"Think of it as the opening warm-up spectacular," Gemini explained with the enthusiasm of someone sharing insider secrets. "Every nation brings something unique, and honestly, the mascot performances are half the reason people attend these matches. Hermione told me about their fourth-year World Cup experience—Bulgaria's Veela nearly hypnotized Harry and Ron into leaping from the top box like lovesick lemmings."
She gestured dismissively at her absent friends' legendary gullibility. "No shame in my storytelling game. I'm curious what the Central Land Daoist Sect prepared—those people have access to wonders that would make Ollivander weep with envy."
Tony leaned forward with speculative excitement. "Real pandas? Please tell me it's real pandas."
"Absolutely not," Happy interjected with the confidence of someone correcting obvious errors. "The panda puppets are busy providing transportation services. An occasion this prestigious demands something exponentially more spectacular."
Tony glared at his bodyguard with mock offense. "Contradict me again and I'm docking your salary for insubordination."
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to..."
Trilingual announcements cascaded through the stadium in Chinese, Japanese, and English, transforming the cacophonous crowd into reverent silence. The central advertisement display flickered and cleared, preparing for something infinitely more impressive than commercial messaging.
Everyone settled into expectant quiet, waiting for the words that would unleash the evening's entertainment.
"Now, please welcome the performance brought by the Central Land Daoist Sect—Moon Shadow!"
Sharp whistling sounds erupted from beyond the stadium walls. Gemini launched herself upright with a shriek that challenged banshee acoustics. "FLYING SWORDS! FLYING SWORDS! DEAR MERLIN'S BEARD, THEY BROUGHT FLYING SWORDS!"
"What are—" Tony's question died in his throat as he found himself standing without conscious decision, drawn upward by pure instinct.
A beam of pure moonlight descended from the celestial orb above, materializing in the stadium as a silver torrent that defied every law of physics Tony thought he understood. Closer inspection revealed the impossible truth—hundreds of gleaming Chinese longswords in infinite variety, flowing like liquid metal given purpose and grace.
The sword-stream danced around the stadium in impossible spirals, weaving between spectator sections while generating screams that could have shattered crystal. Pure joy made audible.
After several circuits of aerial ballet, the flying swords scattered like startled birds, hovering above the field with tips pointing earthward. Each blade emanated soft silver radiance, transforming the stadium into a constellation brought to ground level.
Then came the masterpiece. The swords flowed together like mercury responding to magnetic forces, forming the silhouette of an ancient beauty in traditional robes. She danced in the moonlight with movements so graceful they seemed to slow time itself, every gesture poetry written in silver and starlight.
Tens of thousands of spectators sat mesmerized, barely breathing, afraid that sound might shatter the spell.
Finally, the sword-maiden ascended along her moonbeam, dissolving into the night sky like a dream reluctantly surrendering to dawn. The entire stadium released a collective sigh that sounded like wind through autumn leaves.
Gemini's face blazed crimson with excitement and longing. "I've wanted flying swords since I first learned they existed, but they're not commercially available! You need specialized training, licensing examinations, practical assessments—the whole process makes Muggle pilot certification look like a weekend hobby course."
Tony studied the empty sky with growing unease. "That was China's contribution. What exactly is Japan planning to unleash? Because honestly, after yesterday's cultural demonstration, I'm experiencing some legitimate anxiety about their creative choices."
Before he could complete his thought, bone-deep cold slammed into their skulls like ice picks driven by malevolent intent. The stadium erupted in screams—not the joyful celebration of moments before, but primal terror that spoke to evolutionary memories of things that hunted humans in the dark.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?!" Tony fumbled for his wand with trembling fingers, firing random spells at shadows that shouldn't exist. Light blazed toward something crouched behind their seating area.
Everyone spun around and collectively recoiled. A woman in tattered white robes hunched on their floor in positions that violated human anatomy. Black hair cascaded over twisted limbs, revealing one blood-red eye that fixed on the ordinary humans with predatory hunger.
Screams intensified throughout the stadium. Gemini herded her employees behind her protective stance, recognition dawning with horrified clarity. "Vengeful spirits. Japanese specialty. THAT'S their mascot choice?!"
"At that time, the Heavenly Honored One of Salvation pervaded all ten directions. Always using divine power to rescue and save all beings, helping them escape from confusion..."
