《Desecration of a saint》


 The Remaking

    The boy¡¯s bare feet moved noiselessly over the cold stone floor, one step after another, as he trailed behind the guard. He didn¡¯t know where they were going, but he knew better than to ask. Questions led to trouble. Trouble led to pain. So he kept his mouth shut and his head down, watching the floor as it blurred past.


    The corridor stretched on forever, lit by flickering torches that sent shadows climbing up the walls. He didn¡¯t look at the shadows¡ªthey scared him, though he¡¯d never admit it even to himself. They reminded him of stories whispered among the other children: tales of monsters in the dark and what happened to those who were taken away.


    A door loomed ahead, its iron surface dull and heavy. He wondered what was on the other side. A part of him hoped it might be a good place. The guards had sometimes spoken about feasts and games in the upper halls, laughing as they described tables heavy with food and music that echoed for days. He imagined what it might be like to see those things, even if he knew he wouldn¡¯t. Not him.


    The door creaked open, and a burst of white light made him squint. The room was brighter than any place he¡¯d ever been, the light bouncing off walls of polished stone. His eyes adjusted slowly, and when they did, he wished they hadn¡¯t. In the center of the room, chained to a table, was something he couldn¡¯t understand.


    It wasn¡¯t human, not like the guards or the overseers. It looked softer, brighter like it didn¡¯t belong here. Its wings sprawled outward, feathers bent and broken in ways that made his chest hurt just to see. Blood streaked the soft white, turning the tips crimson. He stared at the chains around its arms and legs, glowing faintly with markings he couldn¡¯t read. It wasn¡¯t moving, not really, but its chest rose and fell in shallow, shaky breaths.


    Is it an animal? He wondered. No, it¡¯s too big for that. Is it a person? A person wouldn¡¯t have wings like that.


    ¡°Move,¡± the guard grunted behind him, shoving him forward.


    He stumbled, catching himself before he fell. His gaze darted around the room. Sharp metal tools gleamed on nearby tables¡ªthings with edges and points that made his skin crawl. The air smelled strange, like burnt iron and something sweet that made his stomach twist. His eyes kept drifting back to the creature. He didn¡¯t know why, but looking at it made him sad.


    A man in a long coat stepped forward. His face was thin, pale, and shadowed like he¡¯d forgotten how to smile. He gestured toward another table¡ªa smaller one, lined with straps and just as cold as it looked.


    ¡°Put him there,¡± the man said.


    The guard grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him like a sack of grain, dropping him onto the table. The metal was freezing against his back, and he flinched as straps wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles. He bit his lip, breathing sharply through his nose, willing himself not to cry. Crying never helped.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The man leaned over him, holding a syringe filled with a viscous, copper-colored liquid. The boy flinched as the needle pricked his arm, the sting sharp but brief. A coldness spread through his veins, stealing his strength. His limbs felt like lead, too heavy to lift. His chest rose and fell in shallow, deliberate breaths. He was frozen, paralyzed, but his mind remained painfully alert.


    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the creature move¡ªor at least, its head did. One of its eyes cracked open, just a sliver. It was looking at him.


    The boy¡¯s breath hitched. Its gaze wasn¡¯t angry or fierce. It was¡­ tired. Sad. It made his stomach twist in a way he couldn¡¯t explain.


    ¡°Good,¡± the man said, straightening. He gestured to the assistants gathered around the angel. ¡°Let¡¯s begin.¡±


    The boy¡¯s eyes darted to the side, watching as a blade was drawn across the creature''s chest. Its skin parted with little resistance, golden blood spilling out in thick rivulets but was collected into drainage ports on the table. The assistants worked quickly, their hands moving with practiced precision as they removed organ after organ and brought them to his side. He wanted to scream as he felt the scalpel press against his own skin, but his lips wouldn¡¯t move. The sharp knife drew along his skin it blossomed across his abdomen, and despite the pain facing the boy, he noticed that along with the assistant that did the surgery there were those that kept chanting words that when you listened to them fragmented out of your mind, the boy tried harder to concentrate on what they were saying.


    The procedure continued, the creature''s body yielding its parts one by one. Each organ was carefully extracted and placed into the boy His body burned, his nerves aflame with sensations he couldn¡¯t describe. He could feel the foreignness of the pieces, their weight, and wrongness, but there was no escape.


