He pulled his son towards him and quickly retreated. The news had completely destabilized him: why had the old man singled him out instead of someone else? Was there a connection with all his strange dreams? He wanted only one thing to convince himself: it was to converse with the figure from his dreams. If she agreed to meet him again in his sleep, then he would see a very serious sign to question his destiny. He felt a certain fear and hoped that his dream would turn out to be commonplace.
He lay down on his bed, mentally exhausted, and soon fell into a deep sleep.
In the darkness of his subconscious, he walked. He walked in a totally dark space. It seemed to him that he was in a tunnel because he could barely hear the sound of his steps in the water. Suddenly the light emerged and once again disturbed his tormented mind: she invited him to follow her, but strange elements of his mind caused confusion. From the corner of his eye, he could see a slight blue thread but as soon as he turned his head in its direction, it moved away quickly. Among the unintelligible sounds, the sublime feminine voice rose above, as if it was coming from a higher rank. The sweet sound emanated from a blurred silhouette bathed in light; he managed to touch her with his fingertips and the darkness disappeared. He was immediately in a flower field which was not strange to him! The one where he used to talk to his late wife.
Ogai, that poor old man, spoke the truth. This is the mission that will seal your destiny and make you a hero. I need you to solve a riddle that will allow generations of living beings to prosper. I can't tell you more for now, but we will meet soon. For this, you will have to go to Arcadia, where the powers of Andora no longer have control. You will have to re...
"Dad... Dad! Wake up! The sun is setting, the fight is about to start. We have to get to the Royal Esplanade quickly."
"Ah? Uh ... yes! That's true, I had forgotten…"
On the way, Baris told his strange dreams to his son. The latter was one of his few confidants.
"What about you? Do you make strange dreams too?"
"No, simply said Riga. At least, not more than usual. Anyway, you talk when you sleep!" he laughed in a childish way.
"Oh yeah? What do I say?"
"I don't know," Riga replied in an embarrassed way. "What you say is very confusing, you know. You don't articulate the words... Ah! There we are, we have arrived at the Esplanade! The fight hasn't started yet, phew!"
Riga had a remarkable ability to change the subject. Were the subjects discussed interesting to him? Maybe but in any case, he seemed to want to avoid those that could involve him. Yet, his father did not hold it against him because in the end, although he was approaching his twenties, he was still just a child. His child. So, the stern gaze of the father finally became full of indulgence.
The Thursday fight was the weekly meeting for all Genibians; wooden stands were specially arranged for the occasion around a hexagonal arena forty meters long. The populace crowded into it in their usual proximity and made loud cheers in the stifling summer sun. Queen Andora had already taken her place and was seated on the throne of her rolling chariot which overlooked the combat area delimited by simple metal barriers. She was undoubtedly the most fond of this kind of event which she described as a sport.
Violence had become the essential factor of this era. This is why many martial arts schools had appeared. They became necessary to educate the population and make them responsible for the use of force. Each school or armory had developed its specialty: sword, spear, archery, close combat, espionage... and sometimes they combined several disciplines at once. Despite everything, when the disciples of schools could not directly confront each other, they then used their talents in the street. The founders of the kingdom would turn in their graves if they were allowed to return to earth for an instant. Violence in Genib was a pleonasm: she and death often went hand in hand.
As soon as she ascended to the throne, Andora established these weekly meetings to channel part of this violence in a well-regulated framework.
Making two members of her kingdom confront each other every week allowed her to establish her grip on the population. It was actually a matter of distracting people's minds from the difficulties of daily life by making them believe that leisure activities were for everyone and not just for wealthy minorities. The Genibians were brutal. Since the creation of the kingdom, centuries ago, they had been used to violence. This characteristic was now ingrained in their genes; so, they could only approve this surplus of free violence that took place regularly.
That day, the fight pitted the strongest ogre in the kingdom, Hamal the Cannibal against the strongest man, Averkane the Silver Bull. The latter, though a formidable and undefeated warrior, the crowd gave him little chance against Hamal, who was in the habit of eating the entrails of his defeated enemies. Moreover, he was provided with an extraordinary build as he measured over four meters and weighed more than five hundred kilos! Yet, in the monstrous genre, Averkane was not badly off either since he measured over two meters for over two hundred kilos.
