Ty pondered for a moment. "Just one, now that I think of it. But that’s a tale for another time," he replied, his thoughts briefly wandering to past encounters. "When does my match start, anyway?"
In response, the man pulled a remote from his pocket and switched on the TV positioned across the room. "Your turn comes after the current bout.
They’ll need some time to clear the arena, so you’ll have about 10 minutes to prepare and report to your designated area. From there on, it’s all in your hands, Demon Boy."
Ty’s gaze shifted to the TV screen, where the ongoing match unfolded with brutal intensity. Two combatants, both heavily bloodied, faced off against each other.
One wore a white gi adorned with a red band, while his opponent donned a purple gi with a black stripe around the waist.
They charged with ferocious roars, colliding mid-air in a display of raw power and skill, each absorbing punishing blows.
The scene showed Ty exactly how unforgiving the coming fight would be, tightening his urgency and resolve.
The two fighters, their bare feet scraping against the arena floor, engaged in a fierce struggle. Their heads clashed, hands locked in a deadlock, as sparks of energy crackled around them, illuminating their strained expressions.
The fighter in purple saw an opening. He let go with one hand and aimed a punch at his opponent.
But fate intervened as his foot slipped on a slick patch of blood, throwing off his balance.
In that critical instant, the man in the white gi acted. White sparks gathered around his hand, forming a brilliant blade of light. He thrust it into the chest of the man in purple.
Blood erupted from the wound, the blade piercing through him, casting a gruesome shadow as it faded away.
The man in purple wavered, his strength leaving him, and he began to slump to the ground, defeated.
"Damn, so that’s it, huh?" Ty murmured, his eyes fixed on the brutal conclusion of the battle.
The silver-haired man watched closely. "Don’t be so certain." His voice hinted at the unpredictability of these matches and the deadly stakes behind them.
The tension in the room climbed with the fight on the screen. Ty’s thoughts turned inward, preparing for his own match as the arena’s ruthlessness became clear.
In the heat of victory, the man in the white Gi turned, his arms thrown skyward in a triumphant roar. The arena, echoing with his victorious cry, seemed to momentarily pause in celebration. But the fight was far from over.
The ground behind him shifted as the defeated man in the purple Gi struggled to one knee.
He extended an open palm towards his opponent in a feigned attack.
The man in white dropped to the ground to evade, only to realize too late that it was a diversion. The man in purple had readied his other hand close to the ground and released a piercing beam of purple energy.
The beam shot forth, narrowly passing between the eyes of the man in white and leaving a small fatal hole.
A look of strained disbelief crossed the face of the man in white as he plummeted to the ground, lifeless. The sound of a loud bell resonated through the arena, signaling the end of the match.
For the first time, Ty noticed the scale of the audience from the bar TV. Thousands of spectators encircled the fighting area.
The size of the event settled on him, with the roar of the crowd rumbling behind his thoughts.
Ty stared in disbelief. "How is he still standing? That attack should have severed his spine!"
The silver-haired man nodded in agreement. "Indeed, he won’t be walking the same ever again. But those well-versed in magic can perform extraordinary feats, like temporarily mending damaged ligaments with magic strands. It’s a rare skill, even here."
He eyed Ty with faint amusement. "Perhaps you truly aren’t from this world," he chuckled, just as the door swung open.
A man in a sleek black suit and dark glasses stepped into the room, urgency in his voice. "1st Lieutenant Daemon! Is the Demon ready for his match?
The King, along with other high-profile guests, will be in attendance tonight." His gaze then fell on Ty, pausing momentarily at the sight of his bare feet.
Ty felt a rush of adrenaline at the mention of the King’s presence. The high stakes and the audience for his upcoming battle became harder to ignore.
The atmosphere in the room shifted, the gravity of the moment setting in as Ty prepared to step into the arena.
The man in the suit, now identified as Greg, was insistent. "Make sure he’s properly attired and prepared, understood?"
The silver-haired man responded with a casual nod. "Sure thing, Greg. Appreciate the heads-up."
He then turned to Ty, challenge in his eyes. "So, Demon Boy, ready to put on a show?" With a flick of his finger, he directed a stream of energy towards Ty’s clasped hands, snapping the stone bindings.
The release was immediate, and Ty felt a surge of relief.
"Ah, thanks," Ty exclaimed, flexing his hands. "I can feel a much stronger connection to my Resencia now. That’s much better."
The silver-haired man looked puzzled. "Your what?"
Ty, realizing his slip, laughed nervously. "Oh, just my way of referring to magic. Don’t mind the fancy term. ’Resencia’ just sounded cooler to me."
Daemon looked unconvinced, but he let it go.
Ty appreciated that more than he wanted to admit. Every answer he gave in this place seemed to grow three new problems, and he was running out of patience for explanations no one believed.
At least shoes were a problem he understood.
He took the shoes and let the weight ground him for a second.
As they spoke, Lieutenant Daemon stood and walked over to a closet, retrieving a pair of silver-laced shoes with metal plates. He held them out towards Ty. "Size 9, right? These should fit you, Demon Boy."