Chapter 122: All In One Bracket!
The announcer cleared his throat and forced a smile, raising one hand to calm everyone down.
"Alright, alright! Let’s calm down before someone decides to start Round Two right now!"
The laughter that followed broke some of the tension.
The announcer scanned his list again and lifted his voice.
"Next, Rovric Revalis and Ragric Revalis! Step up and draw your numbers!"
The two men exchanged a glance before walking to the glowing box.
Rovric carried his sword slung casually across his back. He smirked, reaching to the box, and took one orb out.
"Let’s see where fate puts me."
He lifted his orb, and the number shone clear. "Seventeen."
The crowd cheered lightly.
Ragric followed with a faint grin. "Then it’s my turn."
He reached in, pulling his orb without hesitation.
The number glowed bright. "Twenty."
Gasps went through the stands.
"Seventeen and twenty? That’s close!"
"They’re in the same bracket!"
"Wait... if the match order goes by seeding, that means..."
The announcer’s eyes widened as he did the quick math on his board.
"Oh... ho! Looks like we have an interesting setup this year!"
He turned toward the crowd, voice booming.
"For those who don’t know the bracket system, let me explain!"
He walked around with dramatic steps while explaining.
"Number one fights number thirty-two, number two fights number thirty-one, and so on..."
He paused, pointing at the huge floating display, showing the brackets and contestants’ names.
"Now, if we follow this pattern... it means something very special is about to happen!"
He turned his finger toward the four standing competitors: Rynar, Rynor, Rovric, and Ragric.
"Based on their numbers... Rynar is two, Rynor is three, Rovric is seventeen, and Ragric is twenty..."
He lifted his arm dramatically, shouting.
"If all four keep winning, the matchups in the quarterfinals will be..."
He pointed at Rynar. "Rynar Revalis vs. Rovric Revalis!"
Then swung his arm toward Rynor. "And Rynor Revalis vs. Ragric Revalis!"
The entire arena went wild.
"WHAT?!"
"This is insane!"
"That’s like two storms colliding!"
Rynor blinked, then grinned wide. "Quarterfinals, huh? That’s sooner than I expected."
Rynar chuckled beside him, cracking his neck. "Heh. This’ll be interesting."
Across from them, Rovric rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"You two sound confident. Don’t get ahead of yourselves. You might not even make it that far."
Ragric twirled his spear in one hand.
"Yeah. You better hope your little tricks work, because you won’t last long once the real fights start."
Rynor tilted his head, grinning lazily.
"You sound a little nervous for someone who keeps talking about being strong."
The crowd let out a collective "Ooooh," enjoying the exchange.
Ragric’s smile dropped. "Nervous? Don’t make me laugh."
Rynar folded his arms, his grin widening. "Then don’t hold back when we meet."
Rynor added, voice low and sharp. "Yeah. We’d hate for you to have excuses when you lose."
Sparks popped from Ragric’s spear as he stepped forward slightly.
"Keep talking. Let’s see if your mouths are still working after the first round."
Rovric laughed under his breath, his hand tightening. "This is going to be fun."
The crowd let out a collective "Ooooh," enjoying the exchange.
Ragric’s smile dropped. "Nervous? Don’t make me laugh."
Rynar folded his arms, his grin widening. "Then don’t hold back when we meet."
The crowd roared again, eating up every word.
"Quarterfinals? It’s going to be a Revalis civil war!"
"I’m betting on the twins!"
"Bet on Rovric, you fool. He’s clearly better!"
Up on the Patriarch’s seat, Raviel’s eyes gleamed with interest.
"So the bracket has paired them like this... Fate truly has a sense of humor."
Elder Rendric nodded beside him.
"If they all make it to that round, Patriarch, this will be one of the most exciting competitions in years."
Raviel smiled a little.
"Indeed. Let’s see which side of Revalis’s blood burns brighter... Our clan’s flame and thunder, or whatever strange path those two learned under that man."
Meanwhile, Garion stood on the ship’s edge, watching quietly with the same calm grin.
Dahlia stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes locked on the arena below.
"Looks like they’ll have their hands full," she said.
Garion nodded. "Good. Let them show what the God Gym teaches."
The drums in the arena started again, echoing as the announcer raised his arm and shouted.
"Contestants, prepare yourselves! The duels begin soon!"
Cheers erupted again, and as the crowd roared, the twins looked at each other, fists bumping.
---
The announcer raised his hand high.
"Alright, everyone! The moment you’ve been waiting for. Let’s begin the first match."
The crowd erupted into cheers.
"Contestants number one and thirty-two. Step into the arena!"
Two figures walked out from the opposite gates.
Number one, a tall young man with dark brown hair, carried a long sword strapped across his back.
Number Thirty-Two was shorter, his hair messy, holding twin daggers in both hands.
The announcer pointed to both sides dramatically.
"Both cultivators are at the stabilization stage! Let’s see who burns brighter!"
The crowd roared again.
The two fighters stood still for a heartbeat, eyes locked. Then, without a signal, they both moved.
CLANG!
Sparks burst into the air as their blades collided.
Number One pushed forward, his sword glowing with orange flame.
He swung again, wide and heavy, but Number Thirty-Two twisted, dodging by an inch, and countered with a quick slash from both daggers.
The crowd shouted and gasped with every move.
"Close one!"
"He almost got hit!"
"That sword’s fast!"
Both were strong but cautious, moving in circles, testing each other’s defenses.
Down in the stands, Rynor leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.
"So that’s the level of the average clan fighter, huh?"
Rynar crossed his arms. "Yeah. Looks flashy, but they’re slow."
Back in the arena, Number Thirty-Two lunged again, daggers crossing.
His strikes were fast, but Number One blocked both and twisted his sword, locking the blades.
The two struggled for a moment before Number One’s foot shot forward, slamming into his opponent’s chest.
The smaller man stumbled back, coughing.
Number One didn’t wait. His sword flared with flame as he swung downward.
BOOM!
The impact hit the ground, and then the flames burst upward, forcing the other fighter to roll away.
The heat wave swept across the arena floor, drawing cheers and shouts.
"Whoa!"
"Look at that fire!"
"That’s a real Revalis flame strike!"
Number Thirty-Two tried to rise, but his knees buckled.
His daggers fell to the ground with a clatter. The referee stepped forward, raising his hand.
"The fight is over!"
The crowd held its breath for a moment, then erupted again as the announcer shouted.
"Winner! Contestant Number One!"
Applause and cheers filled the air.
Number One lowered his sword and gave a respectful bow before turning to leave the stage.
His calm composure made the audience cheer even louder.