“Su-rren-der! Su-rren-der!”


    The crowd shouted wildly as the Architect stomped on Edward repeatedly.


    Why? How could they be so cruel?


    King 67 held his chest, shivering. The sudden fear that attacked him immobilised him completely, rendering him useless in the duel.


    He closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of Edward being tortured anymore.


    I had never felt this before. Is this what it means to be truly afraid?


    Is this what I had been inflicting upon my enemies, and even the boatman?


    King 67 went from terrified to pitying Edward to feeling immense guilt. Of course, King 67 had no way of knowing that, and so he sat there idly, his brain unable to process all the emotions.


    “Hey, do you see this? Your friend is getting beaten up, wanna go help him?” The Architect asked.


    King 67 opened his eyes and saw Edward beaten to a pulp.


    Ahhh…ahhhhh! He tried begging the Architect not to hurt Edward, but it came out as a string of incoherent sounds.


    King 67’s eyes were bulging and his brain wasn’t working anymore. It felt like he was sane, but his body would not follow his commands.


    His heart beat like it was running a marathon, and his chest started to hurt.


    It was at that moment of absolute despair, that King 67 saw a small glimmer of hope.


    Edward’s hands moved with practiced precision.


    They moved quickly and fluidly, yet Edward was able to hide them from the architect. As a king, King 67 had learned it to communicate with the deaf. It was part of his role as a king, after all. He never imagined this skill would become essential in a moment like this.


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    Not... insane... are... you?


    No, I can still understand your signs.


    Get... up...


    You are bleeding so much, yet…


    attack...


    How can I…sit still…like this?


    him...


    I…


    with... dagger.


    I got it, Edward.


    King 67’s body trembled as he stood, his fear beginning to fade just enough for him to move in the presence of Edward''s commanding charisma which encouraged him greatly.


    I... distract.


    Edward formed the final sign, then slowly rose to his feet, blood trailing from his nose and mouth.


    “Good! I respect you! Come here!” The architect clapped.


    King 67 had also gotten to his feet, and inched slowly towards the Architect.


    “Behind you!” The crowd shouted, warning the Architect. “Look behind you!”


    His almost immobile feet inched ever closer to the Architect.


    Perhaps because of Edward’s provocations, the Architect paid no heed to the warnings of the crowd. It was as if he did not hear them at all.


    Finally, King 67 got right behind him-


    “You fell for our trick.”


    Normally King 67 would have just surrendered, but something, his gut maybe, forced him to fight back. Was it bravery? Was it desperation?


    No, what caused him to stand up was the hope that Edward gave him, but the reason why he had decided to attack the Architect in that crucial moment, was instinct.


    With a face like a wild beast, and a roar like a dragon, king 67 used his dagger and cut the Architect’s shoulder…and blood splattered out of it.


    The attack by the Architect, while careless, did the trick, and the Architect screamed in pain before clutching his chest and falling over, fainting as his head hit the ground.


    Outrage ensued. The spectators went mad, cursing and swearing at King 67 and Edward.


    Even the announcer was stunned into silence. The local police had to run to stop the spectators from clambering towards the stadium in anger.


    “Check…mate.”


    Edward said, smiling before he fainted too.


    Tom, or rather King 67, was the last man standing on the stadium.