The musty air permeated Dell's lungs as he was escorted onto the lift under the tunnels of the Coliseum.
The guard looked him up and down, then placed a stone collar scribbled with runes onto Dell's neck. The collar would prevent the competitors from actually inflicting and receiving harm from each other, restricting any injury from the fight to an early sleep. It was an effective tool to ensure the full display of power was shown tonight, without having to kill anyone for the sake of entertainment.
The floor of the colosseum opened above and the lift raised him.
Dell's platform rose onto the base of the pit's level via runic magic before the floor underneath him closed with a grinding rumble.
The crowd was massive. Way bigger than any he had seen before. Just over half a million mundane and awakened filled the stands, brimming with energy. On the far end of the stands, a brilliant tent was set up for the Song Clan themselves.
And in it were the Song Sisters. It seemed that Princess Dark Moon, Silent Stalker, and Lonesome Howl had decided to grace the coliseum and its spectators with their presence today. The presence of the three saints seemed to warp the attention of the world towards them, as if they had a pull of gravity of their own.
Dell scanned the rest of the pit and registered nine other competitors around him, scattered at various points across the enormous floor. The tournament had been organized to gauge the strength of the new force of awakened that had arrived with the mundane immigrants and joined the Song domain. Therefore all were either Antarctic natives or former government soldiers. Which meant he wouldn't have to worry about vassal clan scions who would be unfairly prepared. That being said, he did sense that a few of his rivals were in fact ascended.
The arbiter of the games was, comically, in a glass box floating above the arena. In his hand, he held some form of memory that allowed him to amplify his voice to the whole crowd.
"And the last of our finalists, Master Dell, a former government soldier from the First Evac Army. Surely this young man can show us today the skill and determination it took to survive the Antarctic Centre."
That last comment was tactless, but it did evoke a certain response from the crowd. The vast majority of mundane people in the Song Domain were survivors of the calamity of the Antarctic disaster, and the First Evac Army had earned special respect for the overwhelming odds they faced.
Oh, I'll show you alright.
The arbiter drew breath again. "And with that, I—"
A booming voice shuddered the coliseum. "Hurry up and fight already." Lonesome Howl had grown tired of waiting.
The others were taken aback, but Dell was not. He was itching as much as the Saint.
The other awakened were not dumb, he reasoned. They would have studied his previous fights and developed strategies and procured memories to counter the abilities he had shown. Why wouldn't they? The reward of the tournament was quite… lucrative.
But he had not shown much. They wouldn't know the extent of his abilities for sure.
And right now, Dell had no reason to hold back. His ticket to Song Seishan might have expired, but this tournament and the preparations before gave him an almost guarantee at completing his ultimate objective. So long as he won.
Everything hinged on this. He couldn't afford to play with his food.
Dell's crown appeared a split second after Lonesome Howl's request, and a black stone emerged at its centre, peppered with several white dots. No white stars.
Dell raised his right hand overhead and swung it down.
A giant sword manifested into the arena, its starry night shape towering over the other competitors and engulfing them in burning starlight.
The floor erupted in a haze of dust from the impact, blocking the view of the battle from the crowd.
The arbiter, momentarily stunned by the sudden violence, regained his composure. "And four are down. Ascended Dell has—"
He was interrupted again.
Two of the competitors rushed Dell, perhaps their memory or aspect guiding them through the dust. The pale woman with twin daggers. The hulking brute with a tower shield.
Were they teaming? How flattering.
Before they could strike him with their melee weapons, Dell's crown rotated into a misty white gemstone, and he let out a painful shriek. That which could only be likened to a corrupted version of a woman's wailing. His would-be assailants crumbled to the floor, grasping their heads in agony.
Dell had no doubt his competitors had prepared themselves with memories countering soul damage from his performance in the prelims, but mind damage? He doubted they had factored that in.
The sound of his wail could be heard throughout the whole coliseum, but due to the runic sorcery of the place, its harmful properties were limited to the battleground and bounced off an invisible barrier when it approached the stands.
Adding to the fact that the dust was still covering portions of the pit, the sound had an ominous effect, and the half million mundane were silenced.
Following this, Dell's crown rotated to a deep maroon, and he began to rapidly traverse the pit, delivering the finishing strikes to the vulnerable competitors who had taken direct mental damage.
The arbiter and the crowd grew quieter still as they witnessed what seemed to be a swarm of bats rise out of the dust and crash land into another location, only to repeat the process a few moments later.
"It seems th—" The arbiter was cut off for the third time.
A large body belonging to an ascended warrior came crashing into his glass box, sending it reeling several meters away before its enchantments restabilized it. The body fell back into the dust pit after colliding with the barrier, dropping from what seemed like a never-ending height.
The swarm of bats began to spin, growing larger and larger this time. The dust in the pit was sent to the edges.
The swarm of bats dominated the centre, shocking the crowd into silence. And as the swarm began to dissipate, a lone man was revealed to have been standing in the centre, a translucent crown floating above his head, with a beautiful maroon gemstone glowing proudly at its centre.
All around this lone man, the unconscious bodies of his competitors were arranged on the floor in a tight semi-circle, facing the Song sisters' booth.
Audible gasps escaped from the mouths of many of the mundane, who had witnessed the furious display of power in the span of a dozen seconds, horrified.
The arbiter remained silent too. Dell had stolen his thunder.
Did I show you enough?
Dell would be getting no cheers from the crowd this day.
Dell studied the faces of the three Song sisters, two of which had stood up.
Silent Stalker's face remained neutral.
Lonesome Howl's face twisted in glee.
Dark Moon's… in intrigue.
As he locked eye contact with her, Dell lowered his head and bowed.
The crowd stalled for a moment, then began cheering, seeing that the fearsome monster had just displayed a symbol of servitude to their benevolent protectors. One more demon to protect them from the demons outside.
But far in the stands, opposite the Song booth, sat Sora, and with her dormant ability, she could sense that Dell's internal intent was not that of servitude or gratitude or any other fuzzy feeling.
It was that of hatred.