This made the man swiftly turn his head to take another look at the boy. 5’8. Scrawny. The guard couldn’t help but let out a chuckle before pointing to his right. Just beside the main cages was a lane that lead toward several large brown doors, boarded off by a 10 feet wooden wall.
Not only were there many fights going on simultaneously, but there were two floors of what seemed to be thousands of spectators, screaming their heads off as they watched the fights go on.
Leo couldn’t believe that something like this was happening in the apartment city, and he didn’t even hear about it. It was also stunning that he could barely hear what was going on inside.
“Are you not gonna follow me?!” The man asked, turning to see Leo just revel in the sights of this arena.
“Ah, sorry. Yes.” Leo said, before quickly tagging along behind him.
He arrived at a door that had the number seven on it
At the head of this room was a man in formal attire, with several documents ahead of him.
“Greetings, new fighter. By entering this arena, you consent to voluntary participation in unsanctioned lethal engagement.
You waive all rights to legitimate legal backing, or posthumous claims.
You acknowledge the risk of injury, psychological trauma, or death, and accept full responsibility for all consequences therein.
Surveillance is active. Monitoring is continuous. Intervention is not guaranteed.
He said laboriously, swiping through documents at the stall he was stationed at.
It was a small wooden stand, like the betting stalls in the main arena.
“I understand and accept the terms.” Leo replied, before the man revealed a pen.
“What will your fighting name be?” He asked, leaving his pen an inch from the paper in front of him as he awaited Leo’s reply.
Leo hadn’t thought this through. A fighting name?
“Chronos.” He replied.
The personification of time from ancient times.
He then spent a few seconds to look up and down at Leo. He span around his pen on one of his fingers as he did so, shooting glares at him. Leo wasn’t sure how to take this, and pretty much just stood there, clueless.
“Your fighting name is Chronos, and you’ve been given 10 Heat. You’ve been placed in the E-2 Division at the 9th rank out of 10 places. Your debut fight will be against the fighter ‘Taze’ from the 1st
rank of the E-2 division. That will occur in 35 minutes. It shall take place in cage 4, and you should be ready for deployment at least five minutes before the match is set to begin.” He monotonously announced.
He continued to write with his pen as he talked, not even lifting his eyes to meet Leo’s own.
“If you have not booked a seat, you can watch from the fighter’s quarters.” He announced, leading Leo to lead the room and head straight to that area.
He had to walk straight along the a dark hallway, under the spectator floors above him. He could feel the rumbling of those above, shouting, jumping, stomping.
The fact he couldn’t hear this on the outside just continued to surprise him. Just what was this building made of?
Arriving at the end of this hall, he arrived at stairs guarded by a pair of extra guards.
“You’re Chronos?” An officer asked, with a wire running down his right ear and into his clothing.
They stood ahead of dark oak double doors, both with the classic holsters holding various weapons.
“Yes, I am.” He commented, before the man nodded to the guard adjacent to him.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
They pushed open the doors, letting him in and he arrived at a balcony, overseeing the matches. The balcony contained several muscular, athletic people with intimidating, cold demeanours.
They continued to look out onto the matches that continued, with them only giving small talk to those around them. Leo approached the balcony’s edge, peering over to get a better look of all these fights.
The first thing he noticed was the blood and apparent brutality of the fighters. They were ruthless, doing anything to win. What was even more terrifying was how far the fights would go before people would rush in to cut things short.
There were knocked out individuals receiving massive haymakers while down, only receiving graver injuries and worsening already present ones.
As they looked on, these warriors showed no fear whatsoever.
What Leo didn’t notice was that he was starting to get increasingly long glares from those around him. It was clear that he was sticking out like a sore thumb.
These men were six feet plus, with their struggles and battles shown in their dark, cold visages.
He clearly wasn’t meant to be here.
“I think you’re in the wrong place, kid.” A man said from behind him.
A tall, muscular man with long greying hair, along with a thick, grizzly beard. He wore a grey trench coat, with the collars lifted and partially covering his face so that all Leo could see was his eyes that sparkled under the white lights above him.
