No penalty. No introspection. No blood. 

The thousand points that pierce the world fail, as they are consumed by a thousand mouths born of the world. 

This was never a dream or a hope. There was no desire to take everything into oneself. There was no lust for godhood or transcendence. 

There was only that simple question, gnawing at the soul itself: What can I eat next?

I want to continue eating. 

If I die, then I won't eat anymore. 

So, I want to live. I want to live. I want to live. And so, to this world I utter a curse. To this vessel I utter a prayer. To this soul I utter a name.

[hr]
[h1][color=a2d39c][center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ai1j-z0TghQ]Flyta Einhard[/url][/center][/color][/h1]
She'd stood afar from the others, watching in silence as the woman spoke about various things that occasionally mattered, shifting in and out of actually paying attention. The 'everybody is a winner' talk didn't make much sense, it was like what she heard angry adults rant about on the Internet about "entitled youth and their consolation prizes" and whatnot. Flyta briefly considered trying to interrupt the woman to crack a joke about said subject, probably with a tacky remark about if the clans of the losers would be sent consolation trophies, but didn't end up doing that. That would be rude, and Flyta wasn't a rude person. 

...oh, wait, they were supposed to protect people without magic? That was a problem. Hopefully nobody knew about the rude guy who had spilled his drink on her at the airport, and how he'd been eaten. Should she spit him out now? No, that would be awkward, better to just act natural. What eaten guy? Flyta didn't know anything about an eaten guy. N-Nope, not at all, a-ahahaha, why would she?

Truly brilliant. 

At any rate, when the speech finally wore down to a close, Flyta gave her new ring a once-over, briefly contemplating eating it before remembering that the whole "potentially revealing part of your ability to observant people before the competition even starts" thing was probably a bad idea. Yeah, better to avoid that. 

Oh, one of the girls was leaving. Well, that was kind of rude, but whatever. She'd probably leave too in a bit, but not for now. For now, she would simply stand off to the side like that weird guy at a party who just sort of stares and waits for people to approach him, but doesn't make an effort to approach people herself. The difference was that Flyta was a young girl and not a doughy, strange man, so it at least looked less creepy.