Act I: Red Hat
After leaving the make-shift underground black market, Mwana and Waya finally arrived at the main event – a giant arena. The atmosphere in the underground arena was electric, thick with tension and raw energy.
Mwana pushed through the throng of onlookers, irritation bubbling within him.
"What's with this crowd anyway?" As he elbowed his way past a group of rowdy spectators, he paused momentarily as a fleeting image crossed his mind.
"What was that?!"
For just a second, he swore he saw a man that resembled a black sun—a black dragon, or perhaps even a void had passed by him. But what Mwana did not know was that through the endless crowd, the 'other' had noticed him as well.
"What kind of dragon are you, anyway?" The other young man muttered to himself.
Without even noticing, a well of frustration was already bubbling up within the two young men; a deep disgust for one another; the reason for it unknown. Although this moment was just a blip in the two young men's day, it represented something they could not control and left a deep impact on them. 'This feeling…'it was something that Mwana could not even explain to Waya who was beside him.
This time, Mwana's destination was the Red Hat, a small anthill-like building built within this underground arena. However, even before they could get there, a tall and thin man had already approached the two of them. The thing that caught Waya and Mwana's eye about this man was how the crowd parted naturally leaving his path free and easy.
'An expert! Or a big shot.' Both thought at the same time.
The man's path was unimpeded and he reached Mwana within a heartbeat.
"Finally, you are here. If you did not come, I don't know what we would have done." The man lamented as if he and Mwana were old buddies who had known one another for a long time.
For a moment, both Mwana and Waya were dumbfounded. After all, it was their first time here.
"What! Do the two of you know each other?" Waya blurted out.
"Of course not. But he is the candidate chosen by that man." The man, Boroowon, who went by the title Mister Boroa, answered Waya's question but his eyes never left Mwana's face.
With his brain working in overdrive, it only took Mwana a second to make the connection.
"That man!" Mwana exclaimed.
"Yes."
"So that's how it is. I knew he was no ordinary old man."
"Hahaha, don't tell me you fell for his trick. He always pulls that at this time of the year."
"Hehe, fell for his trick? Not possible. I am the one who left him crying."
"If so, you deserve a thumbs up. You are better than me. When I was new in town he got me good!"
"Who? What are you guys talking about?" Waya who was standing at the side of the two people felt like they had entered another dimension and he was left out. Unfortunately, no one explained anything to him.
In a moment, Mwana and Mister Boroa seemed to hit it off as if they had known each other for a long time. All this was courtesy of the old peddler who had sold Mwana the Green Dragon Mask. According to Mister Boroa, this old man was not a regular old man at all. In fact, he was inseparable from this underground tournament.
At its core, the masquerade involved fighting matches between masked fighters. There were hundreds of martial artists in the tournament each with their own unique monikers and special identities. However, while everyone had a mask, not every mask was special.
"Specifically, your green mask is one of eight." Mister Boroa explained, "And to open the final stage of this tournament all 8 masks and their respective fighters must be gathered together. Without them, everything will be paralyzed!"
"Paralyzed, how?"
As Mwana, Waya, and Mister Boroa walked towards the Red Hat, he continued explaining the workings of the underground arena to the two young men, "Every fighter is here for 1 of 3 reasons – Money, Pride, or Fame, or all three at once."
From Jiwe, Mwana had learned about the masquerade's prize money.
"But the prize money does not compare to the real prize, something which can only be obtained by the resonance of the 8 masks at the end of this tournament."
"What is this real prize?" Waya asked eagerly, even he felt that he might as well participate. This time he was here as a tag along but unlike Mwana, he was not lucky enough to have a direct entry pass to the tournament. He could still participate in the regular matches but it was too late for him to enter the main tournament.
In response to Waya's question, Mister Boroa did not keep him in the dark, "Dragon Essence."
"Dragon Essense!" Even Mwana was shocked. Of all the treasures in the world, this was one that could directly help solve a lot of his bloodline conflict issues.
In fact to some extent, it might not be a coincidence that he and that "black dragon" were drawn to this place, like moths to a flame. Which fledgling dragon could resist the essence of a true dragon?
"Although the dragon essence awarded at the end is just the leftover of dragon arteries, it is definitely a high tier heavenly treasure. It is precious enough to make even experts all over the country jealous."
"This is because its benefits are endless; it can cleanse the human bone-marrow, turning it into spirit-bones, it can improve a martial artists talent in physical training, and it is said that it can even faintly affect a person's underlying destiny and enhance it by leaps and bounds. For people with dragon-like bloodlines, the benefits are even more unimaginable. Now, you can imagine the preciousness of this final prize. Even a little bit of it is enough to change your fate!"
