Chapter 90: Chapter 89 : Combat Arena (Part 1)

At the heart of Popleigh, a circular area around five hundred metres in diameter could be found. At the centre of this space, mostly covered by neatly trimmed grass, one would find a giant silvery dome, some sixty metres in diameter. This was precisely the venue for the famed Combat Arena.

Parking the car in the small parking lot, the group of four joined hundreds of others in the march towards the dome. Electric energy buzzed throughout the crowd as people went about discussing the matchups and fighters with increasing vigour and frenzy. Taking in this from amidst the crowd, the duo’s hearts couldn’t help but surge in anticipation.

“Mm, are those battle arenas as well,” Ralf asked as he caught the distant sights.

Behind and around the dome, several primitive-looking circular shaped rings could be seen, collectively forming a horseshoe.

“Oh, you can see it from here, impressive,” Samuel complimented as he had to squint. “Those are the outside rings. You see, the Combat Arena doesn’t just allow anyone to participate. You have to meet a certain standard. Those rings are for qualifying purposes. If you’re good enough, you can clear them in a day. If not, you’ll have to fight in those rings until your skills are sufficiently sharp. It’s empty now but usually, you’ll see people fighting throughout the day and night.”

“I see,” Ralf said simply before focusing inward. [[A good sign, we have.]]

[[Indeed.]]

The group passed through the pillar-ladened entranceway. The inside was well lit, spacious and clean. Dozens of yellow uniformed men and women directed the flow of traffic into various streams, which then headed deeper into the building.

“Ha, you think he has a shot?”

“Not only do I think he has one, my money does too. I’m going all in.”

“Really, you’re crazy. He’s going to win again, nothing can stop him.”

Hearing the conversation, Ralf perked up. “There’s betting here,” he turned to Greg and asked.

“Yeah, and speaking of that, Samuel, want to have some fun?”

“Sure, I’m up for it. Ralf, Hana, want in on it too?”

Hana shook her head. “I’m good.”

“Me too, it’s not like I know anyone here so it’ll be pointless.”

“I see, then it’ll just be us then,” Samuel said, turning to his old buddy. “Just give us a moment, we have to register by the counter.”

Saying so, the middle-aged pair headed toward the lengthy counter. Seeing the faces the employees showed at their approach, it was clear that the pair was regulars and well-liked. When they came back some ten seconds later, the two now had a telepathic tether attached to them.

“These are special connections,” Greg explained as he noticed the interest in the Fawkes pair’s eyes. “Those who have an account here can request one. Before every match, there’s a betting period and with this, one can make their bets with ease.”

“Neat.”

Greg nodded. “Okay, let’s get a move on.”

The group entered the stream. The line moved quickly thanks to the ticket checker’s swiftness, and the group strode through a short corridor before it opened up to an enormous space. Following Samuel’s lead, Ralf’s senses began exploring.

The actual fighting ring was a circular sandy pit some thirty metres in diameter, so similar to the ones outside, but larger. The ring was indented into the ground, five metres deep with cream-coloured stone walls making up the circumference, only broken up by the two large ‘gates’ that stood at opposite ends. Moving up, one could see plenty of people in uniforms around it, stationed at their assigned spots.

Moving further up, one arrived at the row upon rows of seats. The seats varied in quality as one moved up. It started as a stairway variety, then turned into ones you would see in a stadium before finally becoming those you’d see in an opera house. Ralf’s group headed to the third section - or rather the fourth section. Instead of joining the masses, Ralf and co seated themselves in one of the ten sealed private booths.

Taking his comfy seat, Ralf’s eyes moved to the booth directly opposite. It was different from the others, bigger, more extravagant and importantly, was positioned two metres above all others.

Eyes settling on it, Ralf captured a blonde-haired blue-eyed well-dressed gentleman with a female and male at either side of him, both of which were radiating a Rank 6 Telekinetic aura. Taking in everything, he was fairly certain about who the owner of this booth was. Samuel confirmed his thoughts a second later.

“You’ve guessed it, that’s him, the Duke. Told you right.”

“That you did. You said he liked Psi battles, does he fight himself?”

“I’m sure he would like to, but he can’t, he’s a norin after all.”

“I see,” Ralf went quiet for a few seconds as he continued staring at the trio. “How about those two by his side?”

“No, they don’t- or rather they can’t. This Combat Arena is limited to Rank 5s and below,” the Senior Advisor explained.

“Oh,” Ralf’s eyes lit up at the revelation.

[[Rank 5, huh, if it’s just that, these waters might be swimmable after all.]]

Ralf nodded at his other self’s words.

“Ralf, Hana, feel free to order anything. The snacks and beverages here are pretty good. You’ll need it when watching this stuff, trust me.”

The Fawkes pair gladly took Greg’s offer and quickly filled their hands with stuff. Samuel and Greg did the same.

“Thanks, Greg. I’ll pay you back.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Greg waved his hand dismissively, “that’s chump change. I’ll leave this place with at least a hundred gold richer from the bets, ahaha…”

“Oh, it’s starting.”

At Samuel’s words, Ralf’s attention quickly shifted to the ring. A loud thud sounded as a person suddenly dropped in from above. The black suit wearing middle-aged man straightened his posture and then clapped his hands. At the actions, an ocean of telepathic energy swarmed the audience.

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“Just accept it,” Greg said towards Hana and Ralf.

The pair didn’t resist it, and with a mental click, were connected to the local network.

“This is for?” Ralf asked.

