Blue lights traced the arena's floor like veins beneath glass, reflecting off the polished marble columns. Tom and Harriet walked through the grand archway, boots echoing softly.
The crowd above was restless, whispering the names of those who had already fallen and those still to fight.
On the massive screen hanging over the stage updated leaderboard.
A voice rumbled one from the center of the hall, rich with excitement and control.
"Aaaaaaaaaaand that concludes the second quarter-final! A brilliant victory for Gyro Regardo! He advances into the semifinals with a marvellous performance!"
The crowd clapped. Harriet whistled once, grinning. "That man's on fire lately. Guess he really does gamble with style."
Tom didn't answer. His hands were in his pockets, eyes fixed on the changing display. The next match detail appeared on the board in bright golden letters:
[ Quarter Final 3 ]
[ Albert Newton (Uptie 1, Level 2)
vs
Piere Lal (Uptie Unknown ) ]
Tom exhaled quietly. "It's time."
Harriet glanced toward the opposite end of the hall and there he was.
Piere Lal stood at a distance near the far corridor, barely moving. He wore the same yellow zamarra lined with sheepskin, its edges swaying faintly in the draft from the vents. The white beret was still perched on his bald head, slightly tilted. His white beard lightly shakes by the wind.
Around him, the space was not oppressive. The world bent politely to make a peaceful room for his calm.
He was watching the board. His hands were folded in front of him, robe cuffs falling like quiet feathers.
Harriet leaned close to Tom and whispered, "That's the guy, right? The one you told me about?"
Tom nodded, jaw tight. "Yeah. Met him earlier. Chill guy, I just need a matchbox."
"What is his deal?"
Tom smirked faintly. "Apparently, he already buried me alive."
Harriet snorted. "Well, let's disappoint the priest then."
The announcer's voice rose again, bright and ceremonious.
"Ladies and gentlemen — the third quarter-final match of this cycle will begin shortly! Participants: Albert Newton versus Piere Lal! Both contenders, please prepare for transfer to the match domain!"
A quiet pulse rolled across the hall as arcane symbols spun beneath the stage.
Tom's gaze met Piere's across the distance for just a second. Piere's expression didn't change, yet there was a softness to it, almost regretful.
Harriet broke the silence. "He doesn't look like someone who fights."
"That's why he's dangerous. Cause he prays." Said Tom, handing his hat to Harriet.
"This match will take place in a unique domain.… The Drowned Canopy. A massive dusk-lit forest where the rain itself is acid — melting stone, dissolving beasts, and twisting mana into madness."
The crowd gasped softly as the projection zoomed closer. They could see black trees, their bark peeling from corrosion, the ground smoking where drops struck. Every now and then, the faint screech of something melting echoed from the distance.
"Within this forest," the announcer went on, "there exist seven Checkpoint Trees. Each one is a towering guardian-tree that glows from within. Their roots drink the poison rain and purify it into light. Around every Tree is a twenty-meter safe zone, an invisible dome that completely blocks the acid from falling down."
The display changed, showing one such tree. Its surface was covered with roots of gold light, and the falling acid evaporated the moment it touched the barrier around it.
"These Checkpoint Trees serve multiple purposes." the announcer said. "They are sanctuaries, shops and enforcers of the game's laws."
Text shimmered in the air beside the image, breaking the details into simple terms,
[ Acid Shielding: Absolute protection from acid within the safe zone ]
[ Item Shop: Each Tree offers different goods, available for purchase ]
[ Mana Cleanse: Restores up to thirty percent of stamina to any participant who rests inside ]
The crowd murmured in awe. Harriet was watching from the audience section, leaned forward with wide eyes.
The announcer continued. "The match begins at Checkpoint 1. Both players will start under the same tree. The goal is to reach Checkpoint 7 and ring the Soulbound Bell. The first participant to do so will be declared the winner."
A clear pause, and then the tone darkened slightly.
"However," he said, "this match is not just about speed. If both contestants are unable to progress past a certain checkpoint, victory will be decided based on their Survival Score."
Some words appeared in golden letters,
[ Survival Score: Endurance, Sanity and Integrity under environmental stress ]
The projection faded for a moment and then a final note appeared.
"Each Checkpoint Tree also performs a Sanity Check. Participants must be mentally stable to continue. Any attempt to hide mental breakdown, physical injury or false information will result in immediate disqualification."
"Now," he said, "before we begin the match between Albert Newton and Piere Lal, the remaining conditions will be revealed."
The holographic screen shimmered back to life, showing once again the endless acid forest. Shadows dripping, trees glowing faintly through the mist.
"All participants will begin with twenty Soul Tokens." the announcer declared. Small silver coins spun in the air above the display, each one glowing with faint blue light. "These tokens are the foundation of survival and progress. They determine trade access, stamina recovery, and even the right to pass through the forest's deeper layers."
The crowd watched as the screen listed new glowing lines,
[ How to Earn Soul Tokens ]
[ Reaching a Checkpoint: +5 tokens ]
[ Solving a Tree's riddles or completing its inner tasks: +3 tokens ]
[ Winning Forest Gambles ( optional challenges that test nerve and intellect ) ]
The projection shifted again. A lone figure stood in the rain, acid droplets steaming as they fell.
"These Forest Gambles," the announcer said, his tone growing darker, "are designed to tempt players to measure how far they're willing to push themselves for advantage."
A list appeared, each task glowing like ghostly runes in the fog.
[ Shrine Challenge Examples ]
[ Stand in the rain for exactly 0.7 seconds. Reward: +6 tokens ]
[ Navigate a pack of blind deadly wolves without sound." Reward: +10 tokens ]
[ Offer a memory." Reward: +15 tokens ( permanently lose one personal memory ) ]
The hall murmured. Even Harriet, sitting casually with a half-finished milkshake, stopped mid-sip.
"These gambles." the announcer continued, "Tempt every soul in the forest. A player may grow rich in tokens or die in poverty for misjudging a fraction of time."
The projection zoomed out. Showing multiple players wandering under the burning drizzle, their outlines fading in and out as acid ate through their cloaks.
"Direct killing," the voice said coldly, "is strictly forbidden. However, indirect killing is another matter."
"You may not stab your opponent…. but you may lure them outside the safety of a Checkpoint's radius. You may attract forest beasts toward them. You may destroy their equipment, poison their food or manipulate the items they purchased from the Tree's shop. All of this is within the law."
A chilling silence filled the air.
"And beware the middle region," the announcer said, his voice now echoing like thunder. "Between Checkpoint 4 and Checkpoint 6, the forest itself comes alive. Every ten minutes, The Drowned Canopy rearranges its form. Paths vanish. Landmarks dissolve. Beasts relocate."
"To survive, players must rely on instinct or purchase compasses that detect mana currents. Failing to track these shifts causes Sanity Drain, simply getting lost."
A final image appeared. A figure lost in the mist, walking toward an illusionary light.
"When your sanity breaks," the announcer finished, "you will begin to see false Checkpoints. Trees that whisper your name, bells that do not exist, sanctuaries that dissolve when you step inside."
The screen faded to black.
"And now," he said quietly, "let the forest open its mouth."