It's no surprise that shortly after Gladys's opening announcement, the fight was over.
A bit after the tournament started, Eve found herself pacing back and forth through her cell: her first opponent, Galbert. How strong was he? What type of powers did he have? Eve didn't know, but she would get her answers soon enough.
Just as her pacing came to an end, multiple sounds of footsteps filled the corridors. More precisely, iron footsteps. The guards came.
Multiple men stopped in front of her cell. Their bodies are clad in iron armor. Some taller, some shorter. Some have swords, others axes. And one has a halberd.
Eve meets their gaze.
"Looks like my time has come, huh?" she says, no emotion in her words.
The man with the halberd speaks first.
"Silence, vermin, put one arm through the bars."
Eve complains, her forearms brushing against the cold iron of the bars, after what felt like an eternity. Her wrist is shackled with a heavy iron ring.
"Withdraw your arm and press your other forearm against the bars."
She pulls her arm, letting the chain dangle in the air. The other iron ring is almost touching the ground.
Then the guard's arm enters her cell through the bars. The other guards tense up and grip their weapons tighter. Grabbing the iron ring cautiously, his hand ready to snap back if something happens.
Eve presses her forearm against the bars. And with a click, she is fully shackled. She is a bit surprised that the guards didn't enter her cell to cuff her personally. But remembering the types of people who are here. She brushes that thought to the side.
Then the door to her cell flings open. The two bigger guys in the group enter, and they grab her by the shoulders and begin to push her out of the cell. The other guards get in front of her. Trapping Eve in a circle, they start moving in a perfect formation.
No one said anything; they didn't need to. Their heavy footsteps and rattling of the chain are more than enough. They walk past corridors made out of stone. Right up until they reach a massive wooden gate with holes through it. The arena is visible behind it.
"Wrists!" One of the bigger guys exclaims. She presents them to him. The other guards ready their weapons, pointing them at Eve.
Her shackles fall on the ground—her wrists, lighter than they have ever been.
The guard who unchained her hurried over to the wall. He pulled a lever, making the gate ascend. Once the gate is halfway up, they push her into the arena. The gate begins to fall back down.
"Make sure to put on a good show." One of the guards tells her, laughing.
Eve turns her head towards the middle of the arena.
It looks bigger on the inside. It looks bigger because I'm the one fighting for my life.
The blood from the previous match was visible on the fresh sand. Opposite to her, a door the same height as the one she entered. The torches light up the whole arena. Thousands of people stare at her, waiting. They don't applaud or cheer. She is not worthy enough yet.
Eve scans the crowd for a while, trying to find Elyon or maybe even the boy. But without any luck.
Her gaze falling. How could she have missed it? Nightfall is right at her feet, covered in sand. Its eye appears closed; maybe it didn't want any sand entering it. Eve bends down to pick it up, then the other door groans open. Her opponent is here.
A slim man enters the arena. His face is covered with a crying theatre mask. On his head rests a black and red Cap 'n' Bells. His clothes are the same colour as his cap. Just like Eve, he scans the arena for a while, then spots his weapons on the ground. Two dark daggers, he bends down to pick them up. But he doesn't put one in each hand. He puts both of the daggers in his right hand. Gripping the two at an unnatural angle, the blades forming a V-shape.
Eve grabs her sword and dusts off the excess sand on it.
"In the left corner, we have Eve, the cursed child, one of the most wanted criminals in our history. How did we capture her? We didn't; Eve came here like she owned the place." The announcer tells the crowd. Some people even started laughing.
"In the right corner, we have Galbert the clown—the former enigmatic leader of Hell's party. Former, because his taste in fashion is quite horrendous. Enough of the small talk, let the fight begin."
Eve points her sword at Galbert.
"Great, my first opponent is a clown."
The clown begins to walk towards her. He tilts his head to the side, almost too much.
"Y-you have s-something that's not y-yours." His voice raspy and quiet.
"Oh, you mean Nightfall? Well, guess what? It's mine; your precious Goddess of Hell didn't need it anymore. And I'm the next best thing."
Galbert's head begins to jerk from side to side. He breaks into a run. His right arm held above, ready to come crashing down on Eve, once he is close enough to strike her. He begins laughing, just as the daggers are about to make contact with Eve's skin. She kicks him in his left shin. The man is launched to the side, rolling in the sand a few times before coming to a stop. Eve is left confused.
I know for a fact I'm not that strong. It's just that he is too weak. I mean, really weak, I barely put any power in that kick. What is going on?
Eve begins to search the arena for something, a trick, a hidden weapon. But she doesn't find anything. Her gaze went back to Galbert; he isn't doing any trick, no hidden power. No, nothing, he is just trying desperately to get back up, trying to lean on his right leg, but falling back down on the sand.
Don't tell me, I thought maybe he would have some powers because he was a cult leader or something. Anything, but no...he is just a regular guy who worshipped a god that wasn't supposed to be worshipped. He is probably insane, but still...
Eve walks over to him, her gaze lingering on the man who's trying to get back up. A sense of pity is brewing in her eyes. Galbert looks up at her. He stops trying, he stands there, trembling. He doesn't even try to pick up his daggers.
I get it now: this tournament is not about who is stronger or weaker, eviler or kinder. It's about who the people consider more entertaining.
Eve readies her weapon above her. Preparing to put an end to this fight
You didn't lose because you were necessarily a bad person. You didn't lose because you were weak. You lost because you were forced here for a show you weren't ready for. One that didn't welcome you.
"May you find rest in your Goddess's embrace."
Galbert's shoulders slump in defeat, knowing his fate is about to end. He stops trembling altogether.
Nightfall bites the crying mask. Putting an end to the fight.
After a moment of silence, the announcer speaks.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, that was an anticlimactic fight. Let's hope our next fight will be more entertaining."
The gate she entered through opens again.
Her first fight is over.
The crowd is still silent.