“Itadakimas.”
“Saihan hoollooroi.”
“Kain ng mabuti.”
“Chī hǎu hē hǎu.”
The 1st of Zurgaa. Today was the day that the tournament everyone had feared, the one Saya had once looked forward to, would begin. After saying their graces, the ten of them ate their dreaded breakfast in the hôtel lobby in silence. They were too scared to say anything, the despair filling their throats. The ten fighters had ditched their Al-Wa uniforms, each wearing something unique to their liking.
Each of their black wristbands had notified them with a ring that it was today, as Tsuchiya entered the building, swarmed with escorts.
“The time has come, sworn muqatil,” Tsuchiya warned, void of an enthusiastic voice. “Once you have finished your last supper, you all will be brought to the Tengerleg Stadium. Any refusals will result in… punishment under Yyvubia Oomikami religious law.”
“...” Kwazhak glanced at him for a second while the spokesperson briefly turned his back. Saya wondered whether he had already tried to convince Tsuchiya.
“Guys, are you ready?” Suruj asked ambiguously. “Each one of us has to contribute. Even if it costs our lives…”
All of them; Izdaha Saya, Mashuu Ashojan, Suruj Zundui, Jose Perez, Hyun-woo Jun, Mouka Toqemur, Kwazhak Laoyuang, Niktar Shunji, Ki Lanu, Adya Htet, linked their hands together in a circle. For the rebellion, they needed to fight. Fight to find their way out. Fight for their own lives. Fight for the future generations to come.
Crossing into Taikai-ku, the streets were cleared of any vehicles as people parted in their presence, as if they were a finger being traced through sand. Colors of yellow and blue flew across the sky celebrating the opening of the Yeii no Matsuri and the Dineh Kazaàd. In the Dineh people’s eyes, they were the holy ones ready to be sacrificed at the hands of the KWKK, and the Yyvubia. The markets and pavilions were selling off merchandise of Ayai Toya, and all things related. Hundreds of thousands flocked to the sidewalk to watch the ten fighters walk in the road, escorted by Tsuchiya and his guards. But atop the roofs of the buildings and mass celebration, were numerous masked individuals holding up signs, shouting against the crowd. When Saya could filter the multitude of voices, she finally heard what the masked people were saying.
“Esergüütsel urt naslaarai! Mabuhay ang himagsik! Gémèng wànsuè! Long live The Rebellion!” The rooftops chanted while waving signs protesting the tournament. However their voices were drowned out by the Dineh people cheering for the Dineh Kazaàd. The Rebellion? They knew their cause?
The silver stadium towered in front of them, a large slanting dome at such an angle that it looked as if it was going to collapse outwards. Two large minarets protruded from the top, with windows and people occupying the space. It was completely different from the holographs Saya had seen when she was growing up. Compared to the tallest buildings in the city, the Tengerleg Stadium could fit nine shaped in a three by three square.
Feeling the crunch of rocks into the arena, the ground was solid with sand and dust, with a strange colorless dome separating the fighting area from the audience. The seats were covered with crowds from top to bottom, the cheers hurting her ears. They all lined up in one row while the escorts followed up behind them. They were all standing before a podium, where the chief director of the KWKK held up a microphone. Everyone went silent in his presence.
“May peace be with you, fellow faithful and muqatil. Welcome to the long awaited, annual sixty-third commercially sponsored Dineh Kazaàd!” Shouts and clapping ensued, before Qiemi quieted them down. “As the head of the KWKK, I will oversee everything in the tournament, and promise you a good time!”
The fighters began to tense. A commercially sponsored tournament, where bids and bets were being made over their lives. The fact that they were treated like insects, that their deaths were entertainment. Saya saw her childhood dream be destroyed in seconds. Suddenly, a hologram across the arena lit blue. It projected a screen labeled ‘The Dineh Kazaàd’. They all watched as a female automated voice spoke from it.
“Greetings, muqatil from all around the world. This program is sponsored by Ksapnesko Mining Industries and is meant to give general information about the sixty-third tournament. For your convenience, this program is broadcasted in the Standard Khoit. Due to current events, all fighters from the following Kazaàd companies: Ksung-Pa, Yan-Kyou, and Zhü will not be participating in this year’s bracket.”
