Noah got up early the next day and set himself up in Valon’s room. The final match of the tournament would take place in the evening, so he had all day to train his magic and craft new tools. He was particularly interested in the red crystal he had received the night before. It was another meruleum gem with unique properties. He split it in half, using a mix of alchemy and some magic tools, then set one piece at the end of the room while he held the other. He cast his clone spell, channeling the mana into the gem he was holding. However, rather than appear around him, the illusion emerged from the other half of the crystal.
He had only read about these in books, but these harkonen gems were indeed powerful. They worked in pairs, or in this case, halves, similar to quantum entanglement. When a spell was sent into one gem, it would emerge from the other, like a voice carried through radio waves, and their range was nothing to sneeze at either. There was a story of two kingdoms at war in the ancient past, with a sly king sending the other a harkonen gem, one of two, under the guise of a peace offering, much like the Trojan Horse. Upon the second gem being placed in the throne room as a trophy, the first king gathered his mages together, and they all cast a powerful earth spell on the original gem. Their magic was released through the second, destroying the enemy castle and winning the war.
Noah sat down in a meditative position with the first half of the crystal in his lap. He had already practiced with his awareness projection and could enter the required state faster and easier than before, but he couldn’t do anything with his real body while living through his clone. Like before, his sense of sight and hearing carried over, and he was again looking down on himself. There didn’t seem to be any issues with using this technique through the gem.
“Shannon, would you mind coming up here?” Noah hollered through his clone.
She arrived and saw him sitting on the floor with his clone standing beside him. No matter how many times she saw it, it still made her uneasy. “Yes, My Lord? Uh… which one—”
“I’m talking to you through my clone again, and I have a task for you if you aren’t busy.”
“Of course not. What can I do for you?”
“I’m currently projecting my consciousness using these two gems. I’d like you to take this piece here and carry it with you as far as you can so we can determine the effective range. I’ll be with you the whole time, in spirit, you might say. Would you mind?”
“I’d be glad to.”
She took the other half of the gem and went outside, with Noah following her in his illusory state. There, she took her centaur form, and Noah climbed on her back. Though his illusions could pass through and around solid objects, he could give the impression of physicality if he focused, so while he couldn’t touch Shannon in this state, his illusion could bounce off her like light. Shannon set off briskly down the streets of Colbrand, with Noah seeing and hearing everything through his clone. He quickly passed the maximum range of his awareness, but thanks to the jewel, it ceased to be an issue.
“Does it feel strange having me on your back like this?”
“It is a bit… unnerving. I can clearly feel your presence, but I can’t touch you. It’s like when you know you’re being watched. The lack of weight makes traveling easy, but I also like feeling your weight on me. I find it comforting when we’re pressed together.”
“Think of it as a means of communication. If we are separated, but have these jewels, then wherever you are, I can be there to talk to you. I just need to get more of them.”
“I suppose that is also comforting.”
As they traveled, Noah noticed many citizens glaring at Shannon. They would never dare to do anything to her while he was around, but it was clear that the anti-beastman sentiment was gaining traction. Ironically, it was Roc helping to hold it at bay. Though his goal had been to earn the public’s ire by humiliating their mages and warriors in combat, his strength and tenacity had instead earned him great respect, and some of that respect was being shared by extension with the rest of the beastman race.
“Are you looking forward to tonight’s fight, My Lord?”
“Well, it’ll sure be interesting. Back at the academy, Seraph and Roc—or Gideon, as he went by—used to duel each other every day. They just could not get along, going at it like wild dogs. Roc never won a single fight, but he came closer than anyone else, and his tenacity was admirable. However, that was without his beastman traits. Now he’s fighting with everything on the table, minus an arm, while Seraph’s power is merely a fraction of what it once was. Like I said, I’m sure it will be interesting. What about you? Are you curious about the fight?”
“Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t rooting for your beastman friend on principle.”
“I can’t blame you for that.”
They reached the outskirts of the city, but Noah’s illusion and his awareness were still strong.
“These gems are great. Who knows, maybe it would work all the way in Welindar.”
“Shall I keep going?”
“If you’re willing. Let’s just stay aware of the time.”
Thus, Shannon picked up speed, traveling countless miles from Colbrand without reaching the crystal’s limit. At midday, they finally turned around, and reached the city late in the afternoon. They didn’t want to be late for the show. That evening, they departed from the Zodiac home to the arena and found a vast ocean of people trying to get inside. Almost everyone in Colbrand was attending the final match of the tournament, but it wasn’t just the local citizens. For days, travelers and merchants had been arriving in the city to attend Knight’s Day, and now they were packing in to see the bloody climax. The arena was close to bursting with both bodies and excitement.
