An unsettlingly warm presence fills the air. Through a stained-glass window, a perfect beam of light ominously hits the ground before the masked man upon a throne. Feet clicking off the ground, more and more combatants move forward to obtain their warrior classes. Any little banter or chatter from the previous ballroom had completely dissipated. A feeling of unusual air flowed throughout the room. Something about this place felt off. As if it was trying to be something it wasn't. I looked ahead to see the empty spot waiting for me. Creepy almost.
Step by step to the strange altar I take my time to really let the scenery set in. Gazing at the beautiful statues that encroach upon us. The abstract paintings decorating the walls give off forced elegance. I scoff. "Entitled prick.". I mockingly uttered to myself. He really likes to show off, doesn't he? It would explain his self-absorbed personality at least.
The masked man gently raises his hand. His palm swells and radiates with vibrant mana, which he uses to carve foreign symbols in the air. The symbols spark with overflowing life and combine to retranslate themselves into different more intricate signs.
"What a light show…" A timid voice from behind me catches my ear. Taken aback, I turn around. I come face-to-face with a frail-looking kid with long dark curly hair covering his maroon eyes. He has soft features and looks to be quite young. His mouth still agape from before closes when he notices me. "Hi?". I blurted out. I wave a hand at the kid. He awkwardly looks away and doesn't really answer me. I look back at the masked man. "Weird kid," I mutter under my breath.
"Step forward please." the masked man excitedly proclaimed. My body pauses for a moment. Is this really it? What class could I even get? This is all still so weird to me.
"You look like a swordsman or mage.". The timid voice from behind speaks again. I dismiss the kid's comments and step ahead near the altar. I cautiously raise my hand towards the masked man. "So? Are you gonna brand me or something?". I spoke with little confidence. The masked man chuckles hysterically. "Is that what you want to call it?" said the masked man. He points his finger at me. "You are ready to be given a class, once you have this class there are no takesies backsies. Okay?". The masked man clasps his hands together. "Now then," he remarks.
The masked man falls silent. The air produces an unnatural chill. Unexpectedly a tight pressure is constructed around my neck. I'm yanked forward like a canine on a leash. My knees crumble. On the floor, copious amounts of mana start materializing around my neck. Surges of magic discharge around, ancient symbols translate and wrap around my throat.
The masked man yanks me forward. My body is jolted closer to his hand. Suddenly majestic illuminated chains fully materialize around my throat. The strong hold around my neck tightens. "This will be your mark," He spoke sarcastically. "Your cervix will serve as the holder of my stigmata," A disgusting chuckle followed after the masked man's unflattering comment.
A burning sensation cloaks my neck, I can feel the elusive symbols being etched into my skin. I grit my teeth. My fingers are clawing at my palms. My hands gnaw at the chains, gripping and shaking. "What the fuck.". I grapple with my words through a cursed breath.
The masked man lowers his hand. The chains fade away. A calm sensation coats my throat. Using my index and pointer finger I put pressure around my neck. My fingers glide across my Adam's apple. There I feel it, I'm branded by a weird insignia. My fingers scrape around it, getting a feel for any soreness left behind from the chain. Surprisingly, there's nothing there.
"What was that about?". I blurt out loud, biting my tongue. I glared at the masked man. He claps his hands enthusiastically. "Wasn't that just marvelous? Right? A wonderful display!". He remarked. "Oh, I can tell you are a strong one.". His words reeked of ill intent. Annoyed, I walk backwards to go back to the ballroom in haste. Unexpectedly I bump into the timid kid again.
I apologize to him and move to continue walking. When I turn around he suddenly interrupts by clearing his throat. "Excuse me, but what did you get?" the kid spoke softly. I paused to give myself time to think, I raised my hand to my throat. After rubbing at it for a bit I decided to answer him. "I'm actually not sure,". I smile briefly before I continue walking towards the ballroom.
I'm sure the kid means well but he needs to work on his social skills a bit.
"Wait, don't go.". His voice echoes from behind. I turn my head back around, and the kid's staring at me with a worried expression. "You're the first person I've talked to since I got here, I'm just a bit nervous, that's all." His lips pressed together gently. I sighed. "Good luck then," I said, I smiled and kept walking. "Thank you". He said faintly.
Making it back to the ballroom, crowds of people gathered around talking about themselves and telling not-so-interesting stories. It was nice to see people talking, but the deathly feeling of these newfound friendships soon to fade, filled my head. My heart sank. The smiles of admiration and companionship couldn't be anything less than a ruse?
Unless…well I just need to focus on myself for now. I looked around for a spot where I could rest. Pushing past people too focused on themselves and their dumb little journeys.
Just as I found a spot, scurrying familiar steps from behind me catch my attention. I swiftly turn around, to see the timid boy from earlier quietly standing there. I notice his left arm's clothing is ripped apart burnt off with mana scarring on the edges. His arm, now exposed, is covered with distinct glowing scarlet-colored marks. My mouth drops. "What did he do to you?". The words drop from my tongue unknowingly. I veiled a concerned expression. The shy boy sniffles to himself before lowering his head. "I don't know,". He spoke, holding back tears.
