The spectator seats in the Amphitheater was full to the brim. The atmosphere was buzzing with cheers and excitement. The day of the long awaited tournament had finally arrived.
Yesterday, which was the introductory aspect, meant for speeches from military officials, conducting the tournament, reading of the rules and announcing the participants of the tournament; the Amphitheater's, over one hundred thousand seat capacity, was barely half full. But now, not only were the important dignitaries from the provinces present, the residents of the capital interested in the tournament were present, as well as, important dignitaries from other nations of the Pacific continent.
Some dignitaries from other continents were around as well, to pay their respects, but this important personalities weren't placed at the seats for spectators, but at the red seats to the right, slightly closer to the arena, reserved for the military officials of the capital. And seated gentlemanly, in the front of the military officials, was the wily old general, Grand Commander Jozu Hanks. He came to observe the tournament, despite his busy schedule. A man of his word, he truly was.
It was nine in the morning. The blue skies were clear, the sun was mild, the weather was cool and the air was light and refreshing. An official rose from his seat and strode briskly to the center of the arena. The podium, which had been there, as of yesterday, had been removed, so the slender official stood on the bare sands of the arena. He regarded the guests and spectators with a warm greeting and proceeded to loudly read the format of the tournament, the rules in which the representatives should follow, as well as other important information. This was read out yesterday, but it was repeated for the sake of those whom weren't around.
Another official strode out, after the previous was done. This official was the announcer, whom read out the names of the contestants yesterday.
"My name is Major Gregory Conner and I will be the referee for this tournament." He spoke somberly, as he announced himself.
"Eight matches would be held today, while the other eight will hold tomorrow and that is how it would be done consecutively, until the end of the group stage matches. As you already know, there is no time limit to each match. The winner is decided when one surrenders or is knocked unconscious and a draw is decided when both contestants are unconscious or can't carry on any longer.
Alright, its time for the first match of the tournament to begin, so without further ado, I call on Philemon Hendrickson from the province of Jogota to proceed to the arena.
The tall, dark, muscular young man strolled forth from the black gates and swaggered to the center, with his nose stuck up in the air, like he was some God, arrogantly looking down on the world of mere mortals.
Loud cheers and applause reverberated with intensity, from the section of the spectator seats appropriated for delegates from Jogota. Jogota was represented mostly by the blue wind sect; the top authority in the province. The blue wind disciples, in their hundreds, knelt beside their seats and chanted praises and gave adorations to their head disciple.
An old man, with bushy, white hair and full white beards, like Santa Claus, seated like a king, in front of the disciples, guffawed loudly, without care of etiquette. He had such brimming enthusiasm for a man of his age. He was the High priest of the sect and the grandfather to Hendrickson; Philemon Henderson. Two beautiful young girls sat close beside him, on both sides. The girls made lewd, pleasure inducing moans and played with the old man's beards, as the old man wantonly fondled with their succulent breasts, not minding the disgusting stares from the other representatives.
The old man had a total of thirty-five wives and sixty-nine children. And even with this large number of wives, he still had a lot of concubines, satisfying him from time to time. The man indeed had a high libido!
Hendrickson was his favorite grandchild, among the large number of grandchildren that he had; numbering a staggering one hundred and three!
He was his favorite for two major reasons.
Firstly, Hendrickson was the son of his favorite child, whom lost her life to a mysterious illness. The old man saw his dear daughter in him and so, he raised him, himself.
Secondly, among all the disciples from outside the family, his children and grandchildren, Hendrickson had the most talent. He had learnt everything the sect had to offer, in terms of techniques, in the way of the blue wind, at such a young age. His potential had grown beyond the confines of the blue wind sect and the old man believed without a doubt, that his grandson would achieve greatness in this tournament and be recognized and called up to join the military of the capital. Hendrickson was his pride and joy. The one destined to raise Jogota to the height of prominence.
Hendrickson stood erect at the center, his hand on the hilt of his saber, jutting out from the scabbard, attached to his waist. He had a fiendish smile on his face, as he awaited the arrival of his dear opponent.
And sure enough it came.
"Devon Douglas from Bermuda!" Major Conner exclaimed without emotion.
BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!
Resounding boos rang out deafening from every corner of the spectator seats.
..................
Douglas sat alone in the waiting room, awaiting the call of his name. He stared absentmindedly at the screen in front of him. His mind wasn't on what was been conveyed by the military official, been displayed on the screen. He was reminiscing on the wondrous lesson taught by 'the man' yesterday.
He couldn't imagine how such a logic defying technique could actually exist. It simply defied common sense. It was truly a rarity.
Mana practitioners, even the genius of geniuses, might spend an entire lifetime and more, to complete such a technique. The man, himself, stated that it took him a full decade, before he could make some concrete progress and a few years to finish it up to completion. And this was a high ranking military official of the capital. A man of pedigree and absolute strength. It shows how unusual and difficult the technique was.
But what surprised Douglas the most, was the pleasing fact that such a logic defying technique wasn't so difficult for him to execute! He had a cheat for it! If he was lucky, he could complete it in a month! Just in time for the final match of the tournament!
He couldn't believe his luck. It seems the elusive lady was finally smiling on him, at long last. He felt he had a chance of succeeding. Of achieving his goal.
Douglas sat so still, deeply pondering over his good fortune, that he didn't notice Jason sauntering into the room, with Illenia closely behind him.
"Yo, Douglas, are you prepared for your match? You will soon be called to the arena in a minute or so." Jason said, glancing at the screen in front, displaying Major Conner, the referee for the tournament, striding to the arena from his seat.
There was no reply. Douglas just sat there without making any movement.
"Douglas, what's up?" Jason asked with some slight concern.
Still no reply.
CLAP!!CLAP!! CLAP!! CLAP!!
"Earth to Devon Douglas!!!"
Illenia clapped her dainty hands loudly, as she exclaimed.
This jerked Douglas back from his submerging thoughts. He was surprised to see Douglas and Illenia in the room with him.
"Huh? When did you guys come in here?" He inquired foolishly.
"You mean, you didn't notice us come in? You must be slipping dude. What were you thinking about?" Jason inquired, as he sank himself into the sofa beside Douglas.
"It's nothing of importance. Is it time?"
"Yeah its 9:30, you would soon be called up." Illenia answered
Okay then." Douglas arose from the sofa and did some light exercise to warm up his body.
"Give that asshole an ass whooping to remember. That fucker shouldn't get away with running his trashy mouth, so confidently. He was lucky yesterday, he won't be lucky when he fights me next. I will make certain to deform that his ugly face." Jason said, still seething from yesterday's event.
"With the way things might play out," Douglas stretched himself out, "I don't think you will need to fight him."
Jason grinned wryly. Hendrickson or whatever his name was going to be in serious, fucking trouble. He poked the hornets nest and now he would have to deal with the outcome of his buffoonery.
"Be careful, though. He might have some serious power to back up his arrogance. Don't let your emotion lead you to act rashly." Illenia cautioned warmly.
"I call on Philemon Hendrickson to please proceed to the Arena!!" The Referee's voice echoed from the screen.
Douglas grunted, as he picked up the enormous sheathed broadsword leaning beside the sofa he sat on and strapped it to his back. He made the peace sign✌️ to his friends and grinned,
"I will be back in a jiffy."
With that, he left the waiting room and stood calmly in the hallway, the red gates slightly ajar in front of him.
"Devon Douglas from Bermuda!"
His name echoed across the Amphitheater.
It was finally his moment. The second phase of the plan had begun!