Mad Scientist's Royale

Research data, it almost makes up Albas' entire life purpose. To invent, research and disprove the theories of others were what this old eccentric madman lived for. Living for about 160 years and using much researching time delving into combat - both large and small scale- during near 3 quaters of this time, one thing he realised was that the number of "heroes" and veteran fighters had been decreasing, either that or they were just not as renown as they were in the past, that their stories held no more relevance in this age of digitech which he had helped bring into realisation. This wouldn't affect most of his other research schools but combat and warfare was, on its own, too important a school of research for him to ignore.

In order to ensure that his combat data remained up to date, he went to the extent of constructing a combat arena in his flying lab and hooking up with governments to advertise and provide ferrying service for candidates in exchange for valuable inventions.

Organising monthly battle royales and givin away fortunes worth of money in a bid to gather the best for his research, he had turned away thousands, slaughtered hundreds, defeated thousands but none could satisfy him. In a final bid to attain his aim and cut back the exorbitant costs he was running up, he decided to organise one last grand tourney with a new prize; the best powers science has to offer(namely his floating sky lab) would be at the disposal of the winner to grant them one wish and of course, enough money to feed their family for generations over,

Striding into the blood-stained arena where the repeated battles had taken place, he watched through his spy camera-his detached left eye- as the candidates filed through the hallway which led to the arena, grinning to himself. If anything, this group had potential and were certainly a class or two above all the challengers thus far.

"Looks like this is going to be interesting," he murmured softly to the A.I, miku, residing within him, "prep up all internal circuitry to battle phase, looks like this just may get interesting."


"Yes sir, all limbs at 100% efficiency, circuit re-routs all fine, looks like you're in the green as usual, take care, and don't push it, rang the lyrical voice of the A.I through his head in worry as he reached into his cloak and drew his bonesaw-gun, awaiting the arrival of the final competitor batch.

(This be a battle royale so multiple people can enter, feel free to enter... if anyone is going to)

"Real warriors don't need a ferrying service."

He muttered this out loud while passing multiple competitors that made him smirk under the abnormal darkness of his black hood. He heard of this Battle royal of sorts and entered a while back only to brutally massacre all the opposition that were ever placed before him.
There was no way he was loosing this battle, not him, not the last Shadowblade in existence. Never. He kept his stride soft and silent, and went up to the doorway of the arena and peered in, gazing from under his hood to the man who called them all here.

"Hope I'm not wasting my time."