Ibeos: What If? "Lost in My Own Fantasy"

Chapter 2. Leap of Faith

Entering the arena was surprisingly straightforward, lacking the usual ticket checks of a typical sports tournament. The air was alive with the crowd's roar and the shouts of hawkers selling candied nuts and spiced wine. Their excitement was palpable as hundreds hurried to secure the best vantage points. A rich tapestry of smells enveloped me—the sharp, pungent scent of livestock combined with the sweet, tantalizing aroma of cinnamon and spiced wine. Navigating through the dense crowd proved challenging; the heads of many spectators loomed above my almost six-foot stature—fine, five eleven—and blurred faces merged into a sea of colors without my glasses.

I figured my best bet was to get in the stands, close to the action. Hopefully, I wasn't too late to catch Zedeth's match. Pushing through the large archways of the arena into the sunlit seating, I finally squeezed into a spot beside a massive polar-bear folk whose immense frame dwarfed even the tallest humans around. Her fur, a brilliant white, bristled in the gentle breeze.

"Excuse me," she said in a soft, unexpectedly gentle voice, "first time at the Festival of the Gods?" Curiosity and a hint of amusement softened her gaze as she peered down at me.

"...yeah," I mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze, still not quite used to the surrealness of a talking bear. "It's a bit overwhelming."

She chuckled, the sound rich and warm, while nodding in agreement. "Just wait till the matches start."

But these were no ordinary matches; they were the fulcrum on which the fate of thousands teetered. The thought of Zedeth, unwittingly pivotal in a potential cascade of destructive events I had penned, haunted me. How many lives hung in the balance of his victory? The idea of countless lives, caught in the crossfire of my own creation, spurred a desperation that felt as suffocating as the thick air around me.

After settling onto the stiff stone seat, a daunting thought hit me: what would I even say to Zedeth? He'd be up against three demonic-looking lizards, fully absorbed in the battle, likely tuning out the crowd. I considered my options. Yelling insults or startling revelations could backfire spectacularly. I was just as likely to get a firebolt hurled my way, as I was his attention. As I pondered, the arena's roar washed over me, reminding me of the futility of my initial plan.

Shifting uncomfortably while contemplating for what seemed like eons, I thought of the alternative. Here I was, worried about reaching Zedeth, when I should be focusing on surviving whatever came next. Could I really alter the course of events with a shout from the stands? Doubtful. I'd be drowned out by the haze of the crowd. The ground already vibrated subtly with the anticipation of thousands.

Then, a bold idea struck: What if I jumped into the arena now? It was relatively safe—no fights had begun, and all eyes would certainly be on me. Plus, knowing Greca's justice system, I'd likely just get arrested, which might give me a chance to talk directly to the Archmagi Centauri.

But what about the others? Ranpo, Juliet, or, god forbid, Montsuma. The potential unknowns gnawed at my consciousness. My hands clenched the cold stone of the seat edge, a nervous sweat breaking out across my brow. Looking around, I noted the elaborate decorations that adorned the coliseum—flags bearing ancient symbols fluttered above. The festive air was quickly becoming charged, electric.

"Looks like it's about to start," the polar-bear remarked, nodding toward the center of the arena where two attendants were making final preparations, glowing runes appearing on the rugged earth where they walked.

This was it. If I waited any longer, I'd lose my chance. Hesitation now could mean irreversibly setting the catastrophic events I'd written into motion, endangering thousands who remained blissfully unaware of the looming threat.

Glancing once more at the beige field below, the reality of my next move settled in with a weighty finality. I had to intervene directly—jumping into the arena might seem insane, but it was the only way to ensure attention was diverted from the impending disaster and onto me. My breath caught in my throat as I weighed the risks. It wasn't just about altering a narrative anymore; it was about survival.

Every nerve felt electrified, my skin tingling with a blend of dread and adrenaline. Each shout from the crowd seemed to vibrate through me, echoing my escalating pulse. Fear knotted in my stomach, gripping me tightly and demanding attention, yet a strange exhilaration coursed through my veins. The enormity of my impending decision loomed over me, casting a long shadow that chilled my spirit despite the sun's warmth.

With a last look at my burly neighbor, who seemed to sense my distress and offered a small toothy smile of encouragement, I nodded to myself. "Here goes nothing," I whispered, more to steel my resolve than anything else. Then, before my courage could falter, I swung my legs over the barrier and leaped into the arena.

The moment my feet left the safety of the stands, time seemed to slow. As I plummeted toward the arena floor, a collective gasp echoed around the coliseum, cutting through the noise like a sharp blade. Every eye fixed on me, the crowd's initial shock morphing into a rush of whispers and shouts. I hit the ground with a jarring thud, the impact sending a wave of searing pain through my legs, reverberating up my spine.

Silence slammed down like a heavy curtain, sudden and complete, the entire arena holding its breath. I lay there, momentarily dazed, every nerve screaming in protest. Then, as the first murmur of movement started from the edges of the crowd, the distinct sound of armored boots marching in unison cut through the stillness. The guards were closing in, their shadows stretching ominously across the earth as they approached.

In the eerie silence that followed, with all eyes riveted on me, the weight of what I had just done began to sink in. I was no longer a mere spectator; I had altered the fabric of this world's reality. Now, there was no turning back.