After this, Blackstone became louder.
The betting boards spread his name faster than truth ever traveled. By morning, the warehouse walls outside were chalked with crude slogans:
SPOON KING RISES40 TO 1 = FREE MONEYLUCAN WILL CRY
Sun stood in the courtyard holding a bowl of porridge, staring at the wall.
"I dislike being folklore."
Brin passed carrying training poles on one shoulder.
"You'll dislike fame more."
"I already do."
"You've barely tasted it."
"That sounded threatening."
"It was breakfast advice."
Nyra sat atop a crate with her knees drawn up, quietly eating fruit while pretending not to watch him.
Rhea hung upside down from a beam.
"Personally, I love your rise. It funds me."
Sun pointed his spoon upward.
"You stole my wallet yesterday."
"I borrowed your future."
"Give it back."
"Win first."
Today was registration day for the Blackstone Young Lions Tournament.
Meaning every ambitious youth in the city would gather in one place with polished weapons, polished hair, and unpolished egos.
Samira entered the yard carrying folded clothes.
Sun groaned immediately.
"No."
"Yes."
"I knew from the footsteps."
"That's progress."
She tossed the garments into his chest.
A fitted black combat tunic with silver trim.
Clean trousers.
New boots.
A dark coat cut to move easily in battle.
Sun held it up.
"This outfit assumes competence."
"It advertises potential."
"It's expensive."
"It's an investment."
Brin nodded.
"You almost look like someone who wins."
Nyra glanced over.
Looked away too quickly.
Rhea grinned upside down.
"Ohhh."
Sun narrowed his eyes.
"Explain the ohhh."
"No."
Terrible answer.
They crossed the city under clear skies.
Blackstone had turned the tournament into festival season.
Stalls sold lion tokens, fake sect robes, wooden swords, betting slips, roasted meat, sweet cakes, and wildly inaccurate portraits of top contenders.
One painter had already made a dramatic image of Sun standing atop broken nobles while lightning struck behind him.
Sun stopped.
"I have never stood like that."
Rhea bought two copies.
"For future blackmail."
Children ran through the streets shouting names of fighters.
"Arden Vale!"
"Mira Solenne!"
"Boros Kain!"
Then one smaller voice screamed:
"SPOON KING!"
Half the street joined in.
Sun covered his face.
"I regret surviving."
Nyra's shoulders shook slightly.
He looked at her.
"Are you laughing?"
"No."
"You are."
"No."
"Your ears are smiling."
She turned red instantly and walked faster.
Brin nearly choked laughing.
The Civic Arena Registration Hall stood beside the massive tournament stadium.
Stone terraces rose high into the sky.
Lion banners snapped in the wind.
Crowds packed the outer plaza.
Young fighters stretched, boasted, glared, meditated, flirted, or vomited from nerves.
Sun admired the variety.
Lines were divided into sections:
Noble Houses Sect Entrants Guild Sponsored Independent Fighters
Sun stepped toward Independent.
Lucan Teryn's voice arrived before his face.
"How fitting."
Sun sighed.
"Some plagues announce themselves."
Lucan stood in embroidered blue robes with styled hair and four retainers who looked paid to agree with him.
"You belong in the beggar queue."
Sun looked around.
"I only see the fragile pride line. Are you first?"
Nearby entrants laughed openly.
Lucan flushed.
"You think jokes matter in the arena?"
"No," said Sun. "That's why I'm saving fists."
Lucan stepped closer.
"When I break you publicly—"
"You'll need help lifting your own sword first."
One of Lucan's retainers snorted accidentally.
Lucan turned slowly.
"You are dismissed."
The man looked devastated.
Inside the hall, clerks processed names with the joyless efficiency of people who had seen too much ambition.
Sun reached the desk.
The registrar did not look up.
"Name."
"Sun."
"Family."
"Complicated."
"Clan."
"None."
"Sect."
"None."
"Backer."
Samira stepped forward.
"Lady Samira Dax."
The registrar looked up so fast his neck nearly filed complaint.
"Ah."
He stamped papers aggressively.
"Cultivation level?"
Sun opened his mouth.
Varen answered first.
"Enough."
The registrar wisely chose peace.
He handed Sun a bronze token marked 34.
"Preliminary pairings at noon."
Sun flipped it once.
"Do I get a better number if I win?"
"No."
"Corrupt system."
"Next."
Behind the hall lay practice grounds full of talent and vanity.
Sun watched carefully.
A noble youth spun twin blades with perfect control.
Arden Vale.
Smooth, precise, annoyingly elegant.
Nearby, a woman in white-red robes moved through forms surrounded by subtle heat haze.
Mira Solenne.
Every step calm enough to be dangerous.
Further off, a giant bald man suplexed a training dummy into splinters.
Boros Kain.
Honest profession.
Then a slim scholar-looking youth crashed into Sun while carrying scrolls.
Papers flew everywhere.
"Oh no! Statistics!"
They crouched to gather pages.
Each sheet listed fighters, odds, styles, injury history, and possible upset rates.
Sun blinked.
"You made homework for violence?"
The youth pushed up his glasses.
"Preparation is civilization."
He froze.
"You're him."
"That narrows nobody."
"Spoon King!"
Sun closed his eyes.
"Why does that survive?"
The youth bowed rapidly.
"Jin Quill. Future top eight. Current underdog. I bet on you."
Rhea appeared behind him.
"I bet against him emotionally."
Jin nodded respectfully.
"Strong hedge."
Sun was beginning to hate intelligent strangers.
At noon the pairing boards were unveiled in the central plaza.
Crowds surged like floodwater with money attached.
People climbed rails, shoulders, carts, morals.
Brin physically cleared space by glaring.
Sun found token 34.
Then read the line beside it.
Preliminary Match One: Sun vs Lucan Teryn
He stared.
Then slowly smiled.
Lucan, several rows away, had gone pale enough to reflect sunlight.
Brin slapped Sun's back hard.
"The city loves comedy."
Rhea doubled over laughing.
Nyra's silver eyes gleamed with unmistakable satisfaction.
Samira looked like she'd just spotted dividends.
Varen folded his hands.
"Convenient."
Sun kept staring at the board.
First official fight.
Legal stage.
Witnesses.
No guards to interfere.
No noble excuses.
Then a quiet voice spoke beside him.
"Try not to end it too quickly."
Sun turned.
Mira Solenne stood there.
Amber eyes steady.
Heat shimmering faintly around her sleeves.
She glanced at the pairing board.
"I placed money on match duration."
Then she walked away.
Sun remained frozen.
Rhea screamed with laughter.
Nyra stared at Mira's back with sudden sharp hostility she did not understand.
Sun looked between both women and sighed.
"I haven't even fought yet."
Tomorrow promised violence.
And somehow, complications.
To be continued...