NOVEL NEXT Chapter 18: The Smoking Ball
In the heart of the rebuilt and once again fully underground dungeon, a large crowd gathers in anticipation of today’s game. The arena buzzes with heightened energy as spectators fill every available seat, their eyes trained on the center, where two teams of gladiators are lined up and ready to engage in fresh combat.
Among these hardened fighters — most of whom look understandably very nervous — two individuals stand out: the hero and the Demon-Queen. Their presence ramps up the tension several notches; you could slice through it with a knife — several of which are on sale at twenty-percent off at the gift-shop today. On one side of the arena is the hero, his face set into a strong and determined expression that shows little else in terms of emotions. His team stands around him, feeling pretty good about themselves, all things considered.
There’s something to be said about being on the same team as the man who saved the world.
Opposite him is the Demon-Queen, her powerful aura radiating an intimidating force that makes even experienced gladiators cast nervous glances her way. Her team seems to try to mirror her confident demeanor, but there is an undercurrent of uncertainty snaking its way among them. Many have begun wearing hoods, having formed a sort of pseudo cult of worship for her. Funnily enough, there are many such cultists in the crowd too, having formed small clusters here and there. This is a cause of tension, as elsewhere within the seating area, cliques of priestesses and priests have formed, screaming and holding up signs in their support of the hero.
The radical groups of supporters certainly add a lot of… dimension to the viewer dynamics, as the cultists and the people of the holy faith often get into competitions to outscream and outchant their rivals, who are sometimes seated right next to them.
Munera isn’t exactly sure why a human, an elf, or anything of the like would choose to support the Demon-Queen, seeing as she wants to destroy them and the world they live in, but it sure as hell fires up the crowd, so it doesn’t mind or feel like it really needs to know. The depths of psychology are someone else’s problem. It just wants to watch them fight.
A fired up crowd means fired up fighters. The contestants will put in just a little more effort because of this development, which the dungeon-core is more than happy about.
More.
The dungeon-core wants them to squeeze more out of themselves. It wants them to wring their hands around their own souls and twist every last little bit of their passion out of their hearts until they collapse to the ground as dry, empty husks that have nothing left to show the world.
As both teams face each other across the dusty expanse of the combat field, the sound of a pin dropping could be heard as the event slowly develops into readiness. The spectators hold their collective breaths as they wait for the clash that will soon erupt. The air grows heavier and more charged with each passing second until it can almost be tasted on one’s tongue: a mix of excitement and fear that hangs above everyone like a restrained storm that is just waiting to break free. This isn't just another game — everyone present knows this — and there is an unspoken understanding that what happens today within these walls will have far-reaching effects beyond anyone's comprehension or control.
Munera watches the crowd and the contestants, pleased.
Depending on who gathers enough points to escape the dungeon first, the fate of the world will be decided. There are high stakes beginning to develop. It can see it in the eyes of everyone here today. They’re involved, they’re passionate, and they’re serious.
Good.
Today’s game is a game of sports and violence.
But mostly sports.
At the shrill note of a whistle blown by a skeleton, a ball plummets from above into the arena, and chaos breaks loose. Both teams surge forward like tsunami waves, clashing against each other with a force that sends tremors rippling through the ground. The game has begun, morphing quickly into a full-fledged melee.
A human knight from the hero's team is first to reach the ball, her shield deflecting blows from a barrage of spells as she battles towards it. With an agile leap that belies her armored bulk, she kicks the ball out of immediate reach, aiming for an elf ranger on her team positioned further away, but at a favorable angle to keep it moving forward.
However, an orc from the Demon-Queen's team intercepts the pass; his massive body barrels into several opposing players, throwing the elf across the floor as he retrieves possession of the ball. His victory is short-lived as he turns to throw it back to the demon-team captain; a dwarf from the hero's side lands a powerful blow with his warhammer, cracking the giant’s shin and sending the ball flying as he falls down to the ground in a pained scream.
A second later, the hammer cracks down again on his skull.
In this chaotic fray, wizards cast spells with dazzling bursts of energy while fairies dart around in their attempts to manipulate the direction of play. An dark-elf wizard from the hero's team weaves intricate patterns in mid-air, conjuring ethereal chains that momentarily bind several opposing team members in place, who struggle to fight against the binds as the ball flies over their heads — until she is eaten alive by a swarm of locusts.