These weekly meetings thrilled the crowd more than any other event in the kingdom; the queen fidgeted in anticipation on her throne, eager to see her favorite warrior – Averkane – in action. It was quite intriguing to see the effect this man had on the crowd, he exerted a kind of magnetism blending fear, power, and fascination. Everything about him was subject to question: his color, his armor, his sinister look, his stature, his origins, his gaze, his pride. Everything. Everything about him made him different from the others. Yet, this solitary and austere warrior was surprisingly accompanied by a small black kitten. This one never left him. It sat on his shoulder, and placidly observed the world from its perch. The small ball of fur thus gave him a deceptively endearing look because it gave the impression that he felt compassion, whereas in combat, he felt none. He had never spared any opponent, he was merciless. He finished off all those he didn't immediately kill and claimed in a neutral tone: leaving an opponent alive today is to release a grudge tomorrow. He had never lost, never been afraid, never doubted: the legend was underway. Through fear and strength, he cemented his prestige throughout the kingdom.
The herald, dressed in his robe adorned with cherry blossom patterns – the queen's emblem – was in charge of presenting the fights each week.
"Here is the match we have all been eagerly awaiting: the fight that pits Averkane the Silver Bull, undefeated in over three hundred single combats, against Hamal the Cannibal, winner in his one hundred thirty confrontations! Who will emerge victorious from this battle of the bosses: the champion Hamal or the pretender to the supreme crown, Averkane? Glory to the winner and ignominy to the loser! And now, fight, warriors!"
"Milo, down, will you."
The Bull's raspy voice was of a sweetness that had no common measure with the stature he imposed. He put a knee on the ground, stretched his arm towards the ground, and the little black kitten complied. It left in its nonchalant gait, waddling its tiny behind, then stood near the audience. It rubbed its head with its little paws, turned towards its master, then finally meowed twice to encourage him.
The two adversaries were at a respectable distance from each other. Despite the hysterical cries of the crowd, they remained focused. They circled the arena without taking their eyes off each other.
Averkane wore a confident, even smug smile. It's true that given his colossal size, one would have thought him capable of crushing any human being with a single finger. He was dressed in a steel armor painted in the colors of the night; a black cape on which his emblem – a strange drawing of a silver bull's head with red eyes – rested on his shoulder pads. Even through the heavy sheet metal that covered him, his muscular curves were easily guessed. His dark and severe face seemed tiny thus placed on his bull's neck. His wide and round shoulders looked like a horse's thighs while his prominent chest appeared artificially inflated. When he moved, he took great care to spread his legs as his big thighs were close together. For sure, this Averkane had reached the limit of humanity!
Clouds of dust rose with each shift of his pachydermic weight on the ground as his black cape fluttered in the air like a moth in the sky. The strange red star-shaped stain that surrounded his right eye gave him a formidable mysterious look, while the sun made his black skin shine like a bronze statue. His forehead, furrowed by vertical wrinkles from being frowned, crushed his protruding eyelids. Although he had a perfectly smooth skull, he wore a black and bushy beard that covered his thick chin. Finally, his eyes were surprisingly clear and sparkling despite his indifferent expression, and he had the ability to give them at will a terrifying glow: the fear of death. The reflection of his opponents' thoughts was the fear of death. Averkane had developed all kinds of abilities, including this one. He had managed to channel and imprint his beastly strength in the pupils of his eyes in order to win his fights by making the least possible effort. Indeed, it was this fear, the horrible sensation that demolished the will of his fiercest opponents, which obscured his feelings and emotions with a dark veil. Thus, knowing or rather being convinced of having won without even lifting a finger, he always wore a self-satisfied smile. Facing an opponent twice as massive as himself, he remained nonetheless serene. As proof, his gaze riveted on the ogre, he moved with his guard down; Hamal pointed it out unpleasantly:
"You walk as if you were the first being to set foot on the moon's surface!"
"If that were the case, he could wear a smile like mine since he would have accomplished a meritorious act for civilization. And you, what have you accomplished so far?"
The ogre clenched his jaws until his teeth were about to burst.
"I'm going to teach you to be so full of yourself, you'll see! After I've brought you down, I'm going to open your body to devour your entrails!"
"Nonsense! You would first need to manage to touch me," replied the Bull with a smile.
"Oh, you don't believe I'm capable? I'll open those self-satisfied eyes of yours."
"Yours will burst before mine open..."