The man leads the way to an area in which three buildings, each a cylinder in shape, stand next to each other. Built of a much darker stone than the fancy buildings lining the main roads, and even the generic buildings making up this dense urban environment, the buildings stand imposingly above.
"These are the three arenas," he explains, "a point of great pride in this city. They are often used for big tournaments and military events, however, when not in use, they are open to the public to battle within. Usually there is a few day waiting list, but as a C-rank adventurer, I should be able to get some portion of a field for us to battle on. I must admit, I am a bit curious to see what power you may possess that gives you such misplaced confidence in your own victory."
"And see you shall, as I take your money and your pride!" I declare haughtily.
"You know, you gain nothing from riling me up any further, in fact, you only increase my incentive to win."
"Good. You will need all the incentive in the world to pull off such a remarkable feat."
"Insult me all you want, I'd like to see you try to laugh when you precious dimension ring is in my possession," he retorts as we enter into the central arena building.
We are immediately greeted with a large room with a staircase spiraling up the walls to both the left and right of the entrance. There is a desk in the center of the room, operated by a woman in a red dress. After waiting for the single person in front of us to finish, after which he leaves with what appears to be a ticket in his hand, it is our turn.
"Hello, welcome to the central arena. What may we do for you today?"
"Yes, hello. Do you have any open fighting areas? We have a private disagreement that must be settled."
"Why, of course! The first slot will be available in about an hour, if you don't mind waiting, and will cost fifty silver to make use of for fifteen minutes. Is that acceptable?"
"I am a C-rank adventurer, I believe that that entitles me to a discounted rate and perhaps some priority in regards to wait time?"
"Oh, yes, that is the case. Do you have your guild identification with you?"
"Yes, here." he answers holding out a rectangular strip of silver-colored metal.
"Mmm… yes, everything seems to be in order. Considering your status, you will have access to one of the field areas reserved by the guild; a spot is available now. Considering the current lack of demand, there will be no cost. I assume that you know the way around?"
After my new friend confirms this to be the case, the woman says "Proceed to the C-7 area, you will have access to it for the next half an hour, if that is not sufficient, please return here to have your time extended. Next!"
We head towards the staircase to our right as the next group approaches the counter, a massive man dragging a much smaller one by his hair.
My friend regains my attention when he says "Perks of being a C-class adventurer. I hope that you now perhaps realize how powerful I am, based upon the respect I demand?"
"Perhaps. Or, perhaps adventurers around here are simply so incompetent that a man of meager strength would appear so mighty as to demand respect." However, contrary to my verbal response, I am forced to mentally acknowledge that C-rank adventurers and adventurers in general may be more powerful than I have been giving them credit for. After all, they wouldn't receive such perks for nothing.
[Well, if that is the case, then this world is much different than generic fantasy stories would imagine, at least in regards to ranking adventurers. I would imagine a C-rank adventurer to be a pathetic shrimp, a smallfry of impressive pathetic-ness, only just strong enough to have grown a bit too big for his britches, in deep need of a humbling. As for adventurers of lower ranks, I would imagine them to be nothing more than generic citizens with a fancy-sounding job; therefore, when I learned that a C-rank adventurer is better than somewhere between one-third and one-sixth of adventurers, I had not imagined him to be much better than the top sixth of the population, who, even after my recent power loss, should fall to me with ease. However, this is pretty good treatment for someone of such a small degree of hypothetical power, especially in a nation with such an emphasis on personal strength, I am beginning to think that a defeat may not be all that unlikely. Well, whatever. Fifty gold may be an absurd amount of money, but I have learned much from this experience even if I am to lose, the loss isn't too severe to be unable to recover from.]
We make the way up the spiraling staircase, through the hole above it, and find ourselves in a massive room that clearly encompasses the majority of this building. A circular arena fills the center of the room, with many raised rows of seating placed around it, a railing and a five foot drop separating them. We have come up just behind the railing and in front of the first row of seats. If we were spectators, we could follow a more standard stairway up into the seats; indeed, many seats are occupied.
The area has been partitioned off into many areas in which several dozen fights are proceeding concurrently. As my friend explains, the partitions are in eight columns, corresponding with the letters A-H, and eight rows, corresponding to, well, numbers.
We go down the narrow stairway a few feet away, lowering ourselves to the level of the fighting field. Not the entire field has been partitioned; around the outer edge and between the separated fighting areas are walkways. I follow my friend to one of the fields, three over and seven out, where we stand for but a moment before one of the referees comes flying over. [Flight, hmm? Better not mess with him.]
"I am in possession of the power to oversee this duel, be warned that no misconduct shall be tolerated. Now, state your names, titles, and wagers, should any exist."
[You know, I would kind of like a list of rules…] I think, while stating "My name is Anetor, and I possess no titles. I wager my dimensional storage ring, without any of its contents."
The referee nods to me, and turns to my friend. "I am Toril, a C-class adventurer. I wager twenty gold, a letter of recommendation to the Imperial Adventurers' Guild, and my services in escorting this man, Anetor, to the guild."
"Ah, I see. The wager has been heard, I will be sure to see its terms enforced. Would either of you wish to invoke the fair knowledge clause?"
"If I may, could you tell me what that is? This is my first time in these arenas."
"Of course. In an effort to bring as much fairness to the duel as possible, to make it a match of battle strength and not information gathering techniques, the clause may be invoked to force all participants to clearly state the methods they will employ in the battle. Should the participants employ any method not pre-disclosed, the offencing side will be determined the loser and may face further penalties. Now, again, would either of you like to invoke this?"
[Nah. Sure, it may give me a great boost, but my friend is not yet even aware that I am a mage, I am certainly not at a disadvantage in the secret methods front. Add in my sword and Wrath abilities, and the fact that I am better off not disclosing my methods becomes very clear.]
My friend joins me in not invoking it, though he gives me a bit of a questioning look, likely wondering what I have to hide that I wouldn't want a rundown of my opponent's abilities.
After waiting an appropriate amount of time, the referee says "Alright, go to each end of the field." Though our allotted area is less than a 64th of the entire arena floor, it is still rather spacious, at least twenty yards squared.
We do as commanded, taking our places at opposing ends of the field. "Do not draw your blades until the time is called. Now, on zero."
From there, the referee counts all the way down. As soon as he calls zero, I draw my blade, taking a defensive stance.