“For a lot of things, but mostly to experience the battles,” Greg began explaining. “To make for the best possible viewing experience, the Combat Arena makes use of many lenses in its production. Ordinary folks, both unenhanced and enhanced, Clairvoyants and those with special types of vision; all of them act as lenses through which the crowd can experience the matches. Telepaths transfer these lenses’ real-time sensory data to the crowd’s minds in a cinema-like fashion. Of course, you can choose to snap the connection and watch the match with your own senses, but you can’t use your Psi to observe the battle. So unless you’re a psionic that has enhanced senses, there’s no way to clearly make out what’s going on. And even then, it’s still a worse experience. Well, you’ll see.”

[[A cinema-like experience, huh.]]

[[I’ll be the judge of that,]] Rei said, though just like his other self, his anticipation couldn’t help but surge at the words.

While they were exchanging these words, the bald middle-aged man in the centre of the ring did his final checks. Snapping his eyelids open, his voice then echoed through the audience’s minds.

[Good evening and welcome ladies and gentlemen. My name is Vostel, and I’ll be your announcer for tonight’s affair. Tonight is a special night! Firm or Flimsy has come around again folks, excited? I sure am! Now, what does it entail? Twenty-five one-on-one duels between the Combat Arena’s top fifty fighters, that’s what! Very exciting stuff, truly!]

The announcer delivered his words with an energetic cadence which caused the crowd to naturally become frenzied with excitement.

Vostel smiled.

[The crowd’s a lively one tonight, excellent excellent. Very well, let’s not delay any longer. Let’s begin.]

With another clap, the seating area was plunged into darkness, leaving only the sandy pit lit up. Then, a second later, a gate began opening.

The thick wooden gate drew up slowly. At its bottom, a row of metal spikes, which had been slotted neatly in the holes in the floor. It appeared no different than a beast opening its hungry maw. And this image was strengthened by the ‘growling’ sounds the pulley mechanism made as it lifted the gate.

‘Could have used electricity or Psi, but chose this ancient method for effect…this Duke and I might get along.’

While Ralf was thinking this, the first fighter entered the ring.

[Rank 50 fighter, Julian Savous steps into the ring, folks. The young man is on a hot streak of late. Since being stopped short in his Challenger Series, he’s won his last seven bouts and for the first time, entered the top fifty. He’s on the climb, no doubt. Will he climb further or will his opponent take issue with that. And speaking of that, let’s introduce our next fighter.]

The next fighter made his entrance, and what an entrance it was. Unlike Julian’s lacklustre entrance, Tony’s was super flashy. The white light shining down on him became red at a barrier attributation.

Doused with it, Julian swaggered forward while upbeat theme music played in the audience’s mind. The crowd erupted in cheers at his entrance. As this was happening, the director switched to all his best angles - which happened to be every angle.

[You hear that folks, Rank 49 he may be, but Tony Algera is number 1 in many hearts here tonight. In a beauty contest, he would surely trump his opponent, but what about the contest before him. Will he win, or will he end up another rung on Julian’s climb? Only time will tell. Now, as usual, we’ll have a minute of intermission for betting.]

‘Oh, that’s so cool.’

After the introductions were done, both fighters’ basic profiles were projected into the minds of the audience. It was large and appeared no different than a hologram as it floated above the gates. The profiles weren’t alone in occupying the air; there was also a digital-like countdown and a betting odds display that changed in real-time.

The duo was very impressed by it all.

[[So game-like, pretty neat. To cast these illusions, they must have very skilled Telepaths in their mitts,]] Rei commented.

[[Must be,]] Ralf agreed with a slight nod. [[Hey, who you do have winning this?]]

[[They’re both High Tier Rank 5s and both have around fifty matches with basically the same win rate so…Julian.]]

[[Reason?]]

[[As soon as that announcer made that comment about looks, a fire lit up in his eyes. And look, it’s still burning now. I’m thinking that fire carries him to victory.]]

[[I see. Since you’re so confident, let’s have a competition. We’ll go back and forth in choosing first. The person who gets more of the winners correct, wins. The winner gets the right to request something of the loser. Sounds fair?]]

[[Nothing weird?]]

[[Nothing weird,]] Ralf assured.

[[Then, let’s do it.]]

As they agreed, the countdown entered its last ten seconds. Following it, the projections were done away with and a Psi barrier was raised from the ring’s circumference to the ceiling fifteen metres up. To the psionics present, a blue filter was cast on everything within the ring.

It made for an annoying viewing experience, but a second later, this was amended as alternative angles came pouring into their minds. From within the ring, a Clairvoyant’s Second Sight did a lap around the two fighters, capturing them from all angles and distances. At this time, Rank 6 Telekinetic Psi floated over to the fighters before making itself comfortable on their figures.

“This place takes safety very seriously,” Greg said as he noticed Ralf staring. “ In the thousands of fights that have taken place in that ring, there’s not been a single death let alone a permanent injury. All injuries incurred in the ring are treated by the White Hawk’s top medics free of charge. The Duke loves battle, but he’s gone to great lengths to keep things as safe as possible.”

Samuel nodded and added, “The Psi barrier to protect the crowd, the Psi on the fighter’s bodies to tank the match deciding attack, and several strong Telekinetics, Onics and Combat Telepaths are on standby to instantly disable the fighters should it come to that; many measures have been taken to keep to this place up and about.”

The explanation pleased the duo, with Ralf voicing their collective approval. “Good to know.”

Greg rubbed his beard. “Eyes peeled, it’s finally starting.”

[Okay ladies and gentlemen, the time is upon us,]] Vostel said, now outside the ring on a special podium. [[fighters, ready yourselves. Now, on my call, three two one…battle start!]

Vostel’s roar was accompanied by the sound of a struck gong. The Psi wall separating the two fighters dematerialised into particles. A moment later, the fighters set off, both causing an explosion of sand in their wake.

The first battle began.

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