Registration

Kalsen huffed slightly trying to warm his face against the biting cold surrounding him. In a month's time, the city of Banster had undergone a lot of change. The winds had brought in white wonders for the city as it was now covered with a thin layer of snow. But it wasn't called the brown city without any reason as the snow did nothing to hide the mud. In fact, it mixed with the mud extremely well, keeping it hydrated at a time of year when the mud would have dried up or frozen over.

A familiar squelching sound accompanied Kalsen as he made his way to the registration building. A two-story building loomed over the street, casting a long shadow in the weak morning sunlight.

Stopping in front of it, Kalsen took a moment of silence. Almost no one was there.

'Guess everyone is sleeping?' Kalsen thought with a chuckle. He knew the true reason why there was almost no one in the building.

The races were too dangerous for just anyone to participate in. Although people did idolize the races and the people who participated, it was not a viable lifestyle for just anyone to pursue. People valued their own lives too much.

Stirring from his thoughts, Kalsen walked into the building.

*Ding*

Opening the door, Kalsen looked around, it was a truly dreary place. A standard dirty brown floor with yellow-colored walls greeted Kalsen's eyes. At the desk, a receptionist was snoring away peacefully.

Stupified, Kalsen stared at the receptionist.

'No matter if anyone shows up, at least can't you stay awake?' Kalsen thought slightly irked, a face with gray hair and lazy blue eyes popped into Kalsen's mind.

"AHEM," forcefully clearing his throat Kalsen headed towards the receptionist.

Startled, the poor receptionist jerked awake with a start and fell to the floor with a crash.

"Are you okay?" stifling a laugh, Kalsen asked out of courtesy.

"Yep, yep, yep," The receptionist chirped in rapid succession as he got back onto his chair. Straightening his shirt, he asked with what little dignity he could muster, "And what's your business here?"

"I'm here to register for the Terra prelims," Kalsen responded dryly. Like anyone would have come to the registration office for any other work.

Shocked, the receptionist stared at the boy in front of him. A slightly skinny, fair-skinned boy with black hair and obsidian black eyes, a scarf around his neck, and a peculiar set of gloves that covered the majority of his arms. But he looked no older than ten years of age.

"You know that the minimum age of registration is ten years old right?" The receptionist asked dubiously.

"I'm eleven. Now, are you going to give the form or not?"

"..."

In the end, it was not the receptionist's place to judge. Handing Kalsen the form, he watched Kalsen fill out the necessary details. Having learned to read and write after working under Yetri for two years, Kalsen filled out all the details required.

In the name section, he wrote 'Spectrum'. He had been warned by Yetri not to use his real name in the races. After all, he always ran the risk of attracting some unwanted company between races.

Receiving the application, the receptionist started to explain, "The format of the prelims will be announced on the day of the race. It will take place within a month's time in the Muddy plains, please arrange your own transport to the race."

Nodding, Kalsen turned around and walked face-first into a wall of muscle.

"Ssss," Drawing in a breath and rubbing his forehead, Kalsen stared at the wall that he had walked into.

"Sorry kid, move aside." The wall commanded and walked forward. Kalsen quickly sidestepped, 'The hell's his problem.'

Musing, Kalsen walked out to find a small crowd gathering in front of the registration building. It was sort of tradition for the populace to see who would register in the death race. Pulling his scarf closer to hide his face, Kalsen slipped into the crowd.

'Nice, arriving early to avoid the crowd was a good idea,' Kalsen thought happily as he made his way through the crowd unnoticed.

Almost unnoticed that is. A certain pair of eyes followed Kalsen without his knowledge. They traced Kalsen until he finally disappeared into the streets. The owner of the eyes stayed there for the rest of the day without food and with only a meager supply of water.

At the end of the day when the registrations were closed, the little child sentry made their way back to the orphanage where they reported everyone who had registered that day. Diligently listing out the names, the little child waited and was rewarded with a single loaf of bread. Clutching it like a precious treasure, the child waddled into their bed.

Wolfing it down, the child stared at the dark and musty ceiling, still feeling the pangs of hunger rock their body.

'.....big bro Kalsen.....I'm sorry....'

Curling into a ball to stifle the hunger, the abyss of sleep finally claimed the child's consciousness.

---------------------

A sleek white shuttle landed in the port. The weak sunshine bathed the shuttle and dyed it a sunset orange. People's breaths were sucked right out of them as they gazed at the shuttle.

While Banster may have been the trading capital of the planet, it certainly did not see such well-developed shuttles at all. In fact, such shuttles were rarely ever seen in the entire Terra planetary system.

A neatly dressed boulder of a man pushed his way to the front of a forming crowd and made his way to the shuttle.

Just as the crowd was going to laugh at his foolishness, the shuttle doors opened welcoming him inside. Closing tightly, the shuttle driver wasted no further second and took off, leaving the onlookers in awe.

Ginsberg watched through the window, a slimy smile etched onto his face. He was finally off the wretched planet. He was finally on his way to deliver the stone and reclaim his lost favor with the royal family.