The image in the fragment of the future: the Red Count's lips opened and closed soundlessly in the stillness, forming a clear warning-
"This man is suspicious."
In reality, the Red Count merely smiled and stroked the raccoon dog curled on his shoulder, his gaze returning to the dusty arena below, as though that momentary exchange had never happened.
In this arena where observation-based perception was blocked, the clumsy hand-to-hand fighting looked no different from children playing to him. Still, it made for an unusual diversion.
"Contestant Pete wins! Clean and decisive!"
"Next up is-"
"Finally, it's my turn!"
Before the announcer's voice had faded, a figure charged into the arena, dragging a thick rope.
He was a boy wearing nothing but a flashy beach shirt and swim briefs, sunglasses perched crookedly on his nose. Droplets of water still clung to his wheat-colored, sun-tanned skin.
The stands fell silent for a moment, then erupted in laughter mingled with surprise and teasing.
"Pfft... did this little guy come to the wrong place?"
"Are you here to swim or fight?"
A few bold women in the audience even whistled and blew kisses into the arena.
"Go get 'em, little guy!"
"Win, and I'll show you a good time-"
"Shut up!"
The boy irritably scratched his upright blue hair and planted one foot on the base of a pillar at the arena's edge. "This genius has no interest in women!"
He yanked hard on the rope in his hands.
A metallic grinding roar came from deep within the left passage. Something enormous rolled over the stone paving and emerged into the sunlight, carrying the smell of engine oil and rust-it was a steel creation nearly three meters tall.
Roughly welded steel plates covered its entire body, rivets clustered over them like blisters.