Today is finally here; the time to fight has arrived. I wasn’t able to rest well, as my body was itching to do something, anything. As the elevator descends to the ground floor, so does my heart plunge into the pits of my stomach. It’s not that I’m scared of anything with this fight or my opponent, I guess I sort of feel apathetic in a way. It feels like I’m missing something; feeling empty…hollow…someone living a lie. It feels like I’m not even supposed to be here. I guess what I’m trying to express is that my life serves no purpose and no meaning, like a waste of space. It’s a feeling that I cannot shake off. … … … … Whether I have a purpose or not, the fact of the matter is that in a few minutes, I will be expected to compete in the final round of this tournament.
I decide to use the rest of this time to admire the re-designed version of my worn-out attire: knee-high leather boots, a miniskirt with tights underneath, and a long-sleeve shirt, along with multiple leather straps around the arms, body, and legs, all of it in a nice, sleek black. The evident toils of battle have been expunged from the fabric completely. It would be nice if they could have done that to treat my own injuries. Regardless, my body, my nerves, and my muscles twitch in anticipation, most likely a symptom of my short dingy in that dingy holding cell. I don’t know how this battle will end, but whatever happens, at least I can say that I will have fought diligently and fervently until the end…
After another short period of waiting, the elevator reaches its final destination, as the bell inside tolls and the doors part open. Feels like I am a lost soul being carried across the River Styx by the man Charon himself. As I step out of my proverbial ferry, the doors slam shut, indicating my one-way trip has approached the point of no return. On each side of me are massive stone walls that tower above all else in the arena, like the stone of a mighty castle; walking along the sentry are a multitude of soldiers, some with rifles in hand, others manning mounted turrets, their knightly helmets concealing their owners’ true emotions and intentions. Converging at the end of the two monoliths stands an old, metal gate, encompassed by an archway of stone masonry. Finally, stationed above the walls and guards are a mass of spectators, most of whom watch with solemn faces in an attempt to conceal their insatiable bloodlust.
As I walk the long mile toward the gate, both my mind and body sear with pain as the million pairs of eyes stare icy daggers into me, making the room frigid. With every step, my body becomes heavier to the point where the pain made it almost unbearable to walk. After experiencing my own passion, my legs finished dragging along and stopped at the foot of the gate. A nearby knight instructed me to stay put until the game’s organizers decided it was time to raise it. As I continue to stand in place, my eye begins to wonder and dart about, surveying my current surroundings. There wasn’t much of interest until I looked above me. Under the archway lay the words scrawled in blood: “Although I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I fear no Evil.” After analyzing the phrase further, I can see faint, smudged writings underneath the freshly made phrase. It appears that whoever wrote this most recent message wasn’t much of a fan of the previous message left behind for them. Whatever the fate of the previous writings is, it doesn’t even matter. What’s important now is the message that is currently before me. Instead of despair, it feels rather confident; content instead of contempt; faith instead of resignation; strength and courage instead of weakness and cowardice.
I am immediately shaken out of my contemplative daydream as the gates to the arena begin to rise. As the steel barrier is raised inch by inch, the air within the corridor is pulled out and dispersed into the battlefield of Armageddon…. … … There is no other way to go but forward. No second chances, no do-overs, no second place. This is a matter between life or death; I guess it always has been. The only way to survive is to eliminate my opponent and usurp the throne. Without conviction, I have already lost. I will rise to this challenge one last time. I will either live or die, but no matter the outcome, I will walk away from this tournament a free soul. I do not fear Death, as Death must fear me…
■■■
“It’s the moment you all have been waiting for! Ladies and Gentlemen! I welcome you to the final match-up for the Tournament of Godhood!!! Beginning with my left: Even after being slashed and gashed, beaten and broken, and even having their own eye gouged out, this enigmatic fight still stands tall! Is it because of valor? Vengeance? Immortality? Or is it her burning desire to claim the vacant throne? Knowing her, it’s all of it combined! Ladies and Gentlemen, representing Plutronics Unlimited, the Elusive Queen of Vampires and the true femme-fatale, I give you the one and only: Lady. Mercedes. VIDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”
The arena erupts in thunderous applause and cheers as I walk forward toward the center of this cement-laden arena. The almost jubilant atmosphere being exuded by the spectators ironically contrasted with the depressive, hopelessly gloomy setting of the dystopian colosseum. As I reached center stage, the crowd of spectators died their raucous cheering, awaiting with anticipation for the introduction of this tournament’s final contestant.
