At last—tournament day
Date: Monday, Zion years 1223
The rolling snowball was now as big as a mountain as the people's anticipation reached its peak. The day had finally arrived, and the stone seats in the stands were filled right from the beginning of the matches. Together, the crowd roared and cheered as they saw the participants take the stage, giving each person the privilege to feel like a star, even if it was just for a fleeting moment, before the next person after you comes into the arena looking around with the same awe.
The two powerful sect leaders had passed great distances to arrive. They had rested, receiving the best hospitality from Kegal, a kindness even his children rarely enjoyed. Now they sat at the highest seats, only with Kegal and his elders as well as the representatives of the other clans seated below them.
Every clan leader and representative hoped that their child would be picked as a winner. But not Kabal; he wasn't hoping, he was anxious to see Kane's performance. Vera had already acted favorably to the boy, so it wasn't far-fetched to think he was going to be chosen by the Cathedral sect.
"Now that the Eclipse heart is in the hands of someone more capable and ruthless with the lack of mercy, I'm confident Kane will not only win but dominate this tournament."
Kabal thought as he glanced at the other clan leaders and flashed them a fake smile, which they returned. He was sure everyone thought they had a trump card up their sleeves. He glanced back down in the stands at his favorite son, favorably. In the lineup of participants that reached the thousands, the nobles and the commoners were relatively easy to identify; the heirs stood with confident smirks coupled with decorative clothing.
The commoners, on the other hand, wore looks that seemed to suggest they were about to climb a mountain. There was one figure, though, that the crowd couldn't figure out. He wore a simple black mask and a black suit that carried the same shade of coloring.
The attire handcrafted after Julie brought the materials back from the stalls in the market. No one could see his face to guess what he was thinking, but his eyes—they looked abnormally sharp in the mask. His behavior of indifference and attire drew the hatred of the crowd.
In Zion, one could only be arrogant after they earned the right; the masked figure hadn't. The crowd had been discussing for a while now why this guy was wearing a black mask on his face. What was he trying to hide?
An older man scoffed before he spoke. "I know this kind of behavior. Over my many years watching this tournament, it's only cowards that act like this."
Someone agreed with him. "Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing; he's probably from nowhere, so he knows if he shows his face—despite that sleek-looking black suit—we'll know he's a nobody. So, as a means to cope, he's trying to look important."
Another person added,
"He doesn't even have a weapon. Does he think he can defeat everyone with his bare hands?" Indeed, that was true; ninety-eight percent of the contestants had weapons. Swords, spears, and crossbows were allowed.
Only Kyle and a few other well-known experts were empty-handed. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back like some sort of grandmaster. This act alone lowered his position in the eyes of everyone; even the top experts sitting above had a bad impression of him. Ramsey of the Verlirian clan joked, "And who is that mighty-looking figure dressed all in black?" he asked, and looked around at the other elders, then he looked at Kabal.
"I'm willing to bet half my clan that that idiot is going to deal with your hot-headed son Kane." He paused and laughed at his own joke. The other patriarchs kept their faces solemn. He would have to fuse his jokes with chi if he wanted a laugh out of them.
Mariam, representative of the Mystic clan, spoke next. She might not have been an elder, but she had enough backing to dabble in the matters of the big dogs. "Where is Kyle? If you ask me, I think you have a better chance with him here instead of Kane. He might not fight to kill, but he would definitely be chosen by a sect. Maybe they can remove his soft nature." Mariam only saw Kabal smile; he was never known for his show of emotions, but that smile indicated he already had something planned. She hadn't asked because she wanted to make a better suggestion, after all, everyone was rooting for their heir. She only spoke to figure out the calm and collected Kabal. The heir that came to this tournament was called Malim. She was one of the most talented the Mystic sect had ever produced. With this thought in mind, Mariam decided to be confident in her clan's heir.
The three remaining representatives stood silent as they watched the match below. There were only two patriarchs, Kabal of the Bancroft and Ramsey of the Verlirian. The rest—the Mystic clan, Snow clan, the Fervial clan, and the Winstor clan. Elder Dru, a high-ranking elder of the high chamber in the Bancroft clan, was overseeing the match. At this time he held a massive hammer and inserted his chi into it. After slamming a bell, the sound traveled through the whole city and could be heard from the gates. The first match had begun.
"Welcome, our esteemed guests," his voice resounded as he made sure to address the sect leaders first. "Clan leaders, and talented heirs." Leaving out the commoners with no care in the world, he continued speaking.
"The first round is about chi control. You must navigate the rivers of chi on nothing but a log, using your chi to balance your body and avoid the waves. There is only one rule in this round, and that is to get to the finish line."
With that, the elder released his peak Ascended level chi, and the arena became a clear space. The platform was lifted off the floor, and only the hard, dusty ground could be seen. With another wave of his hands, an artifact appeared in the air; it looked like a small tank, but the aura it released was that of a level two magical item. Only the patriarch could possess such a thing. The elder waved his hands again, and a rumbling sound was heard in the air. The crowd and participants stared as the sound grew louder. Something was coming, and it soon made its appearance—chi, countless and endless, raw and majestic, materialized out of the drum like a raging river, heading straight for the participants.