Favour

Dragging Manu to a corner of the plaza, Kalsen commanded, "Stay here and stay out of sight. It'll be bad if anyone from the orphanage finds you here."

Manu sniffed and nodded.

Thinking for a second, Kalsen draped his cloak onto Manu and walked back into the crowd. Clutching the cloak, Manu watched as his big brother figure waded back into the crowd.

'Sh**, I didn't expect them to find out this early. They had to send Manu of all people…..' Kalsen cursed in his head. Manu was an excellent sentry for the orphanage, but Kalsen did not expect the head to give such importance to the registration center in Banster.

*Shiver*

An itching sensation began to spread across his arms.

'I didn't think he knew that I was alive after the state in which Ginsberg left me.'

*Shiver*

Kalsen's arms started to tremble.

The moment Ginsberg entered his head, Kalsen's hatred flared up along with the itching sensation in his hands.

It was the orphanage that had sold him out to Ginsberg and led to him ultimately losing his mother's gift to him.

Kalsen's arms began to shake and itch uncontrollably.

Gritting his teeth, Kalsen made his way to a side of the plaza. Trembling, removing a pouch from his pockets, he slid his gloves off his hands using his teeth.

Green veins throbbed hideously as his blood rushed back and forth. The itching sensation exponentially burst out and assaulted his senses.

*shiver* *shiver* *shiver*

Biting his tongue, Kalsen used all his willpower to resist the itching in his burnt arms. Opening the pouch with shaky hands, Kalsen clumsily dumped the contents onto his arms.

"Tsss" Drawing in a deep breath, Kalsen held in the urge to shout as the medicine did its work. The deep green medicine flowed into the creases of the reddish burnt skin.

An unknown amount of time passed as Kalsen breathed out heavily, his arms still shaking.

{ALL PARTICIPANTS, FIVE MINUTES LEFT UNTIL CHECK-IN STALLS CLOSE}

Snapping out of his reverie, Kalsen hastily slid his gloves back onto his arms and rushed to the nearest stall.

"Damn!...." Cursing slightly, Kalsen calmed himself down and removed the thought of Ginsberg and all related events from his mind. He needed to focus before the match or else he wouldn't be alive to see the next day.

"Contestant, state your name," A clerk manning the stall indifferently asked.

"Spectrum," Kalsen wheezed out in between breaths.

Listening to the young ragged voice, the clerk turned her head in slight surprise.

Taking in Kalsen's sweat-streaked face, shaking hands, and wheezing, a flicker of sympathy appeared in her eyes. But just as quickly as it appeared, it fizzled out into nothingness. The clerk nodded and confirmed the registration into the database. Years of running this job had made her numb to the tragedies seen from sealing one's fate.

Once confirmed to enter a race, it was bound by universal law. No one was exempt from this. If anyone tried to escape their fate, they would be hunted down in mysterious ways and killed.

Handing a ticket to Kalsen the clerk mentioned, "This is your entry into the race, take it to the mechanic and pick out your vehicle.....make sure to take one suited for semi-solid ground." Adding that last piece of advice was all the clerk could do for the poor boy.

Kalsen nodded and grabbed the ticket with his still-shaky hands and made his way to the mechanic.

'The race is going to take place in the Muddy Plains, so I have to choose wisely...' Kalsen's thoughts trailed off before the massive warehouse that stretched out in front of him. Many people rushed to and fro through the warehouse, selecting their chosen vehicle and exchanging their tickets to claim temporary possession.

"The Boster is mine!"

"F*** off! I saw it first!"

"Oh, my~ that paint job is making you look real fiiiine~"

"My Soulmate!"

"Boss! Gimme that chopper!"

Various shouts, arguments, and conversations charged through the atmosphere in the warehouse.

Concealing his presence, Kalsen made his way through the warehouse. People arguing for a certain vehicle, some running from one end to another trying to find their preferred vehicle, and others silently pondering about their options. Kalsen witnessed all these sorts of people.

