Raucous cheers erupted from the crowd. A new competitor had taken to the ring, no doubt ready to put on a show. Some waved money in the air, proudly announcing their bets. Others placed their wagers with lowered voices and stern faces, taking their dealings far more seriously. In this underground arena, the wealthy and the poor alike gathered to witness a bloody, bare-knuckle battle. Here, dignity came second to entertainment. Sparse protection was offered to fighters. Dirty, underhanded tactics were welcomed. And nobody was fighting in the name of honor. The Mach Fight Club was ruled by money, and money alone.
Simply put—not a place one would expect to find Forsyth, who stood for all things good and honourable.
“Up against Viper, a new fighter looking to take home the gold, it’s the Green Baron!”
Forsyth bowed his head in shame.
His reputation, once shining, was surely tarnished. How could he stoop so low…? What would Sir Clive think…?
One doomed wager, that was all it took. Forsyth had never been a very lucky man. Not when it came to gambling, anyhow. Standing in the front row, smiling ever so smugly, was Forsyth’s so-called colleague. Their betting game had started innocently enough. A simple wager: if you finish grading before 9, I’ll buy you lunch. Then the stakes rose: if I can beat you in a footrace, you have to polish my armor for a week. Before long, Forsyth’s colleague had proposed a much riskier wager: if you can best me in the training grounds, I’ll enter myself in the Mach Fighting Club.
How foolish he had been. How utterly foolish.
“Place your bets now, folks!”
At last, Forsyth squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and lifted his gaze. Only to discover that his opponent—the man who went by Viper—looked strangely familiar. First it was a glimpse of tousled blue hair. Then those slouched shoulders. A pair of keen blue eyes, fit for a sharp-shooter. The realization came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that Forsyth began to feel faint.
Before he could keel over, the fighter known as the Green Baron flew forward, taking hold of his opponent’s shoulders.
“PYTHON! What is the matter with you? I leave you alone for… well, I don’t know how long it’s been—surely not that long—and you’re already frequenting fight clubs?” Forsyth exclaimed. Much to the audience’s dismay, the Green Baron was no longer interested in thrashing his opponent silly. Rather, he had launched into a lecture of epic proportions. “I had hoped you would find a more noble calling than… this! Honestly! Have you no shame?”
