The battle will last two weeks. Good luck!
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The battle will last two weeks. Good luck!
Homun was in Raiaera when the news of the final round announcement reached the ears of the populace. The various members of Sine Nomine had been waiting for this moment, since there was a lull between the last round and this one, and everything was at stake for them. The sort of financial stability that came with the prizes would allow them to propel their status from close-knit organization to world power. A force to be reckoned with and feared by the masses. None of the goals or ideals of Sine Nomine concerned Homun, as he was simply content in his new form. Having abandoned his search for Xem'zûnd, wandering around was enough for him. His new form allowed him the grace of meditation; the utter silence of body and mind for hours, perhaps days. However, the leaders of Sine Nomine were not as content to let him be. That is why they dispatched a messenger on behalf of the organization. As an expert tracker that had been trying to locate Homun for a few days now, he finally caught up with the Homunculus outside of The Red Forest.
"You're our competitor in the tournament, are you not?" he asked, seeing as how Homun's appearance was different than how he was originally described.
In the grassy field outside the forest, Homun was standing still, looking up at the sun as if it was the only thing that mattered on this planet.
The messenger coughed. Had he come all this way just for this? He searched his mind for whatever information his superiors had given him about this creature, and he remembered something important.
"Aha! You are searching for power, are you not? Or something like that. Well, anyway, if you come back to compete you will meet one of the most powerful men alive. Joshua Cronen is his name, and he's one of your opponents in the match."
Homun stopped looking at the sun, turning his bright yellow eyes to the messenger. The notion of looking for power was familiar to him, almost nostalgic.
The messenger, pleased at the attention he was now receiving, continued, "Well, like I said, you'll need to come back to the tournament to see him. It might be your only chance! What do you say?"
Homun didn't answer. Intently, he continued staring. His cold glare started to creep the messenger out. So, the messenger pulled out a document containing directions and held it out.
"This is where he will be. If you're coming, take it."
Silence. When Homun finally started moving, it startled the messenger as the Homunculus had been perfectly still up until this moment. The figure crept closer to Sine Nomine's envoy, slowly making his way to the hand holding out the document. The messenger was terrified, and he closed his eyes while his hands shook. In a moment, he felt the document slide out of his hand, and he opened his eyes and sighed in relief. He looked around and Homun was already walking away behind him. Finally, his mission was completed and he could ret--- CRACK!
He looked down and saw a hand piercing through his body from behind.
"But..." he stammered, blood seeping out of his mouth. "Why... ?"
The hand was pulled out and the messenger collapsed. Twenty feet away, Homun's hand retracted back to its original length, and he licked his bloody fingers. His lips changed to form a smile, and out of his mouth came one word:
"Thanks."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the designated site of battle, the arena was something that caught Homun's attention for a long time. The ground was simply dirt, with a cool mist gently hovering several inches above the ground. It was a circular arena with tall stone walls and a gated entrance. Homun stood in the center. From the walls protruded steel spikes of varying lengths. Most of the spikes were rusted, some had dried blood on them. The ground was littered with various skeletons, some of them still armored and wielding weapons. However, the feature that interested Homun and left his face in a blank stare was the sky. Above the walls was a crimson sky, with clouds moving haphazardly. And it was raining. At least, that's what it looked like from Homun's distance. A sort of slow, yellow rain whose droplets became bigger and bigger as they fell toward the ground. There were only a dozen raindrops at once falling from the sky, and it wasn't until something hit the side of the arena that Homun noticed the explosion.
It was raining fireballs. An apocalyptic sight indeed. Most of them were avoiding the arena, but it wouldn't be unlikely for some of them to hit inside, catching on fire and sending the various debris inside the arena flying in all directions. This sight distracted Homun for a while, as he came a few hours earlier than the other competitors. He stared at the sky as he did in Raiaera, likening the fire in the sky to the sun. Even if they all burned as furiously as the sun, they still wouldn't be as bright or as powerful. Homun knew that there could only be one sun; only one such entity powerful enough to light up the entire sky.
"...Here you are, sir. The eggs are in this basket."
It was a normal Radasanthian evening, in the normal Radasanthian seaport, on a normal Radasanthian seaside road. A young man with long, raven hair stood facing a normal-looking bakery next to a deep, dark alley where it lead to somewhere unknown and unseen. He casually glanced around the area, watching the evening seaside area as city-goers head back home and merchants closing down their shops for the night. A gang of tired dockhands merrily laughed about, probably heading towards a bar for quick drinks and other merriments after a hard day's work. A smile crept across the young man's lips as he watched them, feeling the nostalgia their revelry brought to him.
Shortly after he looked back at the bakery's door, a large bearded man appeared with a paper bag in his hand.
Wordlessly, the large man took the basket and inspected its content. Nodding in approval, he handed the paper bag to the comparatively tiny man.
"Good work, kid. Bread's in the bag. We'll talk to you more when we have another errand for you."
And without so much as a good-bye, the door closed in the young man's face.
"...Well, that certainly was pleasant."
Haruzame Kenshin frowned as he cradled the bag in his hand, his mind deciding on a place to stay for the night with the newfound riches he had just recently acquired. However, his ears picked up an odd sensation that made him pause in his tracks, just two steps from where he stood in front of the closed bakery.
"We have a job for you, Wind. Here is the information you need to know."
The thief heaved a sigh, casually leaning onto the building's brick wall just next to the dark alleyway that lead to nowhere in particular. A scroll of paper slipped into his waiting hand and the young man quickly skimmed it over, tucking it into his loose jacket only after the outlines were understood.
"It's about time I did something for the group, ne?"
It was finally time the thief did something to validate his membership. It had been months, perhaps almost half a year, after he had been accepted into their secretive fold but had done nothing constructive. It was now the time to do so.
"...Err, by the way, what's in the bag?"
Kenshin stopped just as he was about to walk away when the messenger hesitantly asked. Without turning around, the young man simply replied with a smile.
"Bread, of course. Got it from getting some eggs."
Although he could not actually see the messenger's expression, Kenshin anticipated it would be a skeptical one.
"Ah, bread as in money and eggs as in stolen goods? Unless you'll be reported for accepting jobs outside of the group's own, you might as well give me a cut of the pay. Say... thirty percent?"
With a grin on his lips, the thief reached into his bag of loot and pulled out its content for the hidden man in the shadow to see.
A loaf of bread.
"Sure, I'll give you a loaf if you'll keep queit."
Kenshin almost could not contain his laughter.
***
"...They said there would be an arena at the end of the world, but this is rediculous."
Haruzame Kenshin cringed as he edged his feet along the protection of the solid arena walls, trying his best to avoid the rains of fireballs as they crashed about the vacated stands. Almost instantly the thief-turned-gladiator felt relieved he had left little Misao, his precious little ferret, with that greedy but kind-hearted messenger. If anything were to happen to Misao during the fight, Kenshin felt he could not live with the realization.
He also knew that he would be fighting alongside one of the other members of Sine Nomine - a creature born of blood and destruction (or so he heard) by the name of Homunculus. A homunculus at that.
While the thief had never seen the rumored killing machine before, he was most certainly sure the being in question was the one upon the center of the arena.
Well, at least we're on the same side... The young Akashiman gulped, carefully checking his kodachi to make sure it did not fall from his reach.
Morituri te Salutant wins.