“And finally to my right: A virtually untouchable opponent. A juggernaut of pure, unadulterated strength! Uninjured in the slightest! Will this Goliath of a man be slain by their David? We’ll soon find out! Ladies and Gentlemen, representing Dragoncast, I introduce to you the Euphoric Prisoner of Rage: JUNO. NEOS. ARRRRRRRRCHEEEERRRRRRRR!!!!”
The arena’s enthusiasm was reborn anew as the mysterious figure walks out from under the rising metal frame. As Juno walked toward me, his long, blonde hair flowed behind him; his stone-walled face manifesting nothing but stoicism and confidence. The rest of him, on the other hand, sings to a different tune. His clothes, elegant and extravagant, now tattered and baggy from rot and negligence. Why was it that my clothes were repaired while my opponent’s lay in disrepair? Was he denied such a request, or did he deny it of his own volition? His arms and, by extension, the rest of his body have wasted away to skin and bones, a tell-tale sign of starvation, courtesy of solitary. I instinctually look at what remained of myself and was slightly horrified to observe that I, too, have lost a significant amount of weight from my time in the holding cell. Just how long was I was in there for?
My mind snaps back as my opponent took to their position across from me, their physical toils and distress now more noticeable up close; his eyes and facial muscles twitch, giving the appearance of holding back many emotions behind a floodgate of tears.
“Alright, you two, allow me to explain the rules for the last time: This is no-holds barred fight to the death. Both fighters will be allowed to use their abilities and engage in combat until death or incapacitation occurs. If incapacitated, that fight can choose to surrender their life and rights to The Grand Order, therefore, it is not recommended to surrender. Fighters are prohibited from engaging in combat until a ten second countdown finishes. If one engages before the countdown ends, that fighter will be instantly eliminated and their opponent declared the winner. Let’s have a bloody and exciting match! Best of luck to you both and may the best delegate win! Game on!”
An aura of uneasiness and depression takes over as the announcer makes his final exit from the arena. The spectators took to wearing their poker-faced masks, the knights and enforcers drew their guns, fingers on the trigger, and in front of me was Juno, who stood in place trembling uncontrollably. The slam of the large metal fate makes both of us instinctively jump with surprise, an indication that the two of us were left alone to our own sinister devices. Finally, after a quick moment of silence, my opponent relents and breaks his silence:
10…
“I’m so sorry, Mercedes! I’m sorry it has to come to this!”
9…
“I know I said that I would lay my life down for you, but I just cannot do that anymore! You understand, right?”
8…
“Please forgive me, Mercedes! Please?”
7…
My mind is immediately derailed by the revelation of Juno’s words.
6…
His story can’t possibly be true. It must be a tactic to catch me off my guard…
5…
… But, then…
4…
Why…Why am I…crying?
3…
Why…do I cry for someone I don’t know?
2…
Juno…Why do I cry for you? Why… why do you feel… familiar?
1…
I’m sorry…I’m sorry, my love…
■■■
Silence… an ugly, deafening silence… permeated throughout the arena. The crowd fixated their gaze upon the center stage where the inevitable ballad of battle was to be performed. The two of us have taken to our respective stances and have begun our defensive, synchronous waltz, keeping in mind the distance that separated us. As we step and shuffle to the inaudible symphony of destruction, the space betwixt one another gradually and subconsciously shank with every successful revolution. Even with the shrinking distance, neither of us were eager to initiate the first blow. Circle by circle, inch by inch, we carried out the Danse Macabre; the anticipation now reaching an all-time high. Who would strike first? Would they be able to successfully land their hit? What if they miss? Would it be a fatal mistake? Would the battle end right then and there? What if that happens to be me? What if… What if…
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A mass of flesh and bone suddenly connects with my cheek, the sheer force and momentum instantly collapses my body, as it makes instant contact with the hard cement that was once under my feet. My head recoils as It bounces harshly from the impact, instantly blurring my senses. Every sight, sound, and feeling amalgamates into one giant ball of unintelligible noise. I attempt to position myself back on my feet, but to no avail; my body falls backward once more, slamming my head yet again. The second impact rattles my brain around like a morbid maraca, sending waves of pain and nausea throughout my entire nervous system. On the concrete, my body now lies, reeling from the rapid bursts of abuse. The dizziness is now exacerbated by the obvious concussion and tinnitus, finally taking over in a large heave of vomit and blood. My senses finally stabilize as the contents of my stomach are expelled from my body. The roar of the crowd reverberates around in my still-ringing ears, the face of my opponent now grief-stricken and full of regret. The hard, gray floor feel chilling, yet soothing against my bare skin. As it cools my aching face, the temptation to stay still increases…by the second…. The primal urge of self-preservation starts to take over… my opponent’s words to me becoming nothing but garbled babble. The light from the arena…slowly… fading to… black… everything fading to black… honestly…. I can feel… my eyes… starting to glaze over… Instead of feeling… scared… I feel… at peace… Is… this the first time… I’ve… felt this way… while in this… tournament? There’s… no way… of truly… knowing… for certain… but what’s important… is the here and now… At… this… moment… I’m not afraid… to die… Maybe… Death… Death is… my friend… Maybe… it’s better… to welcome him… instead of… instead... of… in…stead…
