Wielder Of The Dragon Flame

Chapter 44

Old Man Kael stood on the platform, his weathered hands still resting on his walking stick, waiting for the excited chatter to die down enough that he could continue. The crowd was buzzing with energy, a tournament meant action, meant proving themselves, meant finally having something concrete to strive for instead of endless days of repetitive labor and training.

When the noise level dropped to something manageable, Kael spoke again, his voice cutting through the remaining murmurs with that authoritative calm that demanded attention.

"Now, let me explain how this tournament will work." 

He said, his cloudy eyes sweeping across the assembled laborers.

 "You all will have the chance to see how strong your squad members truly are. How well you work together when pressure is applied. How you adapt when plans fall apart. And perhaps most importantly, you'll see how strong your opponents are,what strategies they use, what flames they wield, what weaknesses they possess."

He paused, letting that sink in. Around Asta, people were nodding, some with confidence, others with visible nervousness. The reality of facing other guilds in actual combat was starting to feel very real.

"The tournament will begin this evening." 

Kael continued, and fresh murmurs rippled through the crowd. This evening,not in a week, not even tomorrow, but today. Hours from now.

 "But first, you need to understand the system we'll be using."

The higher official beside Kael stepped forward slightly, pulling something from a pouch at his belt. Even from this distance, Asta could see they were small metal tags, each one stamped with a number.

"You will all be given number tags." 

Kael explained. 

"These will be distributed to your rooms shortly after this assembly ends. Each guild member will receive their own individual number. These numbers are important,commit yours to memory."

He gestured to the official beside him, who held up one of the tags so people could see it better. It was simple,just a thin piece of metal, maybe the size of two fingers, with a number stamped into it.

"When the tournament battles begin." 

Kael said.

“We will announce two numbers. Those two individuals,wherever they are, whatever guild they belong to,will be the ones to fight in that round. Not guild versus guild battles, at least not initially. Individual combat first. One on one. Your personal skill against your opponent's."

This caused another wave of murmurs, this time edged with anxiety. People had been expecting team battles, coordinated guild strategies. Individual fights changed the equation entirely,you couldn't hide behind stronger teammates or rely on someone else to carry you.

"The matches will happen throughout the day and into the evening." 

Kael continued. 

"We won't do them all at once,people need time to rest between fights, and we need time to evaluate performance and treat any injuries. When your number is called, you will have two minutes to make your way to the combat ring.”

“Failure to appear within that time frame will result in automatic disqualification and potentially dismissal from your guild."

That got everyone's attention. Dismissal from your guild meant going back to being unassigned, which meant the worst work details, the lowest priority for everything, essentially being at the very bottom of an already low social structure.

"Do you all understand?" 

Kael's voice rose slightly, taking on a more commanding edge.

The response came back in a ragged chorus, hundreds of voices overlapping: 

"Yes, sir!"

"Yes, Old Man Kael!"

"We understand!”

Kael nodded, apparently satisfied. 

"Good. Then you may now return to your various rooms. The number tags will be distributed shortly. Stay there and wait for the announcement of the first match. And remember…" 

His expression grew more serious.

 "...this tournament is not just about winning. It's about learning. About growth. About discovering what you're truly capable of when pushed to your limits. Fight with honor, fight with intelligence, and above all, fight with the determination to prove that being in the labor section doesn't define your worth."

With that, he stepped back, and the higher official beside him waved a hand in clear dismissal. The assembly was over.

The gathering quarters immediately erupted into motion. Hundreds of people all heading for the exits at once, trying to get back to their rooms, the noise level rising to nearly deafening levels as conversations exploded:

"Did you hear that? Individual fights!"

"I was hoping for team battles…"

"What number do you think I'll get?"

"Who do you want to fight?"

"Who do you NOT want to fight?"

Asta turned to his guild mates and found them all wearing expressions that ranged from excited to nervous to contemplative.

"Individual matches first." 

Flora said, her voice raised to be heard over the surrounding chaos. 

"That's interesting. I wonder if they'll switch to guild battles later, or if this is the whole tournament structure."

"Doesn't matter either way." 

Mira said with a shrug, though her eyes were bright with anticipation. 

"Individual or team, we need to prove ourselves. This is our chance."

"I'm nervous."

 Asta admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"I mean, I'm excited too, but... what if I get matched against someone with really powerful flame abilities? I don't have any ranged options at all. If they can keep their distance and just blast me with fire from across the ring..."

"Then you close the distance." 

Mira said matter-of-factly.

 "You're fast, right? And good with a sword. So you get inside their range before they can set up their attacks. Basic tactics."

"She's right."

 Flora agreed. 

"Your lack of flame isn't a weakness in close combat,it might even be an advantage. You won't tire from flame usage like everyone else will. You can keep fighting at full capacity while your opponent exhausts themselves."

Asta felt a bit better hearing that. It was easy to focus on what he couldn't do and forget about what he could do.

"Who do you think will get called first?" 

He asked, looking at each of his guild mates.

 "I mean, there are what, three hundred people in the labor section? So numbers one through three hundred, roughly. The odds of any of us getting picked in the first match are pretty low, but..."

"But someone has to go first." 

Jabber finished quietly. He'd been silent during most of the conversation, his face still pale from earlier, but he was paying attention, his dark eyes focused.

"Right." 

Asta said. He looked at Jabber directly, trying to read his expression. 

"Honestly? I'd kind of love to be first. Get it over with, you know? The waiting and wondering would drive me crazy. I'd rather just get out there and do it."

He bumped Jabber's shoulder gently with his own. 

"What about you? Would you want to go first?”

Jabber was quiet for a moment, his throat working like he was swallowing something difficult. Then, very quietly:

 "Yeah. I guess."

It wasn't enthusiastic, but it wasn't a flat refusal either. Progress, maybe.

"Okay then." 

Flora said, taking charge like she had a natural tendency to do.

 "Let's head back to our various rooms. We need to be there when they distribute the tags, and we should probably use the time to mentally prepare. Visualize your fights, think about strategies, that kind of thing."

"You sound like a real leader." 

Mira said, but there was approval in her tone rather than mockery.

Flora smiled slightly.

 "Well, I am the guild leader. Might as well act like it."

They began making their way toward the exits along with everyone else, carried along by the general flow of bodies all heading in the same direction. The corridors were packed, people moving in clusters, guild mates staying close together, everyone talking at once.

Asta found himself walking between Flora and Jabber, with Mira slightly ahead using her height and build to clear a path. Around them, snatches of conversation filtered through:

"...hope I get an easy first opponent…"

"...been training for months, I'm ready…"

"...what if they match me against someone from the Crimson Squad? Those guys are brutal…"

"...just one good hit with my flame and it's over…"

The energy was palpable, crackling in the air like lightning about to strike. Everyone was on edge, nervous and excited in equal measure. This was it,the moment they'd all been building toward, whether they knew it or not.

Finally, after what felt like forever but was probably only ten minutes, they reached the section of corridors where the individual rooms were located. The crowd began to thin as people split off toward their own spaces.

"Alright."

 Flora said, stopping at a junction where their paths would diverge.

 "Mira and I are in the west wing. You two are easy, right?"

Asta nodded. 

"Yeah. We'll see you guys at the tournament area later?"

"Definitely. And hey…"