Death Has a Daughter

The Reaping

Dave and I walked up to the tournament board at the Reaping, and I stared at it, searching for my name and my first opponent.

"I got Eric," I said to Dave when I finally found my name. "Who did you get first?"

"Drake," he said coldly.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, someone's got to face him first, I guess. I just wanted to advance a little farther than the first round," Dave said, and I agreed. It would be naïve to encourage him to win. He just wasn't at Drake's level, and we both knew it.

"Eric has no jump," he said to me, but I already knew that.

"I know; I'm going to start with a leap and take him out quickly." I smiled. "I need to save my energy for Drake at the end."

"Drake always goes for brute force first; try and use that against him," I suggested.

"I will." He smiled.

"Don't worry; I'll tire him out so that when he faces you, it'll be easier."

"I really hope you do." The bell sounded, letting us know that we needed to get to our places, and I went into the arena where my first round would be held. When I arrived, Eric was already waiting and looking confident. Several of the other Reapers were sitting in the stone bleachers for encouragement. Looking over at the side that was supposed to be designated for my fans, I found Dad smiling.

The arenas where the matches took place were like mini-versions of the famous ancient Roman coliseum that I had learned about. We had two arenas in our realm. They were mainly used for training, like today. Who knew why we needed so much room? The main stage consisted of harsh, dry, red soil. The only way in or out would be teleportation or climbing the 50-foot high wall that separated the spectator seating from the main arena.

The rounds would get over much more quickly if we had a smaller arena. Instead, it made us chase each other, which was annoying but, I guess, realistic to what we would face with Guardians in the real world.

The real reason the arenas were so large was so that we could have big stands for the audience. Reapers loved this last day of training. To be able to watch the new talent for the first time was practically a holiday. To my shock, more Reapers weren't here yet. It was probably too early; surely, they'd all be here later to watch the final match. After porting into the arena, I walked up to the trainer who was here to judge the match. It was Herald, great, so that meant everything would have to be by the book.

"Hello, Cendall," he said, as I came up to where he stood. "Nice test score—98%. Puts you and Drake tied for first you know. Not to add any more pressure, but if you make it to the finals to face him, it would determine if you deserve to be a R...I mean, deserve that top spot." He said this with a wicked smirk. You didn't have to be a genius to know what he really wanted to say.

"Good to know. Can we get on with this already? Wouldn't want to throw off your world balance by starting this match late or anything," I said as I looked directly into his eyes.

"I'm glad to see you're finally paying attention to time. Yes, the match will start as soon as Eric comes up to us. I will be the judge at the arena all day, just to let you know. I look forward to watching your matches. Good luck," he said, and it almost appeared sincere.

"Matches? So I'm guessing your money's on me this round?" I asked, and he smiled. It was no secret that several of the Reapers and trainers had tournament brackets that they bet on for this.

"I am no fool, Cendall. Eric!" He called out to Eric's side of the benches.

"Come now, we must begin."