■■■
I-I-I didn’t want to hurt her, but… but what other choice was there? I thought that if I punched first that she would eventually become enraged and fight me head-on. That way, I could kill her without as much guilt weighing upon my conscience. But… now she lies before me, her body a disheveled mess upon the concrete pavement. No matter how many times I yell at her to get up and fight me, she answers back with silence, a horrible, agonizing silence. There’s no victory or pride in winning if my opponent refuses to fight, especially if it’s the person who made climbing to the top even possible! If… If I didn’t have you to tease or even talk to, I would’ve been dead or worse, trapped in my stupid body forever. I tried to distance myself from you because I thought that it would possibly numb the pain of losing you to the point where it would be bearable, but… but… I can’t… I can’t bear to lose you, Mercedes. I can’t possibly bear the burden of your death until my own natural one. I want to know more about you. I want to be with you. Hold you. Cherish you. Comfort you. Kiss you… … … … I remember you said there was no need for friends down here especially if you’re going to eventually face off and kill them, but… I can’t do such a thing. I know I joked about it, but now those jokes have come back to haunt me. That’s why to the dismay of the crowd, I have refrained from using my ability against you. It’s because I love you… I love you, Mercedes! …So, please! Please get up! Get up, Mercedeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssss!!!!!
… … … … …But it is useless… useless to me anyway. To the crowd, however, they soon became invested like viewers of a popular soap opera, except this show isn’t expected to have such a happy ending.
After waiting around painstakingly for any sign of life, she starts to awaken and situate herself; first with a twitch of her eye, but soon her fingers and arm, then more gradually until she was positioned into a kneeling stance, her legs inverted into the shape of a W. “Mercedes!” I called out with the faintest flicker of hope in a situation of despair and sadness. To my disappointment, she still did not reply or acknowledge my existence. All my lovely Mercedes did was stare off into the infinite forbidden, like a soldier whose experiences of wartime tragedy makes him lose the will to live: the dreaded thousand-yard stare. Has it finally happened? Has the drawback finally hit her? Oh, God. Oh, God! Please! Please not that!! I-I-I can’t do this! Not in this condition! Can’t they just call off the games? Anything? …But of course they won’t. So much is banking on this round’s outcome. The people who sit in those plentiful seats without a care have no regard for either of our lives down here! All they care about is which company will usurp the throne of Godhood and control the country and everything it stands for! All the CEOs, CFOs, presidents, and other corporate bigwigs care for in the end is whose ass they’ll need to kiss until the next tournament; after all the company in control has direct influence on what other companies are a part of The Grand Order! It’s preposterous! It’s insane! It’s maddening! Enraging! Is that what they want me to do? Do they really want me to pummel this defenseless women to death? Torture her? Snap her neck and do it painlessly? What are they expecting of me?! They expect too much from one man!! Why does it have to be me? The pain of it all brings me to my knees, which in turn elicits a head nod from my darling, whose eyes have become rather doe-eyed and expressionless. I-I-I can’t take this pressure! What do I do? Why does it come down to me?!?!
… …There has to be some way for me to do this. I have to wake her up without killing her, but that would mean… …I have no other choice now… do I… My eyes focus on my left hand, moving my fingers and joints as I do so. I then avert my gaze upon my love’s soulless eyes; for my ability to function, I, too, must maintain eye contact… …I concentrate all of my energy into using my power, the power of the Prisoner of Rage. One by one, the fingers of my hand forcibly pull apart, culminating into full-on dislocation. As my fingers and joints twist and contort with great pain, so does the same happen to the hand of my poor Mercedes. The pain may be excruciating, but not nearly as much as knowing I’m inflicting this same pain… upon her…. This is the ability I didn’t want to use against the one I love, for whatever happens to me will happen to them in return. The crowd know this is the reason for my “virtually untouchable appearance.” Unfortunately, although sometimes fortunately, for me, this is the reason for the numerous bandages wrapped around my fingers. My opponents, on the other hand, most likely thought of it as tacky fashion sense.