— Such things are becoming more and more common these days.
Meanwhile, one fairy from the Demon-Queen’s side displays her nimbleness by dodging incoming attacks, flying through the swarm, and retaliating against the grounded enemy with quick, sharp blasts of arcane energy. Oddly translucent shockwaves of warped space and air blast down toward the dusty arena floor. Her spells disorient several players on the hero's side before she swoops low to retrieve the discarded ball herself.
The game turns into all-out warfare as every player fights tooth-and-nail not only for possession but also supremacy within this battlefield that is disguised as a sports arena today.
The chaos of the game momentarily ebbs as two figures emerge from the melee, locked in a ferocious duel. The hero and the Demon-Queen clash with such force that their teammates are sent sprawling, leaving a makeshift crater within the greater battleground. Their fight is one of contrasts; the hero's quietly righteous assaults against the Demon-Queen's mocking, aggressive displays of dominance — a slow, crushing force against a biting insect that comes from all angles. Each parry and riposte generates blasts of power that ripple outward, raising clouds of dust and sand around them that obscure the game with both the ball and blood and countless spells flying through the mess.
Having learned its lesson from last time, Munera has preemptively shielded the viewing public with several magical, glassy barriers that prevent them from being struck by shrapnel and wayward attacks.
As they battle, the ball — forgotten by the two of them amidst this latest showdown of theirs — hurtles through the air, and the fairy that was carrying it is blasted out of existence by three separate fireballs at the same time. It hangs suspended for an elongated moment between these two before beginning its downward trajectory.
Both combatants seem to register this simultaneously. Their eyes lock onto each other even as they're aware of the descending ball—a silent understanding passing between them. A culmination of their personal duel and competition on behalf of their teams hinges on who will claim it first. Killing the other is a deeply desirable goal, but that isn’t quite so easy to achieve.
But beating each other in today’s contest?
That can be done very quickly.
Their duel morphs seamlessly into a race, with both combatants pushing against their respective limits to gain control over the ball.
The hero lunges first, his hand outstretched towards the descending ball. Each muscle strains against the pull of gravity as he reaches for it. His fingers brush the rough surface of the ball, already beginning to curl around it.
But victory is never so easily won. The Demon-Queen reacts with lightning speed; her own hand shoots out — a near-blur — and slams into the hero's wrist, jarring him and forcing him to lose his grip on the ball. Yet he does not relent so quickly. With an agile twist of his body, the man attempts a desperate swipe at it with his other hand even as he spins away from the Demon-Queen's next attack. He narrowly misses but manages to alter its trajectory slightly, the sphere never managing to hit the ground.
The Demon-Queen snarls in frustration as she lunges for it once again; her eyes flash with predatory intent as she lunges.
They grapple fiercely, ignoring the ball again — two formidable forces locked in a tug-of-war not just for possession but also supremacy over the other.
As the two of them fall to the ground, tousling like a pair of bickering siblings, the ball rolls away and is quickly stolen by the human spearman, Marjus, who sprints toward the enemy goal, scoring a goal for the hero’s team. The crowd erupts into a feverish roar.
A sharp whistle cuts the air.
Everyone is teleported back to their starting positions. The Demon-Queen snarls, grabbing one of her team-mates, the goalkeeper, and hoisting him into the air.
“Your failures will be repaid in ruby blood,” she warns, her eyes narrowing as her clawed hands tighten around his collar.
The whistle blows again, starting the next round. Unprepared, she turns her head, looking just in time as a heavy fist strikes toward her face. "Worm."
— She uses her team’s goalie, whom she was still holding, as a human shield. His body is sent flying into their goal behind her as the hero’s fist makes contact.
Hissing, she changes strategy. She can’t get locked up fighting him all the time. It’ll get her nowhere.
Instead, she diverts, ducking under his arm and biting the throat out of one of their team members, the man spluttering and falling to the ground as he bleeds out.
And so the game goes, shifting and changing back and forth as the two of them adapt to the developing situations, altering their strategies over and over again as they go as far as their wills can take them toward the one that matters most — winning.
By the time all is said and done and the colosseum is marked with scars of power and rage, the air remains stained with lingering, magical energies that Munera makes eager use of.
It’s free, after all.