A round of laughter echoed through the stands, and once again, Thaman allowed it to run its course. His timing was masterful—continuing at the exact moment when the sounds started to die off.
“Now, as has always been tradition, our first-round brackets will be determined by random chance.”
He gestured to an oversized table with a giant glass sphere sitting on top.
“Nothing new here, though for the sake of the young ones and those joining us for the first time, I shall summarize. Inside this container are sixteen names, which I shall now draw. The first name pairs with the second. The third with the fourth. And so on, so forth. Now, I shall begin.”
Vir prayed to all the gods that he wouldn’t be matched against Cirayus in the first round. Though, upon reflection, it hardly mattered, didn’t it? Cirayus would dominate every fight, of that he had little doubt. Which meant their bout was inevitable, should both keep winning.
What difference did it make if it was round one or four?
“Our first combatant is…”
Thaman drew the folded piece of paper, unfurled it… and sighed so loudly, it was audible to the entire stadium thanks to the amplification.
“I swear… Badrak must be playing games with me. Yes. Our first combatant is none other than Cirayus the Ravager!”
Vir braced himself for the deafening applause this time. It didn’t help. He was forced to plug his ears, though thankfully the shouts and whoops died off faster than when Cirayus had first made his entrance. Even afterward, though, the sound of stomping feet filled the arena, forcing Thaman to speak louder.
“And his foe will be…”
Vir looked up and down the line. All fifteen awaited with bated breath. Even Zarak’Nor looked pale, and that was saying something, considering he was a Ghael. They all looked like they were one step away from the grave.
“Aalok’Yar!”
Vir—and everyone other than the poor Iksana—sighed in relief. Aalok merely gritted his teeth and nodded toward Cirayus, who nodded back.
“And next, we have… Vaak—of Ash!”
Vir gaped. This couldn’t have been random. How could Cirayus have shown up in the first bout, with Vir in the second? It was too implausible.
There was a very unenthusiastic round of halfhearted clapping, but Vir was too distracted to pay it any mind.
The old man had to have set this up. He must’ve—
“And he will fight… Oh. Oh dear.”
Thaman paused, looking at the name. Vir knew beyond a shred of a doubt he was doing it strictly for dramatic effect.
As obvious as it was, it worked. The whole stadium seemed to lean forward, waiting on Thaman’s next work.
“Our reigning champion—Zarak’Nor!”
This time, it was Vir’s turn to grit his teeth. Sure, it wasn’t Cirayus, but Nor was nearly as bad. There were no advantages to fighting Nor at this early stage. If he lost… Well, Vir would look pathetic. But if he won, he’d instantly shoot onto everyone’s mind—the crowd and fellow combatants alike. Surprise was his biggest advantage.
To retain that, Vir would have to win, but he’d have to win in a way that made it look like a fluke.
How in the realms am I going to pull this off?
“Well? Placing any bets?” Tara asked from beside Vir. They’d relocated to the grandstands—the fighters all had positions of honor at the very bottom of the stands next to the stages. While Cirayus’ match was due to start in a few moments, a dozen challenge duels taking place on the smaller rings had provided entertainment for the past hour. Demons shouted out bets left and right, resulting in a constant thrum of activity.
Vir snorted. “Look at the odds. I’ll make nothing by betting on Cirayus.”
Tara sighed. “True. The hype for Ravager fights is real, but I doubt much money will flow for his bouts. Maybe except for the finals, depending on who he fights. A Nor versus Ravager matchup would be quite something, don’t you think?”
“You think Zarak’Nor would win?” Vir asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Gods, no!” Tara laughed. “But some chals undoubtedly would. That’s all you need to even the odds a bit. Easy money betting on the Ravager should that matchup happen.”
Vir supposed she had a point. There were likely even a few desperate demons betting on Cirayus’ first round opponent. The odds were astronomical—but so too were Aalok’Yar’s chances of winning.
Which was why the bets had shifted from ‘Who will win?’ to ‘Guess how quickly the Ravager defeats his opponent,’ along with a dozen others, including bets involving guessing which strategy Cirayus would employ and what move he’d use to land the final blow.
It was pure chaos with the bookmakers shouting out bets in rapid fire, and gamblers raising coins into the air and yelling back. Vir couldn’t fathom how the system possibly worked without everyone’s bets getting mixed up. And yet, work it did, with a boggling amount of coin exchanged on a regular basis.
If Thaman is taking even a tiny cut of these… Vir shuddered to think of Clan Baira’s coffers. The image of a door bursting open with a deluge of coins came to mind.
A sneaky pincer from an Aindri competitor and his tamed boar brought Vir’s attention back to the stages. The fights themselves varied from captivating to head shaking as opponents of all calibers faced off against one another. Vir felt several would have easily made the cut into the top sixteen, though since the qualifying challenge was a race, slower demons were at a disadvantage.
The duels wound down in anticipation of the main event. The referee walked onto the stage, and in his amplified voice, announced the combatants.
“And now, I bring you the up-and-coming Iksana. The young. The hopeful! Aaaalok’Yaaaar!”
The Iksana camp lit up with cheers and stamping, but Aalok had almost no support from the other clans’ seats.
As for Cirayus… Vir and Tara both plugged their ears well before the ref had finished announcing him.
When the arena finally returned to tolerable levels of noise, Tara turned and grinned. “Okay, no bets. But how do you think the Ravager will fight? You know him much better than I do.”
Vir had to think on that. “Well, ordinarily, I’d say he’d look to end the fight as quickly as possible. Cirayus doesn’t do flair. He doesn’t show off. His fighting style is efficient, relentless, and brutal… But that’s against Ash Beasts. I’ve never seen him fight another demon before.”
“From the way he entered, I’d say he loves being the center of attention,” Tara said. “I think he’ll draw this out. Give people a show.”
“I suppose we’ll know soon enough.”
“Combatants… Fight!”
The spear-wielding Iksana made the first move, sinking into his shadow.
Tara rolled her eyes. “So predictable. This is why nobody likes watching Iksana fight. They’re all so formulaic.”
Vir had to admit, he’d guessed Aalok would reach for Dance of the Shadow Demon—it just made so much sense. The ability was almost unfairly powerful for being a regular Iksana Bloodline Art, and with Aalok’s spear, he wasn’t as horribly outmatched in range as most.
Cirayus… didn’t do much of anything. Sikandar was still slung across his back, and he merely stood there with two arms crossed. The other two waved to the crowd, and Vir thought he even caught the demon blow kisses.
“Looks like you were right on the money…” Vir muttered, feeling almost embarrassed for the demon.
“He’s not the most beloved champ for nothing. Efficient fighting sometimes makes for a good show, but not usually.”