I looked at the shy boy. My insatiable desire to protect others overrode the feeling of helplessness. Even if I'm in a predicament like this, I can still help others. I held out my hand to him. "What's your name kid?". I smiled gently. For a moment he paused and looked at my hand, analyzing it. "Silas," he spoke softly, raising his hand to meet mine. "Abel," I responded.
Compassion for a stranger feels like the oddest thing sometimes, doesn't it? I think of things now. It's funny, in a place like this and in a situation like this I can do nothing but just look at the kid. He's become a sign of hope for me almost. Even in this abnormal scenario I still find that familiar light in others. Then again, I wonder if it's useless to promise him a future, because in that same thought the realization creeps closer, he's as close to death as I am. So I think, is it fair to promise this kid an improbable future? A future in which he lives peacefully, a future in which he sees his family. Do I promise him that? Do I promise him a future I hope to safeguard ....or should I be honest with him? This queasy feeling, this direct unease, this unsure depravity drives me insane. Even now though, I feel it. The unwavering passion. My unsatisfied desire. I don't know if I should let guilt be the shackles that hold me, or if I should let out some hope to someone, someone deeply in need of it.
A hidden spark ignites in the kid's eyes. A fire left unaware. I can see it in his heart, he's already promised him something, something worth living for. So who am I to decide this kid's future? Do I even play a role in this?
"Silas, right?". I spoke with a faint smile. I held a look of false authority. "Yeah," Silas mumbled. His expression remained soft, with a small glint of hope in his desperate eyes. A quiet understanding fell between us. I took a heavy breath in. My eyes traced Silas's face. I gave him a filtered look, one without the hesitation I'm afraid of. I nodded knowing my next words might be ones I'll regret for the rest of my life. My hand clenched with determination lingering in my chest. "I'm going to protect you,". My grip tightened in his hand, and our eyes met. The kid's soft expression made me feel at ease, he smiled subtly. "I trust you," the words stung, like a gentle poison.
Abruptly a piercing sound disrupted the area. The masked man entered the room. Exuding an uncomfortable ambience, his steps weighed heavier knowing we all feared what he'd say next. The masked man gestured, his hands raising to silence all chatter in the room. "It's time,". He spoke solemnly almost as if he was mocking our indiscriminate fear. He raised his fingers, pointing at the crowd. "You'll be put into brackets, of course, that decision was being made during the class selection trial." He dropped his arm quietly. Silence filled the room. "So, may the first two combatants come forward,". A lingering presence of malice dripped off his words. Two bright lights emanated from the crowd, highlighting two specific individuals.
An older-looking man steps forward. His head is decorated with medium-length dark brown hair that covers his forehead, it's messy, ruffled, and looks extremely unkept. He rubs at his face and feels around his stubble while entirely being consumed in thought. He prepares a crooked smile and continues to move forward. He wipes off the small bits of dirt on his rugged and chipped silver armor to make himself look more "presentable". His oddly intense gaze penetrates the tension between him and the masked man. His cold and calculated eyes, dark brown in color, never once lose contact. Emitting from his wrist, golden light cuts through the room.
The masked man claps in delight "Oh great, you stood forward. You are Hendrick, Hendrick Crawford right?". The masked man's words floated across the room. The older-looking man nodded with dignity. "Hendrick, what an odd name," I mumbled. Silas quietly agreed. "As for the other combatant," the masked man lingered on his words before making a finish. He slowly raises his arm and points his finger at a taller-looking guy, maybe around my age or so. "You. Step forward. You were selected as well.". The masked man held out his finger, pointing at him. His words felt sharp, almost angry.
Suddenly Intolerant steps clouded the room. The guy outed by the masked man made his way forward hastily. "Yeah, I know.". His words filled with irritation poured reluctantly from his mouth. He stood before the masked man directly, leaving the crowd completely behind. The reckless man wore midnight armor, with a long black cape that covered his rear and nearly touched the floor. His armor was captivating, crafted with deep consideration. His eyes filled with a strong passion, were an opaque crimson color. Dark curly hair was splattered across his head, reaching the back of his neck. Uneven, his hair was more lengthy on the sides and back of his head compared to the front, where it barely reached above his eyebrows.
The masked man impatiently dropped his hand. "How impudent, you stand as such a hassle already, you have quite the vigor, isn't that lively. So you have made an impression now, you are-", "Sylvan,". A timid voice from behind me finished off the masked man's sentence. It was Silas. I turned around to him. "You know him?" The words drifted from my mouth. Silas's eyes met mine, and a look of guilt filled his face. He shook his head slowly. The sound of the masked man making an annoyed grunt caught my attention and I looked back. Sylvan stood there, gripping a sword. The blade was adorned with beautiful jewels. Sylvan raised his voice. "I know it's my turn to participate or whatever, but I'm
not interested right now. I'm looking for someone," he said. Sylvan pointed a finger at the masked man "Just don't get in my way, okay?" Sylvan let out a snicker.
