VOXISTALE: Novel Edition

Chapter 46

The aptly-named 'Arena' was one of the oldest underground facilities the Messiah had. Some nights, it was considered a Dead Pool instead. Nights where murder was allowed, when two members found themselves at odds and decided to settle their differences in a fight to the death. Arena Fights were more for entertainment, and to train up members. Tonight, however, was different. It was Promotion night, something they hadn't done for almost three years now ever since Magnum had been promoted to a lieutenant.

Now, two more lieutenants were needed, and a tournament was being held. The last two standing would become the new lieutenants, having proven their worth through blood and wrath.

"This should be fun," Krashna's spoke on a two-layered balcony overlooking the entirety of the Arena, three thrones were in place so that the leaders could check out the carnage in full. In one throne sat Krashna, on the lower level of the balcony, and adjacent to him was Nikolai, who had a cigarette in his hand, watching with mild interest.

Behind them on the upper level of the balcony was an empty throne- presumably because Father had yet to arrive for the entertaining deathmatch.

"Otets dolzhen byt' zdes'."

Krashna rolled his eyes, "Relax. He'll be here soon." Nikolai said nothing in return as the stands around the Arena filled with those too afraid to test their worth and become lieutenants. They'd amassed a total of twenty three individuals seeking their promotion, and only two would come out alive.

"My ne mozhem nachat', poka on ne priyedet," Nikolai growled.

Krashna shrugged, "That's not true. Two leaders are present. Two is enough."

"Otets deystvitel'no dolzhen prisutstvovat' dlya etogo."

"Oh, come now, don't be a stick in the mud," Krashna smirked, propping his elbow on the arm of his throne, leaning his head against his palm.

"On byl by zol, yesli by my nachali bez nego," Nikolai replied.

"If you insist, we can wait for him . . . but our participants are looking a bit antsy," Krashna noted with a yawn.

On que, the door behind them opened, and a tall figure stepped out. Wordlessly, he made his way to the center throne, and sat down. "Perfect timing. Can we start now?" Krashna whined. The Father looked toward Nikolai from the shadows of where he sat, and nodded.

The Spirit stood, and began to address the crowd, "Segodnya budet pamyatnyy den'. Krovoprolitiye i velichayshaya sila v mire podnimutsya zdes' i stanut izvestnymi kak nastoyashchiye chempiony sredi nashikh brat'yev i sester. Tol'ko dvoye ostanutsya zhivymi. Vyvedi konkursantov!"

When he finished, a large gate at the head of the arena slowly lifted itself, and all of the contestants walked out. They were all armed differently, and wore different armor, but the similarity between them all were the ski masks covering their face. Every single member of the Messiah was forced to wear one at all times until they'd proven their worth. Once a lieutenant, they had free reign over themselves, with only the Trinity to answer to.

A man, also a mask-wearing member of the Messiah, stood in the center of the arena, dressed in black and white stripes so the participants wouldn't confuse him for a foe. He held a simple pistol, which was raised into the air- the grunts had about ten seconds to scatter before that bullet went into the air, signaling for them to start.

Bang!

Everyone watched in amazement; how eager the twenty-three people were to slaughter each other would easily be disturbing to an outside perspective. A variety of differently colored weapons appeared out of thin air. So began the fateful battle.