Mister Boroa's words left Mwana shaking in anticipation. 'Let's get this fight going!' He almost jumped into the empty right at that point.
However, after his excitement cooled down, he did not forget to ask the real question, "How is the dragon essence acquired here?"
The question was right but the tone was not.
"Ouch," In Mr. Boroa's ears all he heard was, 'How can this sort of place get dragon essence, mscheew.'
But Mwana was not wrong to be doubtful. This was some backdoor underground fighting stage after all, how could it be worthy of dragon essence.
"You know, they even say that dragon essence has some sort of instinctual intelligence right, it will never flow to any 'lowly' place." Mr Boroa quickly defended.
"The dragon essence produced during this tournament is actually very important. It is one of the key elements used to power Milele town's infamous magic circle, the normalization and equalization formation."
Hearing this news, both Mwana and Waya were amazed. Since coming to this town, the invisible yet ever-present magic circle that maintained order in this otherwise chaotic region was something to awe at and maybe even revered.
"So the underground masquerade is both a fighting tournament and a ritual?"
"Exactly!"
"This ritual creates a miniscule but integral link to the mysterious dragon heart island that only exists in myth."
'This Mister Boroa is really talkative,' this was the ringing thought at the back of Mwana and Waya's minds but they were happy to here more especially when the matter of dragon heart island was brought up.
"Dragon Heart Island! Does that place really exist?" Mwana could not believe in. In his minds, there was a clear separation between myths and reality, even in this fantastical world. After all, the dragons Mwana knew about, the dragons that roamed this world, were nothing special. They were no different from slightly larger dinosaurs.
Meanwhile, the myths about Dragon Heart Island were stories about a divine dragon. The core belief was that the island itself was the heart of a dragon!
'If so wouldn't that dragon be the size of a country?!' Even to Mwana this was too far fetched but considering the other stories related to the Black Dragon Mountains near his home village, Mwana felt that even if he did not want to believe it, he had to.
"So there was really such a giant divine dragon that fell here?! In this continent!"
There was belief in disbelief.
Act II: Blackguard
At this time, the three men had already arrived at their destination, the Red Hat, without knowing it. This place was not so special, apart from the exterior which expectedly looked like a red hat, the interior was just another small cave in this underground complex.
When they arrived, there was already a group of young men arguing while surrounding a pair of swords.
"The black sword – the Dark Strider and the silver-white sword – the Light Bearer, no wonder these youngsters are causing a ruckus". Mister Boroa commented.
However, contrary to his assumption, this was not the source of the argument at all; at least to one of the young men, the swords were of no value.
One of the men, Ren Tevu, a rough looking giant of a fellow, did not look at the two swords at all. His eyes had always been on Gurudumu Keire, a man who had earned the moniker "Death Wheel, one step to kill". This man was the youngest of the 5 sons of Uchini Gurudumu the Illusion Master – a peak level master and one of the core figures in Milele town's Sunshine Wizard Hall. However, despite being the youngest, his talent stood out among his brothers and he displayed the greatest potential to surpass the Illusion Master.
"Ren Tevu, are you not interested in the weapons at all?" Asu Bu, a companion of Keire, felt that Ren Tevu had not even paid any attention to the two swords at all, so he could not help but ask.
"We Blackguards never use swords. Swords are for little girls." The rough man replied without any pride or arrogance. It was as if he truly believed this.
Blackguards – today the term had been watered down. But 300 years ago, anyone with such a title was the elite of the elite. The Blackguards were established close to a century ago by the reigning regent of Muwawa, the Diamond Emperor Almasi Goma. The core task of this guard unit was to guard the Black Gate, a literal hell hole. During its most active period around 300 years ago, the Black Gate would spew out tens of thousands of demons from the depths of hell every year. And the Blackguards were the first line of defense against these otherworldly terrors.
However, over the past century the Black Gate had gradually become inactive. Nowadays, it was 'lucky' if even one demon was spewed out of the gate in a year.
However, despite the drop in demon activity, the Blackguard had never been abolished, one – out of respect for the first and two – on a 'just in case' basis. After all who could guarantee that if the Blackguard unit was abolished today tens of thousands of demons wouldn't spew out of the hell hole tomorrow?
