Chapter 357: Black-Ash Uniform
The registration office was still as grimy and bland as ever, except there were bright harsh fluorescent lights currently coming from the ceiling panels, illuminating the stale room.
The oppressive suffocating smell of cheap tobacco and spilled alcohol was still baked into the wooden floorboards, but the massive crowd of cybernetic thugs and syndicate muscle had entirely left.
The wooden tables were empty, littered with crushed glass mugs and overflowing ashtrays.
The wicked black-haired receptionist was the only person left in the room.
She welcomed them, stepping out from behind the thick scratched glass pane she had sat behind earlier as she was wearing a sleek tailored black suit that screamed corporate mafia.
"Well, look who made it back," the receptionist smirked, looking them up and down. "You are a bit early, but it is expected for first-timers. The nerves usually keep people from sleeping..."
"We are ready," Evelyn stated bluntly.
"I can see that," the receptionist chuckled, taking a drag from her Red-Lotus cigarette.
She turned around, gesturing toward the back of the dive bar.
She explained the layout quickly as the main event which was a massive Battle Royale to thin the herd, would begin within twenty minutes.
She pointed her cigarette in two different directions.
First, she pointed to a massive reinforced steel vault door located on the far left wall leading down a steep flight of concrete stairs.
"That path leads down to the holding pens," the receptionist instructed, looking directly at Silas. "Onii-chan, you head down there... You will join the rest of the meat in the locker rooms to get prepped and suited up."
Silas didn’t react to the ridiculous fighter name as he just nodded his masked head.
Next, she pointed to a much cleaner carpeted staircase on the right side of the room, leading upward.
"As for you, little manager," the woman told Evelyn. "You take those stairs up to the VIP viewing stands... You will join the other sponsors and high-rollers while the fighters get prepared in the dirt below."
Evelyn nodded, committing the layout to memory.
"Oh, right, I almost forgot the most important part," the receptionist muttered, reaching into her tailored suit jacket.
She pulled out a set of heavy dull-gray metal bracelets.
They didn’t reflect the fluorescent lights as they seemed to absorb the ambient energy around them, radiating a cold oppressive aura.
These were Null-stone bands.
She tossed the heavy metal bands to Evelyn.
"As the manager, you should be the one to officially put the Null-stone bands on your boy’s wrists," the receptionist grinned sadistically. "Lock them tight... The runes will automatically engage and nullify all of his external mana projection. If he tries to cast a spell, the bands will shock his nervous system until he passes out."
Evelyn caught the heavy bands as she walked over to Silas.
Silas held out his hands.
"There..."
Evelyn snapped the thick gray metal around his thick wrists and the locks clicked into place with a heavy sound.
’Haah... weird...’
Instantly, Silas felt a cold suffocating weight crash down on his Gold Core.
It was a bizarre and uncomfortable sensation. It felt like a thick rubber dam had been violently shoved over the flowing river of his mana.
He couldn’t push his aura out but as he focused his mind, a sharp grin spread across his face beneath the Oni mask.
The null-stone only blocked the exit points as the internal river was still flowing.
Silas pushed a surge of raw Gold Core mana into his biceps.
The muscle fibers instantly hardened, growing dense and vibrating with terrifying potential.
He pushed the mana up his spine and into his eyes as his vision snapped into the focused look of before for a moment.
’Good...’
He could still use it to internally strengthen his muscles as the tournament organizers had left a massive loophole for a physical Lord.
Or did they?
The two of them looked at each other in the dim light of the bar. They gave each other a firm silent nod.
The plan was solid.
’Good luck Silas...’ Evelyn thought as Silas turned on his heel and walked over to the heavy steel vault door leading below.
Evelyn turned and walked toward the carpeted door leading above.
As they both stepped onto the first rung of their respective stairs, they each felt a sudden weird sensation wash over their bodies.
It wasn’t a physical elevator... The air around them warped and stretched, smelling sharply of burnt copper.
