The chaos occurring on the stage began to thin out little by little as fighters dropped like flies. Some collapsed where they stood, while others were sent flying across the platform until they hit the edge of the arena.
As the battles continued, the roar of the crowd never settled. It remained as loud as always; even for those who had lost their bets, the hype of witnessing new faces to root for kept them screaming.
Fifty quickly turned to ten.
Ten turned to nine.
Eight. Seven. Six.
And finally—
Five figures remained standing. The rest of the platform was littered with bodies, and attendants began to drag out the bodies. For those who woke up on their own, they dragged their feet in shame.
"And that concludes the first batch of fighters!" the announcer shouted. "We have our first five that will be moving on!"
The roar was already eardeafening but at the announcement, the applause grew even larger until it sounded like a thunderstorm was being contained in the arena. There was also quite a bit of groaning in the mix, but for the most part, it was mainly cheers.
"You five may make your way to the side of the stage and take a seat! You will be moving on to the second round!"
Without hurry, Bell turned around and began walking towards the stairs.
On the opposite side of the platform was Ravel whose chest was rapidly rising then falling. With the back of his hand, he wiped off the blood from the corner of his mouth.
His eyes turned to Bell, but he quickly looked away and began heading towards the stairs as well.
'Of course he would make it,' he thought.
The other three survivors were just as visibly exhausted and battered as Ravel, if not more. They all hesitated for a moment before following.
The only one who looked like he had an easy time was Bell. As he neared the seating area for the contestants who were moving on, one of the other four stepped closer to him.
"Hey! Hey, you," the man said quickly. "What was that technique you used there? The one where you turn your palm into a fist and send people flying. Is that a monk technique? A star ability?"
Even though someone was striking up a conversation behind him, he didn't slow down.
"Your timing… wait, wait a second — how did you… wait, just give me—"
Bell ignored him so badly that the crowd members who could hear him were getting second-hand embarrassment.
'Oh my gosh. Just sit down.'
'I can't listen. Please stop it!'
'Just shut up man. Can't you tell that he's not going to respond?'
Taking a seat at the far end of the row of seats, Bell folded his gloved hands loosely in his lap.
Understanding that he wouldn't get a response, the man asking questions took a seat a few chairs away from him. The other three also took their seat.
Although they were trying not to show it, their eyes kept flicking over to Bell.
If the second round had been another free-for-all, all four would've likely teamed up to eliminate him first.
Ravel, two seats away from Bell, began to slow down his heart rate with slow and deep breaths. His gaze was forward as he watched the second batch of fighters begin to walk up the stage.
'What's his name?' he pondered. He only knew he was number 24. Other than that, he's never heard of him or even seen Bell before.
One of the other fighters leaned back in their seat and crossed their arms. Their jaw was tight as they began to imagine how a duel between them and Bell would go.
Another pretended to stretch but secretly, they were measuring Bell.
No one spoke to him again after witnessing what had occurred to the first person who tried to converse with him.
But all of them were watching.
Bell could feel it. The attention of the four. The quiet tension that was rising.
'Ah… there she is. I recognize her. The winner of the previous tournament. The eventual runner-up of this tournament in the novel.'
He wasn't even thinking about those four. His attention was focused solely on the stage in front of him and the artifact he had his eyes on.
* * *
"Yes!" Maya practically leapt out of her seat when the round ended.
As she slammed both hands on the railing in front of them, Ernit winced as he had been resting his recovering arm on it. "Ow… hey, warn me first next time!"
"I'm rich!" she screamed as she began pushing through the crowd of people who were heading to refill their food, as well as those like her who were either going to collect their winnings or to place a new bet.
She didn't doubt for a second that Bell was going to make it to the next round.
It was the later rounds that she was concerned about, but who knows — maybe Bell was even stronger than she thought.
The last time she saw him fight was during the battle in the basement against Mr. Alfonsi.
Hurrying down to the betting counter, her ticket clutched tightly between her fingers. By the time she arrived, coins were already being handed out or given to the workers.
When it was her turn, the pile she received was large.
Very large.
Her eyes widened as she began counting each coin faster than she could keep up.
The attendant in front of her said, "Congratulations. Number 24 advanced. Do you know him by any chance?"