“What the…” Jun let out impulsively, speaking for the reactions of everyone else. The hologram recording continued its monologue.
“Since there are ten Al-Wa fighters registered, the following muqatil will be seeded into the following on Zurgaa 1st.”
The machine projected the tournament bracket. Looking at it not only proved Suruj and Mouka’s predictions, but reinforced the cold, harsh reality they were facing. It only watered the seeds of fear and despair in the back of their minds.
07 Perez vs 03 Hyun-woo
02 Htet vs 08 Shunji
06 Laoyuang vs 05 Lanu
10 Zundui vs 09 Toqemur
04 Izdaha vs 01 Ashojan
The surprise knocked Perez and Hyun-woo on the ground, as they looked at each other helplessly. Toqemur closed her eyes and gazed up at the sky, as Zundui stared at the floor. Izdaha’s shock was so disproportionate, she didn’t notice her hands and legs shaking. Laoyuang never said a word. Without mercy, the treacherous words ensued the revelation.
“In the tournament, there are three parts spanning over a week: Kazaàd Minor, Kazaàd Major, Kazaàd Terminus. All muqatil are seeded in the Kazaàd Minor. Fighters engage in one-on-one timed matches.
"The match ends when there is only one fighter alive under an hour. If the time limit is reached, then the winner will be decided by popular vote. The remaining survivors will proceed to the Kazaàd Major. When a winner of the Major is decided, the fighter will battle for the title of champion against the current defending champion in the Kazaàd Terminus.”
“No matter what, the winner will face Toya, huh…” Suruj bit his lip, tapping his feet anxiously.
“Listen up,” Kwazhak insisted, “There is no guarantee that all of us will survive. However the best we can all do is to search for a way out. Anything. Any loopholes, any fault in the machinery. And whatever thee doth, don’t give in to fighting each other,” Those words began to resonate in their heads. Words that would give them hope. But Kwazhak instantly turned that hope into something else. “Until thy life depends on it.”
“Itadakimas.”
“Saihan hoollooroi.”
“Kain ng mabuti.”
“Chī hǎu hē hǎu.”
The 1st of Zurgaa. Today was the day that the tournament everyone had feared, the one Saya had once looked forward to, would begin. After saying their graces, the ten of them ate their dreaded breakfast in the hôtel lobby in silence. They were too scared to say anything, the despair filling their throats. The ten fighters had ditched their Al-Wa uniforms, each wearing something unique to their liking.
Each of their black wristbands had notified them with a ring that it was today, as Tsuchiya entered the building, swarmed with escorts.
“The time has come, sworn muqatil,” Tsuchiya warned, void of an enthusiastic voice. “Once you have finished your last supper, you all will be brought to the Tengerleg Stadium. Any refusals will result in… punishment under Yyvubia Oomikami religious law.”
“...” Kwazhak glanced at him for a second while the spokesperson briefly turned his back. Saya wondered whether he had already tried to convince Tsuchiya.
“Guys, are you ready?” Suruj asked ambiguously. “Each one of us has to contribute. Even if it costs our lives…”
All of them; Izdaha Saya, Mashuu Ashojan, Suruj Zundui, Jose Perez, Hyun-woo Jun, Mouka Toqemur, Kwazhak Laoyuang, Niktar Shunji, Ki Lanu, Adya Htet, linked their hands together in a circle. For the rebellion, they needed to fight. Fight to find their way out. Fight for their own lives. Fight for the future generations to come.
Crossing into Taikai-ku, the streets were cleared of any vehicles as people parted in their presence, as if they were a finger being traced through sand. Colors of yellow and blue flew across the sky celebrating the opening of the Yeii no Matsuri and the Dineh Kazaàd. In the Dineh people’s eyes, they were the holy ones ready to be sacrificed at the hands of the KWKK, and the Yyvubia. The markets and pavilions were selling off merchandise of Ayai Toya, and all things related. Hundreds of thousands flocked to the sidewalk to watch the ten fighters walk in the road, escorted by Tsuchiya and his guards. But atop the roofs of the buildings and mass celebration, were numerous masked individuals holding up signs, shouting against the crowd. When Saya could filter the multitude of voices, she finally heard what the masked people were saying.
