Entoma didn't really think about much of anything for the remainder of the day, the evening came on, she missed dinner and didn't notice. Her mind was elsewhere, so far elsewhere that even she couldn't find it before falling asleep.
She woke up in the early morning, having gone to sleep much earlier than she had intended and glanced out the window as soon as she realized what the day was. From where her residence on campus sat, she could see the ring that was built specifically for her exhibition, seats were set well back, and some enterprising students were setting up additional elevated seating. And unless her many eyes deceived her… 'Are they selling 'tickets' to a free exhibition… those clever little bastards…'
Lines were starting to form and some simple rope guiding posts were erected to lead people into the general viewing area. Vendors took advantage of the moment and began setting up stands or prop up their carts, all ready to go in earnest.
'I have some time still… this must be Lord Ainz' influence…' Entoma realized, his distaste for tardiness had spread itself throughout the many institutions of his empire.
She dressed herself in her customary maid outfit and donned her mask, then posed before the mirror. Her hands open and feet shoulder width apart.
Then instantly she switched her pose to that of a martial artist, "You will fall before my magic, challenger!" She spouted the cheesy line, and struck another pose, the sense of 'fun' fast approaching was hard not to get into.
'Other than the few I've had to actually murder… or tried to murder before, I've never gotten to just show off, to just show to… ev-er-y...one.' Her confidence froze like a stone in ice. 'I'm going to be on public display!' Her spider instincts always kept her to the side, out of the way, avoiding people for the most part. 'And my only real advocate out there is my opponent… no friendly faces… and why would there be? I didn't 'tell' anyone.'
Hundreds and hundreds of eyes would be staring at her standing there in the center watching, judging everything she did. Every gesture, every spell, every motion would be a choice they would certainly pick apart and criticize in detail.
"You're committed. You're committed. You're committed. You're committed." She told herself. And looked over to the door. 'You're representing Lord Ainz, you're representing your maker, you're representing yourself…' Entoma told herself when she walked over to open it.
She thought back to her fight against Keeno, the battle that had nearly killed her, and would have, had it not been for the timely intervention by Lord Demiurge.
'I was angry. But I wasn't afraid. I'm not going to die out there, this is just an exhibition, so why am I like this?' Entoma asked while butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
Had she been able, she would have almost smirked and made a mental note to praise the great leaders that proudly took center stage and spoke before the masses, rallying and driving them to work.
She recalled an expression, 'Dying on stage' and the expression she had taken to be quite melodramatic, very much an exaggeration, suddenly made a great deal more sense.
'You're alright, your very advocate, your friend, he's your opponent and he won't let you shame yourself… it's just a performance…' Entoma told herself, and then opened the door.
She reassured herself with every step, "Just acting, just acting, just acting, just playing a role, you can do this and why couldn't you? It's the part you were literally made to play, just go by instincts and try not to kill him."
She ignored Manaly's curious stare when she walked past him, he held a tray up at just the right height for her, silver and round, it had on it only a single cup.
A cup she definitely did not ignore. The fragrant smell of freshly made coffee. 'That' she snatched up. "Thank you, Manaly." She said, draining it in one go and setting it down on a table while she made for the exit.
"Of course, ma'am, good luck today!" He said with warmth in his voice before she left him alone and closed the door behind her.
When she made it outside, she found that her feet carried her both inexorably and quickly toward her destination, a set of rope lined paths led her into the little arena.
"It's not exactly one of the great arena's of the Empire, but it will do. Don't you think?" Inta asked, and she whirled around to find him standing at her back, her flowing maid robes bouncing from the momentum of her sudden turn.
She found him standing clad not in his usual 'professional' clothing, but outfitted like a soldier of the Black. Runecrafted armor, a sword and short bow, the black painted scalemail armor had a single long white fang in the center from which a lone drop of blood dangled ready to fall.
His hair was cut close in a military fashion, the wavy flow was gone, and it was now more like little brown carpet fibers. "How do I look?" He asked and held his arms out open at his sides. "I haven't worn this in years."
"You look… good." Entoma replied, looking him up and down, "But your symbol of choice is a little… odd. It's so small?"
"Not something any man likes to hear." He laughed until she figured it out, then brought her sleeve covered hand up to cover the mouth of her mask. "But jokes aside…" He touched the white tooth and red drop with one finger, "It's mine. A symbol of what I am, what my sister was. When things began, I joined for a pardon, and made friends, friends I never thought possible. I became a true convert, and realized I was fighting for something other than myself."
"What's that?" Entoma asked, and he shook his head.
"I'll tell you that, 'after' the match." Inta replied to her, then stepped out of the way and pointed to the ring. It was surrounded by long rubber coated ropes and was wide enough to allow both sides to move freely from place to place.
The mat was painted a gentle blue, and was elevated enough to set the combatants out of easy reach, but easily seen by spectators nonetheless.
They walked to the ring side by side and he chatted with her as though there was not a sea of faces watching with anticipation and chattering away making private bets with one another.
"One more word of advice?" He suggested when they reached the ropes.
"Yes?" She asked, and he jumped high into the air and sailed back as gently as a falling leaf to land inches beyond the ropes on the other side.
"Presentation." He said with a fang filled smirk, and backed away with arms open like he wanted a hug until he reached his corner and grabbed the ropes.
"Oh. So that's how it's done." She whispered, and not to be outperformed, Entoma repeated his act, but when she leapt into the air she added a series of combat flips and landed with one leg out and the other bent, one sleeve covered hand toward him and the other thrust to the side.
All conversation died, and a slender, buxom elf at one side of the ring came closer, and hopped between the ropes with the grace of a cat, her blonde hair tumbling around as she rolled and sprang to her feet in the center. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Magic Academy!" The elven woman shouted, "Today we're blessed to have an exhibition between two mighty figures! Here," she gestured to Inta, "a veteran of the War for the New World, one of the few to live through the great southern expedition in the Holy Kingdom, vampire, blood caster, the once Vice Commander, Professor Inta!"
'I recognize her… that's that pretty elven strumpet he was speaking to when I met him… what was her name?' Entoma asked herself when the woman shifted her position.
"Here, we have a former puppet of the Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth, who once stood against His Majesty before she was set free! A powerful entomancer, here to show us what we've never seen before… Professor Entoma!"
As Inta raised his sword aloft and cheers abounded for the 'home team', Entoma raised both of hers in turn, but there was a far more muted response. 'Probably because they mentioned me standing against Lord Ainz… an entirely right response… even if it isn't exactly true.' Still, it stung.
But out in the crowd, though it was hard to tell just where from, there was at least one powerful, cheering voice that was trying to make up for the more muted masses.
'It can't be…' Entoma thought, missing what the elf woman in her little black and white striped skirt and tight laced shirt was saying to the crowd.
"The rules are simple, no killing, no injuring or using the audience as weapons, and the fight continues until one gives up or cannot continue. No breaks, no rest, go till you can't!"
At that the crowd roared, and the buxom elf woman whose name Entoma still could not recall, shouted a quick, "Begin!" And then dove forward toward the ropes, sliding underneath to turn and land on both feet on the other side.
Entoma came to her senses in just enough time to bend backward to avoid the blunted arrow Inta sent her way. It seemed to pass in slow motion, spinning past her eyes before she came to her senses, snapped forward, and used her first spell.