Chapter 132: Combat Event 1
Morning came, and with it, the world held its breath.
{Brazil}
"Move! Move! The stream starts in five minutes!"
"Did you see the odds? They’re saying Veloce’s team might actually pull it off this year!"
{China}
"Tianzun hasn’t lost a single match in three years. Why do they even bother with the betting pools?"
"Because of Phantom. Everything changed after the race."
{America}
"I took the day off work for this. My boss took the day off work for this. The whole country is shut down today!"
Across the globe, streets emptied and living rooms filled. Storefronts rolled down their shutters, giant billboards flickered from advertisements to broadcast screens, and in every timezone, every language, one word trended above all the rest.
Combat.
The arena had transformed overnight.
Gone were the cave tunnels and racing tracks. In their place stood something that looked as though it had been ripped straight out of history and rebuilt with the hands of gods.
A colosseum.
Massive stone-white tiers rose in unbroken rings toward the sky, stacked so high that the uppermost seats seemed to scrape the clouds. Colossal pillars lined the outer walls, each one carved with the emblem of a competing nation, their flags rippling in the morning wind between them.
At the heart of it all lay the fighting stage — a vast circular platform of reinforced grey stone, elevated above a deep moat-like trench that separated it from the stands. The morning sun struck its surface at an angle, casting long shadows across the arena floor like the hands of a clock counting down.
Sixty thousand seats.
Not a single one empty.
The tickets had sold out in under four minutes months ago, and the ones that resurfaced afterward went for prices that could buy small houses. And yet the people came — pouring through the towering archway entrances in rivers of national colors, faces painted, flags draped over shoulders, voices already hoarse before the first match had even begun.
"PHAN-TOM! PHAN-TOM! PHAN-TOM!"
"TIAN-ZUN! TIAN-ZUN!"
"VE-LO-CE! VE-LO-CE!"
The chants crashed against each other from different sections of the stands like waves at war, the sheer volume making the very air tremble.
Vendors squeezed through the aisles selling merchandise. Little kids sat on their fathers’ shoulders wearing plastic replicas of hero masks. Somewhere in the eastern stands, an entire block of Nigerian spectators had shown up despite their team’s disqualification, holding up a massive banner that read:
IKUKU SEES ALL.
High above the stage, mounted on a floating commentary platform draped in gold, a familiar pink-haired figure adjusted her earpiece with trembling hands.
’Sixty thousand in the stands. Two hundred million on the stream. Peach Fairy... this is it. This is the moment. Do NOT mess this up.’
Julie took a deep breath, straightened her back, and raised the microphone.
"GOOOOOOD MORNING, WORLD!"
Her voice erupted from a thousand speakers at once, rolling across the colosseum like thunder.
The crowd roared back in answer.
"You’ve waited all year! You’ve watched the Race! You’ve survived the Crucible! And now, the moment that decides EVERYTHING has finally arrived! Welcome... to the COMBAT EVENT!"
The stands exploded.
Beneath the main broadcast feed, the livestream chat moved so fast it became a blur of light.
[Will_1631: IT’S TIME. IT’S FINALLY TIME]
[Demiurge666: China sweep incoming, save this comment]
[Kamzy_1234: julie actually sounds professional today??]
[GodOfDegenerates: give the cameraman a raise if he cuts her off again]
[Phantomswife: PHANTOM FIGHT DAY. I’M UNWELL.]
[Marypaz13: sixty thousand people and I can still hear my heartbeat, why am I so nervous]
Julie’s eyes flicked to the production monitor on her left.
Then, slowly, she turned her head toward the camera crew station, her smile still fixed perfectly in place.
"And before we begin, a quick message to our WONDERFUL cameraman. I have been given full broadcast authority today." Her smile widened a fraction. "Full. Broadcast. Authority. Try me."
The camera did not move.
[Zorgus: he’s been defeated before the combat even started]
[Boddlly: first elimination of the day: the cameraman]
[AuraNova: LMAOOO the power shift]
In the competitors’ gallery, a wide balcony section carved into the arena wall just above the stage, the teams had gathered.
Each nation had its own alcove, separated by short stone dividers, close enough to see one another. Close enough to feel one another.
The Brazilians stood at the rail, loose and buzzing with energy, Veloce bouncing on his toes as always. The Germans stood in complete silence beside them, arms crossed in identical stances like a row of statues.
