the real competition even begins after all of us, important people, came to watch." Now Marcos smile seemed more genuine.
"Don't let the Mordon-Destroyer reputation be reduced to nothing," warned Lezner.
"What elimination round? How does this competition really work, I thought it's mainly one on one. And aren't you participating too, Marco?"
"Sadly I can't," explained Marco, "I am on duty. Don't even know if I'll get to watch the entire championship. Participating is out of the question. About the first round… you'll see soon."
Chizue strongly tapped Metsuhai's shoulder, catching him completely off guard. He practically jumped back, only to realize, a metallic small bird symbol was attached to his shoulder strap. "Ahm… thanks."
"You're welcome, make sure to keep it on you at least until the beginning of the elimination round. If you lose it, there will be no replacement," warned Chizue.
"We should go figure out where our seats are," reminded Marco, "and I am sure the old man is already waiting to show you around, Metsuhai. We'll see you in the ring. Give them hell!"
Marco lightly pushed Metsuhai into the underground facility. "You sure are in a rush Marco," commented the white wearing princess. Metsuhai couldn't ignore the feeling Marco was doing everything he could to keep him away from Chizue.
Surprisingly the underground hallway was wide and kind of inviting. A dusty red rug covered the pathway between the numerous rooms. Small chandeliers in fixed large distances from each other generated dim light. An old, somewhat gloomy man who seemed to be collapsing of age led Metsuhai through the corridor, passing locked doors on both sides. He was bent over like a camel, leaning on his tiny wooden stick. He was balding and where he had hair it was white and short. As the two walked together Metsuhai got the impression the old guy was going to stumble any moment, possibly hurting his worn-out bones. The pensioner spoke with a hoarse voice. "Welcome to the resting quarters, or the cheap hotel rooms beneath the arena. I am Patrick, I'll show you around."
Metsuhai looked to the right and to the left, making sure not to miss a thing.
"The iron doors lead to the private rooms, where warriors can stay during the competition. Wait a second…Here." Patrick gave Metsuhai an old bronze key with his wrinkled boney hand. The key had the number 451 engraved on it.
As the tour continued, Metsuhai could hear the sound of water and feel the steam in the air. Soon the two were in front of a massive open bathhouse with numerous faucets and brick floor. Tough looking men were showering. Others had conversations, wearing towels around their waists. A lot of water was flowing around, eventually getting to the drain.
Few of the men looked to Metsuhai's direction, examining him. Three in particular, were close and recognized him fast. They were big and built like bodybuilders. They were whispering, but Metsuhai could clearly hear them with his evolved senses.
"It's him, the Mordon-destroyer."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'd recognize this face anywhere. That's the guy."
"Looks a bit small to me."
"Don't say that, he might hear you. They say he is even stronger and crueler than Mordon himself."
Metsuhai decided to ignore the goons, continuing his journey with the old man who never actually introduced himself. The rumors sure are going out of control.
The last noteworthy place Metsuhai visited beneath the arena was the dining room. Tables upon tables, loaded with so much cheap food they could barely take the weight. Bread and soups, mainly. About twenty men were busy eating, some wearing armor. "Well now the tour is finished and my job here is done," concluded the old man, "make sure not to cause trouble. Fighting here is strictly forbidden," but Metsuhai wasn't listening.
"Kuma!" he called out, recognizing his old-time friend. "It's been ages!"
"Dig in, this is delicious!" invited him Kuma with full mouth. Kuma wore his full battle-gear and was clearly in the middle of a (cheap) feast. The sheer amount of empty plates near him was hard to grasp. Metsuhai grabbed one soup bowl. "Are you competing too?"
"Yes I am, and I intend to win…" Kuma suddenly got serious, even stopping his meal, "Even if I have to beat you to do it. I was waiting for such chance for a long time. You don't know how hard I trained."
"Well I intend to win too. This championship is more important than you may realize. Good luck for both of us."
Both warriors ate in silence. The soup wasn't tasty.
Metsuhai stood still in a large, dark hall, surrounded by hundreds of strong fighters. Everyone Metsuhai saw (shadowy figures of large men in armor) was clutching their fists, some around their weapons' hilts. The place was completely crowded and silent. You could hear the tough men breathe. Metsuhai was trying to keep his composure.
