Aetheral Space

Chapter 356:13.14: The Inferiors

The crowd went wild, but not for the reasons one would hope.

Jeers. Boos. Screams of fury. The collective rage of an audience denied their bloodshed. Tickets to see the Dawn Contest in person were not cheap, and these people expected a spectacle. What they did not want was the first match ending in an instant, without so much as a punch being thrown.

Aether or not, Ruth had no doubt that if Dragan was in the crowd itself, he would have been ripped to pieces.

She stared at him, her mouth agape, as he accepted the surrender of his opponent. Him even showing up here had just been another formality, hadn’t it? North had said so himself…

"That’s what your pal Dragan’s doing. He’s determining."

Dragan hadn’t spent the last two years preparing for the Dawn Contest. He’d spent them winning it.

If the disapproval of the masses bothered Dragan, he didn’t show it. His bored gaze just scanned over his surroundings, as if this were some natural formation he was looking at and not a crowd that hated his guts specifically. The slightest smirk tugged the side of his lips.

Besides him, Xander rose to his feet -- placing a hand up on Dragan’s shoulder. The Cogitant nodded, and a second later a sudden wind picked up, plucking the pair off the ground and sending them flying up into the sky like twin paper airplanes.

Ruth watched after them, mouth still open, as they became dots that vanished into the night.

Muzazi looked down at the now-empty arena, his eyes widened to their utmost in shock.

"What…?" he whispered.

"It seems we underestimated the extent of Dragan Hadrien’s preparations," Jamilu said, putting his knuckles to his mouth. He was clearly surprised as well, but was doing a much better job at hiding it. The Principality over his head glowed as he

He glanced at her. "If you had the utmost faith in me," he grunted. "I wouldn’t need your luck, would I?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "You’re not usually so talkative."

He left.

As he walked down the entrance tunnel, the roar of the crowd becoming louder and louder, he cracked his neck. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel sweat on his palms. How long had this been his desire? To prove his strength and become Supreme? Only a machine would feel nothing finally coming so close to it.

Watch, Damon. Watch this, you fool.

"Okay, okay! This time for sure!"

Brett del Boros’ voice sounded out through the arena, his sweat-covered face on all the screens. If one looked closely, they might have noticed that his pupils seemed a tad darker than before -- but nobody was in the mood to look very closely. They were far too occupied with their outrage.

"In this corner…" Brett pushed on undeterred. "We have the man from the past, the right hand of the Mad Supreme… Mereloco!"

Mereloco emerged from the tunnel, scowling as the light fell upon him once again, and came to a halt. As he crossed his arms, his face was stone.

"In the other… the many-eyed Man of Flowers, the gamer from the pits of hell -- Tealin Jade!"

Mereloco’s opponent came out as well. His blue skin shone in the light as he stretched his four muscular arms, an easy smile on his face. The many eyes covering his muscles flicked in various individual directions, taking in every detail of his surroundings.

"And now, without further ado… the Dawn Contest will truly truly truly… begin!"

When Tealin Jade opened his mouth instead of charging forward, no doubt the crowd thought they were about to witness the third surrender in a row. Some even began to shout their fury in advance. But the words he spoke, amplified through the arena, were perhaps even more confusing.

"Let’s make a game of this," he said, his voice resonant. "The first one to touch the other loses. Oui?"

Mereloco, his face unamused, said only one word in response.

"Unchained."

He vanished in an instant, incoherent gravity pulling him forward at breakneck speeds -- and in that same instant, he smashed his fist into Tealin’s jaw. The sound of the impact echoed throughout the stadium. No doubt some of the onlookers thought that, even if this wasn’t a surrender, the match had ended in an instant anyway. That was surely a killing blow.

But kill the blow did not.

As the fist pressed against his cheek, Tealin just grinned down at Mereloco, a sinister gleam in his eye. He licked his jet-black lips with a vivid red tongue.

"You lose," he giggled.

Mereloco pulled himself back with gravity, predicting the counter, but it was too late. Flowers began to sprout from his arm, breaking through the skin, their colorful petals stained by blood from birth. As he landed a short distance away, the damaged limb already concealed entirely beneath the newborn foliage, Tealin stepped forward to pursue him.

"Next game," he declared, throwing his four arms wide. "The next one to take a breath loses. The game begins…" All four hands snapped their fingers. "...now."

Mereloco did not take a breath, but he did grin.

It seemed this match had started to interest him.