Before they could get in, Berholm found them.
“Please tell me you don’t have another job for me to do. Let me guess, you want me to bust Roc’s kneecap so that Seraph will win?”
“Your help is needed, but not for that. King Galvin worries about troublemakers taking advantage of the crowd, be they the Profane or miscreants. Every knight in the city and surrounding area is being put on full alert and stationed throughout the arena while soldiers patrol the city. I understand the… tension… between you and the king, but you are also a gold-rank knight, and we need your help ensuring the safety of the public.”
“That is a very reasonable request. As you wish, I’ll help where I can.”
“Lady Zodiac, can I trust you as well?”
“Spirits above, Marcus, do you really need to ask? Of course, I’ll help.”
“My Lady, are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“My body is fully healed. Whatever is going on, so long as I don’t use magic, I’ll be fine. I didn’t become an expert sword master simply because of Zodiac, after all.”
“Still, Shannon, stay with her. I’ll perch myself close to the ring.”
Night fell, the stars overhead taking their places as if wanting to watch the fight. The stands were overflowing with spectators and illuminated by numerous braziers. Countless knights were scattered throughout to maintain a vigil, with Noah standing guard at the edge of the ring in his invisible state. Tarnas was absent, supposedly dispatched on a mission the other day. It was a shame he would miss the fight. There was excitement in the air, with two names being chanted in anticipation. The audience was divided over who to root for; the tenacious beastman who had climbed to the top with one arm, or their prince, broken but driven.
The referee stepped out, illuminated by magic light. “Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, we bear witness to the final round of Colbrand’s first fighting tournament! Whoever wins will have their name etched into history, with the greatest warriors of every coming generation walking boldly in their footsteps, ever chasing after the great hero who claimed this eternal glory!
Let us honor those who gave their lives in pursuit of this dream, and mourn the skill and talent the world lost in their passing! And let us show our respect to those who fought bravely and nobly, but could not reach the mountain summit! May we see them in this arena again, so that they might strive once more for greatness!” The audience cheered and hollered in excitement, celebrating the courageous dead and the humble fallen.
“Now, allow me to introduce the final two contenders! Over here, we have the beastman warrior, Roc, of the Ashok Mountains!” Roc entered the ring from one side with half of the audience cheering wildly. The gaping hole he received in his wing had been mended, but his shoulder was gone for good, not that it mattered much. “And over here, we have the Crown Prince of Uther, His Highness, Seraph Albion!” Seraph, doing his best to put on a brave face, arrived on the other side of the ring. The rest of the audience was on their feet, chanting the prince’s name once more. “Now, let the final match of the tournament begin!”
The ref stepped back, and Roc and Seraph faced each other. Standing at the edge of the ring in his invisible state, Noah watched with amusement. However, while Roc had a focused scowl, Seraph seemed confused.
“Wait a second. No, it can’t be. Gideon?”
“Took you long enough to figure it out. Maybe if you hadn’t spent all your time moping and feeling sorry for yourself, and actually paid attention to the fighters around you, you would have realized it out. Gideon is the name I used to enroll in the academy, pretending to be a simple human instead of a proud beastman warrior.”
“I heard you lost an arm during the Red Revelry, but I never thought—"
“No, you never think; that’s your problem. But after all the losses I was forced to bear while holding myself back, I’m finally going to defeat you here and now!”
Roc launched himself towards Seraph, flying low to the ground with his mana burning like a furious pyre. Seraph tried to intercept and swung his mace, replaced after his fight with Cain, but Roc grabbed it with one of his clawed feet and yanked it out of Seraph’s hand, then spun around and slashed Seraph across the face with his other foot. His talons didn’t cut deep, but they drew blood. Seraph staggered back, trying to heal the wound, but Roc gave him no time. He launched a barrage of attacks at Seraph, spinning like a top with his arm and legs bombarding the prince. Seraph dodged as best as he could, knowing that Roc’s talons could rip him to shreds if he wished, and his mana-wrapped hand could sever head from neck.
“This is pathetic!” Roc snarled, kicking Seraph square in the chest and sending him staggering back. “You’re supposed to be stronger than this! I didn’t get burned by your light all those times just so you could hide it away now! Fight back, you coward!”
Seraph regained his footing and assumed a combat stance. It was evident to him that the difference between Gideon and Roc was like night and day, and he’d have to fight for his life to have any hope of victory. He charged up his mana as best as he could, forming a flickering aura of light around him. With holy magic flowing through his body, his strength and speed were given a mild boost, hopefully enough to keep up with Roc.
