The outcry of disappointment was one that would resound the convention halls for a long, long while. Ad verbatim, the news spread fast and furious, like a spark to a long stream-trail of gasoline… and as a result, the ensuing wildfire catching in the stands, the crowds, the vicinity all over, was one not so easily abated.

I, for one, never have heard a more welcoming piece of good news in my life, and it'd only took one quick look around to see that my fellow peers felt much of the same. The sooner this competition was done, the better.

Unfortunately, everyone else thought much otherwise. For the first time, the audience became despondent, boos instead of whoos, jeers replacing cheers, they really wanted more of that adrenaline rush.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say they wanted us to kill each other. Understandable though, they were promised more, so they anticipated for more, then out of nowhere, they were being told that there was no more, except for one more.

Tyler did his magic on the disgruntled mob, managed to even convince them to lay away with the pitchfork and torches, and to accept that, y'know, sometimes shit happens.

According to him, it was one of those things that simply couldn't be helped. A conflict in schedule, a misunderstanding in plans within the business side of things meant that we were running short on time.

Apparently a certain someone forgot to inform another someone that the convention we'll be running later than usual for today, hence - this entire fiasco.

"So yeah, bye-bye all that shit we had in store," Tyler sighed along with the crowd. "On the bright side, at least we still have the final competition… which coincidentally - lines up with just the right amount of people needed! I mean, of course, right after we get to eliminating two weakest teams, that is. Results ain't announced yet, but should be anytime! In fact, I'd say it's even right - "

A messenger with a scroll came up to Tyler's podium emporium, timing just perfect with Tyler's last word, spoken out with a smile stretched wide, "- now."

He grabbed the scroll, unraveling straight after - suddenly there was a scramble, a quick shuffle of many, many feet. Once again, I found myself a stranger to customs, everybody was up from their seats like we were about to sing the National Anthem, and I was the last to leave mine by a good few seconds.

Seriously, is there a memo I missed out on reading? A dos and don'ts guide to medieval conventions? Someone send me a pamphlet, I'm getting tired of embarrassing over and over.

"Let's see, let's see…" Tyler held the yellowing piece of parchment close, batting squinted eyes away at the contents, with his lips skewed. "Is it top to bottom, or bottom to top? Fuck, they never tell me these things… whatever, anyway, I'm gonna do you guys a favor and start with the names of the champions that aren't making it through."

They decided fast. Guess they really are in a hurry to wrap things up, aren't they? Just hope they were thorough.

"Erron, Yen," Tyler spoke with a tone as blunt as a mallet, and he struck it down loud, firm, and with a tone of finality, "Your team's out of the running. Sorry, clumps of feathers can't qualify as cargo. Off you go."

Only one other team left to expel, and without a scroll of our own, it was anyone's guess as to who will be up next on that chopping block - then almost with a hint of pleasure, Tyler proceeded to bring down that ax of judgment swift.

"Harry, Hail. Not sorry to say, but cheaters never prevail. Saw you swap out one of your stained cargo for a brand new one in the red-light district - don't think we didn't see you pull that shit. Now go get your sorry asses out of here before I accidentally break my promise to the judges."

For a startling few seconds, I thought I saw one of the non-qualifiers spitting actual venom from his lips as he stalked bitterly out of the arena with his accomplices in tow… but no, it was just red paint. False alarm.

"As for the rest of you," Tyler peeked his eyes over at us. "Four teams left standing, seven people still waiting, here are your placings! Starting at number four we have - Preston and Gael! Everybody, 'round of applause! Spotlight! Shine 'em!"

A bright spot of light shone down onto a pair on the far left. A mage-archer combo giving one another high-fives and fist bumps as thunderous applause poured down from all around them.

Tyler waited for the cheering to wane before continuing, and once they had, the anticipation for the next proclamation only grew tenfold.

"Coming in at third place," He took in a mouthful. "Terrence of the Red Sorcerers, and Nick the Gallant Giant! The impenetrable combo-wombo duo of them all! Spotlight! Applause! Three cheers for Nick and Terrence!"

The hip-hip-hoorays for their accomplishments resounded just as loud as the last, and the spotlight was only brighter than ever… yet Nick couldn't have been more a shade gloomier, refusing to shake the hand of his partner or even respond to the crowd.

I guess third place was simply just a place too small for a giant dreaming big.

"Now as for second place," Tyler speedily uttered, ushering in an almost instant quiet. "Ready your hands, ready that light, for it is none other than your very own - Big Man of House Playboy! Let's goooooo!"

White blinded me. Cheers deafened me. The limelight was a scary, disorienting place… what with the tumultuous uproar, and blinding glare that won't go away.

But I can't say that it was exactly a bad place to be in. It was a nice place, only…

Second place?

Tyler went on to elaborate. "First in speed sadly doesn't mean first in pristine, Big Man! Your cargo suffered a few bumps and bruises along the way. That's just how it is! Can't say you didn't see this coming!

Yeah, I guess I kinda did. The realist in me nodded, understood, and took it simply in stride.

Yet the optimist within hung his head disheartened… thinking hopefully maybe, perhaps, after everything I did, the things I pulled off… that it would have been more than enough, surely it was.

