“Hey, what gives!?” those in the crowds that were still sober enough or cared enough to pay attention complained and booed.
“Go back to the fucking!”
“And fix the Sphere!”
The lucid members of the crowds who were not busy fucking themselves, complained for selfish reasons, but the reasons were not unsubstantiated as far as the viewer experience was concerned. Since the rebellion of the arena staff, the flames around the arena grew weaker, the viewing sphere flickered. And with one of the shirtless men wounded and another dead, the viewing conditions deteriorated even further.
Number Ten used the chaos and worsening lighting as cover and sprinted to the narrow path with the fewest masked enforcers. Unlike the shirtless arena staff, these men were armed with swords and spears. Some of them even had leather armor.
Number Ten jumped up, and crashed down fists-first into the path, making it crack and tremble. The four masked men on that path staggered, nearly falling into the abyss. The beastkin woman used that opportunity to jump over the teetering enforcers and ran up the path, away from the arena.
“Suckers!” the beastkin woman grinned as she swiftly crossed the winding path over the abyss. Maybe that ‘Cock Gifter’ will win, maybe she won’t. I rather not place bets on others only to get caught in the crossfire myself—
SMACK!
“GHUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…”
A short, young, slim, and fit shirtless masked man appeared out of nowhere and with a single slam of his open palm into Number Ten’s chest knocked the fleeing beastkin off the arena.
“There shall be no unsanctioned fleeing from the arena!” the man said calmly as he looked through the tiny eye holes in his red and black mask down at the falling figure of the beastkin who quickly faded from sight and memory.
“She had the right idea,” Number Seven said when he heard Number Ten’s descending, fainting scream.
“You’re going to run too?” Uma asked, looking up at the giant mountain of muscle who would have towered over her, had she not stood twenty feet away from him.
“I have no interest in the so-called prize that Felicia promised us,” Number Seven said and put his gigantic ‘Cleaver’ over his shoulder.
“And what about you?” Uma asked Number Seventeen who approached the remaining pair of participants. An utterly average and generic human girl, whose only noteworthy features were her wide, red scarf around her neck as well as getting spit roasted before the start of the first round. Oh, and killing her spit roasters immediately after.
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The human girl did not answer Uma’s question. Instead, she lifted her hand and grasped her scarf, gently pressing it to her cheek.
The arena fell into further darkness as the rising, exploding fireballs grew weaker and reappeared with increasing intervals. Instead, sudden explosions of fire flashed throughout the arena at different distances and times as the shirtless men engaged Felicia’s enforcers who were armed with shields, spears, and seemed to only increase their armaments.
Another group of masked enforcers ran straight toward the three remaining participants. Eight in total, they surrounded the smaller group and pointed the tips of their spears against the trio.
One of the enforcers said, “Thelicia gave you clear instructions for your final task! Why are you still standing here? Or have you decided instead of becoming champions and walking away with the grand prize to forfeit your lives right here and now?”
“Do you any of you know who this scarf belonged to?” Number Seventeen asked, still holding her scarf.
“No, and we don’t give a fuck!” one enforcer answer for the entire group.
“That’s right,” Number Seventeen nodded and took a couple steps forward from the other two participants. “Nobody remembers anymore. All the ‘losers’ are laughed at and forgotten. But I remember! I remember my brother! But nobody will remember you!”
“Kill he-HMFM!?” before the enforcer could even give his order, the scarf slipped from the girl’s hand, zapped forward and wrapped itself around the enforcer’s mouth and neck. The enforcer tried to rip the scarf off, but within two seconds his efforts were terminated with a subdued, unpleasant crack. The enforcer’s body went instantly limp, and he collapsed like a man whose neck had just been snapped.
The two enforcers next to their dead comrade screamed and lunged with their spears at Number Seventeen. The girl evaded both attacks while her scarf unwrapped from one dead prey and flew toward next one.
“MMMMMMMMFFFFMM!!!” the other enforcer screamed through the scar while his eyes went wide in horror for he had just witnessed first-hand what fate awaited him.
“NOOO!!!” Uma screamed.
Before Number Seventeen could react, she was cleaved clean in half with a single downward swing of Number Seven’s Cleaver.
“And nobody will remember you too,” Number Seven said to the two vertical body parts that fell apart and turned to a gory pile of meat.
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