Seraph went on the offensive, hurling mana-imbued punches and kicks. The two warriors threw everything they had at each other, putting little thought into protecting themselves and instead letting their attacks cancel each other out. Their kicks would smash together like trees in a tornado, their swings collided like blades and maces on the battlefield, and their mana clashed like lava meeting the sea.
With every exchange, their movements became faster and more powerful, the two of them improving each second like knives sharpening each other. The audience watched with still breath, doing their best to follow their movements. The benefit of this match happening at night was that Seraph’s light magic was brighter and more clearly visible, especially when it collided against Roc’s mana, almost resembling fireworks.
What the audience could not see with their untrained eyes was the difference in the two warriors’ demeanor. Seraph looked like he was barely holding on, struggling to keep the pace up, while Roc’s scowl only deepened in fury. However, his anger didn’t come from the challenge of fighting Seraph, but from the absence of it. What first appeared to be a titanic stalemate between two powerful fighters began to turn, with Roc overtaking Seraph. In a desperate move, Seraph tried to kick Roc in the chest the way he had been kicked earlier. Roc blocked the attack with his arm while using his wings to push himself back to lessen the force. Now, with space between them, Seraph gathered as much mana as he could and launched it at Roc.
“Searing Radiance!”
Roc took flight, flying low to the ground and zooming around the blast to dodge. He reached Seraph, and before the paladin could protect himself, Roc rained attacks upon him. However, these weren’t mana-infused attacks that would pulverize bone and rend flesh, but regular punches, kicks, and sharp jabs. Was he holding back to save his strength, show mercy, or taunt his opponent? Roc landed one blow after another, and Seraph struggled to mount a defense or counter. Every attack that landed broke his focus and his strength, turning him into little more than an upright ragdoll. Roc finished with a punch to the gut, lifting Seraph into the air and sending him hitting the ground rolling.
“Damn it, I did not train, and struggle, and fight through this whole fucking tournament just for THIS to be the final match! You are not the warrior I fought back at the academy! You were an arrogant, self-obsessed troll, but at the very least, I could respect your power! Now you don’t even have that!”
“What do you want from me?!” Seraph shouted back.
“I want to fight the man I could never beat before! I want my wings to eclipse the light of the nation’s best paladin! I want you to show some fucking backbone, or did Noah take that away too when he put you in your place?!”
Roaring in frustration, Seraph attacked Roc with a flurry of desperate punches and kicks. Roc caught his fist, stepped onto his knee, then wrapped his leg around Seraph’s arm and used that leverage to flip Seraph onto his back in an arm lock. Roc got atop Seraph and delivered several furious punches to the face, leaving Seraph bloody before he got up and backed off.
“Ever since I left the academy, I’ve trained and pushed myself, imagining when I would get to fight you again, when I would get to even the score for all those losses and taunts! Are you really going to deprive me of an honorable fight?”
“Fuck you,” Seraph cursed while spitting blood and wiping it from his face. He slowly tried to get up. “You should be glad. I’ve lost my power, and you’ve lost your arm. We’re both broken, just shadows of our old selves. You finally get an even—”
“Don’t you fucking dare!” Roc snarled, kicking Seraph in the face and knocking him back to the ground. “I didn’t come here for an even fight! I didn’t come here for an equal matchup! I came here to beat the odds! To prove everyone who dismissed me was wrong! All those fights at the academy, I was holding back my wings, my talons, my true strength! I chose to fight you as a simple man, because I wanted to know that even without my beastman powers, I could still beat Light’s Emissary, that even a simple man can defeat God’s chosen warrior!
When I returned for the tournament and found out you were competing, I was ready, ready to fight you with nothing held back. Even if a simple man couldn’t beat Light’s Emissary, a beastman could do it! Now here I am, and all I feel is… disgust.” Roc then shook his head and walked away. “I’m done wasting my time on you. I quit.”
“Are you forfeiting the match?” the referee asked.
“That’s right. There is no honor in this fight. At this point, it’s just a pathetic farce, nothing more than a pair of cripples squabbling in front of an audience, and I’ll have no part of it.”
“You can’t just walk away!” Seraph shouted, getting to his feet. “After everything I’ve endured in this tournament, all the pain I’ve suffered, all the fighters I went up against, all the times I forced myself to get back up, this can’t be how it ends! I can’t win, not like this!”
“My thoughts exactly! Defeating you now, when you’re this weak and pathetic, would be more shameful than any loss I took at the academy. I’d rather walk away than accept a hollow victory. No, that shame is YOURS to bear. That is the punishment for your failure. Congratulations, Seraph, you win again.”
