Shattered Remnants of a Dream

57. The Death Jam Exordium

By eight o'clock in the morning, 4003 registered competitors had been ushered in 40 different 100-person groups around the Belmarcian Tournament complex. Among them stood Vance, Cliff, and Eden, each well-rested and ready to begin their next mission. Vance wore another Averyl-manufactured black cloak, while Eden was clad in a long orange mesh shirt over a white tank top and matching shorts. Cliff, of course, wore his same brown duster as always.

"This place is huge." Vance stared up at the sheer metal walls of the monolithic facility, so high that it blocked out the sun. "How big is it?"

"Although the arena itself is only the size of a normal sports stadium, if you include the surrounding complex and its underground chambers, it's probably even bigger than the Guild," Cliff answered.

While all the participants looked humanoid, some had grafted mechanical parts onto their bodies to try to gain an edge. Others were musclebound, eight-foot giants, while still others were shrouded in so much equipment that it was hard to tell what they truly were.

"What the hell is that?" Vance asked, pointing over to a gelatinous blob with a dozen differently-shaped mouths covering the exterior of its pudding-like body. "Is it even alive?"

"Any non-humanoid life form you see is either the result of genetic mutation, or some kind of psynergy experiment," Cliff replied. "It may sound boring, but remember, the humanity was supposedly created in God's image. Therefore, people may have different shades of skin and hair and speak different languages through dimensions, but everyone's mostly human."

"Riiight," Vance muttered, eying the grotesque thing with disgust.

After a few dirty looks from some staff members who had witnessed Azuka's assault on the registration booth, the Knights were escorted to the meeting station for applicants #3901-4003.

"I feel like a prisoner." Vance stared around. "And the scenery isn't helping much."

Cliff studied the vast, empty lot that encompassed them. "This must be the farthest end of the tournament complex. There are four long branches from the center that spread out around the city, like an X."

"So what are we gonna do?" Vance asked impatiently. "Race to the finish?"

"I wonder..."

"Cliff, Vance," Eden whispered and motioned to a large man on the edge of the crowd. "That guy's been watching us all day, and I can feel his psynergy. It's smoky...polluted."

Cliff followed her gaze. "He doesn't seem like too big of a deal. You're right, though. He's trying to look away now, but he was definitely staring."

Vance looked around, trying to find who the other two were so interested in. Finally, he spotted him: a bulky man clad in a large utility vest over a pale yellow undershirt. Below the top of his blond mullet were hunting goggles, and he held matching tire irons in his hands.

"Do we know him?" Vance asked Cliff.

Cliff shook his head. "Remember, unprovoked assaults are always the most unpredictable."

Vance, Cliff, and Eden stood and watched as the man slipped into the crowd, hovering around them like a bloodthirsty shark. As he moved to the side, the wild hairstyles of other fighters blocked their view.

"Watch out," Eden warned, "he's coming."

Vance charged up psynergy into his fists, an action that garnered attention from some of the other competitors.

"What's going on?" a muffled voice from the crowd shouted. "Someone's charging up!"

"Hey, what the?!" another voice shouted as the man with the mullet jumped out from the crowd, aiming his weapons toward Cliff's head.