As I continue to look for a response from Mercedes, it appears that the pain refuses to chock her back into reality. Why isn’t this working? Is she too far gone? Has she instead succumbed to The Spiral? No, there’s no way! I know how that looks, and she isn’t exhibiting such symptoms. But then why isn’t she responding? All she does is stare at me like a lost animal! I need to try harder! Please! Please just work, damn it! I just want to see my Mercedes awake from her stupor and live in the present!
Fingers turn to hands. Hands to arms. I continue to dislocate, even finely breaking bones certain places, all in a seemingly futile attempt to save my darling from depths of her own mind. Please… why… I’m running out of places that won’t cause serious injury or even possibly death to book of us. I stumble and collapse from the intensity of the pain radiating from my own body. Everything below the wrist is a mangled mess. My left arm, unable to move from the horrible pain. Everything… everything hurts. Even so, I wouldn’t hesitate… to heap all of her pain on me… I care for her... no… love her that much… … …
Is… is this how it will end? …Wil I have to slay the only thing that motivates me to stay alive? Is there even any point in surviving without her? Do I kill her? … …Do I kill… myself? … …DO I even dare to kill both of us as a final act of defiance toward The Grand Order? … …Is there? … ...Is there even a good option to choose? … … …Am I destined to be forever cursed and alone forever? … … … … … …Am I even worthy of happiness? … …What the?! NO!! STOP IT! PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS!!!
■■■
That’s when I touched his face with my mangled hand, his skin moist and clammy. He tries to resist and remove my hand, but once his eyes met mine, all he could do is watch. All around us, tiny specs of ash start to appear, revealing rays of white light from the holes. As the particulate continued to increase in size, it was apparent that the ash was actually the arena itself, fading away like dust in the wind. Finally, the last of the arena burnt away and crumbled like the remnants of a large summer bonfire, unveiling a fully, white space; an unknown room with no end or beginning. As he looks around, Juno’s face contorts in horror as the realization of our current situation dawned upon him… for this is the power of ‘Her Last Cry.’ I knew that he would attempt to sacrifice himself for me, thus the need for his paralysis. I don’t know how, whether it be from the concussion, or Juno’s heartfelt confession, but I suddenly remember… everything… everything about this damn tournament… There in the midst of the never-ending chamber, sat the two of us, staring sadly, yet lovingly into each other’s souls; both of us wishing such a moment could last forever, but unfortunately, my time left here is almost finished, and Juno can sense this as well, thus the reasoning for his attempted self-sacrifice.
As, flattered, no grateful, as I am to have met Juno, I can’t allow him to die in my stead. There’s no way I can live on without him. I bet he feels the same, if not, more than me. A warm stream of tears falls down his face and onto my hand. He attempts to open his mouth and speak, but all he could muster was my name as he choked on his intensely swelling emotions: “Mer…ce…des…” He tries to speak more, but was unable to find his voice, more tears cover my broken fingers.
“It’s okay, Juno, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here for you. I remember… everything.” I take my other arm, damaged beyond repair, and forcibly move it with all of my remaining strength toward his own and hold him closer, for no amount of pain will ever stop me from comforting the man who confessed his love for me. With his hand intertwined in mine, I pull him closer and whisper: “It’s because of you, Juno, that I remember everything…” My words pierce his heart like a dagger, calling him to sob uncontrollably. I pull him into an embrace, our foreheads gently touching each other. I wipe away his tears to the best of my abilities as our eyes focus on one another. There, without a moment for comprehension, I grab him as our lips connects for the first time. His lips feel warm and tender, all while a feeling of genuine happiness swells within me, completely replacing the feeling of full-on pain for just a moment. Our tender embrace felt as if it lasted for hour, when in reality, it was only mere seconds.
Suddenly, my head starts to spin, all the while my vision fades in and out; my life, teetering on the edge of death. My time is almost here. I wish I could stay like this just a little longer, but at least I can cherish this little moment until the end of time. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, Juno, but this is it.
“I love you, Juno… Thank you… thank you for... everything.” I fall backwards, my leaving the warmth of my beloved. My body falls back upon the freezing, hard concrete, my view is not that of the arena. Before my vision…fades completely… Juno… my love… my darling… rushes to my side… holding my hand… with his… once again… In complete darkness… I… still… force… a smile… for my Juno…
“Thank… you… I… I… I… love you… Juno… … … … … … … I… I… surr… en… der… to… … … you… … … …”
■■■■■■
[DELEGATES REMAINING: 2 → 1]
THE TOURNAMENT OF GODHOOD HAS CONCLUDED
JUNO NEOS ARCHER HAD ASCENDED THE THRONE
