The arena was alive.
From the highest tier of seating to the floor level sections, millions of spectators created a sea of movement and color and sound that defied comprehension. Banners flew from every section—some displaying planetary symbols, others showing support for specific fighters with hand-painted names and numbers. Flags from hundreds of worlds snapped in the artificial breeze, a rainbow of allegiances declaring themselves to anyone watching.
And everyone was watching.
Across fifteen galaxies, hundreds of trillions had tuned in simultaneously. The live feeds had gone active at dawn, broadcasting the pre-ceremony atmosphere to every corner of the Aethorian Empire. Homes and public spaces, ships and stations, all connected to the same moment, the same anticipation, the same building energy.
The commentary teams had been analyzing for hours, their voices carrying across the feeds with professional excitement barely contained beneath analytical veneer.
"Welcome, welcome, WELCOME to round three of the Tenday Tournament!" The primary commentator's voice boomed across every broadcast channel. "I'm Adira Veston, and I am THRILLED to be bringing you every moment of what promises to be the most spectacular tournament finale in living memory!"
"Joining me is former champion Marcus Thane," another voice cut in, deeper and more measured. " We're looking at five thousand qualified participants. What are your initial thoughts?"
"Adira, I've watched six tournaments and I've never seen this level of anticipation. The death toll in elimination round was unprecedented and everyone wants to see if this final phase will match that intensity."
"And the fighters themselves! Let's look at our rankings display—"
The central holographic screens throughout the arena flickered to life, massive displays showing the top one thousand ranked participants. Each name accompanied by an image—some showing confident faces, others in combat poses, a few wearing ceremonial attire.
The crowds noise swelled again as more displays activated, showing bracket structures, statistical breakdowns, betting odds that shifted in real-time as professional gamblers made final assessments.
Then the arena itself began to change.
The lighting shifted, dimming the seating areas while illuminating the grand stage at the center. The crystalline platform seemed to glow from within, refracting light in patterns that danced across its two-hundred-meter diameter. The barriers surrounding it hummed with barely contained energy, translucent surfaces rippling slightly as they activated to full power.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Adira's voice dropped to something approaching reverence, "the stage is set. Five thousand fighters. Single elimination. One champion. This is what we've been waiting for."
The crowd's roar intensified impossibly further.
And then four massive tunnel entrances opened simultaneously at the cardinal points of the arena floor.
"AND HERE THEY COME!" Kira's excitement exploded across the feeds. "The rotagonists of today's show!"
From the north tunnel, fighters ranked 1-1250 emerged in organized formation. The crowd's noise peaked as the top seeds appeared, chants rising from sections draped in various planetary banners. Jade walked among this group, hood pulled low, hands relaxed at his sides.
From the east tunnel, ranks 1251-2500 entered.
From the south tunnel, ranks 2501-3750 appeared.
From the west tunnel, ranks 3751-5000 emerged.
The four processions moved toward their designated seating areas, fighters finding their assigned sections based on rank positioning.
Cameras tracked the mass movement, displays cycling through dozens of faces and statistics as viewers tried to identify favorites or study potential opponents.
The fighters reached their assigned sections and began settling into seats. The noise in the arena remained deafening, spectators refusing to quiet even as the participants took their places. The four processions had filled the designated areas completely—five thousand fighters now seated in tiered sections surrounding the grand stage, all facing inward toward the crystalline platform that would determine their fates.
Jade found his designated seat—section for ranks 101-200, comfortable positioning with clear sightlines to the stage. Around him, others in similar rank ranges were settling in, some acknowledging each other with nods or brief words, others maintaining focused silence.
He sat and closed his eyes, tuning out the chaos.
Then the lights dimmed further.
The crowd's noise faltered, anticipation replacing volume as everyone realized what was coming.
A single spotlight activated, focusing on the space above the grand stage's center.
There, Majordomo Prime materialized.
His projection was massive—easily fifty meters tall, the elderly butler's artificial features visible from every section simultaneously. His presence commanded immediate attention, authority radiating from every line of his dignified posture.
