Chapter 100: Chapter 99 : Flashy Entrance

In what seemed like an eternity’s passing, Vostel’s voice finally sounded in the audience’s minds.

[It’s here. It’s finally here folks. The time has arrived, to unveil that which has yet to be seen in this sandy ring.]

He snapped his fingers and the lights dimmed until only the ring was lit up. Then, from outside in, the light shrunk until it was just a spotlight, hovering over Vostel at the centre of the ring. The crowd’s attention zeroed in on him, gulps sounding in mass as the collective tension spiked in the venue.

[Ralf Fawkes.]

At the mention of the name, a ripple of exclamations passed through the stands, which set off a chain reaction within the crowd. Even those who were completely ignorant of Ralf and his stories were affected; his surname and the strong reactions of those in the know stirred up this segment of the audience.

[Yes, the youth from those unbelievable rumours, that Ralf Fawkes. He is here and is a key component in tonight’s never-before-seen special event. To those unfamiliar with the youth in question, I’ll shed some light.]

Snapping his fingers again, the telepathic links collectively flickered, and a moment later, the arranged video streamed into the audience’s minds.

“Ah, whoa!”

“This is him, holy shit, he’s kicking ass.”

“How can a Rank 3, this is…”

Bafflement and disbelief reigned supreme in the minds of the audience as Ralf’s outer match qualification footage played.

Letting it run for ten seconds, Vostel snapped his fingers and the feed was cut.

[Surprised? Shocked? Incredulous? I’m sure all can relate to these feelings at this very moment.]

At his words, looks of agreement showed from the crowd. Vostel nodded as he caught them, then continued.

[The footage you just saw was from earlier today. Ralf bulldozed his way through the competition, and in under an hour, qualified. Simply amazing stuff folks. The Bloodline of Fire has produced another aberrant, and luckily for us, we’ll be able to witness more of this aberrant’s sublime skills tonight.]

Vostel’s words sparked fervour in the crowd; a buzz began filling the venue.

[Okay, let’s not delay any further. Let’s welcome our newest fighter into the ring, Ralf Fawkes!]

Saying enthusiastically, he turned and gestured to the northern gate. At his snappy motion, the spotlight was thrown towards the gate, before expanding to fully illuminate the area.

The archaic rattling of chains began echoing out. Hearing the familiar sound revved the crowd up as it always did. The gate lifted slowly. As it did, smoke came pouring out of the widened mouth. The audience’s sight was obscured as the whole area became flooded with it.

Still, their hearts were made to race as they caught the faint sound of footsteps and the illusory silhouette moving within. The swaying figure took a few steps into the ring before coming to a stop.

The seconds passed in dead silence as the crowd was enraptured by the lone figure in the smoke. Then, from within, Ralf’s Psi began moving. Using his telekinesis, he had the cloud swirl around him. Faster and faster, he had the whirlwind race, before he unleashed an omnidirectional telekinetic wave that instantly scattered the smoke cloud.

With the smoke cleared, Ralf’s form was fully revealed to the audience. Standing amidst the swirling winds, his earrings, coat and hair fluttered gently and majestically. Eyes shut, he wore a calm and collected expression, radiating an enigmatic aura that the crowd couldn’t help but be entranced by.

“Ah, that is….”

When more of the smoke cleared, the audience quickly noted the happening at Ralf’s rear. At the gate, they could see several items being thrust into the ring via telekinesis. The staff members worked swiftly and within seconds, everything was in position.

“...swords and barrels?”

On either side of the gate, three large wooden barrels were placed. And just in front of them, an equal number of swords were positioned, punctured tip first into the dirt.

*Creak*

Vomiting out all it needed to, the gate-like mouth began closing. Once it did, Ralf did a final mental check before resuming his stride. The crowd’s attention shifted back to him.

Ralf held their attention captive, with none able to pay the ransom. Jolting hearts with every step he took, he reached the centre of the ring. It was only when he did, that most people in the stands became aware that Ralf was currently alone in the ring, Vostel having long left.

‘3…2…1, now.’

Following the thought, Ralf’s eyelids slowly opened.

Fully open, his silvery-blue eyes were revealed to the world. Once exposed, the image of him the crowd held previously completely shattered. Given air, the mischievous light burning in his gaze was quickly noted. With the mask broken, Ralf tossed it aside. The cheeky smile he had been holding in, rushed onto his face.

The cool aura he radiated previously dissipated as it gave way to the playful aura currently on display. This abrupt shift in perception threw the crowd for a loop, but Ralf was far from done.

Ralf’s Psi moved in mass. It headed to the leftmost barrel. His telekinesis grabbed at the liquid inside and had it flow out speedily. The stream became a snake, which then slithered through the air until it circulated Ralf’s figure. Similar snakes followed until Ralf was thoroughly surrounded.

