The next one hour was spent cheering and betting on the participants. A wild jubilation among the audience as everyone hoped for their country to win.

Almost everyone had arrived. There was a live transmission both to the audience outside the arena, and to the individual countries in their capitals.

In front of the cubicles below the audience section, the participants stood in six groups. Each group had one thousand five hundred mages whose names and longevities were boldly written on separate boards.

Six names stood out. These names had more longevity than any other mage in the competition. According to the rules of the competition, each participant mustn't be above one hundred years.

The six names that captured everyone's attention were:

Tyren O. Bayajidda

Longevity : 100 years

Déniz Bizáya

Longevity 100 years

Hán Amuru

Longevity : 100 years

Prince Niyashi

Longevity : 100 years

Deraini Ore

Longevity: 99 years

Ameey Sadiq

Longevity: 99 years

The central ring was divided into six equal rings, each representing a group.

Old and new rivals from the five empires - Mikrom, Burja, Hán, Sisiya and the Underground Empire - met. The atmosphere was less than friendly even in the VIP area.

Mikrom sent two people: a man and a woman. The man was Duke Nista while the woman was... Aish. She smiled widely from her seat while the Duke smiled wryly. He looked as if he was ready to run away at a moment notice. He was constantly casting suspicious glares at Aish. There was obviously something going on here. How could the two representatives from one country looked so hostile to one another? Aish looked healthier than she did a week ago. There was a number on her forehead reading 'sixty' in Aldurish.

Burja sent commander Ta Asifu (alias Acid Rain) to represent them. There was no formal representation from Sisiya, which was very unusual. The empires were always represented at every level. But none of the top six names spoken by the audience came from Sisiya. They probably didn't even send a noteworthy participant.

Hán sent Hán Luris. An old man covered in a grey hair. His hands shook constantly as if he was immersed in ice.

Finally, the Jinzidal Army had also done something out of the ordinary: they'd sent an admiral. There were times when admirals attended the Jinzidal, but this admiral had never attended a single Jinzidal in his entire life. He was Uznu Urúrú, the only survivor of the Battle of the Book-sword. He went into seclusion for several centuries and had never been the same ever since.

Uznu Urúrú was not expected to be there. He had been shunning any responsibility ever since he came out of seclusion. Refusing any appointment that would make him associate with anyone. The only thing Uznu ever wanted was the Book-sword. He led a campaign against the rebellion last year because of the Book-sword. Why would he come to a Jinzidal?

Uznu sat still in his chair with his eyes closed. His head facing the direction of the rings. He wore a grey robe, the same color as his beard and hair. Uznu was frail and yet so intimidating. No one could look at him for long without feeling weak on the knees.

The way Uznu sat in his chair and the way his body conformed with nature, you knew he owned the place. Anything he wanted, he just had to ask.

Uznu had been alive for a very long time, and yet, his face looked young. His eyes looked strong and unwavering.

In contrast, there was a big man sitting next to the admiral who could be considered a giant by most people, and yet, this big man wasn't half as intimidating as Uznu.

The big man moved closer to Uznu and whispered, "I highly welcome the admiral to my home. if I knew you were coming I would have prepared a special reservation for you. I am sorry for my inadequacy." He waited for Uznu to respond but nothing came.

"I.. was so surprised when I heard you were coming. Everyone would be surprised to see the reserved Uznu here." He added.

This big man was emperor Déniz Iluru, who was both the host and a Jinzidal King. Because of this, Uznu gave him some face and responded.

"I have a message from the King of the First World." Uznu said without looking at Iluru or opening his eyes.

The emperor waited patiently. He wanted to hear more but it became clear the admiral wouldn't speak again.

Iluru's heart shuddered at the thought of everything. What message was Uznu talking about? Why now? Why did the man came to the Jinzidal?

Although, the First World had appointed the five Jinzidal Kings to oversee the Second Commandment, they'd also created the Jinzidal Army to oversee the activities of the Jinzidal Kings.

Déniz Iluru regained his calm and ordered the competition to start.

