by Yi Zhu
Though Vince had always borne resentment toward the adults back home for not helping the gang, he understood that life wasn’t easy for anyone. Heck, it wasn’t all that bad being on the street. But how terrible must life be in other zones for their champions to be so pitiful? How poor must the grown-ups there be to walk by those children who were barely clinging to life, and do nothing?
Yet, to Vince’s amazement and pride, all the children stood proudly, their posture betraying nothing. When a bored Elite threw down a loaf of bread in an attempt to provoke a riot, even those orphans who looked most underfed maintained their composure.
Vince looked up and burnt the man’s disinterested face into his memory. One day, when I have the chance, I’ll make him suffer for this, he promised himself silently.
The metal gate slammed closed somewhere behind him, signaling that all the combatants had arrived. Without a pause, a loud male voice boomed out from above, amplified by a system of intricate machines. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are all gathered today for the biggest annual event in the Empire, and a demonstration of the fairness of our sacred Laws.”
You call this fairness? Reflectively, Vince spat on the ground, and was glad to see other children doing the same.
The voice continued as the audiences cheered. “Ever since the founding of our nation, bloody wars have been fought by foolish men and women who sought to overstep their calling and rise above their proper station. All the while, they refused to acknowledge the benevolence of our forefathers, who created a way for all who deserve power to obtain it: The Academy.”
Vince felt a disturbance in the air, and immediately, a large formation of fireballs formed in the air, and illuminated the section where the future Academy students would sit. The entire coliseum exploded with thunderous applause at the amazing coordination and power, and a figure standing in the middle of the display took a slight bow.
The announcer’s voice raised several octaves in excitement. “And as you all can see, we are graced by the presence of the Might of the Empire, Supreme General Emelia.”
At the mention of the name, Vince blinked furiously in order to get a look at the most powerful alchemist in the world. From a distance, he could only make out the long crimson hair and countless medals gleaming under the light. The figure snapped her fingers, and the fiery display dissolved away.
“Simply wonderful!” the voice over the projector exclaimed. “The control, the power, the artistry!” He paused as his voice cracked after getting carried away. After a moment to recuperate, he continued, “We also have the honor of the royal family gracing us with their presence.”
Thousands of heads whipped around in that instant, toward a glassed-off section of the arena painted pure gold. Inside the sealed-off booth sat an intricately detailed seat, rumored to be the replica of the throne. The extravagance of the royal seating booth was undeniable from the first glance: gilded red rugs carpeted the whole area, and chandeliers lit up the whole space in all of its majesty.
Vince followed the gaze of the crowd, and hoped to catch another glimpse of the Shadow. To the boy’s disappointment, Emperor Triton sat alone, with dozens of guards and servants standing a respectable distance away.
Where is he off to now? Vince wondered. Once again, the announcer continued, interrupting the thought. “The stakes are even higher this year, as the supreme general’s daughter and our esteemed prince will both be enrolling in the Academy. So our lucky Champion will have a chance to be their classmates. Oh, how I wish I were down there competing!! Now, without further ado, this is your host, Kren, and let the Tryout begin!”
The crowd exploded into a cheer so intense that Vince felt himself going deaf. A gigantic portcullis with beams as thick as Vince’s head began lifting off on the opposite side of the arena. From the inch-wide cracks between the beams, he could see soldiers waiting patiently. As the unimaginably heavy mechanism went above human height, the uniformed men and women marched out and herded the children off of the battleground, back into the tunnel.
As Vince followed the masses, the sounds of the reverie slowly faded with distance. He guessed that the giant coliseum was built on top of an elaborate underground system. As the path branched, the soldiers divided into groups, each leading some of the children with them. By the time he arrived at a small waiting room, there were only roughly two dozen children and a woman in uniform around him.
While the space wasn’t well furnished, certain parts of the floor were elevated to be sitting space, and several lamps gave just enough light for people to not trip over each other.
The soldier gestured for everyone to take a seat, and nodded in satisfaction. “This will be Group Twelve, and I will come back for you all when it’s your turn,” she began. “Any questions?”
Every hand in the room shot up immediately.
She scratched her head and then decided. “I guess I will explain what is going to happen. All the contestants are divided into sixteen groups, and each group will take turns competing in a free-for-all melee.” She gestured all over the room. “The winner will then be entered in a bracket.”
At least half of the orphans looked completely lost, and some scratched their heads in confusion.
The woman let out a sigh. “A bracket is where you will compete to advance to the next round. The stadium will be divided into two sections, and two pairs will fight at a time. Once both battles are over, the divider will crash down, allowing the two winners to fight one another. And after that happens four times, it will repeat for a fifth time to determine the winner.” She paused for a few moments to let the children absorb this information.
Vince looked around, and felt a wave of relief to realize Minzy was elsewhere. Wherever that ugly bastard was, he was probably being debriefed with the same information. “What happens to people who make it very far but fail to win?” he blurted out with no warning. As much as he wanted to be the last one standing, it still mattered what happened to his friend.