With a clinking metallic sound, the heavy steel gate began rising up from the ground, sending strong light into Metsuhai's eyes, blinding him. Then came the mighty roar of the crowd. There were thousands of people there. The fighters moved into the ring from several entrances. Some of the men were lifting their fists up and roaring in excitement. Others were banging their weapons on their sturdy shields. Up above the crowd, almost as if in the sky was positioned the transparent announcer's booth. On a platform fifteen meters high to its left stood a large old steel gong. "And it's a beautiful sunny day to fight today!…" shouted the announcer into the microphone "…We are here to watch the toughest strongest men going at each other, and for the sole reason- to prove that they indeed are the best!… and don't forget to wear glasses during the eclipse. This is unhealthy for your eyes. I am George Peterson and you in the crowd as well as millions around the world are watching the Armageddon Championship! Now, are you ready for war?!"
The crowd roared with excitement once more as the announcer symbolically turned the large speaker towards them (though they didn't need it). The massive ring was filled with an infinite living mass of viewers, like an endless ocean. Some holding signs with colored names of famous warriors. Others wore shirts of support to either the Order of the Sun or the Freedom Association. A few even waved the appropriate flags.
"Our first event is the early elimination round to separate the strong from the strongest will take place in 18 rings. The rules are like in any Armageddon competition until now. About 25 warriors in a ring, three minutes time to kick your opponents out. Once out of the ring, you are no longer participating in the competition. Those who will remain will move on to the duels… Note, if more than five men are left in the same ring they will all be disqualified, also…"
A massive platemail wearing goon engulfed in fox hide covering his head and back pushed the announcer away. With a manly voice the barbarian-looking giant roared into the speaker "I'm the best there is, the best there was, the best there will be. And I have a message for all those goons here. I Zoron goona hunt you all down using my big battle-axe, so quiver in your armors." Zoron lifted his big axe (though completely not adequate to his huge size) and roared, leaving the announcer's booth, walking around the numerous knocked out guards.
"There you have it folks, Zoron," declared George, "Though he has no place in my office. Referees, pass around the ballot notes to determine who gets into which ring. About the rings…"
The ground shook beneath the surprised competitor's feet, as complex magical symbols cover it for a moment. Square arenas made of square identical white stones rose from the earth, distributed across the ring area. Each marked with a flag, numbered from one to eighteen. When the ground stopped moving, a short, fat referee with narrow eyes shoved a piece of paper to Metsuhai's hand. It had the number 7 on it. Metsuhai rushed to the seventh arena, stopping only for a moment, when he spotted Chizue seating in the very first row. Unfortunately none other than the angel of death, Kagehiroto Arisu sat beside her, wearing his black robe. So waving to that direction was out of the question. Tanuki was there too, standing. It took Metsuhai a bit longer to find Lezner (despite his unique look) in one of the back rows. Even a ticket to the back rows cost a small fortune.
"…Guys, it's about to get serious. If anyone of the competitors wants to back down, now is the time. Sure, if you kill your opponent on purpose you'll be immediately disqualified but severe injury here is common. One might never fully recover. Once in the ring you can use any ability, any weapon, anything goes. Don't say I didn't warn you!"
Metsuhai stepped up on the half-meter high arena. Immediately, a referee guided him to his starting position. Metsuhai examined the competitors around him. They were all fighters, most likely combat veterans who fought with their lives on the line before. But Metsuhai's senses were calm, aware of their energy level. They were no match for him, at least in theory. Judging by aura, he could put them one on top of the other. Except for one.
He was tall and thin, with his short black hair tied in a knot behind his shaved head. His face was impossible to read. He was staring into nowhere, completely relaxed, wearing a golden robe that covered his small anorexic-like body. It was fancy yet very comfortable. At the front of the robe a name was written in black chalk 'Marshal'. He stood straight, with his arms crossed behind his back. To complete the impression, on his feet he wore wooden shoes. For a mere moment his pupils wandered towards the place where Metsuhai stood, but soon enough he was back to staring to the middle where nothing really was. He noticed me as well. This one is definitely different. What should I do? I can either focus on him first, thus ensuring my safety in this round sooner rather than later. Surely I can get him off the ring before three minutes pass… But maybe I don't have to engage such powerful opponent just yet. I'll get rid of the others and leave the choice whether we fight now to him.
