Chapter 41
The portal opened right into the "box" of the Sorcerer Supreme. Why in quotes? Because the entire Arena is improvised. Accordingly, the VIP boxes are too.
Battles of Dragons are not held twice in the same place. Therefore, getting to them without an invitation (or a friend who has an invitation) is very problematic. After all, the planet is very large. Moreover—it is huge! And the idea of Geography that exists in "civilized," "developed" countries is a small piece of glass in a gigantic mosaic canvas. Personally, this truth was revealed to me after my fifth Battle, when I sat and tried in vain, using the starry sky, maps, special measuring instruments, and the skills of marine navigation (in which I was already quite good by then), to determine my location during the hours of rest between fights. The results were paradoxical, shocking, ambiguous... and completely useless. I just had to accept the fact—the Marvel Earth is larger than they think it is.
For example, here in the sea, an island three times the size of this sea can fit, and in the Southern Hemisphere, a whole continent half the size of Eurasia can be present, not marked on maps, while not changing with its presence currents, such as the Gulf Stream, directions and strength of seasonal winds over the ocean, and not affecting the center of mass of the planet's rotation... Not to mention that neither the first nor the second is visible from satellites and planes.
And there are also a Zen-load of various "hidden" valleys like that same Kamar-Taj, "folded" spaces, "secret" settlements, "cursed" deserts, and the like, with a total area exceeding the total area of the planet along with the ice and oceans... several times over!
And this is only what concerns the land! After all, the underwater world is also populated on this planet, and no less densely than the surface one.
Studying physics in European universities, ALREADY knowing about such tricks of this reality, was amusing. And geography... It's like a modern professional traveler, who has personally circumnavigated the globe along the equator, studying the Turtle and the three Elephants in a medieval Catholic school (by the way, those same Greek philosophers considered the Earth a sphere and were very good at astronomy. It was later, around the time of Rome and the early flourishing of Christianity, that such ideas were declared heretical and securely forgotten, since it is easier to rule a stupid flock).
So thousands more years will pass before the locations of the fights begin to repeat. And even then, it's unlikely.
Any face control or security at this event is also not provided. Why? After all, "random people" simply will not get here. And if they do get here, it's exclusively their own problem—they won't be able to cause any trouble for the organizers.
And safety... Well, no one drags anyone here by force. Especially weaklings and fools. And strong fighters... Well, the battle is not obliged to take place specifically in the arena. If you have a desire to fight—fight where this desire arose. Not able to stand up for yourself or have no one to stand up for you? Then sit and keep a low profile, especially don't yelp. Anarchy and the Law of the Strong in all its glory.
The only thing is, it is not customary to touch the organizers themselves and the service personnel, as they will take offense and leave, whereupon the Battle will immediately end. Moreover, all participants will be informed because of whom this happened. And if you manage to get out alive after that—consider yourself lucky. And for the next Battle, you will not receive an invitation at all. Even if you manage to find out and get to the place on your own... The organizers, upon seeing you, will leave again without starting the Battle.
In my memory, there was such a case. Back then, one extremely strong and arrogant mutant raped a girl from the service personnel. After which he killed a representative of the organizers who came to clarify and settle this incident.
No more people were sent to him. Just all the organizers gathered, apologized to the other participants, explained the situation, and withdrew.
As a result, the Battle of Dragons smoothly slid into a showdown of all the dissatisfied with this mutant.
The guy was really strong! He survived it and even left on his own two feet (most of the strongest fighters did not participate in the general entertainment. And I was among them—Master Hon said then that it is stupid to fight for free and departed for home. Accordingly, I went with him. Only the most stupid and aggressive remained).
And for the next Battle, this idiot managed to find and arrive at the place on time. Except the organizers again, as soon as they saw him, got up, explained the situation to everyone, and left.
This time the impudent fellow got hit in the snout much harder. But again managed to leave almost intact.
To the third Battle he came and officially, publicly apologized to everyone at once: both participants and organizers. They forgave him. Fleeced him of a round sum as "compensation" (basically everything he had)... and then in the very first fight he died.
It's not hard to guess who his opponent was—me.
And on the eve of the fight, a representative of the organizers came to Master Hon and me with a very plump and quite weighty bag of money, who recommended not to spare the opponent. Not to spare him at all. Moreover, to humiliate, trample in the dirt, and absolutely finish him off.
Well, I was never a positive hero. Especially since the money was good, and not superfluous at all. Plus, Master Hon approved...
The organizers were satisfied with my work.
This was in 1795. And no more similar incidents have happened since then. The rule, not to touch the organizers and the staff, remained unwritten, but no less inviolable because of that.
It's just that they don't pay for a victory in a fight conducted outside the arena. Therefore, rarely any of the truly strong fighters, especially the regulars, stage brawls.
But there are always enough hooligans and morons, so not a single Battle passes without fights. And without corpses.
The faces of Charles and Erik were priceless at the moment when a saddled pterodactyl flew over their heads. They are both "men of science" after all. And science says that dinosaurs went extinct. I'm not going to explain that they went extinct far from everywhere, am I?
This time the organizers set up the arena in a small mountain valley, forming a practically natural amphitheater. They set up roughly knocked together benches, awnings, marked a flat platform in the center. Surely there is a settlement somewhere nearby where everyone can settle down for the night, because the Battle doesn't last just one day. Today the qualifying rounds were supposed to take place.
On that very platform someone was already fighting. About two dozen spectators lazily watched the fight sitting on the benches.
Suo's and my companions looked around with greedy interest. Xavier touched his hand to his head.
