Chapter 23: The Game Begins
Brian, the red-haired man in his mid-20s, flashed a welcoming smile as he gestured for Sylas to take a seat at his table. His relaxed posture and easygoing demeanor made him seem approachable, but the gleam in his eyes hinted at something far more dangerous.
"You look quite young. I'd guess… fifteen or sixteen?" Brian said, tilting his head. "What's your business here, kid?"
Sylas met his gaze evenly. "I've come to participate in the Battle of Nobles as an outsider."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, laughter erupted from the men sitting around Brian. About ten of them, all seasoned fighters, found Sylas's words amusing.
A bulky man with a buzzcut leaned forward, sneering. "Kid, you better go back home if you care for your pretty face." He scoffed, crossing his arms. "Go back to your house and keep drinking your mom's milk."
Sylas remained silent, his expression unreadable. He had no intention of reacting to such taunts.
Brian chuckled and raised his hands. "Alright, gentlemen, let's not be rude. Who knows? Our kingdom is filled with extraordinary youths, and this person here might be one of them." His gaze flickered toward Sylas, as if measuring him.
Then, he leaned back, exhaling dramatically. "Well, I know the reason all of you have approached me tonight. You want information about the upcoming tournament, don't you?"
The men around him nodded, some leaning forward with interest.
Brian's grin widened. "Worry not, for yours truly has all the details regarding the format for unaffiliated powers like yourselves."
"But…" His voice took on a sinister edge as he added, "where's the fun in just giving you that information?"
The jolly expression on Brian's face twisted into something eerie. Raising his right hand, his ring lit up with a deep violet glow.
"Violet: Tree of Thought."
Tiny flashes of light erupted from his fingers, darting toward the foreheads of all eleven men at the table, including Sylas. Before any of them could react, the lights sank into their skin, disappearing without a trace.
A chill ran down Sylas's spine. He wasn't the only one affected—everyone at the table wore the same expression of shock and unease.
"This man is strong," Sylas thought, gripping the armrest of his chair. "At least a Yellow Ring user… or higher."
Brian clapped his hands together, looking delighted. "Now then! That was one of my ring's abilities. With it, I've transferred my thoughts to all of you. But here's the catch—each of you has only received a single fragment of the information."
Murmurs of confusion spread through the group.
Brian continued, his voice dripping with amusement. "You can't access your fragment unless you gather the other ten pieces. And how do you do that?"
A wicked grin stretched across his face.
"Simple. You fight for them."
A heavy silence settled over the table.
Sylas narrowed his eyes. "So, this was his game."
One of the men, a lean swordsman with sharp eyes, clenched his fists. "You expect us to fight each other over this?"
Brian shrugged. "Oh, you don't have to. But if you want to know about the tournament's format, you'll have to take the thought fragments from your opponents. Only one person can claim all the pieces."
The atmosphere grew tense. Some of the men exchanged wary glances, while others were already sizing up their competition.
One of them finally asked, "What are the rules?"
Brian hummed in thought, then smirked. "It's simple. Make your opponent incapable of fighting. The thought fragments in your minds will judge the victor automatically."
Sylas felt the air in the room shift. The challenge had been issued, and some of the men were already preparing for battle.
A wave of bloodlust filled the space. One man cracked his knuckles, while another adjusted the grip on his sword. Some of them were already on edge, ready to fight right then and there.
But before any of them could make a move, Brian's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"No fighting in the bar."
It wasn't a loud command. It wasn't even particularly threatening. But the weight behind his words sent an undeniable chill through everyone present.
The bloodlust vanished. The men who had been eager to strike suddenly found themselves frozen, as if a rabbit caught in the presence of a lion.
Brian smiled again, his usual carefree demeanor returning. "Your fight starts when you leave the bar. Off you go."
Sylas exhaled slowly. The game had begun.
---
End of Chapter