A father-son pair almost bumped into him. Kazi brushed past them and avoided heavy contact at the last second. Rubbing the back of his head, he murmured, "Man, this place is busy."
Valhalla’s Colosseum, the massive base that served as a port for battle and betting. Like an airport, the walk was endless. Hundreds of angels at the tables for support. Sections of chairs to stare up at a sports betting exchange mindlessly. Only at the end of the cardinal directions were an even greater awe. Massive staircases that led players to a set of floors. Huge gates next to three of them for spectators. After all, on every tenth floor was a stadium. A tournant. Tournants needed sponsors and people for it to make a profit; for them to get eyes and for people to recognize the winner’s greatness.
"Dad, no, the ticket says the west!"
"My bad, my bad. I keep forgetting."
He brushed past another father-son pair. Looking around, he finally spotted an empty receptionist desk. The receptionist angel was almost as tall as him, blond and red-eyed. A pink flower was tucked on his left ear and a red flower on his right ear. Pahaliah was the na written on his angelic white robes.
"Hello there, how may I help you?" Pahaliah asked kindly.
"I am Kazi Hossain and I’m here to pick up my Classification Card."
"Kazi...Hossain." Pahaliah was surprised. "It’s you! You’ve arrived!"
A bright smile. "Hi there. I hope I haven’t caused too much trouble."
"No, not at all. We were wondering when you would show up, that’s all. You’ve been the talk of the gods. You’re the one that battled—"
"Woah, I’d rather not than scream it to the world." Kazi put a finger to his lips. "Let’s keep it a secret, ’kay?"
"Of course, of course." He looked like he wanted to tell his friends. Ha, looks like even angels were human. "Now, for your card. Allow to confirm your profile. Please place your hand on the desk."
Kazi did as followed, palm down flat on the white desk. A magic circle appeared, the lines connecting to his tips of his fingers. ’Feels like my magic is being drained...’
"Do not fret if this is your first ti. It will only take a few more seconds." From Pahaliah’s end, a screen appeared and he smiled. The magic circle also ended. "There. Identity confird. System synchronized. Allow to get your card."
Pahaliah turned around and proceeded to wait for the fax machine behind him. Fax machine was too modern a word for the machine—it was a printing telegraph, complete with a string, a set of piano keys, and several spinning wheels and cogs.
Kazi suddenly realized sothing.
"Is this going to take half an hour?"
"Indeed, Kazi Hossain."
’No wonder it’s so busy here. The angels are using these outdated fax machines from the 1880s.’
So he waited the thirty minutes, standing there with the line-up behind him growing more and more crowded. He crossed his arms, patient and smiling. Since he had thirty minutes to himself, it was back to deciphering that code of sky when he faced William in Gate 7. It was rare for Kazi to ever be this troubled. When it ca to translating languages that he didn’t know or puzzles or code, the answer typically ca to him in an instant. He was like a human supercomputer. Even if it was an original language that made sense to a singular person, at so point, he should have been able to decode it.
Except this sky of code he encountered when he seed to go beyond the map of a gate...the millions of combinations just didn’t work. They never made sense. He had tried every language in the history of the Earth and every cipher encoder.
’I’m starting to wonder if the code even has aning. But if that’s the case, then why was it there? If they’re random and the symbols have power, then that must an...’ Tap, tap, tap. His finger tapped at his arm. He recalled the symbols and compared them to what he already knew. ’The symbols are there to create massive amounts of chaotic energy?’
Such a simple conclusion. However, given that he found no discernable language or aning in the coded sky, that had to be it. The sky was raw multi-elent power, nothing more, nothing less.
’I really need to study magic circles in full.’
"Kazi Hossain, your Classification Card is complete."
Kazi smiled and took the blue card. It had his na, age, place of birth, height, weight, and his classification.
"Floors twenty-one through thirty are closeby. I believe a tournant between guild juniors is currently playing. Do check it out to get a feel of the rules and the environnt."
"Thank you," Kazi said. "I appreciate it."
He stepped out and let the next person go, analyzing the card in his head. "Might as well check out the tournant," Kazi told himself. Up ahead, he saw the staircase and the players and mages climbing up to the tenth floor, left-to-right. Next to the staircase to its right was a giant line-up and a giant portal. Kazi put his card away and joined the line.
***
"Ten thousand points for front-row tickets? What is this, the World Cup?"
He shook his head in disbelief while holding the ticket. Nevertheless, he made his way to the front row, eager to see what the tournant had to offer.
The stadium was a marvel of both engineering and magic. It was a vast, circular arena, with seating that seed to stretch up endlessly. The seats were comfortable, plush with vibrant blue and gold cushions. Kazi took the front row seats proudly.
In the middle of the stadium stood the referee and the comntator. The comntator’s blond hair was slicked back, and he wore stylish shades that glead under the bright lights. His suit was a sharp, electric blue, and he moved with the confidence of soone born to entertain. His voice, amplified by a magical mic-like device, carried effortlessly across the vast space.
"Ladies and gentlen, boys and girls, gather round for the spectacle of a lifeti!" the comntator’s voice bood with unbridled enthusiasm. "Today, we witness the brilliance, the magic, the sheer magisteeerial talent of our young prodigies!"
Kazi looked over his shoulder to see the eager faces in the crowd. All of them were buzzing with excitent. Popcorn, hamburgers, hot dogs, drinks, and fastfood being served to the people. Then beside him, in the sa aisle were the stern faces of wizards and sorcerers. Kazi felt like an outlier here.
’Sheesh, they look like they’re at a funeral.’
"Our first match of the day," the comntator continued, "pits two extraordinary talents against each other. On one side, we have the apprentice of Akosua, the legendary fire sorcerer of the Old Mage Tower. A boy with the potential to burn the very fabric of reality! Give it up for Theo Valtieri!"
The crowd erupted into applause as Theo entered the arena. He was a slender boy with dark hair and piercing red eyes, wearing red wizard robes.
’No staff or wand. He’s either confident or his fighting style is not suited for weaponry.’
"And his opponent," the comntator’s voice crescendoed, "hailing from the illustrious House of Aschersleben, a princess with the poise of royalty and the power of a storm! Please welco Princess Elara von Aschersleben!"
Ooh, the crowd really liked her. Must be a hyped prospect. The applause grew louder and louder as Princess Elara stepped out of the shadowy tunnel and into the arena. She was a relatively tall, graceful girl with long, platinum blonde hair, her pupil blue and her left pupil green. She wore a flowing, silver gown adorned with the crest of her house, a monochromatic eagle, and she carried herself with the regal bearing unbefitting a fourteen year old. The staff by her side was majestic and unquestionably S-class.
That did not bode well for Theo.
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