"Charles!" I said gloomily. "Stop immediately! Keep your 'habits' in check! I don't want to start a fight from the threshold!"
"Sorry, Victor..." he immediately took his hand away from his head.
"Is everything so serious?" Erik was surprised. "It doesn't look like the horrors Raven was scaring me with for half the night."
"It's daytime," I answered. "Everyone is sleeping off. By evening it will be packed here."
"Glad to welcome you!" a man in clothes of the cut and colors worn by the organizers of the Battle (almost completely canonical Shaolin yifu, like the one I myself wore in my time, only unlike the monastic gray or brick, theirs was bright red with a stylized golden dragon on the back and chest) bowed low to Suo, having stepped out of the portal. "Sorcerer Supreme," here he shifted his gaze to me and abruptly began to turn pale—and absolutely rightly: my hatred for mages is well known here. "Master Sabretooth," he bent even lower in a bow.
"Relax," I told him gloomily. "There will be no fight. She is my wife."
The guy straightened up and smiled timidly. But then the second part of my sentence reached him, and I had the opportunity to observe how his eyes increased in size by about one and a half times. He shifted his gaze from me to Suo, from Suo to me, and tried to say something, but couldn't utter a word, only opened his mouth, like a fish out of water.
"No need to be so surprised," Suo said softly. I even admired her at this moment—her eyes sparkled so strongly with merriment, but her face didn't betray even a hint of a smile. "All sorts of things happen in this world. Did you arrive to tell me something?" the guy finally managed to compose himself.
"Yes, yes, exactly. I arrived to greet you on behalf of the organizers of the Battle and to inform you that a separate house is already waiting for you. There you can rest from the journey before the evening fights."
"Today I am not alone. With me are my husband and his friends," Suo noted. "Is there a possibility to accommodate them as well?"
"I will clarify this point," the guy bowed slightly. "Master Sabretooth," he turned to me. "Will you participate in the qualifying rounds? Or will you still use the privilege of a Champion?"
"I am not participating," who knows what this short phrase cost me. But there is no other way until I take control of the "freeze frame". The Battle of Dragons is no joke. They can kill you here if you are not completely serious. "This time I am only a spectator."
"Are you sure?" the guy looked at me with bewilderment. I understand this mage perfectly: in his eyes I looked no less wild than an alcoholic who came to a pub just to gnaw on some croutons and dried fish.
I remained silent. But my gaze was more eloquent than words.
"I understand you, Master Sabretooth. With your permission, I will go to clarify about the house," he bowed, then turned around, opened a portal, and disappeared into it.
"Vic, what happened?" Suo instantly became serious. She addressed me in one of the dialects of China that was in use in the area where my monastery stood.
"Not feeling well," I looked away, answering in the same language.
"Something serious? Can I help?"
"No. I'll manage."
"If anything, I'm nearby, no need to carry everything alone."
"I said—I'll manage," I answered a little irritably. Ultimately, this matter concerns only me.
"Don't be angry, Vic. It's just—you and 'not feeling well'... It's scary."
"I said—I'll manage!" I repeated without irritation now, turning to the arena and beginning to watch the fighters intently. Unfortunately, there was nothing interesting there: novices. And not particularly strong ones at that: one mutant-pyrokinetic, weak, the second a physical type (that is, simply superhuman physical strength and speed with reflexes), and without any sensible hand-to-hand combat base—many jumps, rolls, dodges, but strikes "like a peasant", doesn't keep distance and doesn't feel it at all. Because of that, he often misses and runs into the fiery counterattacks of the first one. Coasts on speed and reflexes alone.
Any fighter of at least the average level of the Battle would flatten them both into a thin pancake over the surface of the entire arena in a matter of seconds. But to themselves, this fight didn't look pathetic: they were seriously trying to kill each other, straining all their strength.
A second, another, and the pyrokinetic, stumbling, falls on his back. The physical type doesn't miss the moment and jumps from above, intending to finish off his opponent. But the pyrokinetic shoots fire from a lying position and hits. The physical type is engulfed in flames, but this can no longer stop his jump. And he falls right like that, burning alive, onto the fire guy from above and clings to his throat, screaming from pain halved with rage.
Another dozen seconds and a wet crunch is heard—the fire guy's spine broke. The physical type continued to furiously strangle the corpse of his opponent when a portal opened behind his back, and kids in red yifu with dragons jumped out. They handily and without unnecessary emotions doused the fighters with water from buckets they brought with them, knocking down the flames, then quickly dragged the physical type away from the corpse and one of them immediately began to provide magical first aid, while the other two, pulling on rubber gloves, rolled the corpse onto a stretcher and dragged it into the portal.
"How terrible!" Xavier said over my shoulder, who was also attentively watching what was happening on the platform. "They are both mutants! Why? What for? Why are they doing this to each other?..."
"This is the Arena, Charles," Suo answered softly. "People don't come here just for nothing. And those who come perfectly understand exactly why they come here, what they risk, and what they are trying to achieve. They come to fight. To victory or to death."
"But this is... Madness!"
"You were warned, Charles," Erik patted Xavier's shoulder. "Ideals of peace, compassion, and justice are far from being shared by everyone in this world. I think today you will be convinced of this personally."
"But, so stupidly like this..."
At this moment a portal opened next to us again, from which the former representative of the organizers stepped out.
"Everything is settled, Lady Sorcerer Supreme, Lord Sabretooth. Should I escort you now or will you stay to watch the qualifying rounds?"
"Now," I answered gloomily for everyone. We won't see anything interesting here for the next few hours anyway. Suo nodded in agreement.
"Then, please follow me," the guy bowed and moved away from the arena, pointing the way.
* * *