Chapter 47: The Multi-Tier Tournament Begins

This time, they didn't take the grandma car. Instead, Granny Whitney manifested black arcs of lucrim that solidified into an enormous black hawk. It shifted almost as if it was alive, but the side opened like a door, revealing a conventional interior. A normal vehicle could never have functioned that way, but as the hawk flapped into the air, Rick barely felt any disturbance.

It was all rather ostentatious for Granny Whitney, but Rick realized that her purpose now was to make an entrance. For her this fight wasn't about any of them, instead solely about making a statement to her rivals. As they soared over Branton, Rick tried to get himself into the proper mindset.

He'd been given enough philosopher's elixir to charge himself to full strength, but no more. Barring an emergency during the tournament, he'd received the last gift Granny Whitney would ever give him. Now he needed to pay his debts to her.

While he put on his seatbelt, he noticed Teragen glance at him briefly. The superhuman man seemed mildly amused, then he went back to staring at nothing from the floor of the vehicle. Rick decided that was probably all he was going to get out of him, and offering thanks would be useless.

As Rick looked around the interior of the lucrim vehicle, he found himself doubting that he belonged there. Even though intellectually he knew that his job was to compete against people in his same power class, he couldn't help but reflect that he was weaker than everyone there. Teragen was obviously above him, while Emily and Malati were a clear step above and even Anthony had twice his lucrim generation rate. He might be a power junkie, but that led him to develop a dangerous lucrima.

Granny Whitney had closed herself off somewhere near the head of the hawk, leaving the rest of them in the compartment. Rick realized that he had entirely missed the time spent together on the farm and wondered if the others had gotten to know one another. Based on the utter silence, maybe not.

"Alright!" Anthony stood up, which he wasn't supposed to do, and pumped a fist in the air. "We are going to crush this tournament!"

Malati frowned at him. "Sit down."

"Come on, aren't you psyched? Even the third prize rewards aren't bad, and I think we have a shot at winning the whole thing! This is something to celebrate!" Anthony leaned an arm on Emily's chair, leering down at her. "You are really wound up, babe. Maybe you can sustain that for now, but afterward... we're going to need to celebrate, yeah? I guarantee, I can help you relax."

Emily just... didn't respond. Not as if she was ignoring him, but as if she hadn't heard him. The entire time since Rick had woken up, she'd been in some sort of trance. Her aura whistled around her, sharp as a blade. In the face of her all-consuming focus, Anthony gave up and stopped hitting on her.

"Fine, be that way. What about you, Malati? Not that I'm propositioning you, but you can cut loose, right? I don't want this victory party to suck."

"I can relax just fine, but I'd rather not do it around a pig like you."

"Oh, come on. I don't have to take that from you." Anthony turned around to glance at Teragen, who still sat on the floor against one wall, because nobody was going to make him put on a seatbelt. "What about you, big guy? Any chance you're a 'work hard, play hard' type of guy?"

Teragen glanced at him and Rick was gratified to see that Anthony wasn't immune to the force of his presence either. Then Teragen looked away without saying anything.

Groaning, Anthony rolled his eyes. It was obvious who he'd approach next, so Rick preempted him. "I'm glad you're trying to take our minds off it, man, but I can't stop thinking about the tournament. I won't be able to think about anything that happens afterward until the fights are over."

"Guess that's just how it is." Anthony sat down in his seat and stopped trying to start conversation. It seemed like he'd gotten over his withdrawal, not displaying any of the symptoms from earlier. But Rick had known enough addicts to guess that Anthony was eagerly awaiting his next fix - the fact that he was addicted to raw power didn't change anything.

To take his mind off such things, Rick turned to look out the semi-transparent parts of their vehicle. Given that it flew at good speed, he would have expected them to arrive already. Actually... when he looked at the landscape more carefully, it didn't seem like they were going back to Branton at all.

He glanced around at the others, wondering if he should be concerned. Most of them were looking outside as well and didn't think it was worth comment. After staying silent for a while longer, he decided that he didn't want to sustain that much uncertainty.

"Are we not going back to the Underground?"

Anthony chuckled. "You don't know? For the actually important matches, they have a special arena. It should be coming up soon, I think - I never could keep all the generic countryside straight."

Peering ahead, Rick saw only one likely destination: a massive abandoned factory. It was probably part of the old Branton, the original small town that had been dominated by manufacturers. When the manufacturing jobs dried up, the original community almost died and the modern city had become the main heart of Branton.

As they circled overhead, Rick could hear the roar of a crowd. Were there really going to be that many people? He had been counting on the relatively small crowds of the usual arena, so the idea of going before a huge crowd brought back his concerns.

Forcing himself to look away, Rick instead pulled out his phone to remind him of what he had to work with.

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 16th

Ether Score: 238

Lucrim Generation: 34,850

Effective Rate: 29,999

Current Lucrim: 29,999]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 3100 (Lv IV)

Offensive Lucore: 5500 (Lv IV)

Defensive Lucore: 11,300 (Lv VII)

Bunyan's Step: 4900 (Lv IV)

Graham's Stake: 5950 (Lv II)

Aura Leech: -2460 (Stage I)

Faux Leech: -1641 (Stage IV)

Tracking Bond: 100 (Lv XIII)

Gross Lucrim: 34,850

Net Lucrim: 29,999]

The familiar numbers helped him regain his calm, even if he didn't like being reminded of the new leech inside him. He might be weaker than the other fighters in the plane, but he was not weak. His foundation was more compact and efficient than his original had been, despite the huge increase in his generation rate. His primary Lucores were well-balanced for combat, and over 10,000 lucrim invested into defense was nothing to be easily ignored.