Roc continued walking away, but Seraph wouldn’t have it. He charged towards Roc while gathering all of his remaining mana for a desperate attack. “Face me, you bastard! Fight me like a true warrior! I deserve that much!”
Roc dodged Seraph’s incoming punch, then spun around and delivered three sharp jabs going up the middle of his chest, just as Noah had done to him. Seraph staggered back, trying not to vomit, but inevitably fell to his knees and further shamed himself in front of the audience with a messy heave. Roc again turned his back on him.
“I can’t even look at you right now. Get your power back, Seraph, get stronger, just as I will. Face me again after you’ve surpassed the warrior you were the last time we fought at the academy. By that time, people will fear the strength of my one hand like it’s the hand of God, and never again speak of my missing arm like a handicap. Until then, I won’t fight you while we’re both broken.”
As he left the ring, the crowds stood in a thunderous roar, half cheering Roc’s name and the rest screaming in fury about the outcome. The fact that Seraph would officially be the winner meant nothing to the fans, for they knew who the stronger warrior was. On the other hand, the indignant shouters were infuriated by Roc’s allowed participation, his arrogance in the face of the prince and the crowds, and the certainty that he had somehow cheated.
Seraph beat his fists against the ground and howled in anguish, once again humiliated in front of an audience and showing the world how weak he truly was. After everything he had gone through in this tournament, he thought he was finally getting on the right path, that he was facing his sins and slowly earning back the power he had always wasted. But to win the tournament this way, to suffer this hollow victory, took everything he had accomplished and cast it into the breeze. Was this his fate? To be humiliated every time he thought he had gained some semblance of honor?
In the corridors under the stands, Roc was in a similar state, punching the wall with his mana-wrapped fist and shattering the stone, all while snarling in frustration. He had achieved his goal, proving the strength and nobility of the beastman race and crushing the arrogant fighters of Uther, all before the crowds that condemned and enslaved his people. It should have been his victory, but just like Seraph’s, it felt painfully hollow. He put his hand on the place where his shoulder used to be. He and Seraph, two broken men.
Broken. That word kept echoing through his mind over and over, as if his own subconscious was mocking him. Despite his brave words to Seraph and Noah, it still ate away at him, this weakness he’d carry for the rest of his life. No matter how strong he got, he would never be whole, and never know how far he could have gone. No matter who he defeated or what he accomplished, people would look at him and see a cripple. He’d look at himself and see a cripple. He had overpowered Seraph, but just like his body, his victory would never be complete.
He was then shaken from his thoughts by the sensation that he wasn’t alone. He could feel a presence approaching from within the darkness and hear deep breathing accentuated with a beastly growl. Roc, the proud warrior who never ran from a fight, felt a powerful instinct shake him to his core: flee.
Back outside, Seraph was talking to the referee, trying to see what could be done to remedy this situation. The tournament could not be allowed to end so shamefully, with an indignant forfeiture and a hollow win. He needed to regain some semblance of honor. However, the conversation was interrupted by an explosion under the stands. Roc was tossed out of the wreckage, wrapped in dust, and narrowly stuck the landing.
Audience members screamed in terror as Cain emerged from the destruction, but his body had changed, courtesy of the parasite attached to his spine. He was now even taller and more muscular, with his skin, already toughened by his rhino attributes, now resembling plate mail. His head was like a rhino’s, but mutated, giving him multiple sets of horns and tusks. As a Profane, he wasn’t on par with the elite fiends like Kaisen or Carthace, but his power was as genuine as though he had been naturally bitten.
“Time for slaughter!” he roared.
The referee was grabbed from behind and lifted in the air, caught in Ingram’s talons. He, too, was imbued with a parasite, making him larger, faster, and stronger, with mutated attributes. Now flying with four wings, he carried the referee above the stands and impaled him on a flagpole, then perched himself on the edge of the ring. He glared at Roc with his head like an owl’s, but with grapefruit-sized eyes that were horribly bloodshot. He first twisted his head 360º like in their fight, then rotated it like the hand of a clock.
“You and I have unfinished business, boy,” he clicked with his beak.
Throughout the crowds, other Profane were appearing, and not just fiends. Mages, monks, and warriors, many of whom had taken part in the tournament and handled defeat poorly, were casting their humanity aside and becoming ghouls, all for the sake of power. The barrier protecting the audience came undone, and the Profane turned their attention to the fresh meat around them, now burdened with insatiable hunger and thirst. Blood started spraying, but this time, the knights of Colbrand would not let the Profane have their way. Stationed throughout the stands, they converged on the fiends and ghouls, attacking from all sides.
