Created and written by Mateo Woodson
Written and created by John Fallout
[Colosseum Entrance — Twenty minutes to Match Start]
Ephraim soared through the skies, his body gliding effortlessly on arcs of magnetism as the wind whipped at the rolled sleeves of his cropped black jean jacket. He landed outside the towering gates of the colosseum, the heart of New Eden's capital—Soluar. A giant magical timer floated above the arena, glowing bright red digits ticking down: 00:20:00.
A gruff voice cut into the wind.Guard 1: "Name tag."
Ephraim fished into his jacket pocket and handed it over casually, cracking a smirk. The guard took one look at it and raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. But he said nothing, simply handed it back and gave a curt nod.
The moment Ephraim stepped past the threshold—
ZAP!
He vanished in a flash of green light and was slammed face-first into a polished stone floor.
[Locker Room — Colosseum Interior]
"Ughhh, dammit," Ephraim groaned, peeling himself off the floor. He blinked, dazed, until his eyes settled on two familiar faces.
"BUDDYYY! RIKKAAA! YOU MADE IT!"
Rika was seated against the far wall, her legs crossed and arms folded tightly. Her short red curls bounced slightly as she scoffed.
Rika: "If I knew I'd be teleported in here, I wouldn't have come."
Ephraim: "Damn, why do you hate us so much? What did we do? And I expect an apology from our little scuffle."
Rika: "You didn't particularly do anything... other than not leave me alone."
Ephraim: "Well, why do you wanna be left alone? We are teammates."
Rika: "No, we're not. We're forced to be together. I have no allegiance to you—or you to me."
Ephraim raised an eyebrow. "Come onnn, I'm not that bad. We can be friends—I swear I'm nice."
Rika shot him a look so sharp it could slice steel, then stood and quietly walked to the far corner of the room, her expression unreadable.
Ephraim sighed and walked toward Buddy, who had been sitting in a meditative pose, eyes closed, calm as a mountain.
Ephraim: "Sup, Buddy."
Buddy: "Hello, friend. How have you been? You look... a bit worse for wear."
Ephraim: "Yeaaa... I met this girl's dad and let's just say he does not like me."
Buddy: [chuckling softly] "I can see that. I'm glad you're okay."
Ephraim: "Ya ya, me too."
[Locker Room TV]
Suddenly, the massive mirror across the room flickered and transformed into a glowing screen. The crowd's roars—muffled through the walls—now echoed through the room, amplified.
The camera panned over the crowd. Thousands, if not tens of thousands, were packed into the arena. The energy was overwhelming. Fireworks exploded overhead. Streamers of magical light danced through the air.
A man in a red sequin robe and lion mask floated to the center on a hover platform.
Announcer: "AREEEE YOUUU READYYYY?!"
The crowd roared back like thunder.
Announcer: "TODAY—TAG TEAM FIGHTING! TWO BRACKETS: LOW CLASS AND HIGH CLASS! THE WINNERS OF EACH WILL ADVANCE TO ROUND THREEE!"
Announcer (cont'd): "INTRODUCING OUR FIRST MATCH: TEEEAAAAMMM RAPHINAAA!!"
Ephraim's head whipped toward the screen to see Salt on screen.
Ephraim: "So that's her real name… Raphina…"
Announcer: "TEAM RAPHINA: RAPHINA BUELFORD, HOGAN THOMAS, MARIA STILLWONNN!"
The camera cut to their opponents:
Announcer: "FIGHTING THEM IS… TEAM CHANNING! CHANNING MAYFLOWER, TONY BOTTLENECK, AND BABA UKA!"
[The Match — High Class Bracket]
The arena shimmered and shifted, transforming into a floating battlefield of broken platforms and levitating boulders.
Raphina stepped forward, her hands glowing with star magic. She summoned radiant whips of energy and spun them like chainsaws. Bolts of light burst from her palms like miniature suns. Hogan, her teammate, summoned colossal vines from thin air—high-level forest magic—wrapping opponents in bark armor. Maria played a spectral cello mid-battle, and her music magic cast dazzling illusions and sonic booms.
On the other side:Channing formed gold shields and reflective blades. Tony transformed into a tiger mid-leap with animal magic, while Baba Uka hurled bolts of chaotic lightning that scorched the floating platforms.