That was what he had earned with all his work so far, and he'd earn more. Hopefully removing the leech and absorbing what he learned in the tournament would help him prepare. During the tournament he'd be facing opponents of a similar class, but when he fought Mike there would be no such fairness. He didn't just need to win, he needed to win without being injured and while increasing in strength.

But none of that mattered now. Rick cleared his mind of everything but the tournament as they came down to land.

As their vehicle began to circle downward rapidly, he realized that they were not going to be simply landing on a strip somewhere. No, it looked like they were heading toward the entrance itself. Before he could ask anyone about that, a door formed in the wall ahead of them and Granny Whitney walked out with a serious expression.

"It's time to make an entrance, dearies. Don't make me look bad."

Though the internal compartment shifted to stabilize them, the hawk pulled into a dive. Rick gripped the armrests of his seat, expecting to collide with the roof, but instead saw that it had been removed. Within the factory's old walls, he could see an arena surrounded by huge stands. This didn't help his nervousness.

He wanted to ask how they were going to make their entrance, but the chairs and seatbelts dissolved into the lucrim vehicle, forcing them to their feet. The entire vehicle shifted as the hawk dived, becoming a single corridor. When the hawk finally landed dramatically, wings outstretched, the door lowered for them to exit and the crowd's roar swept in like a wave.

Going out there was the last thing he wanted to do, but Rick found himself swept along with the others as they marched out. They weren't the only team arriving, but in their complex lucrim hawk, they definitely attracted a lot of attention. It was uncomfortable to think about the crowds looking at him, so Rick just tried to stick close to the others. He noted that all of them had been given aura suits as well, though Teragen still wore his own clothes.

Anthony was raising his fists and playing to the crowd, while Malati just gave a polite wave. Emily and Teragen didn't respond at all, so Rick decided to take a page from their book. He noted that Granny Whitney didn't come with them, but the others seemed to know where to go.

From the central arena, which was a massive octagon surrounded by a cage of silvery lucrim chains, they headed toward the stands. A narrow pathway underneath led into a concrete area that seemed to extend below the stands. To distract himself from all the attention, Rick marveled at how much had been built. They had kept the overall structure of the massive factory, but replacing everything within must have been nearly as expensive.

Eventually their group passed beneath the crowds and entered a dimly lit concrete corridor. Granny Whitney met them there, nodding slightly as if their entrance had been acceptable. She led them up a stairwell to a row of structures built from the wall.

When they came out at the top of the stairs, Rick realized that they were now above and behind the audience. From this position, they had a commanding view of the arena. They passed one room with a large team inside it, lushly appointed with even recovery equipment. But the one Granny Whitney led them to was utterly spartan, just a set of chairs facing the windows, with viewing screens beside the windows for close-ups of the fighting.

"These are our headquarters," she explained. "When it's your turn to fight, there's a special passage to get down beneath the arena. Everyone stays until all the matches are done, then what you do is up to you. Until then, no celebrations, no distractions."

They all nodded, her seriousness infecting them. Emily went to sit first, taking the chair on the far left, so Rick sat beside her. She didn't seem to object, which was good enough in her current state. Anthony sat on his right, Malati sat at the end, and Teragen ignored the last chair, sitting down against the wall and closing his eyes. Granny Whitney had a chair for herself behind them, but stayed on her feet, staring out the window with bright eyes.

Though the chairs looked simple, they were more comfortable than he expected. He settled in, letting himself get used to the new scale of the event. After all the preparations he'd done, he could deal with a few crowds.

It seemed they had timed their entrance well, because they didn't have to wait very long before the event began. Fireworks exploded around the arena, and when they faded, Alger stood in the center of the octagon. He gave everyone a dramatic bow, then swept upright and spoke in a loud voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Underground Arena!" The crowds roared out approval and he raised his hands as if drinking them in. "If I attempted to introduce to you everyone who will be taking part in today's competitions, I would be standing here all day! You will see young warriors beginning their path, journeymen with developed skills, and masters at the peak of their ability. If you are interested in pursuing this adventure with me... I can only refer you to the next match. Let the tournament begin!"

With that he disappeared in another burst of fireworks and a roar of the crowd. Rick found himself wishing that he'd mastered the rules of the event in greater depth. He knew that everyone would need to fight more than once, in melee matches that would be scored similarly to the normal Underground matches. Beyond that, he really wasn't sure how the event would proceed.

A screen above the octagon lit up, or rather a series of screens that faced every direction so the whole audience could see. The display began spinning through several symbols and words, quickly at first, then slowing down so that he could read them. They were all power tier names, rolling past the screen with flashing and noises until finally settling on a result:

Featherweight tier.

Granny Whitney struck his shoulder. "Rick, you're up. Don't disappoint me."