Up in his royal box seat, Galvin bolted from his chair as the door behind him was ripped off his hinges. Abner entered, corrupted and bloody, with his sword sheathed in black lighting. “If I can’t have my dream, you can’t have your life!” He charged towards Galvin, but was stopped by a lightning-imbued arrow striking him in the chest and exploding, nearly blowing his ribcage open. He staggered back as several more arrows planted themselves in his chest, all of them robbing him of movement with an electric charge. Aithorn leaped up onto the balcony, switching his bow for his spear.
“Leave this fool to me, Your Majesty.”
He lunged for Abner, activating his Dragon Impaler spell, and their weapons collided with a burst of white and black lightning. It was just the first of endless clashes, with the spear and sword meeting and sending bursts of energy firing off in all directions. Abner was a decent swordsman, and the Profane venom in his veins was augmenting his abilities, but Aithorn’s elf lineage and centuries of experience allowed him to hold his own. He had been shamed by Bella, but compared to her unspeakable power, Abner was just an arrogant punk needing to be put down. Back and forth, they exchanged attacks with inhuman speed, their movements becoming blurs of white and black while Galvin fled with the protection of his guards. Eventually, Abner’s severed head was jettisoned out over the stands, where it landed at Saimallah’s feet.
The monk stood, surrounded by fiends and ghouls alike, eager to slaughter the people he was protecting, but every time they came close, a mighty punch or kick with his projected mana would send them flying with broken bones and shredded flesh. A turtle-based remnant of the Pack, covered in powerful bone plates, attacked from the front, swinging at Saimallah with his mighty limbs. Saimallah faced him without moving, yet blocking, deflecting, and countering the fiend’s attacks. However, this fiend was far more durable than his comrades. The armor on his arms cracked, but remained strong against the monk’s ethereal strikes.
Deciding to take a more direct approach, Saimallah reached out with his real hands and grabbed the fiend’s arms, holding them out to the side so he couldn’t defend himself. A flurry of punches with his mana arms surged from his face and chest like a burst of gunfire and rained down upon the fiend. His bones and armor withstood the initial punches, but they just kept coming, getting faster and stronger with each passing second. The fiend’s skull and ribcage finally gave, but Saimallah didn’t stop his barrage until his foe’s body was reduced to bloody pulp.
As he pulverized the turtle fiend, a Profane axe-wielder attacked from behind. However, coming up from behind, Ken Rilgis sprinted while slashing the air, building up a mana charge before jumping up and bifurcating the ghoul at the waist. He and his slain enemy landed next to Saimallah, who gave the young warrior a nod of approval. He then reached out and grabbed an arrow out of the air that had been aimed at Ken.
The arrow had been flying with the power of a .50 sniper bullet, stoppable only by the mighty monk, and launched by the Profane archer on one of the upper balconies atop the arena, the archer that Seraph had defeated in his first round. The archer nocked another arrow, charging it with unholy energy to make it more powerful, but before he could launch it, he was struck in the side of the head with a regular arrow. Hissing in pain, he turned to the side to see Shannon standing nearby, already launching another three that planted themselves in his chest.
He raised his bow once more, ready to end her life with his own bolt, but before he could release, Valia attacked from behind, severing the tendons in his left arm and leg, along with his bowstring, all in one slice. Before he could react, she cut off his head and tossed his body off of the balcony. Looking out, she spotted a rock flying through the air towards Shannon, jet black and crackling with Profane energy.
“Shannon, get down!”
Valia tackled Shannon, getting her out of danger as the rock struck the balcony and exploded in a surge of shrapnel and unholy power. It came from the mage Foley fought, with the bag of stones and ugly bowl cut, laughing in glee as he exercised his new power by blowing people up. He hurled countless rocks into the air, letting them rain down onto the terrified audience. However, the next handful were all shot out of the sky by numerous arrows made of mana.
“Not in my city!” Alexis shouted.
She launched an arrow and a burst of mana bolts, all embedding themselves in the ghoul’s chest. Though he spit up black blood, it wasn’t nearly enough to kill him. He grabbed more rocks and charged them with power, but a holy spell from Cyrilo seared him like a flamethrower, and Alexis finished him off with an explosion of her own, using a Burst Shot arrow.
She then hissed, feeling like she had been burned, and saw a black spot on her arm, followed by more. Drops of acid were falling on her and the surrounding people, destroying all that it touched and leaving behind Profane contamination. Looking around, she spotted the demonic Phune, with his hands raised and a maniacal laugh as he attacked the crowd with corrosive rain. However, before the bulk of his attack could splash down and kill Alexis and countless others, Daniel stepped forward with his guitar and played a sharp cord, firing off a wave of enchanted sound that purged the water of unholy energy and neutralized it. Before Phune could counter, Sophia grabbed him from behind with one of the holds she learned at the academy and fried him with holy energy.