The wicked receptionist stood in the center of the empty bar, taking a long drag of her cigarette.
She watched them both silently vanish into thin air before her very eyes, just like all the other contestants had done before them.
The stairs were teleportation wards.
She looked at the empty space where Silas had stood, exhaling a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke.
"Good luck down there, big guy," the receptionist muttered to herself, turning back to her desk. "Shame to see such a fine ass get beaten to a bloody pulp."
Silas felt a brief nauseating wave of spatial disorientation.
His vision swam with streaks of violet light, and his stomach did a slow flip.
It was remarkably similar to the uncomfortable stretching feeling of entering the Secret Realm of Ititus a while ago.
The Black-Ash syndicate clearly possessed a high-tier spatial mage on their payroll to move contestants securely without alerting the city enforcers above ground.
His heavy combat boots hit solid metal grating with a loud clang as the spatial warp vanished.
Silas blinked with his instantly mapping his new surroundings.
Apparently, those simple concrete stairs in the bar had been spatial portals leading somewhere massive.
He was now standing in an incredibly spacious and cavernous underground area.
It was a humongous holding facility.
The ceiling stretched at least forty feet high, lined with humming industrial-grade mana lamps casting a harsh sterile white glow.
The room was packed with hundreds of people and long endless rows of gray metal lockers.
It looked to be a militarized dressing room.
The air was thick with the stench of sweat and something weird as well and the noise was deafening... men shouting, fists slamming against metal lockers, and the whirring of cybernetic limbs being calibrated for violence.
Before Silas could take a step forward, a man in a pristine tailored black suit with a white bow tie materialized at his side.
"Welcome, Contestant," the butler greeted him.
Silas looked down at the man.
The butler wasn’t human... He was a high-tier, fully autonomous mechanical construct designed for service and security.
"This is the primary staging area and dressing room," the robotic butler explained, gesturing across the massive sea of criminals. "There are currently two hundred and thirty-six of the registered two hundred and fifty contestants present in this room, including yourself. The Battle Royale will commence shortly."
Silas scanned the crowd.
It was a terrifying assortment of the worst scum Valoria City had to offer.
He saw hulking eight-foot-tall mutants injected with troll blood. He saw wiry assassins with four cybernetic arms.
He saw disgraced scarred Adventurers who had turned to the syndicates for credits.
’Damn man... the underworld is a really scary place.’
"Follow me, please," the butler requested, turning on his polished heel.
Silas followed the construct down a narrow aisle between the towering rows of gray lockers.
They bypassed dozens of fighters who glared at Silas’s Oni mask with murderous intent.
The butler stopped in front of locker number 155.
"This is your designated station," the butler instructed. "You will have to wear the official uniform of the event to enter the arena as your street clothes are strictly prohibited."
He escorted Silas closer, gesturing for him to open the metal door. Silas reached out, popping the latch and pulling the locker open.
Inside, hanging on a simple metal hook, was a sleek featureless black bodysuit. It looked like it was made of thick liquid rubber, shimmering under the harsh lights.
"This is the Black-Ash combat uniform," the butler explained in his robotic monotone. "It possesses the exact same Null-stone properties as your wristbands. It will ensure you cannot project mana outside your body to cheat..."
The construct paused with its optical sensors flashing blue.
"Furthermore," the butler added, "the suit is lined with an EMP mesh. It violently suppresses the unfair abilities of electronic implants, cybernetic strength enhancers, and subdermal plating. This ensures the safety and fairness of the regular human contestants in the pit."
Silas stared at the liquid-black suit.
’Yeah, right,’ Silas thought to himself while rolling his eyes.
For some obvious reason, he immensely doubted that claim.
He looked around the room.
The massive cyborgs were already wearing the black suits, and their mechanical arms were still whirring with unrestricted power.
The Syndicate wasn’t suppressing their own heavy hitters... they were just lying to the independent fighters to give them a false sense of security before the slaughter began.
