My war scream isn't too good. Maybe I should work on it? I never really understood screaming before battle, though. Why are we telling them we are attacking?
Clouds formed in the sky above. It wasn't anger, but something stirred.
Milo looked up. An ominous presence was watching him, but he couldn't prove it.
Eyes. It feels like eyes are observing us from above.
"No! I'm telling you, we send the kid in second," Flio argued.
"There's an order to these things, Flea-bag," Jackson shouted.
If it weren't for the height difference, Flio's head surely would have been butted against Jackson's.
Milo laughed at the thought, but kept his composure. Now wasn't the time for him to be laughing. Everyone around him warmed up, but these five were talking strategy.
Their group consisted of Jackson, Flio, Milo, and two other soldiers. The two introduced themselves as Loke and Adreas, but neither spoke much. There didn't seem to be as much interest in Milo as he had found there before with the others.
Once in a while, they would mumble and shoot Milo a look.
I'm surprised it took this long.
He shook the thought and focused on Jackson and Flio.
"Ugh! Fine!" Flio crossed his arms.
Jackson smiled brightly and patted him on the back.
"I knew you'd understand."
Flio pushed his arm away and bucked at him, making Jackson raise his guard.
Flio laughed.
From what Milo understood, the tournament was a bracket system. However, he didn't know what that meant until they explained that, too.
Roughly one hundred and seventy-five soldiers still occupied the forty-fifth partifold after the battle. Most groups were divided into five or six soldiers per bracket. Multiple games of Rings would take place simultaneously around the arena, eliminating half the teams.
Both teams would send in a fighter, and the winner of the one-on-one would stay in and fight until they lost. Whoever runs out of fighters first loses and is sent to a losers' bracket.
It seems like order really matters. Flio wants to send out Jackson first to get rid of as many fighters as possible, but Jackson wants to send Flio out first to beat one and tire the next before Jackson goes out.
Suddenly, the two shook hands and smiled.
Did I miss something?
Flio and Jackson turned their heads to Milo.
Oh no.
Flio rubbed his hands together and approached the boy. He threw his arm around Milo's shoulder and hugged him in tight.
"Miloooooo!"
"..."
Milo looked up at him, eyes widened, slowly shaking his head. Flio responded by nodding his head and squinting his eyes.
Fighters gathered around to watch any matches they deemed interesting. Only about half of the contestants competed at a time so that winners would get a break after their first match. Most of the spectators gathered around Milo's group. But it was no surprise.
The order of fighters couldn't be changed after it was submitted.
And somehow, Milo was up first.
How did it even get to this point?! Weren't they arguing about who would go first between the two of them?!
Milo stepped forward into the circle. He scanned around and spotted Kael and Elias in conversation, watching over his fight. The other officers were spread throughout the arena.
Folwer watched from his office balcony.
Idle fighters judged the fights. The honor system among partifold soldiers was well known, so officers didn't worry much about fight fixing.
In front of Milo, a man stood about one hundred and eighty centimeters tall[1]. He was fairly built, but nothing Milo wasn't expecting. His skin was darker than most.
Warriors always had darker skin, akin to that of farmers, but his seemed like something passed down from his family.
As they raised their guards, the man reached out to give Milo a fist bump. Without much thought, Milo reached in.
Oh. That's nice.
"Begin."
The man jerked his hand back before Milo could reach in. He smirked as his fist flew around in a hook motion.
Jackson sighed and readied himself to fight.
*Thwack*
The crowd 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the sound. Jackson turned to see Milo still standing. The boy's guard was raised to his left, and a light air of smoke sizzled from his forearms. His body had been shifted to the right, indicated by the streak of sand shifted at his feet.
The smile that once rested on the opponent's face fell. His eyes narrowed as his stance became sharper.
Milo's face winced.
Shit. That hurt.
Quickly, he prepared himself for another attack.
The man rained down punches, narrowly missing the boy with each. Milo kept his feet evenly spaced as he danced around the attacks.
From above, Kael smiled.
"C'mon, Jareth! Finish it! Stop messing with him."
Flio's hand clenched as he watched in earnest.
"C'mon, Milo," he murmured.
His arms are longer. He's hard to reach.
Carefully, Milo stepped in further, but the man reacted differently than he anticipated.
When Milo sparred with Kael, the vice-captain would never step back. He would always meet Milo up close and challenge him to a brawl, forcing Milo to dodge a flurry of punches.
Jareth backed away, so Milo pressed forth.
His attempts to close the distance seemed futile as the man used his longer limbs to his advantage.
Slowly but surely, quick jabs started landing across Milo's face and body.
Eyes open. Even if I'm hit.
One. Then two. Then three. The number of punches Jareth landed was slowly increasing.
In response, Milo bent his knees and waited. He stopped pressing toward his opponent and instead retreated. The man followed suit and chased the boy.
Quickly, as Jareth took a large step in, Milo dashed forward. Sand kicked up behind him as he lunged at his opponent.
"Ouf!"
Air was pushed from the man's lungs as he fell to his knees. His hands rose to his sternum and clutched his shirt.
Solar plexus, bitch.
Milo twisted his back knee and delivered a strong right hook to the man's face, sending him to the dirt.
Jackson and Flio looked on in bewilderment.
Mixed responses came from the crowd. Some cheered, but most looked on in disgust. Milo didn't have to look to know what they were thinking.
'I'd have easily won.'
"That's impossible," Jackson whispered.
"C'mon, man. Have a little faith in our Milo," Flio responded.
"No. I mean, it's literally impossible, unless..." Jackson fell into thought.
Jareth still moved. His fists gripped the dirt as he planted them into the ground. Milo raised his leg to finish him off.
As he began to stomp the man's face, his body flinched. Sounds of cracking echoed in his mind, and he hesitated.
Quickly enough, he regained his composure, but it was too late. Jareth pushed himself up and continued an onslaught of attacks.
Jackson and the rest sighed as they watched Milo lose to a battle of attrition.
*Crack*
A final punch landed against Milo's ribs and sent him to the ground. He coughed as one hand held his side and the other held him slightly off the dirt.
"Game!"
Before Jareth could bring his foot down, the judge called the match.
Milo lost.
Jareth scoffed and walked back to his group, who seemed disappointed in his performance. He stayed inside the ring of rocks, but talked quietly with the others.
The sight of Milo's weathered body and Jareth's victory dispelled any theories Jackson had about the boy's hidden strength. To him, the result of the match said enough.
Milo pounded his fist into the ground as he hauled himself upright. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose. Purple bruises swelled on his forearms from the block.
Damn it. I could have won.
As Milo walked back to his group, even Loke and Adreas nodded in approval, but Milo kept his head down as he walked by. He continued to hold his side.
Jackson took the stage as he walked into the ring, but most of the spectators had gone to a different fight. Despite his strength, some soldiers still considered others to be more impressive fighters, at least more entertaining.
As the fighting continued, Milo used his spare time to lug himself to the food storage. He was given a loaf of bread and walked back to their group's fight.
Cheers roared from all around as the fighting went on. Soldiers left and right were knocked unconscious as they put their bodies on the line.
Milo still didn't know if there was a prize for any of this.
Skin colliding with skin could be heard as Milo approached his designated ring. As he ate the bread, he could feel his body lighten. He wiped away the blood from his face and realized it had stopped.
Thank you, bond.
The boy pushed to the front of the crowd to join Flio and the others in spectating Jackson's fights. As he rounded one of the men in his way, he saw Flio's face, and his stomach sank. A mix of surprise and dread washed over their group. Milo looked forward.
Jackson was lying on the ground.
[1] Around 5'11"