She was then caught in the shadow of a bird-type fiend, descending with its claws and beak already stained with blood. Before it could reach her, rings of enchanted air flew across the ring and chopped the fiend to pieces. Alexis and Sophia saw it, thinking the same thing but unable to believe it. In that moment of distraction, a second fiend attacked, but was struck with a bolt of lightning, courtesy of Elyot with his book and staff. He then turned and launched a ball of fire at a nearby fiend, striking him in the back and setting him ablaze. Distracted by the flames, the monster failed to stop Holmes from driving his saber into his skull and Frigga from gutting him with her sword.
As their vanquished foe was embraced by death, another fiend, twice as large, thundered towards them, slaughtering people with his claws. Hands of stone, made from the arena itself, burst from the ground and seized the beast as it drew close. Standing nearby, Opal snarled in exertion while she fought to keep her enemy still. While it was pinned down, Berholm attacked and delivered a devastating chop to the top of the monster’s head, splitting its skull open like a melon and eviscerating its corrupted gray matter.
The four knights were forced to duck as Roc and Ingram flew over their heads, furiously exchanging blows. However, while Roc had narrowly managed to hold his own against his fellow beastman, he was painfully outclassed by this winged fiend. Ingram slammed him against the wall at the very back of the stands, breaking multiple ribs and giving him a concussion in the process. He then leaped back into the air, rising up and swooping down to finish off Roc with a dive bomb.
Rocketing towards his prey with shadowy talons, Ingram was stopped by Foley, getting between him and Roc and blocking the attack with a borrowed shield. Ingram’s attack could have busted through a concrete wall like it was cardboard, but Foley didn’t budge an inch. Refusing to waste the opportunity, Roc gathered his strength and moved past Foley towards Ingram.
“Guillotine Beak!”
He stabbed Ingram in the gut with his hand and then brought it up, carving the fiend like a can opener and splitting both his torso and his skull open. He then jumped and delivered a Cyclone Impact, splattering Ingram’s head and sending viscera spraying in all directions.
The two then ducked as a wave of fire spread over the stands. It was coming from Viktor, likewise transformed thanks to the parasite on his back. His body now looked like dark, volcanic rock, riddled with cracks showing the fire within him, perfectly illustrating the ugliness of his inner self. He howled and sprayed flames in all directions, but found himself smothered by water gathering around him. It came from Falco, collecting all the moisture in the air and applying it to Viktor in an ever-growing prison.
“You think this will stop me?!” Viktor howled before the water completely consumed him.
He tried to boil it away by raising his temperature, and while the sphere bubbled and steamed, it wasn’t without its consequences. His flesh was cracking from the rapid heat transference, and Falco continued adding more and more water to cool him further. Viktor’s body finally ripped itself apart, darkening the water with ash and blood. Having finally got his revenge, Falco released the spell, letting the water run down the stands and into the ring, where Seraph was fighting against Cain.
Seraph kept his distance from the juggernaut and fired blasts of holy energy. They were weak, but so was Cain’s resistance to such magic. The attacks he could have shrugged off earlier now burned him like fire. He was shielding his face, snarling in pain as his flesh blistered and disintegrated, limping instead of charging. However, Seraph’s mana soon gave out, and he dropped to his knees, completely exhausted. Did he have it in him to pull off another desperate win like he did before? Against that raging golem, he didn’t think so.
“Relax, you’ve done enough. I’ll take it from here.”
The voice coming from behind him froze the blood in his veins, and the fear he felt towards Cain was trounced by the bone-rattling terror now crushing him, as the subject of his nightmares strolled past him. “N-N-N-N-Noah,” he stammered.
“It’s been a while, Prince,” said Noah with his back to Seraph. “That fear you feel right now towards me, that’s the correct response. It means you learned your lesson, and I don’t have to worry about you fucking up again, so worry not. If I wanted you to suffer or die, I’d let him do it,” he said, motioning to Cain, who was slowly recovering from his burns and now started thundering towards them. “You and I are squared for what happened. You paid for what you did, so I’m not angry anymore. In fact, I’m now going to save your life. Just watch.”
As Cain approached, Noah shaped an illusory machine gun in his hand and opened fire, raining mana bullets on him. Each one shattered his focus and momentum, slowing him down but not stopping him. Then, as he drew close, Noah conjured one of his Carthace blades from his ring. Cain swung at Noah, but he dodged the clumsy attack and brought down his sword upon his victim’s arm. Thanks to the enchantment that inflicted augmented damage to fiends, blood and liquified tissue sprayed forth the moment that contact was made, as if Noah was slashing Cain with a chainsaw. All his sword needed was the accompanying mechanical scream.
