The Arena continues to fill. The fake camaraderie is a thick, sweet poison in the air. A squad of high-level Ascendors in sleek, aggressive armor give Yael's sandcastle a wide, disdainful berth, as if its quiet defiance is a contaminant. A group of Middle players huddle nearby, their eyes darting between the timer and the more powerful clans, already calculating who to avoid and who to betray first.
Yael ignores them all. His new sight; the losers and cowards. If somehow he'd be able to get some money from them, he'd be able to buy some equipment.
ANDROMALIUS (THE GREAT EARL OF HELL): He seeks the broken coins in the beggar's cup.
PHENEX (THE GREAT MARQUIS): Formerly of the angelic order, now a demon who delights in poetry and lies. He will not speak of battle, but of the sad, beautiful ballads of the doomed. PHENEX'S COMMENT: I shall compose a verse for the sandcastle. "A bastion of dust, a flag of fading light, against the coming, endless night..." It needs work.
SHAX (THE GREAT MARQUIS): A demon who steals from kings and blinds the watchmen. He appreciates a clean, amoral heist. SHAX'S COMMENT: Do not ask for their money. Take it. The system's guards are blind here. I can show you the transaction logs to falsify.
BIFRONS (THE DEMON COUNT): A teacher of astronomy and the knowledge of graves. He sees the geometric alignment of despair.BIFRONS'S COMMENT: The celestial alignment of this Arena favors the predator. The Losers are in the house of shattered fortune. Their Papp is already a ghost. Harvest the phantom.
DANTALIAN (THE SCHOLAR DUKE): Hypothesis confirmed. Subject is engaging in pre-cycle resource acquisition. Target: socio-economic underclass of the Arena. Methodology: likely exploitation of pre-existing trauma or fear.
He sees the [THEME: BLOODLUST] as a crimson current flowing through the Arena's code, seeking purchase in every player's aggression stat. He sees their little claimed area as a bubble where that current parts and flows around, held back by Celia's soul-flag and his own focused will.
Yael's eyes roamed around the arena that was filling more and more. His eyes set on those, whose armor was weak, who seemed to find some spots to hide, who avoided everybody. His eyes land on an individual who's hunched over a fetal position. Their knees are drawn up to their chest and their hands wrapped around. The individual had their head resting on their knees.
They seemed harmless. But the dagger which seemed to give a black aura around it drew Yael. He turned to Celia and said softly yet firm "Stay here. I'll be back."
Celia nods and looks at Yael's retreating form, as he walks to the individual.
Yael eyes lock into theirs. His eyes were golden, yet it gave almost a translucent iris with subtle golden and sandy beige tones. A dark purple pupil, framed by delicate looking light eyelashes. But Yael wasn't here to look at the guys eyes. "Give me your dagger."
There was no answer from the man. Only silence. The background noise faded. And they both just stared at each other for a long moment.
The timer continues its march.
00:59:59
One hour until the seal breaks.
A system-wide announcement booms, echoing in the vast space:
ARENA CYCLE 7,443 COMMENCING IN T-MINUS ONE HOUR.
INITIAL CLASS ASSIGNMENTS BASED ON PREVIOUS PERFORMANCE ARE LOCKED.
NEW PARTICIPANTS: CLASS PENDING. OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE AND CLIMB.
SPECIAL MODIFIER DETECTED: [TERRITORIAL CLAIM]. CLAIMANTS FORFEIT PASSIVE CLASS PLACEMENT. CLASS WILL BE DETERMINED BY AGGRESSIVE ACTIONS TAKEN DURING CYCLE.
The man throws his head back and laughs. Yael stares at him for a long moment before saying "Stop laughing like a window cleaner." He crouches down and snatches the dagger. "Thank you." The man continues laughing "See you soon, Kenju." Yael looks at him weirdly. before shaking his head and walking away.
Yael made his way to the castle, but Celia wasn't there. A sudden panic hit him. He looked around the arena.
ABADDON (THE DESTROYER): The foundation of your domain is not stone, but a soul. You left it unguarded. The locusts swarm to where the light has fled.
"Shut up! Shut up!" He snaps his head towards the server "I will mute you if you say anything!" he says through gritted teeth. Yael walks around the place looking for Celia. He stops and looks at the timer. It was only a mere thirty minutes before the games started. He ran a hand through his hair. He exchanged the dagger for a sniper which had unlimited bullets.
The sniper rifle materialized in his hands, heavy and real. It was a brutal, inelegant exchange—a weapon with a soul's history for a tool of anonymous death. But it gave him sight.
Yael made his way to a corner. looked around before taking his jacket off and ripping them into small pieces. In each small ripped cloth, he placed sand. and put it next to him.
It was only 5 minutes before the games started.
4 pouches of sand.
3 victors in sight.
2 eyes.
1 objective.