Soon, reactions began filling the air
Among the competitors’ seating, those whose nas had appeared in the first sixty four were on their feet, cheering and embracing the person nearest to them.
So simply stood there with their eyes closed and their fists clenched tightly at their tight sides, relief flooding them at the fact that they’d made it through.
Others were already scanning the list again, morizing who was where, and trying to calculate the future matchups.
After all, it was quite common knowledge that in the knockout stages, those with high scores were paired with those lower on the list in order to provide an entertaining matchup, and ensure that the quality of the fights improved as the tournant went on.
Those whose nas were below the first sixty four reacted differently.
So stood there in silence, staring at the cube until it cycled away from the rankings.
Others were less composed, their groans filling the air, while a few competitors had their heads in their hands.
And there were the few who simply let the tears co without making any effort to stop them.
After a month of preparation and three brutal matches, they’d been cut off from glory.
The spectator stands had erupted into conversation the mont the nas appeared, and the noise built up steadily until it filled the stadium from the floor to the highest tier.
They speculated among themselves about who was more popular and who had the highest chance of making it to the finals.
Rollo simply let them get it out of their system for almost a full minute, then he raised one hand.
Silence slowly descended on the stadium, everyone going quiet until no one was speaking.
"To the first sixty-four," he said, "approach the staff at the edge of the arena and submit your slips. Your next opponents will be confird and assigned to you. Review them tonight."
His gaze moved across them.
"For those who didn’t make it, I wish you luck in your future endeavors. And those who would be fighting here before us tomorrow? Good luck to all of you."
He paused.
"That concludes the first day of the tournant."
Then he rose into the sky, and a few seconds later, he’d flown out of the stadium.
An instant later, tens of thousands of voices filled the air. So began to chant and cheer, having enjoyed themselves.
They stood, and so began making their way to the exit, eager to leave before they were all caught in the traffic.
Lukas stood, his ears catching the conversations closest to him. And in most of them, there was one common topic.
One question bouncing from one group to the other, until everyone was talking about it.
Who the hell is Morgana Le Fay?
Whoever she was, she’d taken first place.
A na nobody in the stadium seed to recognize sitting in a position on the rankings that put her above everyone else.
And there was no one around to explain what was going on. But so spectators were already spinning tales of who she was out of their asses, and Lukas knew that before long, there’d be twenty versions of who she was floating around.
He didn’t bother to listen.
As long as he wasn’t facing her tomorrow, he was sure he’d have ti to observe her fight.
So he turned away and began making his way to the staff.
The staff mbers stood at even intervals around the arena, each one managing their own queue. He spotted one with no line and walked to her directly.
She looked up as he approached. "Slip?"
He retrieved it from his spatial ring and handed it over.
She briefly checked his information in her notebook, wrote sothing in it, and a second later, there was a small flash of light.
A new slip now sat on the page, and she picked it up, handing it to him. "Here you go."
He took it and read.
It had his na, classes, and rank, but his eyes slid down to the most important detail
Next opponent: Ansel Potter.
He frowned slightly. Who the hell was Ansel Potter?
His eyes glanced up at the screen, checking for it. Then he saw the na on number fifty five.
He sighed, storing his slip in his spatial ring, then turned back to the crowd. His eyes scanned the sea of people, searching for two familiar faces but he saw nothing.
How was he supposed to find his wives among hundreds of thousands of people?
He gave up after thirty seconds, gently shaking his head.
Unless he had a tracking skill, it wouldn’t be easy for him to find them. And while he entertained the idea of simply waiting for them, he knew that if they wanted to find him, they’d already be here.
Or maybe they’d co down but had sohow missed him. Either way, he’d et them back at the hotel.
He quickly joined the flow of people heading to the exit, and since he was already on the ground, it didn’t take him more than a few minutes to exit the stadium.
He’d been moving with the crowd, heading for the city gate for less than two minutes when soone called out.
"Oi! That’s him! The one who fought the fla woman!"
He kept walking.
"Good match, mate! That’s how you finish a fight!"
He raised a hand in acknowledgnt without slowing down.
"Hey! You were too rough with the fla woman!" This ti, the voice was different. It was much closer to him.
A man stepped closer to him, carrying themselves pompously, with an air of righteousness around them.
It was as if he’d already decided that what he wanted to say was important, and to hell with anyone who disagreed.
"She’s a lady, you know. You could’ve shown her more consideration," he said.
Lukas glanced at him. "Why?"
The man blinked, as if he hadn’t expected the question. "Because- because she’s a lady."
"She was also attempting to burn alive," Lukas said. "Should I have been considerate about that too? Since she’s a lady?"
The people imdiately around them had slowed down, the conversation drawing the attention of the nearest spectators.
Soone laughed.
"He’s got a point, you know. Aren’t they competing for the sa thing? Would it be fair for him to show consideration to soone who wouldn’t do the sa?"
"What was he supposed to do, let her roast him?" Soone else joked.
The man who had spoken opened his mouth, then closed it, the argunt apparently failing to hold up under scrutiny.
The crowd began heckling him, and before long, he’d slinked back into the crowd in sha.
Then the tone shifted, the group that had gathered turning their attention back to Lukas with smiles on their faces.
"You’re a good lad. Sa performance tomorrow, yeah?"
"We’ll be watching for you."
"First place material right there."
"Don’t disappoint us."
Lukas smiled at the small cluster of newly self-appointed supporters, their expressions bright with happiness.
It was clear they wished him to go far.
He stopped walking for a mont, raising two fingers to his forehead in a loose salute.
"Will do," he said.
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