Despite the unit sinking into irrelevance in the modern era, Ren Tevu remained extremely proud of his heritage. After all, he was a 'born Blackguard,' someone whose ancestors over more than five generations had been Blackguards. By nature, born Blackguards inherited the great strength of their ancestors becoming stronger every subsequent generation.
Given the nature of the job, battling demons where even the weakest ones had skin like tempered steel, Blackguards relied on their supernatural strength to wield all sorts of large-sized heavy weapons like battle axes, giant blades, and war-hammers. For Ren Tevu, a man whose strength was above average even among the Blackguards, he greatly disdained small weapons.
'Sounds like overcompensation to me,' Asu Bu dared to think it but did not dare to say it.
"Gurudumu Keire! I've heard stories about your skill, but stories are just words. I challenge you to a fight! Let's see if the 'Death Wheel' can truly back up that name!"
"A challenge? Your strength is undeniable, but do remember I do not fight for glory or pride, only victory."
Hearing Keire's words left a tooth-eating grin on Ren Tevu's face, the challenge igniting a fire in his eyes, "So do I!"
"Then we will meet in the pit." Leaving those words, Gurudumu Keire nodded slightly then turned and walked away with a calm confidence.
It is only after he left that his 'minion', Asu Bu came to his senses and scurried away after him.
This incident was just a flash in the road of time, Mwana and his companions did not even have time to enjoy the drama and it was already over. As for the two amazing swords, they were soon forgotten.
For Waya who did not use swords, no sword could ever enter his heart no matter how beautiful it was. As for Mwana, he would naturally pay some attention to the two beautiful swords. However, he had just received his own pair of swords recently and with the same sun and moon or light and dark motif.
'And they can't compare to my father's sword at all,' On top of his two already amazing swords, Mwana was in possession of the supreme Ita sword, the Sword of Calling, which he had inherited from his father. Although he could not wield the sword for now, it was just a matter of time. Obviously, the Dark Strider and Light Bearer swords paled in comparison to a supreme weapon.
Act III: Anomalies
In the Red Hat, Mister Boroa had already gotten behind a stone counter replacing a coworker. Moving around the old mahogany shelves stuck to the damp cave walls, Mister Boroa was fiddling with all kinds of strange things that Mwana and Waya had never seen. Mwana leaned forward, curiosity etched on his face, not towards the strange items but with regard to the previous conversation. "So, about the dragon essence—how is it acquired? Is it really from Dragon Heart Island? Has anyone ever traced the route back?"
Mister Boroa nodded, his expression serious. "Some have tried to trace the underground cavern paths that carry the essence back to its source, but in hundreds of years, none have succeeded."
Mwana frowned, skepticism creeping into his voice. "But how can the underground fighting pit be the recipient of something so powerful? It seems unlikely."
"Ah," Mister Boroa replied, his tone patient, "as I said before, the tournament might look like a regular fighting event, but it is actually a ritual—one which we do not fully understand. The town above allows the activities below to continue because they receive a substantial share of the dragon essence—about 80% of it. The tournament fights go on throughout the year, but the final battle of twelve is typically held only twice a year. Even so, a significant amount of dragon essence can be harvested during those two events."
Waya interjected, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Battle of twelve? I thought there were 8 masks?"
"Indeed for the real masks, there are only 8 of them. However, there are also 4 dummy masks whose wielders are called 'clowns'. Whether it is the true masks or the dummy masks, the wielders have their own privileges in the tournament but only the true masks can initiate the ritual to call down the dragon essence."
"With such a treasure in hand, has no one ever tried anything?" Mwana asked the question at the front of his mind. He did not fancy the idea of some random experts jumping out of the woodwork when he was in the middle of a ritual.
"You are right to worry. You have seen how hectic this place is. All types are mixed in together. However, have you not wondered how in such a chaotic place there have never been any major incidents?"
Mister Boroa's eyes sparkled with a hint of pride as he continued to explain. "It is undeniable that the underground is more ungovernable than the surface, yet you'll rarely hear of any real problems down here. The population within these caverns is a mix of beings—46% human, 32% non-human, with 22% being anima and 10% categorized as unique species. There are even all kinds of hybrids. But what about the remaining 7%?"
"What do you mean?" Waya asked, leaning in closer.
"Those are strange entities, invisible to the naked eye! 4% of them are just regular spirits, so to the enlightened they are nothing special. But the remaining 3%..."
