Chapter 1977

Chapter 1977

Raymund Ballast moved through the stands toward his seat. Due to his large size and three fluffy tails, several children cooed in wonder at him as he made his way through the press of the crowd. Some parents made perfunctory efforts to quiet their children, but most were too caught up in the chatter around the stadium to say anything.

In a very real way, the excitement of the finals was already contagious. Now, this mass of people just waited for the spectacle to begin.

Honestly, Raymund didn’t mind the wonder in the children’s eyes. He was just inwardly glad that he hadn’t participated in the tournament so that he could still move through the city without being crowded by fans. Being mobbed by such a high-energy group felt oddly terrifying.

DiOrtho Vant noticed his approach and waved. Due to his relative fame, he kept a low burn of his image present in the air, the grinding screech of his Machine Horror dissuading even the most enthusiastic fan. Raymund squeezed down the hall and sat next to his second in command, looking up at the giant board above the arena which announced the battle between Charlotte and Drake.

Happy. Raymund was definitely happy that he didn’t get the chance to fight to his limits in the arena. The consequences of doing so would have been quite inconvenient.

“Don’t look so sour,” Vant laughed next to Raymund. “This portion of this event might draw attention, but it will only become pain when they need to fight against the Ghosthound.”

Raymund glanced sideways at Vant. Despite the fact he wanted to agree with the sentiment, some inner fire flared in his heart. “Have you no inner desire to challenge the Ghosthound yourself?”

“Well, whether or not I have that desire is kinda irrelevant to my point.” Vant shrugged, but wouldn’t meet Raymund’s gaze. “Every time I think I understand what Randidly is capable of, he disappears for a few months and comes back with unexpected depths. He is not a man that rests at all. He’s always pushing his limits. The challenge against him will be a rather overwhelming confrontation, I believe. Even for these eight.”

“But the event will be quite illuminating,” Raymund said firmly. Before the conversation could continue further, the appearance of the Ghosthound and Tatiana caused the noise of the crowd to explode out across the arena.

The moment had arrived.

Soon, the doors to the different contestant entrances opened. From one walked a tall and sturdy-looking bear woman. Her metal armor wrapped tightly around her body, only showing a few tufts of thick brown fur. Her eyes were bright and the strange mixture of forest green and maroon swirled about her body, evidence of her powerful image. The specter of the Primal Force stalked behind her, with its wide rack of antlers and the bloody wings of bone and clumps of torn flesh.

It had once been a majestic creature that resembled a stag, but the additions Charlotte had made morphed it into something vaguely sinister. It walked on two legs, hunched over, the knuckles of its long arms dragging against the ground. Its firm muscles were a testament to how robust its tenacity for life was.

And the implacable determination of its master.

Opposite her came Drake. Raymund had seen a few of Drake’s matches but still found this participant to be slightly inscrutable. He was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, with only his bastard sword as equipment. Due to prior trauma, the man didn’t speak or make much noise at all. In addition, his image had only a vague manifestation that stood starkly in contrast to the other competitors in the top 8.

However, Raymund had a theory about why Drake had been able to make it this far anyway; he believed the true form of Drake’s image was inside his body. Although the audience couldn’t see it, the fact that he managed to stand toe to toe with his foes thus far proved he didn’t lack potency and focus.

Somehow, Raymund suspected that this final match would draw out that inner power.

Still, the entire audience felt the impact and saw the ground rupture as Charlotte brought her hammer blow down on where Drake had been struggling to his feet. A horrifying roar of blood and life exploded, drilling wildly in every direction and digging several thin tunnels in the ground around the area.

As Charlotte’s image dissipated, the Ghosthound lowered his key. In a disorienting jump, the ground vanished and suddenly they were back close to the action. The ground just beneath the front of the stands was still cracked and collapsing from withstanding Charlotte’s strike. Those perfect holes twisted and curved down into a complex warren. The crowd held its breath, trying to make sense of the scene in front of it.

Clouds of dust billowed outward, eventually revealing a cracked and barely whole bug creature.

Even Raymund had a moment where he couldn’t grasp exactly what he was seeing. At first, he wondered whether Drake had completely transformed into some segmented insectoid with six spindly legs, but gradually he recognized this creature. At the deepest point of the crater, directly underneath the remaining portion of Charlotte’s wiggling attack, was the morphed body of Drake’s Elemental.

The thing had inflated itself to protect its struggling master. As for Drake himself, there was no sign.

It had only a small face of a porcupine remaining, beneath its heavily armored and now cracked frame. Its eyes were red and hateful as it glared up across at Charlotte. Then its legs collapsed, the elemental unable to withstand her power. Like a drying sandcastle, its extended limbs flaked and cracked away. Only that small face and a trembling pink body remained. Blood leaked out of its mouth.

The elemental emitted a whimper.

“You...” Charlotte’s gaze grew heavy. Yet before she could speak further, the stage behind her erupted. Drake, his body pulsing and almost quantumly jittering side to side. A geyser of soft purple gas erupted with him as he returned to the stage. It swirled outward, slipping in beneath Charlotte’s more domineering image. He had no bone armor on his body, and the top of his helmet had been ripped away, revealing wild eyes and torn skin.

Only the bottom part of his rigid exterior remained on his head, looking his jaw in place.

He whipped his body around in a brutally fast heel kick. Unfortunately, his opponent was Charlotte, who had endured the grueling physical training regimen designed by the sadistic combination of Randidly Ghosthound and Helen. Her arm whipped up and deflected the kick. Then she closed the distance and reached for his throat. “If you fucking think this will be enough-”

Raymund felt the strange resonance coming from Drake’s chest. Time seemed to slow and the hair along the Vulpine’s arms began to stand on end. This feeling...

In terms of power, it was still a feeble image from an Expiran, but in terms of shrieking intensity and pure madness, Raymund Ballast couldn’t help but recall the leering face of Actus Suprem Devick.

Drake’s head vanished and appeared a half meter to the left while Charlotte’s fingers tightened on nothing but air. A hundred possible fists blurred at his sides and slammed into her body. She took a staggering step back, but then her eyes blazed with fury. Behind her, the figure of the Primal Force condensed once more. It raised its head and roared, releasing a gushing wave of brown, maroon, and forest green power that swept away Drake’s purple gas and even threw him physically off the stage once more.

“A painful execution then,” Charlotte’s footfalls were heavy as she crossed the stage.

Drake's muscles bulged as heaved himself back to a standing position. His eyes were nearly incandescent with pain and madness; the man might be witnessing the future or entirely blind, it was difficult to tell.

Yet the emotional surge within his chest came again. He captured that feeling once more. Drake slammed his fist against the ground and the hilt of a sword jutted up past the base of the area. He gripped the hilt and pulled out his massive bastard sword. When Charlotte lowered her shoulders and charged forward, this time Drake was ready.