Alucard is nothing more than an observer in a throng of people when the first few rounds take place. His fascination seems about even keel with the rest of the crowd, though his stems more from the strange application of the sports — VR, the weapons mere phantom illusions — than the skill displayed on stage. But it is skill, have no doubt about that; the frame of the current individual, momentum backed by a growing winning streak, is rather familiar. The voice? Even more so. Small tells of movement, of swiftness, especially when given overly observant attention, seem to line up; and when the dhampir pushes closer to the stage, the view confirms it: a fellow displaced. One met upon his arrival, and again with his confrontation against the UNA.

His lips quirk upwards, interest notching up by visible degrees.

A handful of minutes pass, a challenger still not rising to the stage. The crowd titters with anxious excitement, brought to a paroxysm of exclamation when the announcer finally breaks the tension with, We have ourselves a challenger! Step up, Alucard Tepes! Twenty years old, employee at one of the local pancake houses! The crowd hums with scattered amusement. It takes all types, folks!

The dhampir hops up on stage, unfazed, perfectly timed with his cue. Pale skin contrasts against casual dark clothing. Access permissions granted, his implant syncs up with the parameters of the competition, and an epee flickers into a loosely-held grip.

“Hello again.”