The arena fell silent. Millions of people across multiple tiers, all going quiet in perfect synchronization. Even the commentary feeds cut their analysis, letting the moment speak for itself.
Majordomo Prime's voice, when it came, carried across the arena and through every broadcast feed with crystalline clarity.
"Citizens of the Aethorian Empire. Honored guests. Brave participants." The projection's gaze seemed to sweep across every section. "Welcome to the culmination of the Tenday Tournament's grandest tradition."
He paused, letting the words resonate.
"Before you stand five thousand warriors. Five thousand individuals who have survived trials that eliminated 916,847 of their peers. They have proven themselves worthy of advancement through skill, determination, and the will to persevere when others fell."
The projection's hand gestured, and holographic displays throughout the arena lit up with images—highlights from elimination round showing desperate fights and narrow survivals, battle round moments of victory and defeat, the names of those who'd fallen scrolling past in memorial.
"347,923 did not survive the elimination phase. Their sacrifice reminds us that this tournament, while entertainment, carries real consequence. Real danger. Real glory for those strong enough to claim it."
The images shifted to show the current bracket structure, five thousand names arranged in tournament tree format.
"Round three operates under single-elimination format. When your name is called, you will step onto this stage. You will face your opponent. Victory advances you to the next round. Defeat ends your tournament journey. There are no second chances. No opportunities for redemption. Only the singular truth of combat—win or go home."
He paused again, heavier this time.
"The rules are simple: matches end when an opponent surrenders, is rendered unconscious, or when our referees determine inability to continue safely. Killing is strictly prohibited. Lethal intent will result in immediate disqualification and criminal prosecution under imperial law. We celebrate strength, skill, and honor—not murder."
The projection's expression softened slightly, taking on something almost paternal.
"To the five thousand gathered here today: you have already achieved what millions could not. You have earned your place among the empire's finest warriors. But now comes the true test. Now you will demonstrate not just your power, but your character. Your ability to rise when pressured. Your capacity to adapt when challenged. Your determination to reach heights others cannot imagine."
The elderly features hardened again, authority returning in full force.
"The empire watches. Your families watch. History watches. Every move you make will be seen by trillions. Every victory celebrated. Every defeat mourned. You carry not just your own dreams, but the hopes of worlds that sent you here."
A final pause, this one crackling with barely contained energy.
"Fight with honor. Fight with pride. Show the universe the strength that earned you this stage. And may the most worthy among you claim the championship that awaits."
The projection raised one hand high.
"Let the Tenday Tournament's final round... COMMENCE!"
The crowd 'exploded'.
The noise was beyond description—millions of voices creating sound that felt less like audio and more like physical force. The arena itself seemed to vibrate from the acoustic pressure. Banners waved frantically. Flags snapped in the wind. Pure excitement and anticipation compressed into a wall of celebration that rolled across every tier.
The live feeds carried that sound across fifteen galaxies, and everywhere—in homes and public spaces, in ships and stations—people erupted in matching celebration.
This was it.
The moment the empire had been waiting for.
Round three had begun.
Majordomo Prime's projection vanished, replaced immediately by the bracket structure showing the first matchup.
"FIRST MATCH!" Adira Veston's voice somehow cut through the noise. "Participant 23,441 VERSUS Participant 67,892! FIGHTERS, APPROACH THE STAGE!"
Two names lit up in gold on every display. Two fighters rose from their sections—one from mid-rank seating, another from lower ranks. Both began walking toward the grand stage, their paths tracked by thousands of cameras, their faces shown on massive screens as commentators provided rapid-fire analysis of their records and capabilities.
The crowd's noise shifted from general celebration to focused excitement. Supporters of both fighters screaming encouragement. Neutral spectators settling in to watch. Professional gamblers making bet placements as the fighters took their positions on opposite sides of the crystalline platform.
Round three had begun officially.
And across fifteen galaxies, trillions watched with undivided attention as the referee appeared on stage and confirmed both fighters' readiness.
Jade opened his eyes and observed the two fighters settling into combat stances.
His own match was scheduled for afternoon session. Hours away. But watching the opening fights would provide useful information about referee standards and barrier capabilities.
He settled back and watched.
...
To be continued.....