Whether Number Four’s blood was boiling or colder than ice he did not let it show and outwardly remained perfectly Zen. The wrinkly, skeletal shirtless man took the first wooden container into his hands and slanted it in Number Four’s direction.
“Ooh! The mont of truth!” the announcer comntated. “Among the balls inside that container are the nas of the other participants. Who will he pick as his executioner? Of course, by killing the old man, that participant will incur the ire of the crowds for depriving them of the pleasure of listening to vivid descriptions of Number Forty’s “intermission” described and testified to her uncle. Haha! Number Four might just find himself with many supporters, cheering him on to victory!”
The old man simply sunk his hand into the miniature barrel that was barely larger than a regular ol’ bucket and pulled out a single wooden ball. Waiting for no instructions, he took the ball in both hands and turned the top and bottom in opposite directions.
“Wait, did I tell about the surprise—?” the announcer suddenly spoke up as if she rembered about the stove she left burning at her ho.
A single white piece of paper falling from the opened ball in Number Four’s hands stopped the announcer from finishing her sentence.
The mines fell silent, only the swirling, burning sound of hot air, rising and expanding from the magical hellish, twisted flaming pillars and explosions around the arena remained. The spectators—and many of the participants too—looked at the white parchnt with bated breath, hoping to see the number of the fated opponent.
There was none. The giant sphere above the arena showed a magnified blank rectangular piece of pristinely white paper lying on the rocks.
Number four picked up the piece of paper and turned it around in his hands a couple of tis. There was nothing on it on both sides.
“Oh my!” the announcer gasped. “It appears that Number Four has picked out one of the special lucky balls! He will have the honor of facing one of hour honored guests and patrons of the Forge of Champions! Surprise!”
New flas shot up around the announcer’s high platform illuminating the announcer and the robed female figure standing a few feet to the side of her that wore a white mask to hide her face.
The announcer gestured with an open hand to the mysterious person and announced, “Please welco the lovely miss... Ruby!”
But the crowds did not welco Ruby. So people cheered, sure, but many more murmured and whispered to each other in bewildered confusion.
“Miss Ruby, do you have any words to say to your opponent?” the announcer asked, conducting an interview without a microphone.
Yet despite the lack of a microphone, the white mask’s female voice was heard crystal clear thanks to the enhancent magic, “Choose any weapon you want.”
After those few words, the girl turned around and walked away from view.
... She’s going to walk down? Beatrice raised an eyebrow. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one wondering if they all were now supposed to stand around and wait for the little princess to get her ass down to the arena.
“A lady of few words!” the announcer said to prevent awkward silence. “Now, while miss Ruby gets down to the arena, let explain the other differences in ‘Surprise’ bonus rules.”
She is walking down! Beatrice was shocked.
“How long are we supposed to wait for?” one spectator grumbled.
“Are they serious? Another delay?” another man shouted with frustration.
“Who the hell was that?”
“No idea!”
“I think I saw so people with such white masks before... But they never participated.”
“Nah, I rember one ti in the finals.”
“I don’t even rember most of the finals!”
The announcer continued her explanation, easily drowning out the disgruntled voices with her enhancent. “Those participants that are lucky enough to draw miss Ruby as their opponent will have a free choice of any single weapon that our lovely assistants have brought! No need to draw for it!
“The other exception is that the participants do not even have to kill miss Ruby to win! Surviving for five minutes will be enough to proceed to the next round! Lucky you, Number Four, you may yet hear of your niece’s deeds!”
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