The competition went on to proceed into its next and final phase without much spectacle or flourish, it just kinda started, no grand speech, no chance to recoup or even relax, kicked into the highest gear with the denoting fanfare of a lone trumpet.

Tyler expanded a brief bit on the inner workings of the duel to get us up to speed. Fights would be chosen on a last-to-first basis, which meant the fourth-place pair of Preston and Gael are to don their war faces and put on their best gladiator impersonation because it would seem that the coliseum crowd was a rather bloodthirsty bunch.

They remained behind in the arena battlegrounds, while the rest of us champions were led to a spot in the stands where we could better see all around.

Now could it be just coincidence that our place within the crowd just so happens to be situated right below the judges' panel? Just a strange happenstance that their royal highnesses were but the slightest glance away in the corner of our eyes?

Probably thought it'd be for the better if our resolve were to be tempered, and what's a better way to iron out any reluctance than to put right into view just what exactly we were fighting for?

Pretty conniving, pretty manipulative, and pretty damn effective. Someone up in the panel must love their mind games.

My seat was pointed out to me by a helpful member of staff, I followed his finger, threw my gaze forward… and as soon as I did, I had almost half the mind to insist that I rather remain standing.

Here's another question of funny coincidence. Nick on the left, Leon on the right… and me designated to be wedged, fitting perfect right down the middle of two. That just a luck thing? Accident?

Oh, who am I kidding… there were no accidents. Wouldn't be a trifecta without first, second, and third side by side like best buds.

Whatever, just keep your eyes strictly forward, and your lips tightly zipped, and you'll live… probably.

So that's what I did. Laxing my stiff joints, shifting the weight, and lightening the strain. I did basically everything I could to signify that I was in do-not-disturb mode, yet alas, Leon simply just took that hanging sign and chucked it away in the waste bin.

"Hey, psst," I felt an elbow-prod on my right arm. "That was some nice horse-riding you did back there."

On the left, though ever as aloof and distant, I could tell that Nick was listening in.

"You've ridden before?" Leon continued to say. "You ride your house like you've been doing it your whole life. I'm seriously impressed. Didn't think there was anyone that could outpace me the way that you did."

Compliments never-ending threatened to drown me in an ocean of flattery. Thankfully, I had my floaties on - pump full of the special type of helium called not-giving-a-shitium.

Too busy focusing on the match which has yet to officially begin… there seemed to be something going on in the ring between the two opponents, now if only Leon would shut up so that I could focus on what was actually happening.

"I underestimated you. I admit that, and I apologize for that," He paused then and I thought he stopped then, then that smile of his crept into peripheral view, parting open so slightly, so insidiously. "I won't be holding back against you now. You're a threat now, getting in the way of my wants… and I'm going to get what I want."

Just that, just hearing that, had me finally breaking my silence. "Don't talk about Ash like that again."

"Don't talk about Ash like - what? A want?" I heard the mockery in his words, and it only made me feel worse. "Fine. Can't want her… what then, do you suppose? Can I 'have' her instead? 'Love' her if you prefer? Can do a lot better than just want her, you know?"

Mind games. Guess the judges up there weren't the only players here.

"I have to beat you first, though. You're the only thing left standing in the way. Then again, you could just up and suddenly lose to your first opponent too… and if that were to happen, I'd actually be sorely disappointed. So, do me a favor… don't lose, alright? Make that a promise."

He then went patted on my shoulder like he was a friend, like he was my friend.

"Never planned to," I shook him off, leaning forward, inching away. "I told you already."

And it was true enough. Losing here or anywhere else for that matter was not in the books for me, regardless of who I was facing… and yet, I just… I'm allowed to question it though, right?

The whys, the hows…

Bob was already gone, he didn't get to finish the race. Surely, that was more than enough to get him out for good, right?

Apparently not.

Like some mutated humanoid cockroach subspecies, Bob clung onto life and lived on despite getting utterly stomped on… and now against all odds here he was again, pestering me with his smarmy reddened smile across the stands, eager for more.

Who did he pay off was my question. Whose pockets did he lined brimming and spilling to get this second wind in the competition? I don't buy that he just so happened to be picked as my opponent on a whim, by complete total accident.

There were no accidents.

It's fine, I don't really mind it. If a cockroach survived getting stomped once, just have to stomp it twice. Always does the trick.

"Yes, Nick?" I whispered wearily, unable to bear any longer with his lingering stare. "Got something to say, then say it. You always do, don't stop now."

Wasn't even trying to hide it, like he wanted me to see it - that he would always be watching.

"Both princesses," He uttered through breath chock-full of insidious insinuations. "Well… I suppose you did do something, after all, didn't you?"

"Don't start judging."

"I'm not judging," Nick immediately said. "I'm just wondering, that's all."

"Do I dare ask what about?"

He crossed both pairs of fingers, hunching forward as far as I, meeting my gaze with a quick glance right.

"You pick one, you could lose one," He said. "You picked both - "

"I'll lose both?" I stared right back at him, seeing his sternness, his gruffness… and for the first time, feeling nothing. "Don't be stupid, Nick. You think I got here because I only got lucky?"

"You did get lucky."

"First place beating you is one hell of a stroke of good luck, don't you think? Hey, maybe I should go into lotto tickets too."

"Second place," He firmly corrected. "And it won't happen again. You can count that."

"Yeah? And what's different this time?"

Nick spun his head fast, and it was one of those rare few times where I saw more than just bitterness in his demeanor, spite in his scowl - there was anger, a burning fire that couldn't be assuaged, a pure unbridled rage. "I won't just be limited to throwing paint at you this time..."

And I still felt nothing enveloped by his flames. Know what they say… fight fire with fire… and I was seething just as hot.

"Alright," I nodded. "So just like Leon, no holding back, huh?"

"FORFEIT!" came the shrill buzz through nearly ruptured speakers, shocking most out of their seats, and getting frightened yelps from others… including Amanda from behind, who sunk into her palms red with embarrassment.

"My apologies…" She whispered timidly, her eyes emerging from above her fingertips in a small little peek. "Don't.. don't mind me..."

In all honesty, if the payoff is getting you all flustered, then I don't think anybody even minded the noise anymore. In fact, they'd probably feel more grateful for it than anything.

"Whoops, sorry, forgot I ain't supposed to yell no more," Tyler spoke from his podium, sounding the least bit apologetic about it. "Anyway, yeah, it's a forfeit! Preston and Gael have decided it ain't worth it! They want out! So sadly, that's a fight we won't be seeing sadly."

A forfeit? So close to the grand prize just to give it all up like that? They must have forged quite a bond with each other… went through some major character development to ultimately come down to such a decision. Guess the power of friendship was just too strong.

"Now, now, calm your tits everyone, chill!" blared the speakers to a disgruntled crowd. "Not like we ain't got other people itching to have a go already! You'll still see fights! Hell, you'll see it right now! Uh, Terrence! Nick! Get your asses down here before people start asking for some refunds! Ah - no refunds by the way! Website said so! No suing either! Third place fighters, any day now!"

Poor Terrence was caught blindsided by the news, all the way to the right, like he just doused with a bucket of freezing water, he tensed up, froze… rising to his feet as if he was also trying to shatter invisible ice blocks all over his body.

Not that I can blame him. Not when his opponent was who he was...

At the mention of his name, like a doll with his key all winded, Nick shot up from his seat at once… like the giant he was, like the unscalable wall he was, he loomed over high and mighty, staring down at me with eyes shaded dim and grim, as if to affirm what I previously said -

"No holding back."