XIX - Gods Please Stop the Foreshadowing

James was acutely aware of everything around him. The way beads of sweat trickled down his neck and dripped onto his gun, the droplet slowly trailing down until it reached the end of the barrel, dissipating as it touched the noble boy's skin. He was also aware of the fact that there was no commotion despite the fact that he had a gun jammed under someone's chin in the middle of one of the most important and heavily guarded events of the year.

Only two people among the thousands of onlookers had their eyes on them, Sera and Thena. The former seemed mildly amused at the situation, a delighted smile on her face as she popped a grape into her mouth. The latter was the complete opposite, her face ghost-white as she looked on. Seeing those actions, combined with the weird tingling sensation that pricked at his skin, James couldn't help but feel a deep unease.

James shifted uneasily, a mistake that cost him dearly as the golden knight broke out of his hold and reversed the situation, rolling him over and straddling him to the ground. He let out a loud grunt as the air was slowly squeezed out of his lungs, the weight of the pounds of metal on top of him desperate to crush his recently repaired ribs. His trusty gun was useless, the arm holding it pinned behind his back.

James stared up at the unblinking pair of crimson orbs that stared him down, the red circles shining despite being shadowed by the boy's blond bangs. The knight had a rigid expression that seemed out of place on his face, a disappointed sigh escaping him as he eyed James from head to toe.

"It's a snap illusion spell. To everyone else looking from outside, we're just casually standing next to each other and making some small talk."

Despite barely being over the age of manhood, the boy had a rough and breathy voice, an unpleasant sound that James usually only heard from the dying and the elderly. It wasn't anything at all like the captivating baritone he had heard the day before. As if to further prove his point, the noble erupted into a fit of ragged coughing, flecks of crimson the same shade as his eyes splattering onto his hand as he attempted to cover his mouth.

James took that opportunity to wriggle his way out from under the guy, springing to his feet and putting ample distance between the knight. He was stuck in a bad situation; the mysterious noble was a powerful mage and knew things that no mortal should have been able to find out.

Illusions were dubbed as the penultimate form of mind trickery, a high-tier spell that required the caster's utmost concentration not just in activating it, but in maintaining it as well. Another interesting aspect about illusion magic was how fragile it was. Fooling one person is simple, double that is a challenge, double that again is a pain in the godsdamned ass. The fact that the noble in front of him could cast such a spell with a snap of his fingers, fooling tens of thousands of spectators... it was a terrifying sight.

That said...

'Why could Thena see through the illusion? Sera is a goddess so that makes sense, but Thena...'

James brushed those thoughts out of his mind, choosing to focus on that little question later. His mind nagged him, telling him that whenever he chose to focus on something important later he just ended up forgetting about it after the current chapter passed, but James ignored his brain's meddling.

With his gun aimed right at the noble's forehead, James repeated his earlier question, "I'll only ask nicely one more time. How do you know those names?"

The boy just smirked as he wiped off the stray drops of blood on his chin, "You call what happened earlier," he gestured at James' gun and his own chin, "asking nicely?"

"Hey! I make the jokes here, not you. So spit it out before you become a corpse in shining armor."

The blonde just gave James an infuriating smirk that made his blood boil over. Instead of honoring him with a reply, he mimed a seal of the lips, his fingers snapping as soon as they passed his lips.

The uncomfortable feeling that had plagued him since the boy had approached him vanished into thin air. Noticing this, James hastily tucked his revolver back into his pocket. The last thing he needed was to be disqualified from the tournament before it even began. Although if the question was what he wanted... he definitely would've backed out himself already. The deadly events hadn't even started yet, and already James had been faced with headache after headache.

His gaze subconsciously wandered to the VIP booth where Thena sat, a glare evident on her face as she gestured between the two of them.

'You and me. Need to talk.'

Either that or she was imitating a duck.

When James turned back around to face the golden boy, he was nowhere to be found.

----------*line break*----------

Something was off.

Years of living as an assassin had honed her sixth sense to sniff out things that were out of place, factors that could become a hindrance to completing her missions. Think of it as a finely tuned bullshit detector without the bull, you end up with a powerful knack for figuring out when things don't exactly go as planned.

She surveyed her fellow competitors, although in truth she thought of them as nothing more than insects to be crushed under her heel. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone who was a bit displaced from the rest of the group.

A spark of interest ignited within her as she scanned the man's face, instantly recognizing him. After all, how could she not recognize the only person she had ever failed to kill?

----------*line break*----------

A dark figure stood, huddled under the shadows of the arena's hallways. It emitted what sounded like a tsk of annoyance as it held up a tiny length of silver.

The needle shook in its grasp, vibrating as tendrils of darkness sprouted from the figure's palm, lunging at the needle and wrapping it in shadows.

The figure held it up to the light before enclosing its fist around it, seemingly satisfied with its handiwork.

At the telltale sound of a large group of people, signaled by the unmistakable clicks of shoes against stone, it waved its hand in front of itself, shrouding the hallway in darkness.

When the torches flickered back to life a few seconds later, all traces of the mysterious figure was gone.

----------*line break*----------

He frowned as he picked some more chunks of meat out of his mouth, still miffed at what had happened earlier.

The room had been bathed in light, nearly blinding him thanks to the fact that, as a shark, he was very sensitive to light. It was the reason why he liked wearing shades, something that caused his mood to sour even more as he had forgotten his only pair at the base.

A familiar scent caught his trained nose, the annoying light from earlier forgotten as he stood up and opened the waiting room's door, hunting down the source of the tantalizing aroma.

Bill wondered what the scent was, bacon... or blood?