"From this point on, according to the rules of the Games, we're all enemies."
Natalia's words sobered the jovial mood. They were currently in the cafeteria, nearing the end of a feast to celebrate their fourth win as a team. Natalia, Veronica, Alesha, Hatil, Lotte' and Collin -- the six surviving members of their temporary alliance.
Of course, she was right. Now that the 4-battle Team Leader Role had expired, any teams (if there were to be further team battles) would be randomly assigned.
For all they knew, they could be facing off against one another in their very next bout.
"Well, it was nice knowing you," Hatil said, standing up and walking away, harpy's claws clacking slightly against the stone floor. Alesha watched her leave, dumbfounded. How did she cut ties so easily?
"Let's deal with that sh*t later!" Lotte' said jubilantly, slamming her tankard of mead on the table. "Ya didn't hafta dampen the mood, fox lady!"
Alesha poked at a slice of red velvet cake on her plate, feeling melancholy.
Especially when it came to Veronica and Natalia, she had no desire to fight against them; she'd met Veronica on Werewolf Island, and Veronica had been helpful in calming down her panic attack when she first met Collin. As for Natalia, she was someone Alesha felt less attachment to but still had a positive impression of.
Hatil was someone Alesha felt neutral about. Something about her lax attitude had rubbed off on her just enough for her to feel the same way about Hatil as Hatil did about her: a stranger she had worked alongside for a brief time.
She had a little bit more complex feelings about Collin. He was a vampire, which meant her first impression of him had been terrible. However, over the course of their four team battles, her feelings had softened somewhat. He was a rather entertaining guy, in a distinct way from Flynn. Flynn had been a flatterer and a seeming gentleman; Collin was just a geeky otaku. Over the last couple days, she'd been able to mentally separate them, to a degree.
Of course, trauma never went away so easily.
Should I have even bothered doing so? She thought.
[No, you shouldn't have,] Rogork admonished her. [Everyone here is your prey. Getting attached to prey always ends poorly, you should know that.]
Since when is everyone here prey, and why should I already know that??
[If you can't figure it out then I won't tell you,] Rogork huffed.
After that, the party continued with a slightly subdued mood, with everyone wilfully ignoring that come the next day, some of them would possibly be facing each other in the arena.
--
"My son did nothing wrong. I will hear no more of your fancy words!!" Krogor said firmly, his deep, intimidating voice sending shivers down the spine of an employee who was eavesdropping through a crack in the slightly open door.
"Your son humiliated my esteemed patrons," Zorhellian countered. "However, it is clear you will not see reason, and it is further evident that you will not be leaving until you have your way. Therefore, you savage brute, I shall allow your son to continue attending my Games for as long as he wishes to do so; this is provided he remains localized to private booths and refrains from further pranks on my patrons, else he shall be barred from attending altogether. Have I made myself clear?"
Krogor squinted at the chaos demon, displeasure and poorly hidden confusion coloring his facial expression. "It's fine as long as he's not stuck in a cage. You know how much I hate cages."
Zorhellian's eyes widened as he realized what he'd done. Krogor the Unshackled, as he was called, was a legendary figure who grew up enslaved by the humans, and who had an extreme prejudice against any kind of incarceration or slavery.
No wonder Krogor had thrown such a fit.
In fact, the scale of his outburst had been positively restrained, considering his history.
He bowed deeply in apology, arms stiffly at his side. "Forgive me, Krogor, that was thoughtless of me. I shall see to it that your son is never subjected to such treatment again."
Krogor huffed, twin wisps of white fire escaping his nostrils. One was faintly tinted yellow, the other green. "Good," he said, nodding.
With that, he winked and gave him a big thumbs up. "Now I'll go see what your Games are like, Zoro, I hope they're as fun as my son says!"
After Krogor was gone, Zorhellian muttered, "Why does that family insist on calling me that? I really cannot understand the appeal."
--
Orochi scrunched his snouted face and clicked his tongue, padded foot tapping the ground in displeasure.
He tried again.
And again.
He was out of luck, it seemed.
The same message as before appeared on the PAD, its fancy cursive lettering not lightening his mood at all:
[Alesha Jane Williams has already received a tier-1 sponsorship. As such, we regret to inform you that you are unable to purchase a tier-1 sponsorship for the selected individual. Would you like to purchase a tier-2 sponsorship instead?]
"Yeah, sure," he grumbled, clicking the corresponding button.
"Send an encouraging message? Not now. I'll save that for when I'm in the mood."
Shifting into his humanoid form, he flopped on the couch to sulk. A slight discomfort prickled between his wings. He wiggled around, trying to get rid of the discomfort, only to find several others instead.
So he rolled off the couch and onto his four hands and his knees. He shook himself, growling slightly.
Ah.
They were shards of glass from when his father had come to his rescue, bellowing his anger about his son's unjust imprisonment.
The fact that there was nothing unjust about his punishment didn't matter at all to the father -- Krogor was notorious for hating prisons of any kind. On a bad day, seeing his son in a cage like he had then would have been enough to trigger rage severe enough to destroy a planet.
Simply put, Zorhellian was lucky that Krogor the Catastrophe had been having a good day.
Unlike Orochi, whose day had just been ruined.