Aureus gestured firmly for us to gather, and we stepped forward, forming a small circle around him—like soldiers awaiting their commander's orders before a decisive battle.
His face was stern, his tone carrying a weight that made it clear his decisions were not to be taken lightly.
He spoke in a low voice, yet it remained clear despite the roaring crowd:
"So… which one of you wants to go first?"
Silence fell.
No one spoke.
I glanced at my companions, searching their faces for an unspoken answer.
Zairos looked uneasy, his eyes restless, as if weighing a thousand possibilities in his mind.
Sirion, as always, remained calm—sitting steady like an unmoving rock, untouched by the wind.
No tension, no hesitation showed on his face—only that cold composure that inspired both confusion and unease.
As for Vesper… he was different.
There was a spark of excitement in his eyes, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
But I wasn't sure—was it genuine excitement, or just a mask hiding his anxiety?
The silence lingered, heavy as lead, until Sirion exhaled softly and spoke in a calm voice, as if stating something obvious:
"I think I'll go first."
A faint smile appeared on Aureus's lips.
He clapped his hands once and said decisively:
"Good… any objections?"
We exchanged glances, but no one spoke.
In truth, there were none.
We all knew Serion was the calmest and most composed among us—perhaps the best choice to open the match.
Aureus continued:
"Then it's settled… Sirion will be the first to enter the arena."
He then looked at us carefully and added:
"Now… who will be second?"
I swallowed hard.
I didn't want to be next.
Deep down, I had hoped to go last—so I could observe the fights and better understand our opponents.
Zairos remained silent, lowering his gaze slightly as if avoiding Aureus's eyes.
Vesper, however, gave a faint smile and said in a hesitant yet firm tone:
"I guess… I don't have much of a choice. I'll go second."
Aureus nodded.
"Good. Then we have: Sirion first, Vesper second…"
He then turned his gaze between Zairos and me, like a judge deciding between two sides:
"That leaves the two of you… which one will be third, and which one will be fourth?"
A chill ran through my body.
I stayed silent, just as I intended.
I wanted to be last—that suited me better.
But surprisingly, Zairos didn't speak either. He remained frozen in place.
A heavy silence settled between us, despite the endless roar of the crowd.
I could still hear the audience shouting, but inside our small circle, it felt as if time itself had stopped.
Aureus let out a long sigh, then shook his head and said:
"Since neither of you will choose… we'll leave it to chance."
He raised a finger toward us and added:
"You'll play… rock, paper, scissors. The winner will go last."
My eyes widened in disbelief.
"What?! Rock, paper, scissors?!"
I screamed internally.
I couldn't believe something this important would be decided by such a childish game.
But… I had no choice.
I sighed quietly, then looked at Zairos and said:
"Alright… let's do it."
Zairos nodded.
Then, in unison:
"Rock… paper… scissors!"
I shut my eyes tightly, afraid to see the result.
My heart raced, my hand sweating despite the cold air.
I had chosen "rock."
After a brief hesitation, I slowly opened my eyes—
Zairos had chosen "scissors."
I froze for a moment, then my eyes widened.
"No way… I… I won?!"
Zairos remained silent, showing no reaction.
He simply said coldly:
"I suppose I'll go third, then."
Aureus nodded in confirmation:
"Yes. Zairos will be third."
Then he turned to me, looking directly into my eyes, and said with a faint smile:
"And you… will be fourth."
A wave of relief washed over me.
I took a deep breath and told myself:
"Alright… this is good… right?"
But even as I reassured myself, anxiety still gnawed at me.
Yes, I would go last—but that also meant I might be the one to decide everything.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself—but it was useless.
The final minutes before the match felt unbearably long.
I looked around.
Each of us was lost in our own world of thoughts.
Aureus's eyes burned with hatred as he stared toward Hontar across the arena.
The white-haired man sat back comfortably, that same arrogant smile on his face—as if saying: Victory is mine, no matter what.
Aureus would occasionally look away, only to fix his gaze on him again, as if silently vowing something.
Beside him sat the employer.
He hadn't spoken a word since sitting down.
Completely silent. No expression on his face. Even his eyes were like a smooth wall, revealing nothing.
I couldn't tell whether he was watching us, our opponents, or lost in his own calculations.
Sirion remained as calm as ever.
No smile.
No anxiety.
Not even the slightest movement.
Just quiet stillness—as if nothing mattered.
Vesper, on the other hand, grew more energized as the moment approached.
His eyes sparkled like small flames, a faint smile forming on his lips.
He looked eager—perhaps more than any of us—to step into the arena.
Zairos… was strange.
He seemed tense, yet composed at the same time.
His hands trembled slightly, but his body remained still—like he embodied both anxiety and calm at once.
I couldn't understand how both could coexist—but that's what I felt.
And me…?
How could I even describe myself?
I was a mixture of everything.
Fear—that my body might break in the arena.
Anxiety—from the merciless eyes of the crowd.
And a hidden excitement—to see whether I could endure… or even win.
I breathed slowly, as if afraid someone might hear my pounding heart.
Then the announcer's voice cut through my thoughts, booming across the arena:
"The five minutes are up! I hope you've chosen wisely!"
The crowd erupted again, voices clashing as each side cheered for their team.
He continued, pointing to the left side:
"From the left side—who will enter the arena first?!"
I fixed my gaze there, watching carefully—
Until the cloaked man stepped forward.
The one wearing the brown robe.
He moved with steady, mysterious steps.
The announcer chuckled dramatically:
"Oooh… and who do we have here?! The mysterious one!"
The crowd exploded:
"The mysterious one! The mysterious one!"
Their voices shook the entire arena, as if they were used to his enigmatic presence.
His hood concealed his face completely—no features, no expression.
Only a solid figure that hinted at hidden strength.
The announcer turned toward our side:
"And from the right side—who will be the first opponent?!"
Without hesitation, Sirion stepped forward calmly
The noise didn't seem to exist for him.
He walked toward the arena without looking left or right—his gaze fixed straight ahead.
The announcer grinned:
"Hahaha! This match is going to be intense! Two mysterious fighters!"
The crowd roared again, splitting into chants
"The black-haired one! The black-haired one!"
But Sirion showed no reaction—not even the slightest.
That coldness made me shiver—not for him, but for his opponent.
The cloaked man also remained completely still, his emotions hidden beneath the hood.
The announcer raised his arm high and declared:
"The rules are simple: you lose if you surrender or lose consciousness. Killing… is strictly forbidden! Just two rules!"
The cheers grew even louder.
Some shouted the fighters' names, others pounded the metal barriers with their hands and feet, creating thunderous noise.
I glanced toward the opponents' seats.
Hontar smiled arrogantly as he watched.
That smile irritated me… it reminded me of Luxian for some reason.
The frail man sat quietly, his eyes half-closed, as if uninterested.
The muscular man laughed loudly, confident of victory.
The ordinary-looking man simply smiled calmly—his expression unreadable.
The announcer lifted the microphone again and began counting:
"One… two… three…"
He paused—then raised his hand and shouted:
"Begin!"
And just like that… the first round started.
I sat frozen in my seat, silently hoping with all my heart that Serion would win.
Because deep down…
I knew the outcome of this first match would shape everything that followed.