The pessimist knew all along that it never was, that it'll never be, that I never will be.

That's why I don't hang out with that guy much no more. Seriously a bad influence.

I waved my hand, offered a smile, to the countless many backing up my side, to the quiet applause of a peculiar royal two staring at me with eyes that wholeheartedly thought otherwise.

Maybe they got the right idea there… that in their heart of hearts, I've always been first place. Maybe it's time I start thinking about myself that way too.

"And of course! Last, but a hundred and ten percent not least..." Tyler folded the scroll close, brandishing an outstretched hand in time with a flicker of light shining bright, "Clap your hands fucking red raw and bleeding, scream your cheers till you can't scream no more to the first place champions of the race - Cliff the Magus and Leon the fucking Valiant! Congrats, you two! You did the thing! Whooo!"

It was like a bomb, it was also like a flashbang, except on the nuclear-warhead level type of devastation. I'm surprised Leon could withstand such an overwhelming assault on the senses. His partner certainly couldn't, only could barely muster a smile back against Leon's pearly whites glittering and sparkling.

"Second to last to second to first is no mean feat ladies and gents!" Tyler continued on. "And to do so without even the slightest speck of dust transporting the goods? Damn dude, maybe I should have you shipping out my packages. Maybe they'll actually get to me in one piece for once!"

Suddenly it seemed that the news of cutting the competition became nothing more than just a distant, forgotten memory. Everyone was vibing, everyone was jiving, there was nothing but smiles everywhere you looked.

It's as if everybody kinda also forgot that was still another task at hand to complete… and admittedly I did too, got completely swept in the tide of good vibes.

That was until Tyler rose the mic to his lips once more. "Good job, everyone. Good job. You earn those pats on the back, you earn those cheers, your names screamed to the sky - know what? In fact, let's have one more! Just one more! Come on boys, show the champions some love!"

Again, came the explosion of ovation, at that point my ears had gotten pretty accustomed to the sound. You fire a shotgun next to my ears, I'd probably swat my hand thinking a mosquito was buzzing about.

In fact, that was what I did… because I heard a scraping sound thinking as much. Until I glanced behind and realized that the tables and chairs lining with refreshments were being hauled off to make for some extra space.

Space for what exactly?

To be announced…

"Alright, alright, that's enough love!" A wave of an arm returned the arena back to a quiet. "So, now… I'm sure you guys - well, those with a team anyway - I'm sure you've grown quite a bond working with one another."

If those smiles shared were sincere, if those handshakes meant anything, then yeah, I suppose so.

"But you see, sometimes in every profession where teamwork is involved, Knights especially, well… sometimes allegiances change you see, loyalty changes. Knight on knight, friend on friend, brother on brother."

Gradually those smiles began to fade.

"Take a good long look at your partner, think back at everything you've been through with each other to get here, take a second," Tyler paused, waited, then continued exactly after a second. "Thought about it? Alright, good. Because that person is now your mortal enemy. Your opponent to face. I mean, they always have been - you're from different camps, after all! Fighting for the honor of diffrent princesses' - 'course you guys aren't friends, you're enemies! And now you're going to have to fight one another!"

The light instantly went out right after, plunging the arena into a total void of blinding black. Then, one by one, spotlights flickered, seven rims of light for the seven remaining contenders.

"A duel to the death!" Tyler's voice rang out in the vast darkness. "You will each clash mano-a-mano with your partner until there is only one left standing! And that one, that lucky, that strong-headed, that incomparable, that unmatched single one would ultimately be crowned the victor and be declared the Hero of all of Astra!"

No one spoke, no one even blinked twice. I guess everyone saw this coming, reluctant or otherwise… in the end, this is what it comes down to. After all, there can be only one.

Except there was just one problem with this system, I'm just sure it goes without mentioning, but there was indeed a flaw here…

I didn't have a partner to work with, I didn't have a partner to forge that bond with, and as such, I didn't have a partner to fight with.

Unless… oh I swear to God - if they're going to make me fight a horse, if I'm gonna have to throw hands with Lyn? Yeah, animal cruelty is not up my alley, I'm peacing out.

"Big Man, I'm sure in that blank stare of yours, you're wondering how the hell this would all work out for you considering your special circumstances," Tyler called out, his tone verging on a chuckle. "Not to worry, we already got that sorted. We got an opponent for you! Now he's no friend of yours, don't really have a bond… but if you ask me, that's what makes this matchup one for the ages!"

One for the ages?

"Now, say hello..."

An eight flicker, an eight beam of light, an eight contender, standing up on the podium. I felt my breath nearly stop looking up, squinting, seeing, how the ray of light from the spotlight bounced off the gleam of a familiar hat… a yellow hat.

A hard hat.

"To your friendly neighborhood Bob of the Builder!"

There he was, red all over from top to bottom, still dripping in it too. His overalls painted red, his lips curling red, his scowl… seeing red.

Bob was many things then. Sinister. Sadistic. Shocking. Seething. But friendly, sadly, wasn't one of them… more importantly -

Who in the fuck is this guy anyway?