Cain snarled in agony and wrenched his arm back, but the bones had already been severed, and his flesh looked like it was being melted with acid. He then dropped to one knee as Noah slashed the back of his leg, ripping through flesh, muscle, and tendons with ease. Noah kept slicing, severing limbs and spilling blood, completely demolishing the mighty fiend before finishing him off with a decapitating strike.
With Cain slaughtered, Noah looked around the arena. Under normal circumstances, such an attack would have brought deaths beyond count, and while numerous spectators had lost their lives, the fact remained that with the security raised so high for the match, the response of the knights and their effectiveness was beyond reproach. They were frankly doing a better job than Noah could have hoped for.
However, that didn’t mean everything was going well; far from it. There were still numerous Profane rampaging, and the citizens of Colbrand were trying to escape, shoving and trampling each other as they fought to get through the area exits. They were hysterical with terror, and if they didn’t all kill each other or get slaughtered by the Profane, once they got out, their panic could lead to a city-wide riot just like two years ago.
He needed a way to calm the citizens so they wouldn’t cause even more destruction, without making it easier for the Profane. He had some ideas on forcefully subduing the public, but they would also incapacitate the knights. Perhaps Daniel could stop the chaos like before, but his guitar would need enhancement gems to boost his strength, and there was no telling if the Profane would lose their will to fight the way humans did. He then looked up, spotting a trail of light moving across the sky.
“What in the world?”
The light stopped above the arena, appearing as a sphere, but then it opened, revealing two wings of radiant mana coming from Adwith Tarnas. As he cast his light down upon the arena, an image of the might of Light’s Emissary, all eyes were drawn to him, gazing in reverence and terror. Tarnas then drew his sword and raised it high above his head.
“Divine Sanctuary!”
Upon his announcement, the light radiating from him grew infinitely more intense, pouring down upon the arena like a tidal wave of plasma and saturating every corridor, room, and space with holy energy. Everyone instinctively covered their eyes, fearing being blinded by the light, but no pain came. Instead, the light enveloped them, passed through them, invigorated them, and purified them. It reminded Noah of the Star of Sylphtoria, but far rawer in its power, lacking the soothing feeling of elven verve while weighing heavy with divine might.
The knights and civilians were unharmed by the light, while those scrambling to escape were calmed with the feeling that they were safe. However, all of the Profane screamed in agony as their flesh burned and their bones shattered, resembling victims of an atomic blast. Noah was forced to drop his sword as it burst into flames in his hand. An unfortunate loss, but he had several spares. It took only a few moments for every trace of their influence to be annihilated, and soon, Tarnas released the spell.
“So, that’s what it means to be Light’s Emissary,” said Noah, with Seraph still kneeling nearby. Tarnas then sheathed his sword and descended into the center of the ring. No wonder he arrived so quickly, able to fly using those wings of light.
“Tarnas, welcome. That was a splendid dramatic entry,” said Noah.
“I sensed something was amiss and hurried back.” He then spotted Seraph nearby and angrily grabbed his sword. “Get away from the prince,” he growled.
“Relax, I just saved his life. As I told Seraph, he and I are squared, and my grudge is settled. Besides, shouldn’t you be more focused on everything else?”
“ATTENTION! ATTENTION!” they all heard, turning to Galvin’s box seat, where he stood with his arms outstretched. “Citizens of Colbrand, the battle is over! You are now safe! We have all just witnessed the malicious obsession of the Profane and their beastman collaborators, but fear not, for they have been expunged from our fair city by the strength of our knights! My heart is heavy with the weight of every soul we lost tonight, each deserving to be mourned and honored. But look around, look to your heroes! When evil tried to break our spirits and kill the ones we hold dear, our brave knights leaped into action and slew these monsters the way they deserved! We are safe, thanks to their strength and courage!
I know my father, who spent the last twenty years of his life building the knighthood, would be proud of these brave men and women, as am I! And so, too, am I proud of all the warriors who stepped up to defend the people in the face of this nightmare! Henceforth, to all tournament combatants who helped fight against the Profane, you are hereby granted entry to the knighthood! We will need every able body available for what is to come!
Though no army can threaten us, thanks to the Wassengel, this attack proved that the enemy is already in our midst. They are already here, these abominations and rabid animals poisoning the blood of our country! We must be ready to defend ourselves both beyond and within our borders! If there is anything we have learned today, we must remain ever-vigilant! Let no shadow grow under our watch! Let no bastion of evil fester in our land! We shall fight this abomination from our streets to our borders with our brave troops! Glory to the knights! Glory to the knights!”
