Chapter 92: Chapter 91 : To Qualify (Part 1)

Samuel’s car coasted through Popleigh’s lit up streets. Ralf rolled down his window and peeked his head out, letting the cool nightly breeze brush past his face. His lengthy pale locks were sent into a frolic.

The group were heading back to Blue Wing District, this time to Samuel’s Manor. They would be spending the night at his place, as was discussed and agreed upon earlier.

Hana pulled her head back into the car’s confines. Opening her eyelids, her gaze drifted towards her son. A smile naturally surfaced on her face as she took in the simplistic bliss plastered over his expression.

Noticing Hana’s gaze, Ralf pulled himself back into the vehicle and bumped his shoulders into hers.

“Tonight was pretty exciting, really heart-pumping stuff, right mother,” he said, wearing a light smile.

“Yeah, it was amazing.” Hana agreed. “I was so impressed with it all. They were all so strong and skilled. I thought I had gotten pretty good over the years but it seems I was mistaken. There’s no way I could last even five seconds against any one of them.”

She bumped Ralf’s shoulder lightly before glancing his way. “What about you Ralf…how would you fare against them?” she asked, intrigued clear in her eyes. Watching the battles, this question had continued to gnaw at her.

At the question, the middle-aged pair at the front had their bodies tense up. In truth, they too were dying to know the answer as well.

“How would I fare against them,” Ralf rolled his shoulders at the question. “Isn’t it obvious, I’d beat them all… they’re no match for me.”

“No match!” Greg exclaimed from the front, his head snapped back, face covered in shock.

The comment hit Samuel just as hard, but unlike his old friend, the other had the presence of mind to keep his eyes on the road. Still, the steering wheel was made to suffer at his intense grip.

“Even Ruben?” Samuel followed up with.

“Even him, no match.” Ralf’s nonchalant response was made without any delay or hesitation.

Hearing the youth’s bold claim, the middle-aged pair shared a look. Greg composed himself before speaking. “Then Ralf, will you be participating in the Combat Arena?”

“Of course,” Ralf nodded. “Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. I’ve talked big, so I’ll back it up…plus,” Ralf bumped into Hana’s shoulder again, “mom, you’ve never really seen me in action. I’ll show you something far more interesting than tonight.”

Hana’s face beamed and she wrapped him up in her embrace. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Meanwhile, the middle-aged pair’s gazes flashed with sparks of excitement.

“Excellent! That’s excellent, Ralf. Leave the arrangements to me,” the Senior Advisor said spiritedly, his moustache quivering no different than a living creature on fire. “I’ll inform the Combat Arena of your application before the night’s end. You’ll be able to do the qualifying matches as early as tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks, Samuel, you’ve helped a lot, I’ll make it up to you. Oh, I know, when we get back to the house, I’ll show you something very interesting.”

“Oh.” Samuel’s eyes lit up and the car immediately picked up speed.

Five minutes later, the group reached his manor. True to his words, Samuel had a subordinate send Ralf’s application to the Combat Arena. A few minutes later, a message of approval was received, to the group’s collective delight.

The group was active for the next two hours. They played simple card games while chatting about the earlier battles. Samuel, Hana and Greg were particularly interested in Ralf’s insights. Upon receiving them, the trio was left awed by the stark difference between what Ralf could perceive compared to themselves. His thorough explanation revealed to them the many hidden layers of battle that lay below the surface. The three were engrossed by his words.

Aside from this, Ralf made good on his word and showed Greg and Samuel a few nifty techniques, the most notable one being False Speaker.

The pair's minds were blown as they heard the music exit from the Psi contraption. And on that note, Ralf and Hana bid the pair farewell. They headed to their assigned rooms and called it a night. In an unfamiliar place, Ralf decided to catch some ‘zzz’s the old fashion way while employing Bubble Trouble. But before doing this, he traded some words with his other self.

[[Charlie, Stuart, Morris, Martel and I guess that gang leader; where would you rank them?]]

[[Charlie would barely make the top fifty, at best, he’d be rank 45. Martel is in the top half of the thirties and Morris the bottom half, though he might be late twenties. Stuart is probably top twenty, maybe top ten. With the little we saw, I can’t say for sure. As for the gang leader, probably somewhere in the thirties as well,]] Rei said.

