Then came Tara’s turn. Vir gave her a reassuring nod, which she returned with an amused smirk. Like Roshan, she too exhibited no hint of anxiousness as she sauntered out of the room, one hand on her talwar.
“And now, a debut fighter from a clan that honestly needs more representation in this tournament. Are we looking at a Champion in the making? Will this Steel Ranked Panav accomplish what only a handful from her clan ever have? She’ll be one to follow, folks. Welcome Tara of the Panav!”
None of the other clans applauded. It hardly mattered, because the absolutely deafening energy from Tara’s clan more than made up for it.
“We-he-ll!” the commentator, Samik, said, clearly taken aback by the response. “Have you ever seen the Panav cheer this hard for anyone?”
“Can’t say I have, Samike. This is just unprecedented. What a great welcome for a newcomer!”
Tara beamed, hefting her spear over one shoulder while waving at her clan with the other, even going so far as to blow them kisses. That, of course, sent them into a fervor of hoots and cheers, and there were as many eyes on the Panav clan as there were on Tara.
Vir almost felt bad for the demon who came after—a Bairan named Tarab—who received only a middling reception.
A Chitran Kothi was announced, who received middling applause, along with a handful of boo’s, and then the dreaded moment finally arrived.
“Vaak? You’re up,” the host announced. Vir braced himself, tapping his Foundation Chakra to calm his nerves. His palms had grown sweaty, and it took all he had to force himself to walk normally.
He cast a brief glance at Cirayus, but the demon was animatedly chatting up another. Vir was sure his godfather would’ve wanted nothing more than to come over and clap his shoulders as Tara had, but that was why he’d sent Tara in the first place.
Cirayus didn’t want to attract any more ire toward Vir than he already had.
“Getting to the end here, Samik. Our next contestant is a debut warrior! In fact, I’d wager he’s the one we know the least about!”
“He’s also a bit of an oddball, Nakin. He’s the only unranked participant here. He fights alongside a prana wolf, but he claims no association to the Aindri. Just who is this newcomer?”
“I agree, Samik. We have ourselves a mystery Warrior that nobody has ever heard of. From where does he hail? How strong is he? We don’t know! We do know, however, that he has the favor of the Ravager himself. Tell me, who’d bet against someone claiming that?”
The answer, apparently, was a lot.
Vir walked boldly out into the arena, but it was not to deafening cheers, nor even to booing. The arena had fallen deathly silent, and only the Panav gave him some halfhearted claps.
Through sheer force of will and Chakra, Vir stopped himself from flushing from embarrassment. Instead, he waved as if the entire arena had lit up for him.
That, it seems, earned him some booing.
Oh well… he thought. I tried.
Just when he was about to lower his arm, Shan cocked his head to the sky and howled a howl so loud and long that even Vir startled in shock.
It hadn’t just been his imagination, either. The arena had heard. Or at least, enough of them had that they started clapping—in earnest this time.
“Well, would you look at that!” one of the commentators said. “That has to be a first!”
The clapping picked up, until Vir felt comfortable waving to them again. He even smiled, despite his heart threatening to leap out of his chest.
Vir took up his spot and nodded at Tara, who nodded back with a genuine smile.
Was she worried for me? Vir wondered. He still didn’t know what to make of that girl. He felt like she was as mysterious as he must’ve appeared to her.
With so many others already lined up, Vir managed to calm himself as the rest of the names were announced. Now that he was out of the limelight, being able to see the entire stadium was actually quite a sensation. Every time the crowd roared, he felt ripples down his back.
The roars weren’t for him, but he couldn’t help fantasizing—what if, one day, they were? If, one day, he earned the arena’s respect enough for them to greet him with thunderous applause?
Would they react that way if he defeated Cirayus? Or would he be booed instead?
Vir was shocked out of his daydreams when Samik called the last name.
“Last, but certainly not least, we bring you the only Seric Ranked Warrior in this competition. Behold, everyone! The myth. The legend. The Rav—”
The commentator didn’t have time to finish. Cirayus bounded out of the waiting area, jumping a hundred paces into the sky as he brandished Sikandar high overhead.
The arena fell into a hushed silence.
He made for an awesome sight, with the enormous blade reflecting the sunset’s red glow as he fell, faster and faster.
He hit the ground with tremendous force, sending shockwaves through the arena.
The demon whirled and pointed Sikandar to the sky, then bellowed a war cry that made Vir shudder.
The arena, all at once, exploded.
So deafening were the cheers that Vir had to plug his ears. That, however, didn’t stop the drumbeat of fifty thousand demons as they stood in ovation to Cirayus’ arrival, stomping in unison. Every clan. Every single demon.
A chant rang out. It took Vir several repetitions to understand the words, but when he did, another set of shivers rippled down his spine.
“Ci—Ray—Us!”
“Ci—Ray—Us!”
“Ci—Ray—Us!”
Vir realized in that moment that no mere champion won such fervent adoration. No, one had to become a living legend for this. One had to win every tournament they ever fought, dozens upon dozens of times.
One had to be Cirayus the Ravager.
94THE RAVAGER’S FIGHT
The cheering seemed to go on forever, and Vir wondered if it’d ever end when Thaman finally raised his arms and motioned for quiet.
It took a while, but the crowd finally acquiesced. Even long after silence had befallen the Ravager’s Den, Vir’s ears rang with the echoes of that din. The sound may have dissipated, but the energy behind it didn’t leave Vir’s mind so easily. There was power there. Power… and respect.
Vir looked at his godfather with renewed appreciation. This was the demon who’d worn an apron and cooked up a delicious meal only hours earlier, like any average demon.
If anything, that only made Cirayus even more impressive in Vir’s mind. He wasn’t just a Warrior. He was a general. He was a philosopher, wise in the ways of the world. He was a politician. And above all, he was family. He was also someone Vir—Vaak—had to defeat.
Vir doubted the demon was seriously lacking in any department. Truly a master of all trades… though he supposed that was the inevitable outcome of centuries of relentless self-improvement. Someone who transcended mortal bounds. Who became more than the sum of his parts.
“My brothers. My sisters. Everyone! I thank you for coming. This tournament is steeped deep in the history of our people. Let this be one for the ages. Both marking the return of our most beloved living legend…” Thaman was interrupted by another round of hoots and cheers and stomping. “Yes! But also, let us watch as all these Warriors test their mettle. Let us put aside our clan and support them on merit only. May the best Warrior win!”
Predictably, the arena burst out into cheers after this, and this time, Thaman allowed it to run its course.
“Now, as you are all aware, this year features sixteen combatants fighting in single-elimination bouts. Sixteen fighters. Four rounds. Yes, this is somewhat fewer than the past several tournaments, but I assure you, after that gauntlet in the Ashen Realm, only the very best remain. So you better not miss a moment of any fight, lest your grandchildren tease you about it for centuries to come.”