“Only the winner can attend the Academy, but the army often recruits the other contestants inside the bracket,” the soldier replied patiently.
The other children settled into the seats and tried to calm themselves before the battle. Vince wasn’t quite satisfied and intercepted the soldier as she was on her way out. “Were you recruited the same way?” Though the woman spoke with the confidence and authority of an Imperial, she looked at the children with empathy in her eyes and spoke with kindness in her voice.
She was caught off guard by the question, but smiled back reassuringly. “Yes, I was, and look.” She pointed to her badge. Vince didn’t recognize the design but assumed it indicated a high status. “I had no problem making it up the ranks.”
“How bad is it? Out there.” He pointed toward the Arena.
The smile faded from her face, and she lowered her voice. “It’s going to be bad. Just do your best to survive. That’s all. It’s not about winning, just survival.”
Survival. This is just like any other day, then. He tried to calm himself with the thought, then nodded toward her. “Thank you.”
“I should go now,” she told him softly.
“May I know your name?” he asked. Whoever this woman was, he planned on repaying her one day.
Their eyes met, and he could see the flood of emotions washing over her. Slowly, the soldier shook her head. “I would rather not. And … please don’t tell me yours.”
Vince looked into her regretful face, and gained a better idea for what was about to come. “I understand; thank you.”
She patted his head gently, then left the room. Silently, he sat down in a corner, and waited.
Survive.
Chapter 18: Tradition
The inhumanity unfolding in front of Zed sickened him to his core. For hours, children his age fought ferociously in the grounds below. With each fallen contestant, the crowd cheered and jeered. Occasionally, a child would refuse to stay down, and he or she would be beaten by the eventual group winner until
all movements stopped. Whether the tenacious orphans lost consciousness or died, Zed couldn’t tell.
He wanted to leave, he needed to look away, but his guards refused the requests. Tradition dictated the new Academy members be present for this special occasion, so Zed looked on with horror as the melee dragged on for hours, and new groups of children were led in to replace those no longer able to continue. Eleven rounds had gone by, and eleven children entered into the bracket.
Undoubtedly, all the children were forever changed by the decisions they were forced to make on this day. Even from the great distance, Zed could tell that the battles were leaving permanent marks on the orphans, both physical and mental. The eleventh winner collapsed, and a group of uniformed personnel ran out with a stretcher and carried the unconscious child away. Other orphans were all eventually cleared away for the next round, albeit with much less care.
“Oh, there’s the one you are such fan of,” Katherine pointed out to Zed as the next group came out into the battlefield.
Zed searched the grounds below and found the boy with the bad hair. The one he favored walked behind the taller children and made himself as inconspicuous as possible. Good idea.
“Care to change your bet?” the General’s daughter inquired lazily.
“My bet?” Zed turned in surprise. He didn’t recall making any bets.
The girl smiled mischievously. “I laid down a bet on him on your behalf, though I am still not sure why you believe in him so much. Don’t worry, this will help you become more like us.”
“You had no right to do that,” Zed seethed through clenched teeth. How dare she! Associating him with such a heinous activity.
“Don’t worry, consider it a freebie. You are not risking anything.”
A horn echoed throughout the coliseum, signaling the beginning of the fight.
“What is he doing?” Katherine’s annoying voice blurted out as she pointed, and Zed followed her fingers.
Brilliant! Zed thought as his heart beat faster.
At the first blast of the horn, Vince sprinted full speed toward the gigantic portcullis. Several of the children turned to look at him, and were quickly knocked down from behind. Punches began flying as the violence quickly spread out.
The moment Vince’s hands met the metal, he leapt up and wrapped both legs around the beam. With a tremendous exertion of strength, he began clawing his way upward.
The rest of Group Twelve were now engaged in a full-scale battle as the crowd cheered and booed and money changed hands. In seconds, less than two dozen children were still standing, and the battle broke into three smaller fights.
Vince paid the others no mind, instead focused on the task at hand, and continued his ascent. His hands began to hurt from rubbing against the rusted metal, but he didn’t care. Streaks of blood began to appear on the beam with each move upward, but Vince paid them no mind. All that mattered was survival.
Two dozen quickly became one, and then less than half of that. All of a sudden, the remaining three ceased fighting on the battlegrounds. Whether the exhaustion forced them to take a break or their wits finally returned, Vince wasn’t certain, but the survivors turned their attention toward the coward who was trying to steal an easy win. Just like that, a temporary alliance was formed down on the ground.
The uneasy coalition made its way toward the gate, careful to stand out of each other’s reach. Meanwhile, Vince had arrived at the first horizontal bar at least three times his height off the ground. With one last exertion of effort, he pulled himself to an uncomfortable resting position flat on the bar. When he looked down, his remaining competition had gathered below.
“Damn it,” Vince cursed as he realized that while the three had all taken a beating, they were all much older and stronger than himself, and they were all coming for him. After only a moment’s rest, the first one, a boy with numerous scars carpeting his face, began climbing at a rapid pace. Quickly, panic began to fill Vince’s heart. In seconds, he could see the red in the scarred orphan’s eyes.