"They are anomalies right?" Before Mister Boroa could continue with his drawn out explanations, Mwana jumped in with an answer much to the older man's displeasure. But he still continued, 'he really liked talking':
"Right—Aberrants, Hymns, Reverse Parasites, Un-Orators, Thought Echoes, and many more unexplainable creatures so mysterious that they are all thrown under the 'Anomaly' category. Without the formation in place, this place would descend into pure chaos."
Mwana's eyes widened when he heard Mister Boroa mention the formation. "So, normalization and equalization magic circle reaches all the way down here!?"
"Of course, and rather than a circle, it is more accurate to call it a sphere. It covers both the skies and the underground of Milele town."
From the older man's explanation, Mwana and Waya finally understood why this barely legal tournament had managed to withstand all opposition in Milele town. There was a tacit agreement that this place had to continue to exist for the sake of order and stability. After all, the dragon essence was one of the core elements keeping the town's magic circle active. It was also a core resource for top level warriors in Milele town who wanted to polish their physical bodies. Through a reward system, the dragon essence allowed the political class in Milele town to maintain firm control over the powerful warriors who regularly walked through this town or settled here. With the promise of dragon essence, which warrior would not work for you?
"Now, let me explain the types of battles you'll find in the underground masquerade. There's tunnel racing, field battles that simulate war, one verses one matches, a warrior gauntlet, archery rush, and spell gazing. The fighting pit itself is shaped like a hexagon, designed for maximum strategy and chaos. The main event is obviously the one verses one matches, but you should know that…"
"Register my name as 'Jura'—the Sea Worker." Mwana declared, cutting through the endless stream of chatter pouring from Mister Boroa. He couldn't help but think, This man will talk forever! At this rate, let alone tasting some dragon essence I won't even have an opportunity to register for the tournament!'
Mister Boroa, paused his talking, looked up from his trinkets, and picked up the thick book that his coworker had left behind. A smile spread across the middle aged man's face, "Jura, I like it. It has a nice ring to it."
Although Mwana's face was obscured by the thick cloak he wore, there was something about him that resonated with the middle-aged man. He sensed that the name 'Jura' was a pseudonym, a mask of sorts. Yet it still made him feel a little bit closer to this mysterious young man standing before him.
'Maybe this young man would bring me and everyone else here some surprises during this tournament.' It was just a feeling, but Mister Boroa had always trusted his intuition.
"Which events do you want to participate in?"
"I'd like to enter the 1v1 matches, spell gazing, and obviously the tunnel racing event."
"Tunnel racing – which young man can resist it." Mister Boroa commented with a hint of reminiscence.
"All good choices! Those events will truly test your skills."
Before Mwana could leave the Red Hat, Mister Boroa motioned for him to wait, leading him to a nearby display case that flickered with enchantment. The display case was obscured behind a huge leather sheet so it was not noticeable at first. "Let me introduce you to one of the rewards you could earn—the King of the Golden Wheel."
Mwana's breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the gleaming artifact. The King of the Golden Wheel was legendary, a coveted enhancement model he had heard about even back in the village. He had always been fascinated by Iron Skin human models such as this, rumored to be the ultimate form of body enhancement, granting the wielder unparalleled strength and devastating abilities.
"This is premier cheating," Mister Boroa teased, watching Mwana's reaction. "While others are training for years, you could just slap this on, and boom! You've already surpassed those who have dedicated their lives to honing their skills. Who wouldn't be envious?"
Mwana felt a surge of longing mixed with excitement. "Is it just a rumor or does it really grant invulnerability in the mortal body realm?"
"Indeed," Mister Boroa continued, his tone serious now. "This model primarily targets the skin, allowing the wearer to withstand even the strongest attacks. Only those with unique skills can bypass this defense. Earth Rank experts might be able to wear it down with sheer power, but this model can block at least a dozen serious blows and recover in mere seconds or minutes, depending on the damage. Overall, it's one of the top-tier defensive armaments out there."
Mwana nodded, his mind racing. He dreamed of owning such a model, but as a struggling student, he could only watch as the rich and powerful flaunted their permanent armament models like trophies. But now, standing before this treasure, he felt a flicker of hope igniting within him. 'My fate will not remain downtrodden. I will grab this opportunity with both hands.'
With determination blazing in his heart, Mwana contemplated the possibilities ahead. The thought of participating in the tournament, the thrill of competing, the chance to anoint his body with dragon essence, and the draw of the treasure right in front of his eyes filled him with purpose.
He was determined to carve his name into the heart of the underground arena and break through any challenges that blocked his path ahead. 'I will not let this chance slip by.'
Let the tournament begin!