Wielder Of The Dragon Flame

Chapter 45

Flora reached out and squeezed Asta's shoulder, then did the same to Jabber. 

"...whoever gets called first, remember we've got your back. You're not alone out there. You're representing Ember Watch, and we believe in you."

"Hell yeah."

 Mira added with a fierce grin. 

"Go out there and kick ass."

With that, they split up. Flora and Mira heading down one corridor, Asta and Jabber heading down another. The walk back to their room was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts, the earlier excitement giving way to a more contemplative mood.

When they reached their door, Asta pushed it open and stepped inside. The room looked exactly as they'd left it this morning,unmade bunks, his practice sword leaning against the wall, the small window letting in weak afternoon light. Nothing special, nothing fancy, but it was theirs.

He'd barely had time to sit down on the edge of Jabber's lower bunk when there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Come in." 

Asta called.

The door opened and a higher official stepped inside,not the one who'd hit Jabber, thankfully, but a different man. Middle-aged, professional-looking, carrying a small leather pouch. His expression was neutral, neither friendly nor hostile, just efficiently going about his job.

"Asta and Jabber?" 

He asked, glancing at a list in his other hand.

"That's us." 

Asta confirmed.

The official reached into his pouch and pulled out two metal tags, checking each one against his list before holding them out. 

"Your tournament numbers. Don't lose them."

Asta took the tags, feeling their slight weight in his palm. They were cool to the touch, the metal smooth except where the numbers had been stamped in. He looked down at his own first.

Number 4.

"Shit." 

He muttered, staring at the number. 

"I was actually hoping to be number one. Would've been kind of fitting, you know? First to fight, set the tone for Ember Watch."

He held out the other tag to Jabber.

 "Here, this one's yours."

Jabber took it slowly, turning it over in his fingers to read the number stamped there.

Number 5.

"What number did you get?"

 Jabber asked, his voice quiet.

"Four."

 Asta replied. 

"What about you?"

"Five."

They stared at each other for a moment. Four and five. Right next to each other numerically. The odds of that had to be pretty slim, but here they were.

The higher official was already turning to leave, apparently having more rooms to visit and no time for conversation.

 The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving them alone again.

Asta attached his number tag to his belt, threading it through one of the loops so it hung visible at his hip. Jabber did the same, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Well." 

Asta said, trying to inject some optimism into his voice.

“At least we got our tags. Now we just have to wait for…"

The announcement speaker crackled to life with that horrible feedback screech that made them both wince.

"Attention all laborers." 

The amplified voice boomed, filling every corner of their small room. 

"I hope you have all received your number tags by now. If you have not, report immediately to the distribution center in the west corridor."

A pause, then:

 "I will now announce the two numbers for this evening's first match. The first tournament battle will be between... number eight... and number five."

Asta's head whipped around to stare at Jabber.

Jabber had gone very still, the color draining from his face as he stared down at the number tag hanging from his belt.

Number 5.

"Wait."

 Jabber said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"That's... that's me."

"Yeah."

 Asta said, and despite the shock, he felt a grin spreading across his face. 

"Yeah, it is you, bro! Holy shit, you're going first!"

He stood up and grabbed Jabber's shoulders, shaking him slightly, trying to break through the shock. 

"Jabber, this is great! You wanted to go first, remember? You said you'd want to get it over with. And now you get to represent Ember Watch in the very first fight of the tournament!”

Jabber's lips curved into a small, trembling smile. The expression looked fragile, like it might shatter at any moment, but it was real. 

"Yeah." 

He said quietly.

 "Yeah. Me too, bro. Me too."

"I can't wait to watch." 

Asta said, his excitement genuine and unforced. 

"You're going to do amazing. I know it."

"Same."

 Jabber managed, though his smile was still shaky. 

"Same. I just... I need to..."

He trailed off, looking around the room like he'd lost something important, his hands opening and closing nervously at his sides.

"You need to breathe." 

Asta said firmly. 

"And remember everything Kael taught you. Stay calm, read your opponent, don't panic if your flame doesn't come right away. You've got this."

Jabber nodded, taking a deep breath that didn't quite steady him but was a start.

 "Right. Okay. I can do this."

"You absolutely can."

Time moved strangely after that. Sometimes it seemed to drag, each minute stretching into an eternity as Jabber paced their small room, his nervous energy filling the space.

 Other times it seemed to fly, the afternoon disappearing in what felt like heartbeats, rushing toward evening and the tournament with terrifying speed.

They'd met up with Flora and Mira about an hour before the scheduled start time, all four of them heading together toward the tournament area. Flora had been excited when she learned Jabber was fighting first, immediately launching into tactical advice and encouragement. 

Mira had been more direct, clapping Jabber on the back hard enough to make him stumble and telling him to show everyone what Ember Watch was made of.

Now they are here.

The tournament area had been set up in what was usually a large open training yard behind the main labor quarters. Workers had spent the afternoon transforming it into something resembling an actual arena. 

Wooden barriers had been erected to mark the boundaries of the fighting ring,a square space maybe twenty feet on each side, large enough for good mobility but small enough that you couldn't just run away indefinitely.

Around the ring, rough wooden benches had been arranged in a semicircle, rising in tiers so everyone could see. They were already filling up rapidly, laborers claiming their spots, guild mates clustering together, everyone talking at once.

 The noise was incredible,hundreds of voices overlapping, creating a dull roar that seemed to make the air itself vibrate.

Asta sat with Flora and Mira in the third row, close enough to have a good view but not so close they'd be in the way if things got chaotic. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, and torches had been lit around the perimeter of the ring, their flames dancing in the evening breeze.

In the center of the ring stood a referee,another higher official, this one wearing a distinctive red armband that marked his role. He was scanning the crowd, presumably looking for the two fighters who'd been called.

"Number five!" 

The referee called, his voice carrying easily across the yard.

 "Number eight! Please approach the ring!"

"That's you." 

Asta said, turning to Jabber. His friend was sitting to his left, hands clenched into fists on his knees, his whole body tense.

 "Come on. Time to show them what you've got."

Jabber stood slowly, like his legs weren't quite working right. His face was pale, his breathing

shallow and rapid. For a moment, Asta thought he might actually panic and freeze.

But then Flora reached up and grabbed Jabber's hand, squeezing it firmly. 

"Hey. Look at me."

Jabber's eyes found hers.

"You can do this." 

Flora said, her voice strong and certain…