Ralf rubbed his chin with a look of agreement on his face. [[I see, that sounds about right. I can’t wait to have my turn. The world shall know the might of the Silver Path.]]

[[Well said, but you can’t cheese it.]]

[[Of course not. That would just drain all the fun out of everything. No, I’ll put on a show, the greatest show this Combat Arena - nay this world has ever seen,]] declaring this intention, an intense light beamed from Ralf’s eyes. His body began fidgeting on the bed. [[Ah, thinking about it got me all fired up, hey, let’s do a few duels.]]

[[Sure sure.]]

***

The next morning…

*Vroom*

After a scrumptious breakfast, the group of four headed out. Their destination; the Combat Arena.

“…so the cars from the Silver Path have radios in this space here?” Samuel gestured to said space with his left hand.

“Yeah, they do. There’s all sorts of stations one can choose from, and if you don’t want to listen to them, you can play your own music by connecting your phone or using a…memory stick or disk.”

“Phone, memory stick, disk…simply amazing,” Samuel muttered, completely awestruck.

“Ralf, you said a phone can be used to communicate with anyone else on the planet, right,” Greg took over.

“Right.”

“Why didn’t they give you one, you know to stay in contact and such?”

Ralf shrugged. “Who knows, the faction’s thoughts are unknown, even to me.”

Greg rubbed his beard with a ponderous look. “I see. Hana, they didn’t give you anything?”

“Uh, no they didn’t.” Hana averted her gaze as she answered, her voice losing volume. She, unlike Ralf, was a straight shooter. She didn’t like to lie, nor could she. Still, knowing the importance of keeping his Unique identity a secret, she played her part.

“Ah, I see.”

Greg noted her odd behaviour but didn’t press any further. He knew it was not his place to. While he couldn’t believe all of Ralf’s claims about the Silver Path, he understood that it was definitely real, and something far beyond common sense. He would simply wait for more information to trickle down towards him. It had been coming at a steady rate, so he couldn’t complain.

He turned back to Ralf, who had his head rest on Hana’s lap. “Since we don’t have one, boy, give us some music will ya.”

“Any requests?”

“I liked the flute one.”

“Coming up then.”

Materialising False Speaker, a gentle melody played out. The sound delighted those in the car while simultaneously confusing those outside of it. This continued till the car reached the Combat Arena’s ‘entrance’.

“Mister Auburn, good day. They’ve already gotten started, go on in.”

Getting the go-ahead from the uniformed guard, Samuel directed the car forward. Taking one of the many parking spots, he and the others alighted before moving towards the closest outer ring.

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“Ralf, how you feeling, percentage-wise,” Greg asked.

“Hmm, after that lap pillow, I’m at a million percent,” he said as he rubbed his still warm cheek.

His words brought smiles to the others’ faces.

“Haha, I see, good good. That’s what I like to hear.”

As the group closed in on the leftmost ring, the crowd there, took notice with a few even approaching.

“Samuel, Greg, you came.” Noticing the familiar faces, Davy greeted warmly and with glittering eyes. “Oh,” shifting over, the middle-aged soldier was momentarily stunned, “ah, who’s your companions?”

Samuel’s lips curled up as he took in the stupefied look on the other’s face, completely forgetting that a similar expression had adorned his face not too long ago.

“The beautiful lady is Hana Fawkes, a multi-talented artist and sculptor. And this strangely dressed young man is her beloved son, Ralf Fawkes.”

“Fawkes?” Davy and several others had their brows rise at the surname’s mention.

Samuel nodded. “Yes, they’re that Fawkes, right Ralf.”

“Yeah, Bloodline of Fire and all that,” Ralf responded casually.

Davy took stock of the young man before him. The words in Samuel’s message last night passed through his head at this moment, causing his brows to furrow up. ‘This is the ‘solution’ he spoke of…he’s just a Rank 3.’

Catching the blue membrane which coated the other, Davy couldn’t help but be disappointed. In the soldier’s mind, Ralf was already disqualified; his low rank made him a non-starter. ‘What will he even do? Use his surname to scare others away - no wait! I see I see…Samuel and Greg must be playing tricks on me, the real fighter must be the woman. Ah, I nearly fell for it. Ha, nice try.’