“No, I am. I’m fighting in about 45 minutes.” Leo said, before looking back out to the cages.
All he received was a chuckle from the man, before he looked out into the fights below.
The glares only continued, and Leo felt like he was back in school before. The outsider. The one to ridicule, to look at with contempt. However, he had power now. He had the power to change these people’s views of him.
He spent the next 20 minutes just watching the fights going on, trying to learn about how these people fought.
He decided to watch the cage nearest to him, cage five.
“Here we have a highly anticipated fight for you folks!” A suited announcer shouted from just outside the cage, with a microphone to his mouth.
It was hard to hear him even with this item, as other announcers talked about the adjacent battles.
“In one corner we have a rising star at this arena! With a 3-1 record, he has spent his last three matches gaining momentum after his first loss, and it doesn’t look like he wants to stop that wave anytime soon! Standing at 5’9, 165lbs, he still packs a punch and is known for his speed! Please give it up for Oleksandr!” He commented.
He had white bandages over his arms, just like some of the other fighters that Leo had seen up on the balcony.
His hair was a brown, browner than his own hair, and cleanly shaven at the sides. He wasn’t overly muscular, but his low bodyfat gave him an athletic, lean appearance. He was throwing light punches and lightly jumping in the cage, clearly trying to amp himself up for his upcoming battle.
“In the other corner we have a true monster!”
“With only two fights, and two devastating wins, he’s cemented himself as a true powerhouse. Don’t let his slender build fool you! It’s clear that his toned body possesses a heavily trained, powerful musculature. Standing at 5’7, 185lbs, he’s going to have the clear weight advantage! It might just be time to a third win to his record! Give it up for Boulder!” He continued.
The man had grey sweatpants on, with his belly out for show for everyone. His hands and feet were bare, and he took on a widened stance, with his arms reached outward and smiled at his opponent.
“May the match… begin!!”
Boulder charged forward slowly, taking slow but powerful steps. As for Oleksandr, he remained at range, choosing not to rush right in and put himself at risk. He was the lighter fighter and would have to stay away from whatever he had in store for him.
Boulder knew this and just continued to rush forward, trying to use lateral movement to close off his opponent. Just from the first few seconds, it was clear to see that Boulder wasn’t very skilled, while Oleksandr used his quicker, nimbler feet to keep him away.
He even managed to clip Boulder with a quick double jab combination, before promptly stepping back. This allowed him to evade an incoming grab from the large fighter.
“It looks like Oleksandr is going to try and play this the safe way! Staying away from his opponent to try and get the win! How boring!!” The announcer called out.
Leo was surprised with the reception from such announcer and from the spectators. Oleksandr was doing what he should’ve done. Working around his bigger, slower opponent to land attacks at range while not getting hit himself.
However, that brought him back to the thought of heat. Your entertainment value and actual fighting skill were taken into account equally. You couldn’t focus on one trait without thinking of the other.
It seemed like Oleksandr was too far on one end of the spectrum, and he would definitely take a hit because of it.
Oleksandr still looked able to continue for several minutes more, but the same could not be said for boulder. He looked red, covered in sweat and was panting with intensity. He didn’t have much left in him.
Boulder charged forward, throwing forward his arms as far forward as he could. However, Oleksandr tapped his arms, pushing them to the side while stepping forward himself.
Driving his right fist forward for a right straight to his chin, Boulder’s rash advance only added to his opponent’s power. It made the strike that much more devastating, and even the spectators could hear the connection.
Boulder stumbled to the side, falling into the cage and this gave Oleksandr to let everything go. He let off a flurry of technical straight punches, also aiming for hooks to his face. He threw in swinging kicks every now and again, but Boulder remained a tank and took on the strikes he threw without falling.
However, he didn’t have all the stamina in the world. As Oleksandr continued at this high work rate, Boulder just couldn’t do enough to keep himself safe and away from the flurry.