The second survivor began his ascent at this point. With the odds stacked against him, Vince was doomed to fail.
It was then a twist of fate saved him from certain defeat.
With the second child in a vulnerable position, the third one attacked, causing the unlucky orphan to suffer a horrible fall. Now having almost reached Vince, the scarred one looked up and down, trying desperately to make a decision. The sudden betrayal must have set him off, as Vince’s would-be opponent dropped down, and engaged the opportunist in brutal combat.
The fight went on for several minutes as both sides refused to give in. As their strength faded, the punches got slower and slower, and eventually, the scarred boy emerged victorious, clutching his face. Blood trickled from the broken nose, unhindered by his desperate attempts to stem the flow.
A dreadful silence fell over the coliseum as the blood loss robbed the boy of consciousness. Then, the crowd exploded with excitement.
“What a turn of events!” the announcer’s voice boomed out. “We shall take measures to ensure that strategy is no longer viable, to keep the fights exciting. But for now, we have our Twelfth Group winner! It would seem luck is on his side.”
Up in the seats, Zed shivered. At least half of Group Twelve lay dead in the grounds below, their lives wasted to entertain the very people with the power to help. Every death that unfolded reminded him of the massacre that took away his parents, and even now, he felt disgusted with himself. Just as his body had adapted to breathing Fye, his mind began acclimating to the violence. No! the boy decided, he wasn’t going to lose himself. Next to him, Katherine let out a long sigh as every other recruit cheered.
“Argh.” She grunted with disgust, much to his surprise. After giving Zed an undeserved glare, she strode off, shoving her way past the guards.
As soon as she left, a pompous man wearing elegant robes tiptoed forward, and sat down next to Zed.
“I’m Bookmaster Cil,” the man declared with a bow, and extended his hand.
Zed regarded the gesture coldly and made no move to return it. What did this man want?
The sly bookmaster merely shrugged at the rude response, and flashed a mouth full of pearl-white teeth. “I am in charge of all the bets,” he said with too much respect in his voice toward a Southerner. “I was wondering if the honored Master Zed … erm.”
“I don’t know my last name,” Zed replied coldly.
“Well, if honored Young Master has any requests.”
Honored Young Master? The boy sat there, confused, but then the answer struck him. THE BET!
“When does the bracket begin?”
“First thing tomorrow, of course.”
“And exactly how big was my bet?”
“You don’t recall?” The man was smiling so widely at this point, it looked ridiculous. “Of course, of course.” He flicked his own head. “Such a sum must be meager compared to the young master’s vast wealth.”
What a kiss-ass, the boy thought. At this point, Zed understood what was going on. Katherine’s jest had turned out overwhelmingly in the Southerner’s favor. With over four hundred contestants competing and the bad hair boy’s average physique, the gambling odds must have been astronomically high against the boy Zed had supposedly bet on. The fact that this combatant somehow achieved victory without injuries made Zed’s chosen the new favorite.
“What is the boy’s name?” Zed inquired, after much thought.
“Vince, Young Master.” The book master leaned in, eyes eager.
“Well,” Zed turned, and finally returned a smile, “Cil, I would like to meet my champion.”
Chapter 19: Intermission
Vince sat alone in a small, yet well-furnished room underground. Though his accommodations seemed simple, with a small bookshelf filled with novels and a padded bed as the only furniture, it felt luxurious. The boy had never slept on silk sheets before, and his body screamed for rest. However, the memories of the melee, and waste
d lives, were too fresh on his mind.
Wolf Gang members are never squeamish, he reminded himself despite the pool of vomit he had scraped under the bed. It was definitely anger that made me sick to my stomach and hate that made me dizzy.
After they came to retrieve him from the battlefield, his new escort had left him here, and promised to return later with food and water. There was something different in the way the man spoke to him, the boy noted.
They are afraid to offend me, because I might be an Elite one day. Even the possibility of becoming one carries weight.
Even far underground, Vince could faintly hear the sounds above, the thunderous applause likely signaling particularly violent spectacles. But it was the sudden silences that unnerved the boy, as it indicated that someone had died a particularly gruesome death. Every few minutes, another orphan died. Vince sighed and leaned back against the wall, as that was all he could do.
Before he realized it, Vince was wiping drool off of his lips, and rubbing his fatigued eyes. When did I fall asleep? And not even on the nice bed! I’m an idiot! the boy thought as he climbed onto the silk sheet and planted his face on the smooth surface.
Footsteps began approaching from down the hall, and reflexively, Vince’s stomach growled. Perfect timing, he thought to himself; some food would do wonders about now.
Much to his weary disappointment, the person who appeared was a boy barely older than he was. Judging by the outfit alone, not only was Vince not getting fed right now, an extremely unwanted conversation was about to occur.
“I’m Zed,” the newcomer introduced himself immediately.
Vince had always despised the privileged, but he hated their children even more. Nothing irked an orphan more than a child who took everything for granted. He saw no reason to spare this sheltered bastard any attention, so Vince simply yawned and stared at the wall.