The crowds, caught in emotional whiplash from terror and relief, started mindlessly chanting with him. “GLORY TO THE KNIGHTS! GLORY TO THE KNIGHTS!”
As their chants echoed into the night, outside the arena, a Profane spectator cursed in frustration and anguish. Helena the succubus—one of only a few remaining members of her race, and the highest ranked. She flew with a single wing that hung over her shoulders and wrapped around her like a cloak, with her horns reminiscent of a tiara. Her face, the epitome of beauty, was severely burned, along with much of her wing and parts of her body. She was present to observe and report on the attack, and fled the arena the moment she sensed Tarnas’s approach, but as her wounds attested, she failed to get out of range of his attack.
“Damn it, another disappointment,” she hissed.
The Profane army from Welindar had been wiped out, and not only had this surprise attack on the arena failed to inflict significant casualties, but just from the sound of the chanting, the people of Colbrand were more driven than ever to see the eradication of the Profane. The Liege may end up pulling his support, and Scyler would not be happy with this blunder.
“You’re one of the Profane, aren’t you? Like me?”
Helena spun around, seeing Bella crouching at the other end of the rooftop. As a succubus, Helena’s combat prowess and experience were next to none, but for Bella to sneak up on her was no small feat.
“Who are you?” Helena was about to ask, but the words never came out. Like Noah, she could sense Bella’s obscene killing potential. “You’re the one who killed the king, aren’t you? The rogue fiend.”
“I killed him so that my darling could come home, and he finally did! But there are still so many people who insist on coming between us, who won’t let me and my darling be together. You and your friends going to help me get rid of them.”
Helena chuckled. “I think I see where you’re going with this. Very well. Join our ranks, help us fulfill our goal, and we’ll make this world a paradise for you and your beloved. All you have to do is come with me.”
Bella stood up and approached, grasping Helena’s outstretched hand. “Anything for my darling.”
----------
While the wounded were being treated and the dead collected, an emergency meeting was declared at the palace, and all knights, silver-rank and above, were required to attend. Noah was the sole exception, as this conference was taking place in the throne room rather than the War Room, and everyone was still wary about letting him anywhere near Galvin. However, considering the topic of conversation, Noah couldn’t afford to simply sit it out, so he attended in his invisible state. As silver-ranked knights, Alexis and Sophia were participating, but they also seemed conflicted at being in the same room as Galvin.
“Our current death count totals a little over a hundred slain civilians and a dozen bronze-rank knights, with several times that many injured from the fighting and the resulting panic and trampling to escape the arena,” said Berholm, holding a report in his hands.
“More than a hundred deaths is a heavy toll, but considering that’s a small fraction of all the people in the arena, I will count our blessings,” said Galvin. “The enemy tried to break our wills, and you all ground them into the dirt. Your quickness and efficiency leave nothing to be desired. Well done, brave knights.”
“The fact remains that the Profane were able to strike deep within our heart,” added Aithorn. “They infiltrated the city, recruited tournament combatants into their own ranks, and killed dozens of people. Even with the Wassengel, Colbrand is far from safe.”
“You are correct,” said Galvin. “We need to improve our security, not just nationally, but locally. We need more eyes and ears on the streets, always watching and listening, making sure that nothing like this can ever be allowed to happen again. We must acknowledge that the enemy is already among us, hiding behind our citizens, and we must leave them with no shadows to work in. We can’t let them bear the mask of anonymity while they seek to destroy us.”
“What of Knight’s Day tomorrow?” one knight asked.
“That will still be going on as planned. It is more vital now than ever that the public sees we are not afraid of the Profane, and that life can continue as normal. We will not sacrifice our festivals and jubilations because of this menace. However, once the celebration is over, changes must be made. Henceforth, I am calling for a census to be conducted. I want to know the identity of everyone in the city and the surrounding areas, including their age, race, homeland—everything. The Profane are using beastmen as their foot soldiers, so we need to know who they are and keep them under watch. From this point forward, no one enters or leaves the city without a record of it, and no one walks the streets at night without clearance. These monsters fear the light, so we shall give them no shadows to hide in.
Now, the situation is dire, but there is always hope. The Profane tried to break us, but we resisted and will be even stronger than before. To my brave knights, I ask you this: will you stand firm in the face of this evil? Can I trust you to continue the noble fight for king and country?”
Almost every knight in the room gave a military solute. “Yes, Your Majesty!”
Standing in the back of the room, Noah chuckled softly to himself. “All according to plan. Eh, Galvin?”