Ty chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Just go through it, and you'll see what I an." With a light tap, he nudged Rosana towards the portal. To his surprise, she went barreling through, her arms flailing for balance as she disappeared into the swirling vortex.
Gisorn and John turned back, eyebrows raised in amusent. "Did you have to shove her that hard?" Gisorn asked, half-smiling.
Ty looked at his hands, genuinely puzzled. "I swear it was just a gentle tap. I think she exaggerated the push," he replied, a bit defensive.
John shrugged nonchalantly before taking a casual leap into the portal. "Well, see you on the other side," he called back as he vanished.
Left alone, Ty stood contemplatively in front of the glowing gateway. He stared at the pulsating light, curiosity overtaking him. I wonder how these things actually work? he thought, tentatively placing his foot into the portal.
As Ty erged on the other side, a sharp sting raced across his skin, like a thousand tiny needles pricking him simultaneously. It was an intensely uncomfortable sensation, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared. He found himself in a vast open arena, the air electric with the energy of anticipated violence and spectacle.
Looking around, Ty noticed a massive oval structure. Fans packed the stands, their cheers and boos creating a cacophony of sound that reverberated through the air. The crowd was perfectly split down the middle, their allegiances as divided as the ground beneath Ty's feet, which was colored in stark black and purple. A bold line of orange and black cut through the middle, splitting the arena in two.
Shielding his eyes from the glare, Ty scanned the crowd and the field. On the other side, he recognized about 46 n donned in orange and black uniforms. Among them were familiar faces—Jui, Waddle, and a few others.
A long pathway stretched forward toward a massive structure that resembled a teleportation pod, its presence adding an air of mysterious technology to the traditional brutality of the arena.
Around him, Ty's teammates were recovering from the portal transit, each managing the discomfort in their distinct ways.
Kern was vigorously rubbing his arms, his face contorted into a scowl as he glared back at the portal. "That was more than a sting—it felt like being slapped by the wind itself!" he exclaid.
As they regained their bearings, the distant sound of the crowd began to swell, their cheers and jeers filtering into the arena like an encroaching wave. Ty knew that beyond the physical challenges of the arena, a psychological ga was also at play. The audience, their rivals, the very environnt—all were designed to test them in unexpected ways.
And deep down, Ty understood that all this spectacle was designed to sharpen them before the inevitable losses they would face.
The guards reappeared with a brisk command, breaking through the noise. "Alright, everyone, let's get you to the holding stage. You're free to answer any questions as you wish, or you can remain silent. It's up to you," one guard stated, his tone indifferent, as if the weight of their choices ant little to him.
As they were ushered toward the dia area, Ty's mind whirred with strategies, pondering each move he would need to make in this ruthless ga of survival. Every decision, every alliance, and every word spoken could tip the scales in his favor—or disastrously against it.
Suddenly, a woman clad in a flowing robe darted up to Ty, her voice urgent. "Please, Mr. Demon, what are you fighting for today? Are there any enemies you wish dead, any grudges?"
Ty's response was sharp, his annoyance palpable. "I have a na. It's best you address by it—Ty Hockenson. And I'm not just participating; I'm winning this entire damn Arena and going back ho."
He leaned in slightly, his gaze steady and challenging. "Maybe you should worry more about protecting your own contestants. You want a story? I know how this works, back where I'm from."
Ty halted abruptly as cara drones buzzed around him. Seizing the mont, he grasped the hand of the woman holding the microphone, eting her eyes with an intense gaze. "How is it that the strongest kingdom allows my own teammate to be murdered by one of the Black Bulls? And what kind of la na is that, anyway?"
The woman trembled under Ty's firm grip, her eyes wide with shock. She gasped for air, stuttering, "Wha-what!! We were told they were moved—"
Before she could finish, a guard intervened, jabbing Ty in the shoulder and pushing him forward. "Alright, keep it moving, that's enough!"
As Ty was ushered away, the woman, snapping back to her senses, tried to rush after him. But her effort was cut short as a guard grabbed her, throwing her to the ground with a stern command, "No leaving the dia section."
As Ty proceeded down the lengthy pathway, the air vibrated with the shouts of fans on either side. He noticed his teammates engaging with a few dia representatives, their conversations punctuated by the crowd's fervor.
Ty, however, was being hurried along by a guard whose impatience seed to grow by the second. "Hey, don't be mad at ," Ty protested, his tone edged with defiance. "You never said we couldn't talk about our fallen allies."
Without warning, a punch streaked across Ty's face, sending him skidding back a few feet. The guard, his face contorted with anger, barked back, "Keep playing a dumbass with , I will—" Stay connected with empire
His threat was abruptly cut short as another guard intervened, shoving him hard. "Back the hell off!" the second guard commanded, his voice stern, casting a protective glance at Ty.
Ty rubbed his chin where the guard's punch had landed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, you're the sa guard from when I was forced to fight Fernando, aren't you? Well, your punch is pathetic." He paused, his gaze dropping to the guard's hand, which was visibly bruised and turning purple. "You might want to ice that later," he added, half-mockingly.
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