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The day was hot and humid and full of excitement.

I made my way trough the torrent of tourists, tournament enthusiasts and pickpockets, used my pass on the scanner and entered the fancy, air conditioned building that housed the registration office.

The cut off period was noon today and so only one lone, but nonetheless very cute girl was still manning the desk. Despite my tardiness, she welcomed me with a cheerful smile. “Hello Cutie, are you here to enter the great Rasheul slave tournament?”

I nodded in confirmation and showed the receptionist my pass. She hummed a tune as she checked my credentials.

“You made it trough the qualifiersI Great job! You probably heard this all before, but rules are rules. Gotta brief you anyways. Sorry about that.”

She smiled apologetically, coughed once and completely changed her demeanor.

“Alright, listen up Dude! The 129th Rasheul great slave tournament features a grand total of 128 combatants. In seven nail biting and chest pounding fights you will have to hack, slash, bite and blow your way to victory in a no holds barred match. And we are not kidding around here. Weapons are allowed, as well as items, magic and whatever else you can think of. Only requirement is that you can carry your gear and enter the arena alone. Gnarly.”

After a short pause, perhaps to gauge if I was actually paying attention or to take a breath, she continued.

“Fights lasts until one participants gives up or kicks the bucket. But, chillax dude our spooky, scary necromancers have you covered. The whole arena is drenched in a Level 3 reviving spell, that will heal all wounds, including a sudden case of mortality, once the battle is concluded. Radical!”

“Swagger your way trough the whole tournament and you will loot the grand price of a cool 50.000 Gold coins as well as a free mansion in the ritzy noble hill district of Rasheul! Swagalicious!”

Excluding the clerks questionable attitude, everything seemed fairly standard for such a competition. But of course the Rasheul Great Slave Tournament wouldn't attract tourists from well beyond the Free Cities if it wasn't for that one peculiarity that made it so enticing.

The girl gave me a huge grin.

“There is one single, major rule that is a huge biggie. If you die in a battle, whatever dude. But if you happen to surrender to your opponent or whack yourself, a magic spell of absolute obedience will be placed upon you. Henceforth you will serve whoever defeated you as a slave for the rest of your life! Oh Nooooooo!”

Finishing with one last dramatic gesture, the clerk blushed a bit and coughed. “I'm sorry. Corporate is trying to appeal to a younger demographic this year. Not a fan. Aaaanywaaaaaays, do you consent to the terms and services as outlined in the extended contract?”

It was definitely quite the vicious set up. But of course, nobody who stepped into this office hasn't yet made up their mind. “I consent.”

“Yay! Yay! I’m so happy!” The girl proceeded to jump up and down exactly three times. “You retain the right to forfeit a match as long as the battle hasn't started. There are some other minor details with which I won't trouble you for now. You can peruse them at your leisure on the extended contract. I just need your signature here, here and here and do a quick scan of your fight pass and we are done.”

This was it. I took a huge breath.

Time to put my name down.

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