Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided
Chapter 139. The Morning Match

The interior of the massive dome structure was even more impressive than expected. The high ceiling was not a solid dome but a retractable canopy, able to adjust the amount of sunlight entering the arena.

The arena floor was mostly vacant, with golden sand lining the central ground, where blood, tears, and sweat were shed. On the northern side stood a small elevated platform used to store equipment, as well as the captive beasts that were released to add excitement to the battles.

Surrounded on all sides, the circular stands could accommodate up to a hundred thousand spectators.

Zetius and company found their seats in the south-east section of the stadium, distant from the crowd. He noticed that spectators were already settling in, and roughly half the seats were filled. Their chatter echoed in the background, the air brimming with anticipation.

Munching happily on the hot dog Aurelia had bought earlier, she spoke mid-chew, “Still a bit of time before the match starts.”

“Aurelia, finish your food before speaking. It’s not very noble,” Friederich lectured as she took another large bite. She responded with a slurp from her soda.

His attempt at manners was futile, he sulked slightly.

Next to him, Zetius popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth and surveyed the area. To his left stood a statue of the mightiest god of all, displayed with glory and elegance.

“Zeus, the god amongst gods,” Zetius muttered in awe.

The statue depicted Zeus in a long robe, seated on a throne. His serene expression was tilted downward, gazing over the arena. Both hands rested on his knees. Beneath the statue sat the Crowned Balcony, its own roof ensuring the best view for those of the highest status.

“Zeta, there!” Friederich urged, pointing to the balcony beneath Zeus. Zetius narrowed his eyes, spotting someone he had missed at first glance.

The lady wore a black dress draped over her midnight skin. Clearly a high-ranking elven mage, she bore a golden wreath atop her noble crown braid. Half of her silver hair cascaded over her shoulder armour. Her silver eyes sparkled as she chatted with one of her high officials. Despite her striking beauty, she had a cheerful air about her.

“Who’s she?” Zetius asked, tilting his head.

“That’s the Celestius mage of Gemini!” Aurelia replied, humming happily as she ate.

“Nyrethein Vale, the Dreamless Grand Master,” Friederich added with a grin.

“A Celestius here to watch the match? Now, that’s something,” Zetius muttered, intrigued. A sense of excitement began to rise within him.

“Yeah, amazing, right? Not every day you get to see Celestius mages,” Aurelia added, dabbing her mouth with a handkerchief.

“True.” Zetius hummed, continuing to study the lady from afar. Meanwhile, he enjoyed his salted caramel popcorn and waited for the match to begin.

***

Soon, the crowd filled the stadium to capacity. A melodic horn blared loudly, stirring up the audience. A hologram projection appeared in the centre, shaped like a pentagon, each face mirroring the others. The construct, equipped with a giant lens, floated as the host stepped into the arena.

All eyes turned to the striking host with the remarkable moustache.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!” he bellowed, his voice booming through hidden speakers. The crowd erupted.

Aurelia gasped in delight. “That’s Lunarius Severan! Hehe!” she exclaimed, her voice barely audible under the roar.

Severan waited for the crowd to settle, then gestured as if tapping the air. His smile widened.

“My name is Lunarius Severan Vonhol, and I am your humble judge for today. May I say, it is the highest honour to welcome esteemed guests like yourselves, especially the Celestius mage of Gemini, Nyrethein Vale. Please give her a grand round of applause!”

After performing an exaggerated bow, Severan brought a thumb to his lips and blew into the melodic horn again. The crowd grew even wilder, cheering and whistling. The atmosphere for this sporting spectacle had well and truly ignited.

From the balcony, Nyrethein waved enthusiastically, jumping up and down. Her excitement was palpable. Zetius watched from afar. Then, unexpectedly, she turned and smiled directly at him.

For a brief moment, time seemed to slow. All sound faded. Then she turned back to her companions, continuing the conversation.

Zetius looked away, slightly flustered. Maybe it’s just my imagination, he thought.

The first match of the day was announced, a one-on-one showdown. A male arcanist from Russha entered. An assassin mage, he was completely covered, cloaked in dark fabric. His slithered blade, glowing with purple flame, was already drawn.

“The first challenger is Maati Drusk, the Novitcius of Sagittarius!” the host declared. The crowd responded with a mix of cheers and disapproving boos.

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“Assassin mages have no honour! Hiding in the shadows won’t save you now!” A rotund man beside Zetius boomed, jeering loudly.

Hypocrite... or perhaps just ignorant, Zetius thought, recalling how Ziyue had risked her life in a real battle to disarm the Arcanite Disruptor. These people had no clue about the reality of war.

Another man entered from the opposite corner — a lion Wildren with long, fluffy blonde hair. His fangs and lion tail were proudly displayed. His muscular arms were double the size of Zetius’s. He carried a massive war hammer that looked powerful enough to demolish a skyscraper in a few swings. Compared to his opponent, the Wildren was a giant.

“And from the Wildest Lands, Lothar of the Lioress Clan!”

“This isn’t just a fun pre-match! This is a contest for the Stellius title! Strength versus dexterity, place your bets now!” Severan cried. Cheers and applause thundered across the dome as he stepped aside and onto his floating platform.

