Shattered Remnants of a Dream

69. A Detestable Effort

High above the stadium seats in the tournament complex, Dr. Phileas scooted over into an empty seat facing the aisle, allowing Grayson to sit down next to Frank and Edward.

"Thanks for dropping by!" the doctor called out. "This tournament really has been something so far, hasn't it?"

"Indeed. So, what do you think of our culture?" Grayson asked, plaguing Edward and Frank with his serpentine eyes. "I'm sure it's been full of many surprises."

We never escaped.

The words echoed in Frank's mind as he stared back at Grayson Lee, the man who had brought his life to ruin.

All along...we've been right in the palm of his hand.

"We've...certainly seen a lot of amazing things." Frank managed to croak out, turning to Edward. "Right, Ed?"

Edward shook with a mixture of anger and fear. "I, uh...yeah, some stuff was pretty strange at first, but...it has been an educational experience..."

"That's very good to hear," Grayson said. "I hope you stay for the remaining battles as well. The tournament should be running until about midnight. It would really be a shame if you left before the grand finale."

"Oh, we'll be here!" Dr. Phileas said happily, as he watched Grayson stand. "Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm rather busy. I just stopped by to say hello." Grayson glanced back one more time to Edward and Frank. "You're both very lucky that the doctor decided to take you under his wing. I always find him to be the perfect host."

Frank and Edward nodded slowly.

"Goodbye for now." Grayson stepped back out into the aisle. "Do enjoy the rest of the tournament. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon." He winked, then walked off.

Phileas re-situated himself into his seat. "Such a charming fellow, isn't he?"

Phileas' comment hardly fazed Edward and Frank – the intense despair and doom that now filled their hearts was beyond all words.

"And there's the first strike!" Trunculo's voice echoed through the arena. "Rezzo has gone on the offensive!"

In the center of the arena, Rezzo's long pike deflected off Saffron's armor like a hummingbird slamming into a brick wall.

Saffron frowned. "Fie, I say, fie! Such a poor swing will do naught. Thou art wielding thy weapon with a range absurd, and thy brandish is ill-prepared. Thrust, not swing, shall guide thy halberd to the armor of thy foes!"

"What is this?!" Trunculo shouted. "It seems as if Saffron is giving his opponent fighting tips!"

Rezzo looked unamused, but obediently adjusted the grip on his pike and thrust forward. This time, the blade of his weapon penetrated the top layer of Saffron's armor, leaving a small, yet visible cut in its wake.

"A hit! A very palpable hit!" Saffron cheered and unsheathed a ruby-crested bastard sword from his back. "Bravo, dear Rezzo. Palpable, but weak indeed."

Rezzo tried to back up, but Saffron covered the distance between them in no time.

"Alas, thou hast failed!" Saffron announced, raising his blade and slicing down through the lizardman's body in a single strike. Two bloody halves fell to the ground, splattering the arena with dark mutant viscera.

Trunculo leapt up and cheered. "Woah! Check out that deathblow, folks! He's gonna feel that one in the morning – oh wait, he's dead!"

"'Tis a pity." Saffron sheathed his sword and began to trot off. "Yet another buzz-kill."