"How do I put this on?" Silas asked, poking the liquid rubber with his gloved finger.
"Simply remove your outer garments and press the suit against your chest," the butler instructed. "The smart-fabric will do the rest."
The butler bowed perfectly and walked away, disappearing into the chaotic crowd.
"I wish you luck, Contestant."
Silas unbuttoned his dark leather trench coat, folding it neatly and placing it in the bottom of the locker alongside his heavy combat boots and cargo pants.
He kept his Oni mask securely fastened to his face.
He stood in his basic undershirt and shorts. He reached out, grabbing the thick liquid-like fabric of the uniform.
’Well how are you supposed to work no–’
He pressed the cold material against his broad muscular chest and instantly, the suit reacted.
It didn’t just drape over him... it turned to liquid.
The cold black substance rapidly crept over his skin, spreading outward from his chest like a living predatory symbiote. It wrapped tightly around his massive biceps, flowed down his abdomen, and encased his legs.
Within five seconds, the liquid hardened into a sleek skin-tight combat suit. It felt like wearing a second layer of durable flexible armor.
Silas flexed his arms, surprised by the mobility the suit allowed.
He closed his eyes for a split second, testing his internal mana flow.
The suit was definitely heavy with Null-stone dust, blocking any external spells.
But his internal river still flowed perfectly.
’Alright, I can use it,’ Silas thought, his blood pumping with sudden anticipation.
He opened his eyes with the Rip-Current Perception locking onto the room.
’This will be a part of my training,’ Silas decided.
He could use Rip Current Perception flawlessly like this, even with this restrictive Null-stone suit suffocating his body.
He was glad.
He didn’t have to hold back his physical strength anymore to avoid breaking civilian structures as he was in a cage designed for monsters.
All that was left was to go crazy.
’Perhaps this stupid arc isn’t so bad.’
Suddenly, a loud, violent crash echoed from the far side of the massive locker room.
Silas turned his masked head, peering over the rows of gray metal.
A few aisles down, a scraping thud echoed over the noise as a massive brute wearing a crude, blood-stained leather executioner’s hood had just violently shoved a smaller wiry man backward.
The smaller fighter’s spine slammed hard against a locker, violently rattling the metal doors.
The brute stepped forward as his heavy boots thudded against the grating.
"Hand over the token, gutter-rat," the brute growled, his voice a distorted rumble. "You drew a center-ring starting position. I’m taking it... Give me the chip right now, or I’ll snap your spine before we even reach the dirt."
The wiry man didn’t back down. He spat a wad of blood onto the floor, glaring up at the giant with feral intensity.
"Eat shit, you rusted-out freak," the smaller man hissed, his eyes going wide with adrenaline. "I earned this spot. You think just because you bolted some scrap metal to your arms you run this pit? Come take it from me."
The smaller man didn’t wait to get grabbed again as he reached down to his ankle in a blur of motion.
He pulled a smuggled jagged shiv from his boot.
The rusted metal edge was completely coated in some dark coagulated poison.
’Fucking idiots...’
He had clearly ignored the receptionist’s second rule of the arena.
Silas leaned back against his own locker, crossing his heavy arms over his chest.
He didn’t intervene as he didn’t care.
Instead, the Lord focused his internal Rip-Current Perception on the two combatants.
This was a perfect opportunity to gauge the base skill level of the Syndicate’s underground fighting circuit.
He wanted to see real refined Martial Arts.
Silas wanted to see exactly how regular humans compensated for the Null-stone bands.
"FUCK YOU!"
"YOUR MAMA!"
They both roared, launching into a brutal bloody pummeling match right there in the narrow aisle.
The wiry man lunged first. He thrust the poisoned shiv directly toward the brute’s jugular, aiming for a quick lethal kill and Silas let out a disappointed sigh behind his Oni mask.
’What was I expecting...?’
It was completely pathetic.