“Esergüütsel urt naslaarai! Mabuhay ang himagsik! Gémèng wànsuè! Long live The Rebellion!” The rooftops chanted while waving signs protesting the tournament. However their voices were drowned out by the Dineh people cheering for the Dineh Kazaàd. The Rebellion? They knew their cause?
The silver stadium towered in front of them, a large slanting dome at such an angle that it looked as if it was going to collapse outwards. Two large minarets protruded from the top, with windows and people occupying the space. It was completely different from the holographs Saya had seen when she was growing up. Compared to the tallest buildings in the city, the Tengerleg Stadium could fit nine shaped in a three by three square.
Feeling the crunch of rocks into the arena, the ground was solid with sand and dust, with a strange colorless dome separating the fighting area from the audience. The seats were covered with crowds from top to bottom, the cheers hurting her ears. They all lined up in one row while the escorts followed up behind them. They were all standing before a podium, where the chief director of the KWKK held up a microphone. Everyone went silent in his presence.
“May peace be with you, fellow faithful and muqatil. Welcome to the long awaited, annual sixty-third commercially sponsored Dineh Kazaàd!” Shouts and clapping ensued, before Qiemi quieted them down. “As the head of the KWKK, I will oversee everything in the tournament, and promise you a good time!”
The fighters began to tense. A commercially sponsored tournament, where bids and bets were being made over their lives. The fact that they were treated like insects, that their deaths were entertainment. Saya saw her childhood dream be destroyed in seconds. Suddenly, a hologram across the arena lit blue. It projected a screen labeled ‘The Dineh Kazaàd’. They all watched as a female automated voice spoke from it.
“Greetings, muqatil from all around the world. This program is sponsored by Ksapnesko Mining Industries and is meant to give general information about the sixty-third tournament. For your convenience, this program is broadcasted in the Standard Khoit. Due to current events, all fighters from the following Kazaàd companies: Ksung-Pa, Yan-Kyou, and Zhü will not be participating in this year’s bracket.”
“What the…” Jun let out impulsively, speaking for the reactions of everyone else. The hologram recording continued its monologue.
“Since there are ten Al-Wa fighters registered, the following muqatil will be seeded into the following on Zurgaa 1st.”
The machine projected the tournament bracket. Looking at it not only proved Suruj and Mouka’s predictions, but reinforced the cold, harsh reality they were facing. It only watered the seeds of fear and despair in the back of their minds.
07 Perez vs 03 Hyun-woo
02 Htet vs 08 Shunji
06 Laoyuang vs 05 Lanu
10 Zundui vs 09 Toqemur
04 Izdaha vs 01 Ashojan
The surprise knocked Perez and Hyun-woo on the ground, as they looked at each other helplessly. Toqemur closed her eyes and gazed up at the sky, as Zundui stared at the floor. Izdaha’s shock was so disproportionate, she didn’t notice her hands and legs shaking. Laoyuang never said a word. Without mercy, the treacherous words ensued the revelation.
“In the tournament, there are three parts spanning over a week: Kazaàd Minor, Kazaàd Major, Kazaàd Terminus. All muqatil are seeded in the Kazaàd Minor. Fighters engage in one-on-one timed matches.
"The match ends when there is only one fighter alive under an hour. If the time limit is reached, then the winner will be decided by popular vote. The remaining survivors will proceed to the Kazaàd Major. When a winner of the Major is decided, the fighter will battle for the title of champion against the current defending champion in the Kazaàd Terminus.”
“No matter what, the winner will face Toya, huh…” Suruj bit his lip, tapping his feet anxiously.
“Listen up,” Kwazhak insisted, “There is no guarantee that all of us will survive. However the best we can all do is to search for a way out. Anything. Any loopholes, any fault in the machinery. And whatever thee doth, don’t give in to fighting each other,” Those words began to resonate in their heads. Words that would give them hope. But Kwazhak instantly turned that hope into something else. “Until thy life depends on it.”