    The room blurred at the edges of his vision as the pain built, his focus narrowing to the distant sound of the creature''s shallow breathing. It was still alive. Barely.


    Toward the end, the assistants paused, hesitating for the first time. The man in the coat stepped forward, holding something delicate in his gloved hands¡ªthe creature''s eyes. They shimmered faintly even after their removal although light dimmed with each passing second.


    ¡°Do it quickly,¡± the man barked.


    The boy tried to close his eyes, to look away, but he couldn¡¯t. He felt the pressure as the tool was placed in each socket and with a quick jerk the bright room faded, only after what felt like hours light finally returned to the boy''s vision only each color the boy knew seemed different.


    The assistants murmured to each other, their voices hushed as they worked. The boy couldn¡¯t see what they were doing, but he felt the warmth of something along the base of his skull, the pressure of something piercing the skull''s bone, a pain so profound it turned the edges of his mind black. He felt something being taken from him, and something else forced inside.


    When it was over, the man in the coat stepped back, wiping his hands on a bloodied cloth. ¡°Close him up,¡± he said, his voice indifferent. He turned away, sparing neither the boy nor the creature another glance.


    The boy lay still, his body trembling inside, though it showed no outward sign. He stared at the ceiling, his new eyes capturing every crack and crevice with painful clarity. Somewhere in the room, the angel let out one final, shuddering breath.


    And then there was silence.

 Ward

    The handmaiden moved with steady purpose, her soft-soled shoes making little noise against the smooth stone floor. One by one, she approached the rows of beds, drawing back the faded curtains to glimpse the patients within. Her movements were precise, almost habitual: a glance at their faces, a careful scan of their breathing, and a quick note scribbled into her ledger. The faint scratch of her quill was the only sound, blending with the rustle of fabric as she moved down the line.


    She paused at one bed where an elderly man lay motionless, his gaunt face half-hidden in shadow. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. She noted his condition, her quill hovering briefly before recording a word that was becoming all too common in her work: deteriorating. Pulling the curtain closed, she continued, her grip tightening on the ledger as though bracing herself for what lay ahead.


    The youth ward was at the far end of the corridor, separated by a set of heavy oak doors. She pushed them open, the creak of the hinges echoing through the otherwise quiet space. A different kind of silence greeted her here¡ªnot the stillness of resignation, but the strained quiet of withheld sobs and muted pain. The air was thick with the scent of sickness, mingled with something faintly metallic that made her stomach churn.


    Her steps slowed as she approached the first bed. A boy no older than ten lay curled on his side, his face pale and his brow damp with sweat. He whimpered softly, the sound piercing through the quiet. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the curtain. For a moment, she considered skipping this one, but duty outweighed discomfort. She reached forward, drawing the fabric back and jotting down his condition¡ªfevered, unstable.


    Her eyes caught on something that made her stomach tighten. The boy''s abdomen was distended, the skin stretched and contorted as though something far too large had been forced inside. She hesitated, her breath catching as unease prickled down her spine. Gritting her teeth, she reached to pull aside his gown.


    Her breath hitched sharply, and a wave of nausea surged through her. She clamped her hand over her mouth, forcing herself to swallow the bile rising in her throat. The boy''s body was a patchwork of stitching and grafted skin, the seams jagged but carefully placed, with none of the haphazardness she had seen in failed procedures before. Yet, the skin itself was wrong¡ªsmooth and faintly luminous, as though it had been taken from something otherworldly.


    Her gaze shifted to his face, and pity swelled in her chest. His eyes were wrapped tightly in bandages, but something beneath them glimmered faintly, a barely perceptible light seeping through the thin fabric. Her quill trembled in her fingers as she noted his condition, her handwriting uneven as she added to her previous annotations.


    The sound of a loud bang from down the hall shattered the heavy silence. She flinched, her head snapping up as the echo lingered. The ledger slipped slightly from her grasp before she steadied herself, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she was frozen.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Down the hall of the ward, three men strode in. The one on the left was an older man, his skin clinging tightly to his gaunt frame. His medical coat looked a size too large, though it was far from baggy. Immaculate and spotless, it matched his stern, scowling expression. Even today, as he attempted a smile, the lines of his perpetual frown were etched deeply into his face.


