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The proceedings that proceeded after were but a whizz and a blur of many fast, many frantic happenings that were a continuous, unending chain of events too paradoxically infinite to even having a semblance of keeping count.

My elbow joints on both sides throb incessantly with the phantom sensations of many, many pairs of hands as a result of being continuously tossed, hauled, flung, unwittingly and unwillingly, from one end of an area to the other. 

I have heard many blood-curdling tales shared in whispers in many online taverns called forums about the utter hell that was being the focal point of a rabid, uncontrollable concert mosh pit.

Well, now I've my own tale to tell… one so dreadfully horrific, it'll put Stephen King out of business. 

It started shortly after my abrupt yet totally expected one-sided victory over the gallant giant called Nick. After a while, the boisterous hurrays and hurrahs from all around were starting to feel a tad bit overwhelming from my faltering physique. 

That's when, on the verge of collapse, the cavalry arrived. Members of staff swarmed into the arena, a pair of two even arriving with stretchers in hand which they played adjacent to the recently fallen Hero before whisking away his unconscious self to God knows where.

Meanwhile, I got the escort treatment. Led out of the ring by none other than the staff-man himself, a lit cigarette tucked between his lips, nudging wordlessly at me to follow. 

When inquired, which I'm sure he was tired of being inquired, especially by me at this point, he blew a long misty breath as he drearily spoke, "What do you think happens after a fight like that goes down? You celebrate, right? So, you got a ceremony to be attending soon, and you're the life of the party. You can't go looking the way you are. So c'mon, I need to take a look at you."

As soon as I went stumbling along after him, in the distance, I could hear Tyler announcing my departure, which was promptly followed by a mass exodus out of the arena as one herd after the other scrambled onwards to the venue of where this aforementioned ceremony would be held, wherever that is… I don't know… staff-man never said.

But not before I was jumped, like literally jumped, by a rather jumpy group of individuals around a corner bend… all more than eager to bask in the afterglow of my triumph along with me.

They wanted photos, they wanted handshakes, and they also wanted my first-hand accounts of my time in the competition… suddenly I was accosted into having an impromptu Q&A session, one that was rapidly increasing in audience members and burning questions, and one that I didn't have enough time nor enough answers to at all completely satisfy.

Luckily, staff-man also didn't have enough of a patience to indulge the growing mass for too long. With a shove, with a shout, he broke us through an opening. This time, a little wiser to the next sharp bend around the corner.

Once it was just us two in that same narrow hall behind the scenes, seating across from each other on the same cardboard boxes, I decided to go off on a little QnA spree of my own.

"So," I began, as he felt around my face with meticulous fingers. "Remember when you said I wouldn't stand a chance?"

He snuffed out his cig, mindlessly blew smoke into my face. "Yeah, I do."

Teary-eyed now, stifling a cough, I chokingly funneled out, "What… do you think now?"

"Well, if you're asking if what I think you did was still stupid, then yeah, I still think that," He made space, slumping himself lax against the wall. "But if you're fishing for a compliment, mister fisherman, then just know I never said that what you're doing wasn't worthy of praise. I never said I wasn't impressed." 

"That's not the impression I got last time." 

"You want it obvious?" He crossed his arms, rolled his eyes. "Right now you got hundreds out there ready to give you an earful of how awesome they think you are. Why care what I have to say?"

"No reason," I told him. "I just like to be complimented. Say you're impressed. Let me hear you say it." 

His brows furrowed, looking onwards with a gaze bemused. "Fine. I'm impressed. Happy?"

I smiled. "Very."

"You're fucking weird."

I smiled even wider. "Very, very."

After that, he promptly continued with his assessment of the damages I've sustained, and according to his unprofessional opinion, kicking back again, cigarette alight, he went - 

"You heal fucking fast, Jesus… was expecting bruises, a bit of swelling," He shook his head, prominent lines forming atop his brows. "No winces, no 'ow's, Leon hits hard with his sword, I would know. But you look like you barely even took a beating. You using stimulants? What the hell do you have in you?"

"Magic."

"Ah right, of course, that explains that," He nodded it away, then promptly stood up to his feet. "Alright, anyway, you're pretty much good to go now. Wait here, I'll tell the other guys. They'll bring you to where the ceremony is. You'll get your prize, you'll get rewarded. All well that ends well."

I did as was told and stayed put, watching his figure disappear with a turn left. I wasn't going to complain about the idle time… for me, it was nothing but a blessing. A small moment, a little quiet time for me, myself, and I, after literal hours of anything but.

It's funny… I was so sure that I was going to win, there wasn't an inkling of doubt in my head that this would have gone any other way. But now that it's finally happened, now that I did win… suddenly, it didn't feel all that real to me, like it wasn't a feasible notion anymore. 

If anything, it just felt unbelievable. Despite the slight tingling in my fists still present, the cheers of the crowd still ringing in my ears - somewhere inside me, it was like I was experiencing a simple daydream.

I don't know, man. Maybe I wasn't as sure as I thought I was all along. Maybe I did have my doubts regarding my chances. And if so… then I guess I just chose to ignore it.

Maybe I should do that more often now. Seems to be faring well for me so far. 

Come to think of it, I wonder what they were thinking - Ash and Amanda - all that time just watching the fight, watching me struggle. That's plenty of time to wonder, so what did they wonder? 

I said a lot of embarrassing things too back then and there. At the heat of the moment, they sounded just fine to me… but looking back at it, though I still stand by those words now and forevermore, I still kinda really wanna plant myself in front of a speeding truck and hope against hope that the driver is as negligent as all those fantasy novels told me they were.

Probably not, but a man can dream. Though why he dreams of being run over by a runaway truck, that's something you better ask his future therapist about… if he could ever afford one that is.

Face to face, what would they say, I wonder? How would they respond? I know Ash would be nothing short of elated hearing those words from me… but what happens after? What then?

Amanda too? The cunning catalyst for this whole fiasco in the first place. I don't think she could have foreseen things spiraling out of proportion to this extent… but now that it has… once again, I ask…

What then?

Guess I'll find out soon enough.

Footsteps filled the quiet narrow hall, and the distinct smell of nicotine began to pervade my nostrils once more.

"I'm back," announced the staff-man, emerging from the same left corner turn. "Guess what? Too many people out there wanting a piece of you. You're getting a carriage over there. It's coming over right now."

"Wow, first-class treatment," I said, launching myself to my feet with a smile. "I feel so honored."

"Hold on, it gets even better." 

Suddenly, from a hand hidden behind him, he flung at me a set of clothes that I barely caught in my fingertips. They felt silky, smooth to the touch… but mostly, very, very expensive. Like I was holding weightless gold in my hands. 

"And these are…?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Your dress robes, m'lord," He replied, breathing out puffs of smoke. "In case you haven't noticed, you're a hero now dumbass. Dress like one." 

"And you sure this'll fit me?" I raised them out before me, letting them fall in a cascade of dark red and intricate lines of gleaming gold. "Did you take my measurements when I wasn't looking or something?"

"Didn't have to. This was custom made to fit Leon's size, and since you're practically the same size, well…" He shrugged. "Pretty lucky, don't you think?" 

"Wow, you guys must be pretty confident he'd win if you got this thing on standby already."

He chuckled at that, it's the first time I heard him chuckle, taking out his cig, baring a yellow-tinted toothy grin. "Who the hell ever said it was ours? It was Leon himself who insisted you have that thing for yourself."