Racing through several emotions, Davy’s expression finally stabilised. He clapped his hands. “Okay, you four, find a seat in the stands. We’ll call you up when it’s time,” he ended his words with a cheeky smile, to let them know he had seen through their trick.

The group collectively titled their head at his strangeness, still, none questioned it further. Shrugging it aside, they kept it moving.

“Okay then, let’s enjoy the show in the meantime.”

With Greg’s words, the group moved all the way to the other side of the ring where no one else was seated and plopped down on the ladder-like seats.

“As considerate as ever,” Hana complimented with a head pat as a comfy Psi chair formed below her.

The group watched the fight taking place in the ring. They were connected to the local telepathic network and were allowed to watch the battle through multiple perspectives.

All matches, both outer ring and main ring matches were recorded. The production level was much lower than it was during the main stage battles, but the group appreciated it nonetheless.

Swoosh!

The left hook rushed to the heavily cracked armour. It tore through and collided against the protective Psi beneath.

[Match over. Gideon wins. Good showing you two. Now, let’s continue. The next fighters are Levi and…Samuel, send your fighter,] Davy said, before directing a knowing gaze at Hana.

Samuel’s fingers moved to the base of his nose before spreading out along his moustache until a wide smile adorned his face. “You heard him, Ralf, give them hell.”

“Will do.” Ralf stood up. “Mom, I’ll be quick.”

“Sure.”

Hana’s Psi chair was dismissed as Ralf retrieved his Psi. Back at a hundred percent, he leapt into the sandy ring.

Plop!

‘Hmm, the sand’s surface is harder than it looks. Wonder if it’s specialised sand?’

[Ralf…move to the red end,] Davy instructed.

‘Wait, he’s actually going to fight? What’s Samuel thinking?!’

With the question posed, Davy sought to find an answer, but after locking onto his target, the soldier had more questions than answers. ‘What’s with that look, Greg too, why are they so confident?’ Unable to conjure a reasonable explanation for the sight, he shrugged. ‘Whatever, time will tell. Let’s see what you’re really made of, Fawkes descendant, fire or hot air?’

“Wait, that get-up…you’re that kid from last night, aren’t you?” Upon landing in the ring, Levi immediately recognized Ralf. There was no way he could not.

The mismatched colours, gloves and earrings made Ralf stand out quite a bit. The strange outfit was noted and even became the topic of discussion for Levi and his companions.

“You saw me here yesterday?”

“Yeah, I did. So, why are you here?”

“Huh, what do you mean? I’m here to compete, well, to qualify to compete,” Ralf replied with a head tilt.

Levi’s face suddenly lost its friendliness. “Are you playing jokes? After seeing the fights yesterday, you, a mere Rank 3 thought you could compete, just like that,” his eyes narrowed and his Rank 4 Telekinetic Psi began flaring up.

In the face of these words, Ralf’s lips curled up. “Yep, I did. And not just compete, I’m here to totally crush the competition.”

*Clench*

The words instantly incensed Levi and the crowd of fighters. Most of them had been here for months, with some having been in the outer ring qualification process for years already.

To hear a youth, and a low ranking psionic one at that, make arrogant remarks so casually set them off. Where a moment ago there were indifferent gazes, glares were now sent Ralf’s way.

“I see I see I see. I know your type well enough. Don’t worry, I’ll educate you before it’s too late. Arrogance is a dangerous commodity and right now, it’s stacked heavily on your shoulders. But don’t worry,” his fist and palm collided, “my fists will surely lighten that load for you.”

Ralf’s eyes became crescent-shaped at the insinuation. “I see, then please try your best. Go all out.”

Ending their verbal exchange, Davy’s voice rang out. Ralf and Levi were run through the fight procedure and rules as was customary before any fight took place.

Conditions were agreed upon, and both fighters got a piece of Rank 6 Psi from Davy as emergency protection. Ralf wasn’t exactly comfortable with another’s Psi on him, but he bore with it and ended up slotting it at his nape.

[Okay, fighters ready yourselves. The battle begins in 3 2 1…go!]

Swoosh!

Swoosh!

The first qualifying match began.

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