An awkward silence formed between the two. Sylvan's face turned to impatience. "Are you gonna s-"."Who do you think you are?" The masked man's voice dropped as he interrupted Sylvan. An unsettling discomfort hung off his words. His demeanor changed, and an eerie feeling settled around us. Sylvan's eyes quivered but his determination didn't waver. "I-". The masked man snapped his fingers. "Don't answer that. It was rhetorical." His words sounded lifeless and held a threatening impression, unlike anything he's said before. "You will do as I say, when I say, do I make myself clear?" Sylvan moved uncomfortably, his words seeming to be held back by an unfamiliar fear. Something he seemed like he thought he wasn't capable of. Sylvan's lips pressed together, he went to say something but suddenly the glowing energy radiating on Sylvan's wrist started to shift, its yellow hue changed to red. Sylvan looked down as red mana inscriptions covered the surface of his arm. A shock of electric red mana burst off Sylvan's arm. He drops to his knees. Now, on the floor, Sylvan starts grabbing his wrist in pain. Sylvan's fingernails dig into his arm, trying to rip off the skin coated with the red mana inscriptions. Sylvan opens his jaw and scrapes his teeth around his arm as well. Blood drips from his arm, splattering across his face. "What did you do, you bastard, "Sylvan's words are undeniably filled with his big temper, but it still lacks the presence of any bit of intimidation he wanted to give off. He writhes on the floor, itching at a sensation he can't satisfy. Gnawing and scratching at what seems to us to be an invisible pain. "What an incredibly pathetic display, you are no different from a useless little worm. Do you understand your position now? What it means to bark such foolish comments." The masked man's seemingly empty words echo around the room. Sylvan's arm is now covered in a crimson pool. He lies there, unsatisfied with himself, his itching becoming a moronic rhythm. "Make it stop, please.", Sylvan pleads, his words losing the strength they once held dearly. The red light on his arm starts to dim. A small relief lays onto Sylvan's face He's breathing like it's the first time he's ever tasted air."Now then, let's continue with our days," That familiar enthusiasm fills the masked man's voice again. He claps his hands excitedly before turning around to go back to his throne room. His steps leave behind mixed feelings, such a display of cruelty makes us wonder. Who is he really?
Eventually, nighttime falls. Each combatant is ushered into a room and given a room key so they can rest for the upcoming tournament rounds tomorrow. The masked man plans for us to be at our best for his stupid little tournament so we're assigned these rooms for our good health. By some twist of fate, or dumb luck, it turns out Silas is my roommate.
Walking into the room with Silas our eyes are pleased by the sight of a luxurious scene. The masked man really makes no expectation when it comes to his extravagance, does he? The rooms are decorated with gorgeous paintings, and unnecessarily expensive decor. Animated colors line the room and huge beds wrap the corners of the room. Silas and I both take a side, I take the left side of the room and hop onto the bed. My hands scrape across the silky and smooth blankets getting a really good feel of this once in a lifetime experience. I let out a pent-up sigh. Silas remains silent and just flops onto his bed. I don't bother him and get up to turn off the light.
In the darkness of the room, I can't really tell if Silas is sleeping but he's been quiet since the whole "Sylvan Incident" anyway. I decided to hold my tongue, not to wake the kid if he is sleeping. The rooms they gave us are pretty spacious with great quality furniture but they feel like they lack substance. These beds are extremely smooth and silky in texture but they kinda just feel empty, although I don't blame Silas for falling asleep that fast if he is. "Abel, are you there?"Silas's voice breaks the silence. "Yeah I am", I responded quickly. "Okay, good." Silas stutters on his words a bit. "I feel a bit safer with you now but I'm scared of when this feeling will pass. I know you can't protect me forever but can we just pretend you can for now?" Silas's words left an empty feeling in my stomach. My hand clenches and holds the blanket tight. "Yeah, we can.". My words float gently. Silas shifts positions to look at me from his bed. Even in the dark I can see the glint in his eyes. "So, how old are you?" Silas asked. I blink a few times, confused by the sudden comment. "I'm 19," I answered. "What about you?" I asked. "I'm 15, but I'll be 16 soon," Silas responds with his words a bit shaky. I chuckle a bit. "I couldn't really tell," I said. Silas smiles before turning back to the wall. "Don't worry about tomorrow Silas, we're just watching for now." My words float around the room before a strong silence fills the space. Silas remains silent, his body seems to stiffen and he pulls the cover of the blanket higher. "Goodnight, Abel". Silas spoke quietly. I smiled briefly. "Goodnight Silas," I responded. I clutched at my blankets, a part of me no longer felt the initial despair I once had, I think it's best to have hope even in times like this. A part of me knows that if I give up now, then that's the end of it. I need to stay strong but not just for myself. I want to be there, I want to protect.