[Greetings,] Ralf’s voice suddenly sounded out.

The audience was taken aback by the unexpected address but quickly adjusted their minds to receive it.

[With it being my first time here, I thought I should officially introduce myself. My name is Ralf, Ralf…Fawkes-]

Fwwwwooossh!

At the infamous surname’s mention, the snakes became dragons; Ralf’s surroundings were set ablaze. The darkness was chased away as the streams burned brightly.

“Oh!”

“Whoa!”

“Ah!”

The crowd watched the show completely awestruck. Even those who had foreseen the fireworks from smelling the barrel’s contents still found themselves completely bedazzled by the flames - no even more than this, it was Ralf’s impeccable Psi control that garnered the most admiration.

As a psionic, Ralf leapt up several notches in the minds of the audience, and several notches more in the minds of the veteran psionics present. The show seemed simple, but it required a lot of technical skill.

Several rings formed around him, and each required constant maintenance to continue to burn as beautifully as they did. His Psi constantly and skillfully injected air and fuel into them, lengthening their lifespan. Fed as well as they were, the dragons swirled around his figure with delight.

Ralf smiled as he caught the reactions he provoked. Holding out his palm, he beckoned and a dragon closed in before condensing into a fireball.

Looking at the ease by which he wielded the element, there was no question in the crowd’s mind that the young man before them was indeed a Fawkes.

[I am Ralf Fawkes,] he repeated, [descendant of Kai Fawkes, and bearer of the Bloodline of Fire title. Though...] He let his words linger for a moment, then abruptly shut his hand. At the action, the fireball was extinguished. Following it, he swiped at the air with the same hand, and like the fireball, all flames were ruthlessly extinguished.

[...these things are not worth mentioning when compared to my true source of pride.]

Swoosh!

A sword flew in from the distance and made itself comfortable in his right hand. Ralf perched the blade on his shoulder and cast his gaze towards the crowd.

[Let it be known that…Ralf Fawkes is a member of the number one faction in the world, the Silver Path.]

His bold declaration incited a stir in the crowd. However, most of this stir came from the confusion of not knowing what Ralf was referring to.

Ralf nodded.

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[I see many of you are still ignorant of the name. I don’t blame you. The members of the Silver Path have kept to themselves till now. They’ve gotten too comfortable in the shadows,] he said, shaking his head with a look of disagreement before following up. [I’m not like them. My place is in the light. So, while you’re ignorant now, don’t worry, my flames will correct that very shortly. All will be enlightened about what the Silver Path is…and what its members are capable of,] he said, voice echoing promise.

Ralf flashed a slight smile then spun around. Doing a 180-degree turn, he began striding back to his gate. [Tonight, I’ll provide the first example…so watch very carefully.] He reached his previous position and turned again before looking towards Vostel. [Let’s get this show on the road. The fire in my blood burns in victory, and right now, it’s eager for more fuel.]

The audience ate up his arrogance, with cheers and smiles filling the arena in the passing seconds.

*Plop*

With a leap, Vostel returned to his centre spot. As he straightened his posture, the entire sandpit was once again fully lit up.

[That was Ralf Fawkes, folks,] his voice sounded again as the initial wave died down. [Quite an interesting young man, I’m sure everyone can agree on that.]

Cheers sounded in response.

Vostel smiled as he showered in it. [Okay okay, enough time has passed, let’s begin the promised special event and final match of tonight’s proceedings.] He turned to the southern gate and gestured, [Send in the fighters.]

Fighters?

The term immediately grabbed the audience’s attention. As the gate lifted, they grappled with the idea.

“That makes sense,” one audience member said. “With how he dominated earlier, fighting one-on-one against someone in four hundreds will just be another stomp.”

This line of reasoning quickly took off in the stands. After the short video and Ralf’s fire performance, it just made sense to them. However, as the number of fighters entering the ring continued to increase, the crowd’s minds were made to boggle.

[Yes, your eyes aren’t fooling you, folks. It is, as you see it. The last match will be a one-versus-eighteen person match, the first of its kind, which will see Ralf Fawkes, our newest fighter face off against the other fighters who have already fought this evening.]

Stunned silence followed the announcement. A second later, the venue was flooded with a buzzing noise made up by the audience’s speculative chatter.

“One versus eighteen….that was an option?”

“He’s different sure, but there’s no way he could beat that many, right?”

“No way! They’re all Rank 4s, there’s no way that he’ll win, no way.”

“Did his confidence go to his head? There’s just no way he’ll be able to win. Who requested this match anyway?”

As if responding to the last question, Vostel said, [A one versus eighteen person match sounds insane right? Well, Ralf here thinks otherwise. He requested that it be arranged for his debut match, and we, swayed by his confidence/insanity, set it up. Regardless of the outcome, I’m sure the audience will be in for a memorable experience nonetheless. Now, without further ado, we’ll begin the betting period.] Snapping his fingers, the usual projections materialised overhead.[Choose well, and good luck.] After saying this, Vostel glanced at both gates before making his exit from the ring.