She pushed the coins back to the attendant and shook her head. "No. 24 is just my lucky number. I'll bet again. All in on the same fighter."
The attendant nodded and pulled out a new ticket. "Just so you're aware, the odds have shifted significantly."
"I know," Maya said, unfazed.
The payout the second time would be noticeably smaller because Bell has been identified as a strong candidate rather than just some random unknown.
New ticket in hand, Maya hurried back to her seat.
"Time to make some more money," she grinned. With her earnings, she could buy plenty of gifts for all the children. Although House Agnus was already providing them with plenty, it felt different coming out of her pocket.
* * *
Bell's gaze was firmly on the center of the new storm that was beginning to form on the stage.
One by one, the next fifty fighters were filling up the platform.
It wasn't just him. Everyone on stage also had their eyes on the woman standing in the middle.
She stood taller than most of the fighters around her. Her posture was relaxed, her arms were crossed. There was boredom on her face but without a doubt, confidence burned in her eyes.
Her long, ash-blonde hair was tied back high, leaving all of the sharp features of her face fully exposed.
Her eyes were black and seemed void of light.
Her top had no sleeves and all along her arms were these thin scars that she wore proudly as they were proof of every fight she'd ever entered and all the victories she had to her name.
'Seraphina Oltair,' Bell thought. The winner of the previous tournament.
Her light armor was flexible and was designed for speed rather than pure defense. At her hips were two handles that were connected to long whips made of interlocking metallic plates. Twin whips.
There were a few faint runes that flowed along the length of the whips. Magical weapons.
'A dangerous weapon that is hard to master, but when mastered… very versatile.'
A lightning-type starwalker. A crowd favorite.
""Seraphina!""
""Seraphina!"
The odds of her moving on to the next round were so high that if you bet a thousand coins, you would only win twenty in return.
The announcer began his routine again, hyping up the crowd, playing to their roars.
When he raised his hand, the countdown from five began.
As soon as the battle began, the difference between her and the other 49 was immediately apparent. Her presence alone was making the others hesitant of approaching her. Even the thought of ganging up on her didn't seem like a smart one.
Seraphina didn't rush. She simply waited, arms still crossed.
The moment the first fighter who had enough courage to face off against her charged in her direction, she moved.
In an instant, she pulled out one whip and with the flick of her wrist, the whip snapped forward, lightning coiling around the metal plates.
Before the fighter could even realize what had happened, the whip wrapped around his ankle. With a sharp pull, she not only yanked him off his feet and slammed into another fighter — but she also shocked him, causing each strand of hair to do a funky dance.
Thunder cracked again.
Before either fighter could hit the ground, her second whip lashed out and struck the area between three participants. Electricity surged and in a controlled burst, she stunned all of them simultaneously.
They collapsed, convulsing, eyes rolling back.
Although Bell's expression didn't change as he watched, internally, he was evaluating her like he would with anyone else.
Another fighter tried to flank her.
She didn't even turn.
Lightning burst from her back in a short arc, knocking him unconscious before his blade came down.
Within seconds, bodies littered the area around her.
It was strange seeing the fighters all staring at her and one by one, choosing to attack her rather than fighting someone else.
It was like they were trying to prove themselves. Prove that they were worthy and had the guts to look up at the tall mountain before them.
The crowd went feral.
"SERAPHINA, I LOVE YOU!"
"STORM QUEEN! MARRY ME!"
"Champion! Champion! Champion!"
As her whips retracted smoothly back into her hands, Seraphina gestured for everyone to move along. She crossed her arms and no one tried to attack her again.
They began focusing on the other contestants while she remained there in the center, watching it, her spot as one of the five already guaranteed.
As her eyes swept the platform briefly, she turned towards the seats where the previous five were seated.
Four nervously gulped.
However, they weren't the one she was looking for. Her gaze landed on Bell and for a few seconds, her eyes lingered there.
Bell met her gaze calmly, showing no fear.
Seraphina's lips twitched upward, and a small smile grew on her face before she turned back to the view going on around her.
'So,' Bell thought, 'that's the person who defeated the protagonist. If I win against her, that means that I surpass him at this current stage. Of course it's more nuanced than that, but…'
The second round hadn't even begun yet and already, the tournament was promising great entertainment for the crowd.