Fighting arena

Alexandre left the apartment, leaving behind his two sleeping roommates and all the other blissfully unaware students in their own rooms. He had business to attend to.

Despite how exhausted William and Marlon had been, it seemed that the academy was a busy place at night. Many students were out partying and chatting, dressed in thick coats to ward off the cold.

Alexandre looked at his digital watch, reading the time of 6:47 p.m., then nodded to himself and headed for the combat arena.

It was a huge structure—much smaller than the medieval castle that served as Hunter Academy itself, but still of impressive size. Assembled entirely from massive stone blocks, it looked very much like an old Roman arena. To get there, one had to pass through what was known as the "Village." This was a collection of small shops, hotels, and pubs catering to students and outsiders. It was similar to Hunter's Paradise, but paled in comparison to that imposing town on the other side of the island.

As Alexandre approached the arena, he was somewhat surprised to see such a massive number of students cheering for the night's events. More surprisingly, Alexandre spotted a large number of older people wearing uniforms which marked them as professors.

It seemed that at the academy, attending the arena was a universal diversion. This made sense, as the academy clearly wanted the students to practice their powers and develop their combat skills, while only doing so in this environment. The outcome was that the combat arena was like a packed sports arena where a huge soccer match was being held, with the bleachers swarming with spectators like flies on a carcass.

Outside the arena itself, Alexandre had seen several people in uniforms which were not those of the academy. He saw several of these among the crowd closest to him, and they seemed to be rigidly focused on the current match, rather than cheering. He wondered if these people were talent scouts for various guilds. Perhaps those who proved themselves here would receive better contract offers than those who tried signing up at the recruitment booths…

While Alexandre was thinking this, a loud voice blared over the loudspeakers and drew his attention. "Hello, everyone! Robert Pakerson here! Your favorite host from the Hunter Academy Arena! A big welcome to all our new students. Here's how things work around here: Every Friday evening, we host one-on-one fights from 7 to 9 p.m., each lasting a maximum of 10 minutes. Let's get ready to rumble!"

Looking around, Alexandre saw several people gathered around a small staircase that seemed to lead down into the area. He realized this was where the participants would descend into the waiting room before their matches began. Alexandre approached these people and found the Indian-looking man who'd challenged William. He asked, "Chetan Ambani?"

The man turned with an arrogant raise of his eyebrows. There was a smirk on his face as though he expected to meet an adoring fan. This smug expression vanished as he seemed to recognize Alexandre from their earlier meeting in front of the housing desk. "What? And where's William Walton?"

Alexandre replied disdainfully, "That pussy chickened out. He won't be here. I hope setting this up didn't cost you too much!"

Chetan Ambani looked away and clenched his teeth. "That bastard… Well, you should cut your losses while you can. Poofs like your friend don't last long around here. I suppose I'll let the organizer know our match is canceled."

Alexandre replied, "I'd hate for you to waste the opportunity. How about you and I fight instead?"

Chetan hesitated, looking Alexandre up and down—a confident, muscular man, much different than his original opponent. "Okay," he said at last, "but you'll have to pay your own entry fees! They're non-transferable, you know."

Alexandre thought about demanding that Chetan pay, but then decided against it. This man had no particular quarrel with him and likely wouldn't do as asked. "Alright, but how exactly do I pay to enter?" Alexandre asked.

Chetan rolled his eyes. "Freshmen," he muttered. "Have to hold their hand for everything!" Then he turned back to Alexandre. "Look, it's very simple. See that glass box in the middle of the arena? That's the administration area. Our match is for 8:15. I don't know if they let people change anything after the first announcement of the night, but you might as well try. I warn you, I've put a lot of time and money into this match, so I'm not going to even consider rescheduling for another time or day!"

Without saying another word, Alexandre turned and headed for the administration box.