Those In A Rush

In an old room sat a neatly dressed old man. Against his obvious signs of aging, his face and hair was well groomed. Currently he was filtering through several papers and stone tablets. He stacked them according to a process only known by him, but it made several neat piles on the desk he sat at.

Perhaps it was not only due to his old age, but stress that added the wrinkles upon his face. Behind the serious look was a pair of eyes that long since lost their twinkle. A person devoid of all ambition.

An orb began to glow with a pale purple color. This orb was located on his right, resting upon a pedestal. It was one of the few objects not covered with a layer of dust, a testament to its occasional use. With a low grunt the old man stood up and walked to the orb. Brushing his hand over the surface of it he spoke, "What is it?"

A magic projection lifted five inches off the surface. A face with a pair of glasses appeared, their appearance disgruntled and unorganized, "Chief! You have to see the results of some of the newcomers!"

"Why does it matter? You know our position."

"But if we can-"

"I wouldn't want to ruin a talented warrior's future."

"Chief. . ."

"This is useless news, you should have not bothered me."

"I sent you a few of their records. Promise me you will take a look at them."

The old man sighed, "If that will be enough to convince you."

"Thank you. . . and Chief?"

"What is it?"

"Don't lose hope."

Closing their eyes the old man nodded, "Got it."

The projection flickered and cut off. A sigh escaped the old mans lips, "'Don't lose hope'. . ."

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Wrock shook his head, "Sorry, but I'm not interested!"

"Well take this, if you ever reconsider you can find my information there. Ask for me and I'll be right over!"

Wrock accepted a thin crystal slip, it was like a small card. Glancing at the surface he nodded, "Will do!"

This was the third recruiter. Ever since he entered The Gated Arena he was pestered to join different Provinces. Their offers would be tempting to many, especially if one was looking to improve. Wrock would be lying if he said he wasn't interested at first. However joining one of the Provinces also had a lot of restrictions. Much like joining a Guild in a way.

It wasn't worth to him, or to any of the Party members, to be restricted so much for a bit of improvement. They find a certain amount of freedom is needed to come into contact with inspiration. Besides they were used to not being restricted.

Besides the recruitment annoyance, Wrock found the rest of The Gated Arena to be a pleasant experience. It operated much like a city, but purely on a self improvement system. There was no such thing as a currency system, rather everything balanced on individuals working to find their limit. Food was served by skilled and talented chefs constantly perfecting their craft. Clothing provided by those working to make the finest of clothes. Armor and weapons repaired and created by those who wish to forge the perfect weapon. The most rampant type of people would be the warriors, who seem to be the sort of middle ground.

Warriors seem to come from certain areas bearing raw material. They didn't trade these materials, rather they simply deposited it and it was distributed to the places who would use it the most efficiently. A constant cycle that produced very little waste. It was impressive, but Wrock believed it to hold a very key flaw. If at any point that a person decides they no longer wish to improve themselves, they would provide hardly any worth to The Gated Arena. It's entire ecosystem was built upon a person's desire to improve themself. Despite how shaky it was, it was clear it worked. Perhaps The Gated Arena's strict requirement for entry played a key part in keeping it functional.

From what Wrock understood, the Provinces were for those who wished to improve by fighting other talented warriors. By creating a competitive system for those to better themselves. For status like rankings and increase their name's value. Competitions are quite a key part in stimulating growth. Yet the recruitment felt off, they almost seemed to be in a hurry.

His attention was drawn to the food hall. Several warriors began to crowd inside. Wrock decided to join to see what the commotion was all about. As he squeezed past several of them he found five individuals furiously cooking. Plates of different kinds of food were being served at an incredible speed. Yet were also being consumed at a greater rate.

Although the food provided a pleasant aroma, Wrock was more drawn to the raging fire within the chefs' eyes. It seemed like the competitive nature was not rampant in only the warriors. A count was being kept on a wall, each number going up at different speeds.

"Yomi takes the lead! Thirty minutes left on the clock! Who will emerge victorious?!"