It was the last 4 or so minutes from which confirmation for participation would close. In another 30 minutes, all the participants were in a rush to pick a good vehicle to aid them in the death race that was about to occur.

Combing his way through the areal vehicles, Kalsen remembered the advice of the clerk.

'....make sure to take one suited for semi-solid ground.'

Pondering for a while, Kalsen decided, 'I think it's for the best, I don't know what kind of dangers would be in the air during the race.'

Taking a look at a group of people clamoring for aerial vehicles, Kalsen shook his head slightly and walked to the land vehicles.

Misty stars of excitement filled Kalsen's eyes as he gazed at all the cars, buses, trucks, bikes, and various other modes of transport that he had only read about. Their shiny new parts, the slick paint, and the rugged look that each one had, all of it struck a chord with Kalsen. Unknowingly a smile crept up his face.

While Kalsen was entranced by the sights, he failed to notice a pair of eyes that were following his every move.

{CHECK-IN STALLS ARE NOW CLOSED, ALL CONFIRMED PARTICIPANTS, PLEASE CHOOSE YOUR VEHICLE WITHIN THE NEXT 30 MINUTES FOR THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE RACE.}

Sucking in his breath, Kalsen stopped sight-seeing and went on to seriously compare the vehicles for the race.

'The landrover is a good choice, but it would lack the necessary defensive capabilities,' Kalsen noted looking at a bare metal frame that looked like it was meant for speed.

'If I want defense then....' Kalsen turned to look at a tank but shook his head immediately.

'Too slow. A hovercar is completely useless in this environment, a racecar would just be suicide, an armored car would be useful,.....' Kalsen's thoughts continued to pump through his head. All the cars had obviously been fitted with tires that would run on the muddy earth that made up the entirety of muddy plains.

Eventually considering his size and build, Kalsen decided on the armored car which would give him a balance of defense while not sacrificing too much speed.

Walking up to the workers of the warehouse, Kalsen asked, "Boss, I want the armored car over there."

The worker looked down at the boy curiously.

"You sure kid? You don't want any one of the fancier cars?" He asked out of curiosity.

Kalsen firmly shook his head, "No. They would be useless for the race. The only reason they are there is to act as bait for some idiots."

Just as Kalsen finished someone shouted, "THE SPIRITS LAMBO IS MINE!"

The worker chuckled after taking a glance at the candidate who announced his idiocy, "Well said. They are indeed bait. Although what made you go for the armored car?"

Turning back to Kalsen, there was a hidden glint in his eyes. He had caught something in his peripheral vision that angered him to no extent. But he had no choice in the matter. He was bound to comply, whether he liked it or not.

Not noticing anything strange, Kalsen answered calmly, "It's the best choice for someone my size. I wouldn't be able to use the other faster cars without fear of falling off, and the other bulkier ones are too slow for the race."

The worker paused in shock. 'The kid has truly thought of everything...It's a shame,' he thought ruefully.

Continuing to engage Kalsen in conversation, after a few more dialogues, Kalsen finally started to feel that something was wrong.

Suddenly the worker fixed his gazed right behind Kalsen, and at the same time the back of his head tingled with an intense reaction to impending danger.

Unable to react or move his body in time, the last thing Kalsen felt was his world going black.

Catching the unconscious boy, the worker sighed in frustration.

"Manager, remember your duty." The assailant reminded with a cold voice.

"I know," the manager disguised as a worker gnashed his teeth.

The manager held the boy in his arms with very high regard for the maturity and information known at his extremely young age. But if you had caught the eye of the Orphanage, there was nothing you could do.

"Now that's another problem sorted," the assailant mumbled.

"So nothing will change if he wakes up right before the race starts now does it." The manager stated with a low voice.

The assailant stared at the manager and snorted before melting back into the crowd.

The manager sighed deeply and went on with his job. He had done his best for the boy. While he did like him, there was no way that he would risk his own life to help him. Waking the boy up just before the start of the race would be his passing favour to Kalsen.