Mephisto
New member
"It's amazing, ain't it?"
From his seat above the arena, Yuhara chomped down on a freshly-cut cigar. He crossed one massive leg over the other, the very notion of which was similar to two logs crashing together in the deep forest. He was built like a concrete bunker, each muscle fiber refined to be closer to solid brick than to human flesh... but human he was.
"Sir?" his attendant, an elderly man barely the size of one of his immense arms, asked.
Yuhara inhaled deeply of the smoke, tasting the leaves clipped from only the richest elvish tobacco plants. The imported luxury was one of the many benefits of the civilization his ancestors cultivated, and the one he now dominated.
"It might be empty now... but that stage has seen more blood than any ancient battlefield. For thousands of years, violence has been controlled and centralized in places like this. Every race on the planet, and not a single thought outside of the final round,"
He ran his fingers across his slicked-back hair and adjusted his sunglasses. With a contented chuckle, he leaned his head across the crest of his chair and stared at the ceiling.
"Well, sir, if I may be so bold..." his attendant began. "What should they be thinking of?"
Yuhara paused before he spoke. His glasses reflected the low orange light from his cigar, which was the only source of illumination beyond the arena lighting and the neon glow from his personal bar.
"I would say survival... but if you focus too much on your own life, you end up losing it,"
Yuhara stood to his full height, a giant amongst men. His shirt, bedecked with a purple flowery pattern, did little to hide his murderous intent. His wide, sinister smile shot back at him in his reflection in the glass, and he pressed his forehead against it. The arena had not a single soul inside of it, the stands completely empty... for now. But even at this point in time, he could hear the thunderous noise of ten thousand people roaring for their chosen champions. Race, nationality, none of that mattered.
Here, under the intense haze of the lights, only blood and sweat mattered. Tears could be saved for the end.
"Tomorrow is that day, Boris," Yuhara giggled with excitement. "When it all begins again. The rampaging cycle of carnage... the crowning achievement of this world!"
Boris, his wrinkled expression turning into a slight smile as his name was put to breath, nodded in confirmation.
"Your time as chairman of Tartarus will be a glorious one, sir..." he began, turning his head to look towards something else in the room.
The light from outside could barely bring the shadows in the observation deck to life, but the unmistakable glimmer of eyes glazed over in death met Boris' steely gaze. The man he had been assigned to previously, Yuhara's own father, lay motionless on the floor. He was a giant as well, a monolithic specimen of muscle only refined with his advanced age. Yuhara exposed his knuckles to the light as he clenched his fists to either side. Blood dripped from his unbroken skin and onto the floor.
"Especially if this is any indication of your intentions," Boris' smile widened with pure sadistic glee.
Yuhara tightened his grip, his skin squealing like leather. The laughter in his chest could barely be contained by his gritted teeth, the ash from his cigar falling of its own accord as he imagined the inevitable mayhem yet to come...
"This really is my era! I can't wait... for the opening bell!!"