A s people were struggling to overcome their shock, the forces of the Great Families, ancient clans, and powerful empires came into motion. For most players, it looked like the System had awoken; but for those who could see the hidden truth behind this message, it was an omen of change. The barely audible sound of the incoming message and a small hologram of the system window were a portal into the world of legends.
Rikaral and his companions weren’t as knowledgeable as the great ones, but, thanks to their encounter with Raven, they could put two and two together. Standing in the guild’s entrance hall, they read the message and looked at each other.
“What do you think now? This can’t be a mere coincidence!” Rikaral asked Vietra, eyes shining with excitement.
“I...” She frowned, pondering. “It looks like you were right. Your encounter with an ‘Admin’... I can’t deny that all of this might be the sign of their return. But it’ll take more than this to convince the elders to let me spend any space energy.”
“I see.”
Rikaral had no hope that the elders would believe him, a stranger. That was why he had reached out to Vietra. After she made sure they were telling the truth, they could, with her support, come back to the Space Store to wait for the strange visitor there. He had made no purchase the last time. Considering what powerful artifacts the store had, Rikaral was certain that Raven would come back to get something.
“Then let’s continue.”
He turned to the reception desk and the startled young man behind it, and took a few steps when his friend’s voice stopped him.
“It mentioned an arena. What’s that?”
Brakvar couldn’t just ignore the news of a place where one could fight being opened. The very thought of combat made his blood boil.
Rikaral had no idea what the arena was. There was no mention of it in any of the old books he had read. Vietra furrowed her brow in an attempt to remember something about it when a deep voice came from behind Brakvar.
“I can tell you.”
The trio looked at the speaker — a barrel-like, one-foot-and-a-half-tall Trinker.
Had Raven been there, he would’ve thought that this creature looked like a mandrill: one walking on its hind legs and dressed in combat gear.
Vietra gave the Trinker her sweetest smile.
“If it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Ten dorrah,” he demanded with a smirk, making Vietra grimace, but before he could get his easy money, another voice intruded.
“Don’t pay him. Seven dorrah and I’ll take you there,” said a robed Dark Hound with a staff in hand.
“Is it just me or are we the only ones here who don’t know about the arena?” Rikaral wondered as he listened to the swelling hubbub of the adventurers offering information to each other.
“Or they’re all just crazy.” Vietra sounded just as confused as he did.
Brakvar was utterly lost. He seriously considered paying any random adventurer just to go to the arena. He was so excited about it that he had already forgotten why they had come here in the first place.
When the noise became unbearable, the loud bang of a gong resounded through the hall, restoring silence.
“Please, calm down, everyone,” a female voice came, drawing everyone’s attention. By the tension showing on many faces, Rikaral could tell that the speaker was a person of authority. “I understand how excited you are about this, but it’s no excuse for making a ruckus. If you want to haggle, go to the market. The guild has its rules. I hope I don’t have to recite them to you.”
The speaker, a Frost Elf, ran her gaze over the silent crowd and, nodding to the receptionists, went to the stairs leading to the second floor. Once she left, the young man turned to the crowd.
“Everyone who wants to share information about the arena, or provide their services as a guide, please come here. We’ll put your offer on the bulletin board.”
Hearing that, everyone who had just been offering their services walked off silently, ignoring the receptionists.
The young man smiled wryly and sat back in his chair. No one in their right mind would ever try to deceive the guild. Anyone who hadn’t completed their part of the deal after getting the money would immediately become an outcast — and a target for bounty hunters.
Rikaral and Vietra exchanged glances and sighed. Then they both turned to Brakvar who was apparently hoping that at least someone would post their offer and who turned sad when he saw on their faces that such a thing was unlikely to happen.
“So... No one knows how to get there? But why?”
“Listen,” Rikaral began. “This arena is the legacy of an age long gone and lost. I’m afraid that only the Great Families have information about it.” He clapped Brakvar on the shoulder and turned around. “Forget that. Focus on our plan.”
Brakvar’s face showed a mix of emotions. Heaving a sigh, he nodded to confirm that he understood.
***
The System dwellers weren’t the only ones who got informed about the Arena’s appearance. Everyone in Ascension also stopped whatever they were doing and froze in shock, staring at the message.
The Novice Arena has been unlocked.
Attention! You cannot enter the Arena.
Access denied.
Requirements: Mind Level 1
***
Raven, unsuspecting of all the turmoil caused by his actions, collapsed to the floor, panting. His guess had been proven right. He could manipulate physical items, including the cup, without touching them, but that didn’t make his task any easier. Rather, it became more difficult. He hadn’t reached the tree roots even once, but he felt like he was getting a better grasp of his mental capabilities with every attempt at lifting the cup.
Looking at it again, he sighed and stood up. This task was better left until after the event. The only thing he still had to check out was the Novice Arena as there were no other visible changes in his inner world.
“But where is it?” Having looked into every nook and cranny of the place, he found no hints about how he could reach the Arena. Frowning, he shook his head and opened his eyes slowly, coming back to the game. “I wish someone could tell me.”
Scratching his nape, he was about to move on when he spotted a strange blinking in the corner of the player menu. As his gaze darted there, the icon expanded, its name becoming readable.
The Arena.
“Ah. That’s it.”
He smirked, activating the icon, and saw the standard message.
Enter the Arena?
Yes/No
Confirming his choice, he felt a violent shake come to his mind. The next moment he found himself on a small platform surrounded by darkness.
New player scanning...
Scanning complete.
Choose your name.
“White Raven.” He raised a brow, wondering why the system would ask for his name again. But then, realizing what was going on, he screamed: “Stop! I want to change my name!”
Name chosen.
Welcome, White Raven.
“No, no! Goddamn it!”
Difficulty levels available: Novice (I)
“Fuck!” Raven facepalmed at his protests shattering against the emotionless wall of indifference. “Fuck... This is gonna come back to bite me in the ass, won’t it?”
The system’s voice went on.
You need a higher rank to access the next levels.
Looking for an opponent...
Attention! No players found.
Hearing this, Raven took his hand off his face and looked up, staring into the darkness.
“What? No players?”