Solemn chanting cut through the chaos like a blade through silk. Golden light blazed across their box, and the vengeful spirit shrieked with sounds that belonged in nightmares before crumbling to ash.
The chanting swelled, drowning every other sound in divine authority. Golden flashes erupted throughout the stadium as more spirits met their final dissolution. Gemini spotted the source—a familiar elderly man seated serenely on a broad flying sword, floating above the field's center. His voice carried impossible distances without apparent effort.
Finally, the bone-chilling presence evaporated completely. No more golden purification, no more inhuman shrieks. The old cultivator spoke briefly in Chinese before departing on his sword with casual efficiency.
Gemini swore she caught his words, though comprehension eluded her: "What are these little Japanese thinking? Such a grand occasion and they send us 'gifts' like this. Definitely not good people."
The announcer's voice returned, strained and clearly rattled. "Everyone was... startled by the Japanese delegation's mascot presentation. It seems the audience found it... less than entertaining." Professional composure barely masked his obvious distress. "Now please welcome our Quidditch players!"
"First to enter—the Central Land Daoist Sect representatives! Chasers Gong Zhuang, Wang Yuehua, Liu Yumei! Beaters Huang Tianhua, Li Shenglong! And finally, Seeker Qu Liangjun!"
Tony nearly dropped his Omnioculars in recognition. "WAIT! That's the volunteer from our arrival day! The guy who helped with our luggage!"
Everyone raised their magical binoculars for closer inspection. Qu Liangjun waved from his position with the same friendly demeanor they remembered.
"He's actually a professional player!" Pepper marveled. "And here we thought he was just being helpful with tourist services."
"Hold on," Tony interrupted, studying the field through his enhanced lenses. "Didn't you say this sport used broomsticks? Why is everyone standing on flying swords like they're surfing through the air?"
The Chinese team demonstrated aerial artistry that transformed transportation into performance art. Each player balanced on their sword with casual elegance, occasionally executing flourishes that drew appreciative roars from the crowd.
"The organizing committee apparently spent months negotiating to prevent sword-based competition," Gemini explained while drooling over the magical implements. "Completely unfair advantage over traditional broomstick riders. But pre-game demonstrations are technically allowed, and honestly..." She sighed wistfully. "Speed doesn't matter. Style is eternal. Those swords represent lifetime goals."
"Now welcoming the Japanese team! Yamamoto Ichiro, Watanabe Daigo, Mouri Junichiro..."
Tony glanced briefly at the opposing team before dismissing them entirely. Standard broomsticks, standard uniforms, standard everything. No innovation, no flair, no reason to divert attention from the sword-riding spectacle.
"Why do they all have 'Ichiro' names?" he wondered aloud.
Gemini rolled her eyes. "How would I possibly know Japanese naming conventions?"
Banner cleared his throat with scholarly authority. "Historical cultural factors, actually. Lower literacy rates in earlier periods meant families with multiple children used simple numerical naming systems. First son becomes Ichiro, second becomes Jiro, and so forth. Practical efficiency over creativity."
His explanation fell on deaf ears as everyone's attention remained fixed on the sword-riders. Banner coughed awkwardly. "Hulk, did you find that educational?"
Internal consultation provided no clear response.
"Finally, please welcome our referee! Madam Hooch from Hogwarts, Britain! Players, please switch to regulation broomsticks! The match begins momentarily!"
Gemini exclaimed with delighted recognition, pressing her Omnioculars closer to her eyes. "It really is Madam Hooch! Hogwarts' flying instructor! I'd heard rumors about her referee certification, but seeing her here proves it's legitimate!"
The Chinese players reluctantly dismounted their flying swords, replacing them with regulation broomsticks that looked positively mundane by comparison. Several spectators audibly groaned at the aesthetic downgrade.
Tony settled back into his seat with mixed emotions. The evening had already provided enough cultural shock to fuel months of conversation, and the actual match hadn't even begun.
"Well," he muttered, adjusting his Omnioculars for optimal viewing, "this is definitely going to be more interesting than any sporting event I've ever attended."
The stadium hummed with anticipation as players took their positions, referee prepared her whistle, and tens of thousands of spectators settled in for what promised to be an unforgettable evening of magical athletics.
Tonight would redefine their understanding of both sport and spectacle.
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