Metsuhai quickly glanced to the other rings. Aside from Kuma, there were many other powerful competitors. There was a sorcerer wearing blue in ring 2, a short warrior with blades coming from his armor's wrists in ring 11, a samurai with three blades on his belt in ring 12, Zoron and a big man who only wore pants with a huge halberd behind his back. There were many others, too. Since they were far and in a crowd, Metsuhai couldn't really get a clear read on their power level, but they were all really strong.
An elder in traditional kimono hit the huge gong with a spike-less short mace. "And here we go!!!" Warriors charged at each other with drawn weapons. It looked like a full scale war. Every second bleeding men were tossed out of the arenas. Gunshots were heard from several arenas.
Zoron charged at the incredible wide shouldered half-naked man "I'm gonna leave behind me a path of destruction, starting with you!"
As Zoron charges, men were moving out of his way. He swung his axe with enough might to cut off a bull's head. He missed, his axe putting a crack in the arena floor. How? The large man barely moved, practically standing in the same place, yet he avoided the axe completely. Zoron jumped on him without even using his axe. He seemed to fall into rage. His arms closed on something hard. Zoron put every bit of strength he had to crush his opponent. Then he found out he was squeezing a steel shield, probably the big guy snatched it out of the hands of one of the other warriors. "You!" The big guy delayed his attack no more. The huge fist smashed into Zoron's body, making stunned Zoron spit blood. The huge guy picked Zoron up and threw him out of the ring. "And Zoron is out, already! Ryo Yoroi caught him of guard. Tough luck!"
Metsuhai dodged his opponent's sword swing with ease. It almost felt bad, pushing out this brave beginner who was clearly trying so hard. Metsuhai kicked his opponent's leg, taking him off his feet. He struck him with two open palms, throwing him outside the ring before his opponent ever reached the ground. In a way I'm doing him a favor. He isn't ready for this kind of tournament yet. This was already the fourth guy Metsuhai personally removed from the ring and the others noticed his superiority. Five muscular men jumped on Metsuhai from all sides, ganging up on him. At first it seemed to work. Their combined weight holding him down. "Mordon-destroyer seems to be in trouble," excitedly remarked the announcer. But then the bullies flew to all directions and out of the ring. The others truly looked intimidated. "What a display of boiling power, I expected no less from the man who took Mordon down!"
On the other side of the arena, Marshal stood and did nothing. That's until someone charged at him with a drawn weapon. Before his opponent knew it, faster than the eye can see, Marshal passed his guard and delivered a deadly kick to his opponent's side of the jaw. At first, nothing happened. Then his big rival bent, was crushed and flew out of the ring. Marshal landed similar blows to all who dared challenge him, smashing his opponent with one hit. Soon only him and Metsuhai were left in the ring. Barely a minute passed.
"So, what now? Shall we fight or not?"
"You are the one who slayed Mordon. We are all greatly indebted to you. You have my respect. It will be a shame if you are defeated in the elimination round and furthermore by a ring-out. I don't want to surrender myself either. So how about it. Let's wait for the moment we meet again. Maybe we'll even face off in the finals and show our true power without a time limit or any other restriction. Then we'll finally decide who is better."
Metsuhai considered shortly and sheaved his sword. "I am Metsuhai Fuguughuu. I wish you the best of luck."
"Marshal."
Soon enough, the fighting in all 18 arenas came to a conclusion with the sound of the gong, with many great warriors standing out. The one who broke his opponents' ribs with his heavy warhammer. The one who put an indestructible purple energy shield around himself and prevented opponents to ever engage him directly. The one who froze his opponents in place and then gently pushed them out. The two which took out everyone else quickly and finished the fight with a friendly conversation. And of course the big man who easily defeated Zoron and destroyed every opponent in the ring one after another with his bare hands.
"And so the elimination round is over! Those remaining shall proceed to the duels! If anyone needs to go to toilet now is the time, and don't forget to visit the snack bar. To all watching us around the world, stay put, because the best is yet to come. From here on the competition will only intensify!"