As I’d noticed from the outside, the Gameskeeper’s Arena was divided into two circles: an outer ring where all the bathrooms, walkways, and concession stands were located, and an inside circle where the actual stands and the arena itself were. In true Nik style, my seat was the cheapest possible, way up in the nosebleed section. Getting there was going to require a lot more stairs, but at least the walk wouldn’t be boring.
In a normal arena in a normal city, walking to your seat would have meant passing through a gauntlet of cotton candy, pretzels, and overpriced beer. But this was a death arena at the bottom of the DFZ Underground. Just getting to the right floor, we passed ten brothels, fifteen strip clubs, and more drug vendors and VR sex parlors than I’d seen in all of Loveland. Even the bathrooms were pay per use and lined with fliers for call girls who’d come meet you at your seat. Maximum skeeze.
Ironically, the only vice I didn’t see much of was gambling, which was shocking until I realized I just hadn’t walked far enough. The moment I turned off the main circle and into the wide cement hallway that would take me to my actual seat, my AR was inundated with bookie-bots. When Sibyl cleared them out enough for me to see where I was walking, I noticed there were physical betting kiosks as well, both digital touch-screen booths and actual windows with people at them for the truly old-fashioned.
Even by the DFZ’s slot-machine-on-every-corner standard, it was an impressively comprehensive set up. I also understood now why security at the gate had been so lax. This place didn’t make its money off ticket sales. That was just to get people in the door so they could get caught up in the real shakedown matrix of gambling, booze, and sex services, all priced at triple what you’d pay anywhere else. If I hadn’t been stuck in the web myself, I would have been impressed by the world-class money-funnel the Gameskeeper had created. Even up in the cheap seats, my chair came equipped with a full digital display that let me order food, booze, and party drugs delivered right to my seat. There was even an option to buy a direct connection to the drone camera network so I could watch the action up close.
I actually did spring for that last one. Like I said, the arena was big. If I didn’t pay for a better camera, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tell which of the tiny dots was Nik and which was his opponent.
It was still early, so the seats next to me were empty, but I had a feeling they wouldn’t be for long. Going by the crowds outside, it was going to be a packed house. I was perversely proud that Nik had drawn such a big turnout when Sibyl informed me that wasn’t exactly the case.
“Saturdays are always sold out,” she said, throwing a colorful schedule into my augmented vision. “This is a bit more than usual, but he’s hardly the only thing on show tonight. Nik’s the headliner, but there are four undercard events before his.”
I groaned. “You mean I’ve got to sit through four other fights before Nik even comes out?”
“That’s the schedule,” Sibyl said cheerfully. “A hotly anticipated one, too, if the comments are anything to go by.”
Imagining what sort of person commented on a death arena schedule, I didn’t take that as a good sign. “Is it going to be bloody?”
“The program just says the show will be ‘thrilling beyond your wildest dreams.’ But there’s a big graphic of splattering blood, so I’m guessing yes.”
I slumped down in my plastic chair. Great. Apparently being here for Nik also meant being here for an entire night of carnage courtesy of the Gameskeeper, the same guy who’d told Kauffman to buy my cockatrices because their capacity for suffering created good on-stage drama. Just thinking about what that implied made me sick to my stomach, which sucked because the horrible wrong feeling from earlier still hadn’t gone away. The combination was seriously making me want to dry heave, so I decided to try an anti-nausea spell. Nothing fancy, just my own lazy variation of the anti-hangover spell every mage learns in college. When I reached for magic to give it a shot, though, the power slipped right back out of my fingers.
“What the?”
I tried again, scowling as I grabbed a handful of the ambient magic that was always floating around in the DFZ, except for some reason, the magic here wasn’t cooperating. I could grab it just fine, but the moment I tried to shape it into anything useful, the power snapped out of my grasp like someone was yanking it away.
“Did you feel that?”
The question was meant for the DFZ, but strangely, my dad was the one who answered. “Yes. The magic is odd here.”
“How do you know that?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Dragons don’t use human magic.”
“Just because we can’t shove it around like you do doesn’t mean we aren’t aware of it,” he said, his shoulders hunched as he floated above the empty seat next to mine. “Also, it’s hard not to feel changes in the ambient power when you’re made of magic yourself.”
I could see that. “What does it feel like?”
“Like I’m floating in the ocean and the tide is going out,” Yong said, shifting his transparent body uncomfortably. “I don’t know what’s causing it, but all the power in this place is definitely pulling to the left.”
I frowned. “Pulling to the left?”
My father nodded. “It is most uncomfortable.”
I still wasn’t following, and Yong sighed. “Imagine this place is a bowl,” he said, waving his hand at the huge arena with its rings of seating going all the way down to the actual fighting circle at the center. “Now imagine it’s filled with water that someone
