"Even so, you still want to participate in this so-called Championship Tournament?"
"Why not?"
Beckett replied without looking back.
Nothing else mattered; as long as The Grandmaster had the divine remains in his possession, that was enough.
His sole purpose for participating in this Championship Tournament was to meet The Grandmaster as quickly as possible.
As the host of this competition, he would definitely appear in the arena on the first day of the tournament.
Beckett believed The Grandmaster thought the same.
The Otherwise, he could have just stayed comfortably at home waiting for Beckett to visit, instead of using the divine remains as bait to lure him into participating.
"Or, do you have a better way to get close to The Grandmaster?"
Beckett stopped, turned around, and asked.
Upon hearing this, Hela's expression faltered. She pouted and said nothing.
Besides participating in the competition, she really didn't seem to have any faster way to get close to The Grandmaster.
After all, she didn't know where The Grandmaster's true residence was either.
The arena location detected by Woz was merely the place The Grandmaster frequented the most.
Rather than spending a lot of effort searching in the dark, it was better to just use the official channel for meetings.
"Please everyone, do not crowd!"
"Good queuing order will determine if you can complete your registration and sign-up as quickly as possible!"
"If you two gentlemen want to fight, please do so elsewhere. Come back to queue after you've determined a winner."
"Those who arrive later, please voluntarily go to the side and back to collect your number tags!"
The Sakaar Arena, which had not been established for very long, was exceptionally popular after The Grandmaster sent out his notice.
When Beckett, following Woz's map, arrived at his destination, the sight of two long queues caused his brow to furrow.
"Your Highness Beckett, leave this tedious task of queuing and getting a number to me." The Other, who aspired to be Beckett's foremost subordinate, immediately demonstrated his usefulness.
Bowing respectfully, he then took the scepter and trotted over to the number issuing window. With a fierce look, he took a number tag from an Arena Slave.
"404? Are there that many people ahead of us?"
The Other frowned. He had a feeling it wasn't a lucky number, let alone the fact that this number meant there were at least four hundred and four people ahead of Beckett.
He didn't think His Highness Beckett was the type of person to wait that long.
Having spent so much time together, The Other had already figured out his master's temperament almost perfectly.
"Hey, I'm asking you, is there any VIP channel?"
Glancing back at Beckett, whose impatience was clearly evident, The Other pressed his face against the window and asked fiercely, holding the number tag.
"The kind that allows direct registration."
Generally speaking, competitions like this should have a VIP channel exclusively for strong fighters, or those with 'money power,' shouldn't they?
"There is, sir, but are you sure you want to take the Fast Track?"
The woman on the other side of the window looked up upon hearing this.
"Stop with the nonsense. If there is one, get it for me quickly."
Perhaps it was The Other's gruff, confident demeanor that intimidated the woman. After muttering a few words into a communication device that The Other couldn't understand, she handed him a golden badge.
The badge had no number, only the Arena's Logo.
What was this?
The Other squeezed it curiously, but couldn't figure anything out.
"Someone is about to challenge the channel. Zola, come out and bring them in, and also tell Foras to get ready."
"Yes."
The woman on the other end of the communicator responded timidly. When she appeared before The Other, her eyes widened instantly: "You, you're that blob of meat from back then?!"
Zola still couldn't forget the scene of The Other's revival.
"It's you?"
"Why are you here?"
The Other was clearly surprised to encounter someone he knew, even if only by sight, in this unfamiliar place.
"Your Highness Beckett." Wearing the badge and accompanied by Zola, The Other returned to Beckett's side.
"Zola? Why are you here?"
Unlike The Other, who was completely unfamiliar with Zola, Beckett knew a little about her. After all, they had spent a day or two together and even watched Ego's movies.
"Well, because of you, Mr. Beckett, I couldn't compensate for the auction house's property loss, so I was assigned to the arena."
Seeing Beckett again, Zola clearly lacked her initial liveliness.
Her timid respect was evident.
"Excuse me, are the four of you participating in the Champion Challenge?" Zola clearly didn't want to dwell on her experiences since arriving at the arena.
Having been thoroughly schooled by harsh reality, all she wanted now was to quietly do her job. Only by doing so could she secure a chance to keep living.
"No, only me." Beckett, after gazing at Zola for a moment, spoke.
Hela didn't need to, Jennifer couldn't fight, and as for The Other, he was just there to make up the numbers.
"I understand, please follow me." Zola nodded respectfully and turned, gesturing for Beckett and the others to follow.
"The Grandmaster has prepared a test for everyone who considers themselves powerful."
"As long as someone can defeat Foras, who guards the challenge passage, they can become a Seed Player and skip the qualifying rounds and group stage, advancing directly to the Round of 16 main tournament."
"Since Mr. Beckett doesn't want to take the conventional route, this is the only way."
"On a side note, before you, thirty-six people have already challenged and died."
The corpses of those people were still hanging on the old, crooked tree in front of the arena's gate, serving as a warning to those with restless hearts.
"So, please, be careful."
Perhaps due to their past acquaintance, after bringing Beckett and his group into the arena, Zola hesitated for a moment before issuing her reminder.
"Foras, is that him?"
Beckett ignored Zola's warning and, upon entering the arena, naturally spotted the figure standing in the center of the grounds.
"Are there any hairstyles in this universe stranger than his?" Hela sat comfortably in the nearest VIP box, watching the man meditating in the center of the arena with great interest.
A dark purple top, green training pants, a face with sharp angles, and a hairstyle even more outlandish than Beckett's Saiyan-like one.
Foras, Sakaar Arena's strongest fighter under The Grandmaster!
"A new challenger?"
The man meditating in the arena opened his eyes and looked at Beckett, who leaped down from the spectator stands.
"Let me say this first,"
"I am very strong!"
"Ha!"
His muscles bulging, the man named Foras didn't waste any time. After pointing at Beckett and declaring his pre-battle statement, he directly kicked towards Beckett's face!
"Dragon Rises!"
Beckett frowned, his hands behind his back, and slightly turned his head. Foras's ankle narrowly grazed past him.
"Scorpion's Tail Sweep!"
Failing with the first move, Foras used his right foot, now on the ground, as a pivot point and spun around, delivering a whip kick towards Beckett's chest. However, Beckett caught it firmly in his hand, and Foras couldn't break free no matter how hard he tried.
"Lightning Poison Dragon Drill!!" Foras gave up struggling and directly used his left foot as a pivot, spinning towards Beckett's abdomen.
"Tyrannosaurus Frenzied Blade Demon Seal Slash!"
"Wind Eagle Dancing Sword Wind Piercing Stab!"
"Water Rhino Explosive Wild Waterfall Pierce!"
"White Mastiff Fierce Thunder Shocking Slash!"
"Flying Tiger Connecting Sky Earth Splitting Chop!"
"Locust Ant Chopping Big Tree!"
"Tornado Destroys—!"
"Flashy and showy."
As soon as he finished speaking, an impatient Beckett directly smashed Foras's chest with a punch!
Foras, who hadn't even finished shouting the names of his techniques, stared with wide eyes at the man before him, who seemed comparatively slender.
"How... could...?"
"Killing him counts as passing, right?" Beckett, his foot on Foras's chest, which had a hole in it, asked Zola, who was staring dumbfoundedly from the stage, his face cold.
Zola, with a blank expression, nodded...
Working overtime, one more update will be quite late |ω)
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