‘Hmm, they seem even madder than before,’ Ralf thought as he took in his opponents’ faces.

The ‘arrogance’ that had set them off was precisely Ralf’s request. They were triggered by the fact that a new face like Ralf dared to make such an ‘insulting’ request.

Ralf welcomed their anger. Emotion had the ability to blind and blunt, but it could also sharpen. And taking in the lights swirling in the groups’ eyes, he could see the latter in action. A resolve burned in their gazes; they were determined to punish the arrogant youth before them.

‘Excellent.’

His lips curled up as he imagined the thoughts running through their heads.

While Ralf was fanning the flames of enmity below, frenzied discussions took place above.

“He sure looks confident, but I’m not too sure,” Chloe turned to her lover, “hey, think he can do it?”

Vincent’s face showed a complicated expression at the question. “I don’t think he’ll go down without a fight…but I think he’ll go down in the end. I don’t doubt that Ralf is incredible, but he’s bitten off more than he can chew here.”

The Duke’s eyes moved to Ralf’s opponents. “Those eighteen aren’t exactly the cream of the crop, but they’re all still White Hawk soldiers. They’re from different squads and divisions, but they’ll still be able to coordinate quite well. Fighting eighteen random psionics at once is already extremely difficult. And in such a confined space, the difficulty skyrockets.”

“What about the Red Star?”

Vincent shook his head at Chloe’s comment. “No, while he technically faced off against more people, this is totally different. Quality-wise, those gangsters can’t compare to trained soldiers, and from how the story was described, the element of surprise was his most lethal weapon. Here, everyone knows that he’s strong, are fully alert and will go all out from the get-go. This is a totally different ball game.”

“I hear you…and yet I still feel like there’s something more to it. You feel the same way too, right gramps?”

Addressed, Walton paused his cup’s trajectory towards his lips before offering a nod.

“Indeed. From everything you’ve told me, I don’t believe that he so thoroughly overestimated his own abilities that he would propose a match he would certainly lose in. I don’t think that’s the case - or rather, I’m certain it’s not.”

“Certain?”

Vincent and Chloe’s brows ticked up at the strong claim. Turning back, they desired an immediate follow-up, however, tea-sipping was prioritised by the elegantly dressed old man.

“Aah, Estio never lets me down.”

“Enough about your tea, what makes you so certain?” Chloe grilled.

“If you’re asking me the exact ‘how’, then I’ve got no answers,” Walton shrugged. “Battling one person is very different from battling many. To navigate through the chaos that such a battle brings requires a lot of experience. Ralf is certainly talented, but talent alone, even monstrous talent can’t bridge the gap. To best eighteen well-trained foes, he’d need to have both in spades and then some. It would be different if the rank difference was great enough and in his favour, but that’s not the case. Even if we take his telepathic inheritance story as fact, he’ll still be lacking.”

Walton floated the empty mug to the coaster on the table before him.

“That’s why I’m unsure of the ‘how’. However, I know there’s definitely a ‘how’ somewhere. Whether that ‘how’ ultimately works is up in the air, but I’m certain he didn’t propose the match to lose.”

As he said this, he got up and joined the couple on the balcony. Leaning over it, his eyes moved to the section Samuel and co were seated in.

“The key to my conclusion is over yonder.”

The pair followed his gaze and upon catching sight of Hana, all dots were connected.

Sensing their enlightenment, Walton nodded.

“Yes, his mother. Ralf is a simple one, with a simple desire, to impress his mother. Watching the video footage from this morning made that clear enough. After every victory, his eyes always moved to get her reaction. I can’t say everything he does is motivated by this simple desire, but I imagine most of what we’ve seen has been, even that performance earlier. So think…would someone so intent on showing off to his mother purposely place himself in a situation where he could potentially embarrass himself. If she wasn’t here, I would believe he’s just in it for the thrill, he looks like the type to gamble. But with her here, I’m almost certain that he’ll somehow win.”

The pair’s eyes flickered at the words.

While the Duke’s booth was considering both possibilities, those in the crowd had long abandoned the juggle.

‘Whoa, the odds are crazy.’ Delight surged in Ralf as he took in the final values. ‘Aha, we’ll be winning big tonight.’

[Okay, the betting period is….over,] Vostel announced as he glanced skyward. [Oh, looks as one-sided as my love life haha- ahum. I hope everyone is happy with their choices. Now then, fighters ready yourselves.]

At his usual spot outside the ring, Vostel performed the final checks before making the announcement everybody had been waiting for.

[Fighters ready yourself. Now, on my call, three two one…battle start!]

And thus, the one versus eighteen battle began.

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