The fight was brutal, elegant, like a divine opera of war. In the end—after stunning coordination and a blazing meteor of star energy from Raphina—it was Salt's team that stood victorious.
[Later Matches — Quick Highlights]
The next two matches showcased powerful but less memorable teams—an ogre and goblin trio that used boulder magic and decay, and a noble team with telekinesis and phoenix fire. They were solid, but the crowd was clearly waiting for one match in particular.
[Back in the Locker Room]
TV Announcer: "NOW... THE MATCH YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! THE TROUBLE MAKER IN THE LOW CLASS BRACKET—TEAM BOICHI!"
A gasp ran through the crowd.
Announcer: "EPHRAIM BOICHI! BUDDY WONG! RIKA CIDER!"
Ephraim smirked, cracked his neck.
Announcer: "VS... TEAM INFERNUS! DAZAR VILE. SLICKWICK MATHERS. CHROME THE BUTCHER!"
BZZZ!
Instant teleportation.
[Battle Arena — Low Class Bracket]
Ephraim landed with a thud on cracked stone. They stood on an open desert battlefield—massive bones of some ancient serpent coiled around the edges. Lava pools bubbled at the far corners.
Their opponents approached:
Dazar Vile, a cocky swordsman with molten knives that bled smoke.
Slickwick Mathers, a scrawny speedster who could liquefy into oil.
Chrome, a towering brute who carried two meat cleavers and wore no armor but a helmet of spikes.
The crowd screamed in anticipation.
Announcer: "LET THE MATCH... BEGINNNNN!"
[The Fight]
Chrome charged first, roaring. Ephraim barely dodged the twin cleavers, throwing a magnetized punch to shift Chrome's metal helmet and stagger him.
Ephraim: "JESUS you're ugly!"
Rika launched herself into the air, stretching her limbs wide and wrapping around Slickwick, trying to bind him—but he melted into a puddle and slithered out, reforming behind her. She flipped, extended her leg twenty feet, and nailed him in the jaw.
Buddy raised his hands and clapped. Four radiant, spectral arms burst from his back, each holding a different glowing weapon—staff, blade, mace, and bell.
He moved like a celestial monk, each strike in rhythm.
Buddy: "Let's harmonize."
Ephraim used Chrome's own cleaver to repel a blast of molten energy from Dazar, who grinned and threw another. Ephraim jumped high and caught a metal panel in the air, magnetizing to it, and launched himself into a divebomb—slamming his elbow into Dazar's shoulder.
Crowd: OHHHHHHH!
Rika tangled with Slickwick again, this time stretching her arm like a whip around his ankle and slamming him into the ground again and again.
Buddy took on Chrome, arms glowing like lanterns, striking with almost mechanical precision. The brute roared, then caught Buddy's bell hand and shattered it—Buddy recoiled, gasping—but his remaining hands held strong.
Dazar caught Ephraim by the collar midair, threw him down and slashed across his chest.
Ephraim: "Nghhh... You wanna play like that?"
He magnetized Dazar's knives away from him, the metal ripping out of Dazar's grip with a snap. Then he grabbed the guy by the face and slammed him into the dirt knocking him out.
The crowd exploded.
Final Clash
The trio regrouped, bruised and bloodied. Their opponents—barely conscious.
Ephraim, still breathing hard, looked over his shoulder.
Ephraim: "Let's end it."
Buddy clapped his remaining hands. Rika nodded silently.
They charged— Ephraim and Rika slingshot themselves forward and body-checked Slickwick into the lava pit. Buddy's remaining spectral limbs struck Chrome in the chest with a divine burst of energy.
KABOOM.
Dust cleared.
Their team stood. Victorious.
Ephraim: "WOOOOO!! WE FUCKIN' DID IT!"
He turned to Buddy, pulling him into a one-armed hug. Then Rika, who winced but nodded respectfully. Maybe—just maybe—they were a team now.
Announcer: "TEAM BOICHI ADVANCES TO THE SEMI-FINALS OF THE LOW CLASS BRACKET!"
The crowd roared.
Lights flashed. Fireworks exploded. Ephraim stood in the middle of it, battered, triumphant, a grin plastered across his face.
And somewhere far above in a private suite...Titus Buelford watched.
Frowning.