Mercury sat in the Australian alcove with her legs crossed, sipping tea as though she were at a garden party and not the deciding battle of nations.
And in the Chinese alcove, at the very edge of the rail, Tianzun stood with his eyes closed, prayer beads rolling between his fingers, the roar of sixty thousand people washing over him like a gentle breeze.
Nicholas watched him from the American alcove.
’No tension in his shoulders. No shift in his breathing. Sixty thousand screaming people, and his heart rate hasn’t moved an inch.’
A small smile tugged at the corner of Nicholas’ lips.
’Good.’
{Ding!}
{The world’s eyes are upon you!}
{+120 Charm points}
The charm points had been pouring in since the moment he stepped into view of the crowd. He dismissed the screen without a glance.
"Nervous?" Selena asked, arms folded as she came to stand beside him. She was trying very hard to sound casual, and failing at it entirely. She hadn’t quite met his eyes all morning.
"No."
"Of course you’re not. Why did I even ask," she muttered, pulling out a cigarette, glancing at the no-smoking sign on the wall, clicking her tongue, and putting it back.
"Alright, alright, settle down everyone!" Julie’s voice boomed once more, and the colosseum slowly quieted to a simmer. "Before our warriors take the stage, let’s go over the rules of the Combat Event! Listen carefully, because THIS is where nations rise and fall!"
The massive display screens around the arena lit up.
"Rule number one! Every nation begins the event with exactly six hundred points!"
A golden 600 flashed beside each country’s flag.
"Each nation must share those six hundred points among their three fighters, however they see fit! Split it evenly at two hundred each! Give one fighter five hundred and starve the other two! Put all six hundred on a single warrior if you’re feeling brave — or stupid! The distribution is entirely up to each team, and it has ALREADY been submitted in secret!"
A murmur rippled through the stands.
[Don_Radjin: secret distributions??? oh this is chess now]
[IamTruck_kun: imagine putting 600 on one guy and he trips on the stairs]
[Mystichunter: the mind games have already started and nobody has thrown a punch]
"Rule number two!" Julie raised two fingers. "When a fighter is defeated, EVERY point they carry transfers instantly to the fighter who defeated them! Beat a fighter worth three hundred points, and their three hundred becomes YOURS!"
"Rule number three! A defeated fighter is eliminated from the event entirely! No second chances! No rematches! You lose once — you’re done!"
"And rule number four!" Julie’s voice dropped lower, drawing the entire arena in. "Only the MATCHUPS are decided by the selection system. The system chooses which two nations fight... but each nation chooses WHICH of their three fighters steps onto that stage. Every single match is a gamble. Will you send your strongest and risk their points early? Will you sacrifice your weakest to scout the enemy? Nobody knows what anyone is carrying... until they fall."
She let the silence stretch.
"When the event ends, the nation whose fighters hold the most points takes the Combat crown — and with the standings as tight as they are... whoever wins Combat, wins EVERYTHING."
Sixty thousand people leaned forward at once.
In the American alcove, Dana stood with her clipboard tucked under her arm, an unreadable smile on her face. She had submitted their distribution an hour ago and refused to let even Selena see the numbers.
"You’re really not going to tell us?" Light whispered.
"You’ll find out when the world finds out," Dana replied sweetly.
’She’s enjoying this far too much,’ Selena thought with a twitch of her brow.
Across the arena, in the commentary booth monitors, the display screens shifted. Every national flag appeared on screen, arranged in a great circle that began to spin.
"And now... the moment you’ve ALL been waiting for!" Julie’s voice climbed with every word. "The selection system will now decide our OPENING MATCH! Which two nations will draw first blood?! Who steps into history... and who gets stepped ON?!"
The flags spun faster.
The chants died out. The vendors stopped moving. Sixty thousand voices fell into a hush so complete that the snap of Mercury setting down her teacup could be heard three alcoves away.
The Brazilians stopped bouncing.
The Germans uncrossed their arms.
Even Tianzun’s beads went still between his fingers.
Nicholas’ eyes tracked the spinning flags, his heartbeat steady, his hands resting in his pockets.
’And so it begins.’
The wheel slowed.
Slower.
Slower...
Two flags detached from the circle and slammed into the center of the screen with a sound like a war drum, their colors blazing across every display in the colosseum.
Julie’s voice tore through the silence.
"THE OPENING MATCH OF THE COMBAT EVENT—"
"BRAZIL... VERSUS... GERMANY!"