Both contestants wore crested helmets of dull gold.

“The first to crack the opponent’s helm will be declared the winner! Begin!”

Immediately, the lion Wildren charged at his opponent, swinging his hammer wildly. The assassin swiftly backstepped, dodging the attacks.

Friederich observed with interest. “The crested helm protects the mages from fatal injuries. It acts as a conduit, channelling damage to itself. Quite a brilliant piece of arc equipment,” he commented with aristocratic calm.

After ten minutes, the brute Wildren continued swinging madly, while the assassin dodged expertly. The crowd began to grow restless, with not a single strike landing.

Zetius noticed Lothar’s swings slowing slightly.

“Exhausting the opponent before striking, that’s a typical Sagittarius tactic. Tactical and pragmatic,” he said.

“It’s hardly going to work,” Aurelia interjected playfully, lifting a finger.

“Why?” Cubie asked, curious.

“Because the Lioress Clan are known for their immense stamina!” Aurelia explained, pointing at the seemingly tired Wildren.

Then, Maati saw an opening and dashed forward, his blade arcing toward the lion’s leg.

Lothar grinned. “Baited!” he roared, twisting his body and shifting his weight. He spun, dodging the blade and landing a powerful kick squarely on the assassin.

A meaty clap echoed through the stadium, and the crowd gasped in disbelief.

Maati flew backwards, slamming into the sandy floor ten metres away. The crowd erupted once more into excited cheers.

“See that? That’s called battle knowledge,” Aurelia exclaimed, her tone condescending as she brought the back of her hand to her mouth and laughed hysterically.

The crested helmet absorbed the impact, but its surface now bore glowing hairline cracks. Another blow like that would certainly shatter it to pieces and cause him to lose.

As the frenzied Lothar charged with his war hammer at the ready, Maati leapt to his feet in an acrobatic motion that defied human agility.

The air thickened with tension as Lothar dashed in for the kill, sweeping his hammer in a vertical arc. Maati reflexively jumped back to avoid the blow.

The crowd booed loudly in disappointment.

With a fluid motion, Lothar spun and chanted, “Geothron!” The ground shook violently, causing the assassin to stumble.

Maati slipped and fell to the ground. The hammer came flying at him with vicious speed.

Suddenly, a black smoke bomb exploded and obscured the scene. Lothar coughed and waved his hand in front of his face to dispel the thick cloud.

“Not bad for a Novitcius mage, don’t you think?” Aurelia nudged Zetius teasingly.

Zetius didn’t respond to her childish provocation. Instead, his gaze drifted from the battle to the grand balcony in the south.

Nyrethein stood with full poise, her hands gripping the railing in anticipation.

Her silver eyes wandered until they met Zetius’s. Then she smiled deliberately.

That was clearly intentional, Zetius thought, looking away. Do I know her somehow?

He searched his memories, but nothing came. He was certain he had never seen her before.

“What?!” “Where did he go?!” The crowd gasped and shouted, snapping Zetius back to reality.

On the battlefield, a hazy figure stalked behind Lothar. Purple flame lashed across the Wildren’s back.

“AHHH!” the lion roared in pain, blindly swinging at the smoke. His massive helmet absorbed the blow, but glowing cracks began to form.

“Coward! That’s cowardly!” the rotund man in the audience yelled in frustration.

The smoke wouldn’t last forever. The assassin had to end it quickly. Maati reappeared, dashing low across the sand like a sand snake.

“The assassin could win, but the Wildren has the field advantage — namely, sunlight,” Friederich concluded, his eyes closed in calm reflection.

Lothar’s ears twitched. Then he stomped the ground. “Geothron!” he bellowed, and the sand trembled violently in all directions.

The assassin launched himself into the air, avoiding the quaking earth. Holding his blade inversely along his arm, he struck with a swift, clean cut.

Siiinnnnng!

With inhuman reflexes, Lothar raised his hammer to block the blow, parrying it.

Then his boot shot off the ground and slammed into Maati’s stomach. The assassin’s helmet cracked and shattered into pieces as he rolled several metres across the arena.

The speculating construct zoomed in on the fallen man. His helm, broken, revealed half his face — bloodied and battered. The crowd fell silent.

“How is he injured?” Cubie asked in alarm, vibrating frantically.

“The helm only prevents fatal damage. The pain still gets through. Every blow still hurts,” Zetius replied calmly.

“There we have it, ladies and gentlemen,” Severan announced, hovering into the centre of the ring beside the victor.

He raised Lothar’s arm and declared, “Lothar of Lioress has won! The Stellius status is now granted to you!”

Lothar roared triumphantly, raising his fist high.

The crowd erupted into joyous cheers. Even the Celestius of Gemini bounced on her heels with glee.

That’s the least nonchalant Celestius I’ve ever seen, Zetius remarked to himself.

The clean-up began shortly after. The dark green mages of Virgo rushed in with their floating stretchers, casting quick healing spells and transporting the injured away. Meanwhile, the mages of Capricorn began reshaping the arena.

“It’s snowy ground now…” Zetius raised his eyebrows in astonishment. Slowly but surely, the excitement in the air started to get to him.