Déniz Iluru was actually a classical presentation of a mystery. He was eleven meters tall and his shoulders were a meter wide. Naturally, humans gave birth to humans and giants gave birth to giants. But the Dénizens were all short, little people, Iluru was the only one with this built. Even his son Déniz Bizáya was short. Several historians had tried to understand his genesis but had failed.

Deniz Iluru gestured with his hand and the commentator standing in the next cubicle nodded.

The audience chatted in high spirits as they waited for the game to start. As soon as the commentator opened his mouth, the audience fell silent. The time for the long awaited bloodshed had come.

The commentator was a short man akin to a dwarf. He barely reached the podium. But the audience could see his hand holding an amplifying tablet that carried his voice to every corner of the arena.

"Déniz Ghalee here with you today to witness the annual Jinzidal competition for the two hundred and forty-third time. I hope everyone will go back home safely... including the participants.

''Let's quickly begin with the rules and regulations of the Jinzidal and the special rewards for this year.

"The rules didn't change and they never will. We have the battle royal and the one-on-one battles to determine the final winner. There will be six winners after the battle royal: one from each ring. But only four of them will progress to the semifinals: the four who finished first. The final comes immediately after the semifinals. If you win the final and you win the challenge after the final, then you will be named the next Jinzidal King. Only five people have ever won the final challenge, they were honored by the First World with the title 'Jinzidal King'. Behold the five Jinzidal Kings." He looked at the screen above the arena which showed a list of names.

King Mikrom Abbas.

King Déniz Iluru.

King Áyúbu Nára.

King Hánnibal.

King Ta Kurichi.

Armad, like everyone present, knew these names like his own name. They were the five protectors of the Jinzidal and the leaders of the lower worlds.

Ghalee inhaled deeply and went on, "Why do we have only five jinzidal Kings for all these years? Can we expect someone to break the record and win the final challenge this year? Can we expect someone to transcend that?" He pressed something in the tablet in his hand and the names currently on the display were replaced by a valley of a black fire. Above the valley, there was a bridge. The bridge was built with a red steel that was sharper than any razor blade and harder than a diamond. It could cut even the air. To win the final challenge, you had to literally tread on that thing without using any spell or sword. Every year, someone would win the final, but in the last two thousand years, only the five Jinzidal Kings had ever won the final challenge. It was because of this that the First World appointed them as the Jinzidal Kings. They were obviously the most powerful beings in all the lower worlds.

The commentator continued, "we have divided the participants into six groups: A to F. After the first whistle, everyone would take their corresponding ring, and after the second whistle, you are free to fight. You will fight until you are the only one standing on the ring. The first four to finish would proceed to the semifinals. The two winners of the semifinals would fight in the final and the winner can choose to either take on the final challenge, and become one of the five Jinzidal Kings, or not. I would like to point out that of all the mages who have ever attempted the final challenge only five escaped with their souls intact. The rest died in body and soul.

''JINZIDAL IS NOT A GAME: IF YOU LOSE, YOU LOSE YOUR FREEDOM. You are responsible for your own life, Déniz empire and the First World will not pay for any loss or death.

''Does anyone has any questions or concerns?"

For several seconds, no one uttered a word. Ghalee was about to start the Jinzidal when a young man wearing a black headband from group B raised his hand. This young man had a question. ''What is the penalty for someone who stepped out of the ring?''

Ghalee widened his eyes in shock. He hadn't forgotten about that rule but it was so basic that he just felt like skipping it. But this young man had raised the matter in front of the entire world, which made him looked quite bad.

Ghalee gritted his teeth and cursed internally. "Whoever steps out of the ring is disqualified. Thank you for the reminder."

Some of the audience started pointing the young man who had asked the question. The only thing that saved him was the first whistle and the chaos that followed after the participants had moved to their rings.

The young man with the black headband was Armad Wilberforce. Even though, he'd lost his Miyura, he felt better with the headband on.

The second whistle came after ten seconds, and the two hundred and forty-fourth Jinzidal commenced.