Unperturbed by the chilly reception, the man went on. “I am Duodecuple, and I’ve been given the honor of being your referee for this great battle. Pleased to make your acquaintances.”
The picture of humility and respect, Duodecuple offered a deep bow.
Well, I don’t see myself ever pronouncing that name right, Boar thought, otherwise mostly uninterested in the man’s arrival. He had interrupted—and spoiled—the tense moment between her and the sword-wielding man, who now seemed to have forgotten about her and was instead staring at Duodecuple with a strange gleam in his eyes. Some others might have taken the swordsman’s demeanor as that of rapt attention, but Boar knew better—he was trying to decide whether or not he could kill the old man on the spot.
So, Boar thought, he determines friend and foe according to whom he can and cannot kill. Surprise, surprise. I thought I’d be the only one here who worked that way.
She wondered if the old man detected the menace hidden in the swordsman’s stare.
Duodecuple said, “Without any further ado, let’s go over the rules, shall we? If you please, direct your attention to the central table.”
Somehow, the table had been cleared and the food replaced with twelve murky-black, jewel-like orbs. Murky, but beautiful. Each jewel was identical in size, color, and otherwise, but the significance of their number—twelve—was not lost on Boar.
“Everyone,” the judge said, “please take one apiece.”
Keeping their eyes on each other, the twelve fighters approached the table to collect their orbs.
Although, not all twelve—remaining motionless were the dead one, obviously, and the sleeping one too.
If that kid doesn’t wake up, Boar thought, he’ll just lose via forfeit.
But to her surprise, one combatant shook him awake on the way back from claiming an orb.
I see you’re still refusing to mind your own business, Monkey.
Monkey and Boar hadn’t shared the same battlefield in quite some time, but apparently the woman’s meddlesome streak hadn’t changed. After their last encounter, Boar figured that the next time the two met, one of them would die, and present circumstances called for no revision to that sentiment.
The jewel’s murky black appeared darker up close. Rolling her jewel in her fingers, Boar thought, What surprises me is that, with all these fighters and all their apparent peculiarities, especially this dangerous one—she glanced at the sword-wielding man—they’re each following to the letter the instructions of this so-called judge, a man we’ve never seen or heard before. I guess that just goes to show how major an event this Zodiac War is. I mean, I knew that going in, but one can’t really comprehend it until one’s here.
Without a token word of thanks to Monkey, the awakened boy sleepily claimed his orb. Now only one remained unclaimed.
“Hey, Mr. Judge guy,” one fighter said, raising his hand. “Since my brother’s orb is left over, I don’t see there’s any problem in my taking it, is there?”
When Boar turned her attention to the face of the man who was so brazenly attempting to gain a leg-up on his competition, what she saw startled her. His face was a nearly identical match to the one on the severed head, which by now was drawing no particular notice. There were differences in expression, of course—one was animated and the other frozen in an anguished death grimace—but once seen, the similarities were unmistakable.
Were they twins? Boar wondered. Both had similar-looking tanks strapped onto their backs—perhaps some kind of weapon. Twin fighters … Could they be those criminals, the Tatsumi Brothers?
Though some might have been offended by the man caring more about the worth of the jewels than the death of his twin brother, Duodecuple’s response was placid. “Please, go ahead. I don’t mind. Take it.”
The twin scooped up the orb intended for his brother with a victorious laugh. “How about that? Score!”
“However,” Duodecuple continued. “I’m going to have to ask you to swallow only one.”
“Wait, what? Swallow? This thing?”
“Yes. And that goes for all of you. Please swallow your jewels—without biting them, mind you. Water has been provided should you need it.”
Boar hesitated, not because she desired her jewel for its value—she had never wanted for money—but the size of the thing held her back for a moment. But when the swordsman swallowed his, followed by the sleeping youth, and then Monkey, Boar sensed this was no time for indecision. This battle might have just been starting, but it had started. Any open sign of fear would designate her the first target. Besides, her pride wouldn’t allow such a public display of cowardice.
“Has everyone swallowed their jewels?” Duodecuple asked, surveying the room. “All right, allow me to explain what they are. Those little orbs are a kind of crystallized poison. We call them beast gems. When ingested by a human, they undergo a unique chemical reaction with gastric acid and become fatal in roughly twelve hours.”
This might have been a shocking announcement, but of the eleven combatants, none reacted with surprise. As soon as they had been told to swallow the jewels—if not sooner—they all recognized the gems weren’t there to improve their health. Boar hadn’t figured out the tasteless crystal was poison, but when the reveal came, her thoughts were along the lines of, Yeah, that makes sense. If anything, it was anticlimactic.
The twin who had claimed his brother’s spare orb said, “Damn, I’m not going to get any money for poison,” but he still pocketed it in a shrewd move that belied his superficial front.
Duodecuple continued, “The jewels have been shaped in such a way that regurgitation is impossible. My deepest apologies for the inconvenience. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s go over the basic rules. I won’t repeat them, so please listen attentively. That said, the rules have been simplified this time around, and there should be no room for confusion. The Eleventh Zodiac War got a little overly complicated, and we’re not above recognizing when we’ve made a mistake.”
“The fighter who collects all twelve orbs will be the victor and will be granted a single wish—any wish at all.”
Simple indeed. But it did leave some room for questions. Whether or not Boar wanted to do the asking herself, she wasn’t sure. If possible, she would have liked to observe the other combatants asking—depending on who asked and the questions they raised, she might be able to glean crucial information about her adversaries for the coming death match. Now was an opportunity to find out something about the natures of the fighters she hadn’t yet met.
Unfortunately, the first inquiry came from a fighter she already knew well—Ox.
Well, what fighter wouldn’t know “the Natural”?
“Mr. Duodecuple, sir,” Ox said, correctly pronouncing the judge’s name, “if we’ve all taken poison, doesn’t that mean that win or lose, we’re all going to die?”
Ox was a distinctly morose man with black hair almost as long as he was tall—and he was undoubtedly a favorite to win. Boar thought him foolish for asking the question as soon as it came to him, without regard for strategy. On the other hand, he’d never needed to resort to trickery to win a battle.
“An obvious question,” Duodecuple replied. “I hope the obvious answer will suffice. You need not be concerned. The victor will be provided the antidote. Consider it a bonus prize.”
In other words, it was win or die. And not only that, but becoming the sole survivor wasn’t good enough on its own—complete victory had to come within twelve hours, or the antidote might come too late. If anyone was going to survive this battle, he or she needed to secure the win within the allotted time. Considering the caliber of the chosen fighters, this was not going to be a simple task.
But that’s not the real issue …
As if finishing Boar’s thought, Ox asked, “You said that the orbs react to stomach acid, right? That means that they’ll dissolve in our stomachs?”
“That is correct,” the judge responded, “and astute as well. The exact rate of absorption will vary slightly from person to person, but the process is one-way and absolute. As the time limit approaches, the jewels will begin to shrink and eventually disappear.”
If the poison should completely dissolve in the stomach of just one fighter, no one could win. No matter how you counted it, eleven capsules weren’t going to be enough.