    The man on the right was unfamiliar to the handmaiden, but his presence was no less commanding. His clothes, crafted from fine silks, glimmered faintly under the light, and the heavy jewels hanging from his neck gleamed with impressive size and value. Thick rings adorned his fingers, each shimmering with polished metal and embedded gemstones. His gut jutted prominently, suggesting a man who had never known hunger.


    But the most striking figure was the one in the center. She had seen his face everywhere: in the grand paintings adorning the walls, in the statues standing sentinel throughout the city, in the coins that changed hands daily. Her breath caught, and she quickly lowered her gaze, bowing her head to avoid meeting his eyes.


    "Your Majesty," she murmured, her voice steady but quiet. She stepped aside, finding a place she hoped would keep her out of his path, and waited.


    The heavy footsteps of the group grew closer, the rhythmic thud echoing through the corridor until the handmaiden could feel their gazes fixed on her. She kept her eyes lowered, her body still, for it was not her place to speak unless addressed. The weight of their scrutiny made her heart race, and beads of sweat formed at the crest of her thinning hairline, dampening her skin.


    Finally, the medical director broke the silence. "Handmaiden," he barked, his tone sharp and impatient. "Your log of the patients¡ªwhere is it?"


    The realization struck her like a blow. The ledger. She had dropped it during the commotion. Bowing even deeper, she forced her voice to remain steady. "Director, I... I dropped it."


    There was a beat of silence, heavy and suffocating, before his voice sliced through the air again. "Then pick it up, you useless wench," he snapped, his words laced with venom.


    Her hands trembled as she scrambled to retrieve the fallen ledger. Clutching it tightly, she raised it above her head, her body still bent in a deep bow. "Please forgive this one, your lordships!" she pleaded, her voice barely steady, carrying the weight of fear and desperation.


    For a moment, there was silence, and then she heard it¡ªa low, rasping laugh. The sound was muffled, as though the one laughing struggled to draw enough air to sustain it. It sent a chill down her spine, the unnatural cadence of it making her stomach twist. She dared not raise her head to see who it was, but the presence of their amusement felt like a shadow pressing down on her.


    The ledger was taken from her grasp. She flinched as the weight left her hands, the sudden absence making her feel even smaller. A deep, authoritative voice broke through the tension. "Are these your notes on the boy?"


    The tone resonated in her chest, steady and commanding, yet not cruel. It reminded her of her father''s voice when she was a child, both firm and final. She swallowed hard and nodded, though she kept her head low. "Yes, my lord," she managed.


    There was a pause¡ªagonizingly long. She held her breath, listening as the pages of the ledger were turned, the faint rustling amplifying the quiet around her. At last, the voice spoke again, its judgment clear and absolute.


    "These look good. Leave us."


    Relief washed over her like a wave. Bowing even deeper, she murmured her thanks and turned to leave, moving toward the door with measured, deliberate steps. She didn''t dare glance back, keeping her eyes on the ground until she disappeared into the hall beyond.

 Ward II

    I tried to open my eyes, but they felt as though tar had been poured over them, sealing them shut. The effort sent a fresh wave of searing pain through my body. Agony racked my frame, every nerve screaming in protest. Deep within, I felt my organs shifting, as though they were alive¡ªwrithing like worms burrowing deeper into the earth to escape the light.


    My bones ached, a deep, grinding pain that reminded me of the times I''d been beaten for daring to speak back to the masters. The memory only sharpened the torment, blending past and present into a haze of suffering. My head throbbed violently, a relentless, burning pain that made every thought feel heavy and fractured.


    Yet, through the haze, my ears¡ªno, just my right ear, as the left seemed deafened and mostly useless¡ªpicked up faint sounds. Voices. A conversation happening nearby. The words were muffled and distorted, as though I were hearing them through water, but their presence was undeniable. Someone was there.


    Straining my mind to pick up the words being said, I focused on a voice¡ªan older woman''s, trembling with panic. Her tone was sharp, tinged with desperation. Another voice followed, gruff and weathered, like the elders I''d heard from time to time addressing the other servants. His words cut through the air, scolding the woman harshly, though I couldn''t make out why. There was a laugh next, faint but familiar in a way I couldn''t place. It sent a chill through me.


    And then there was the final voice. It was quiet, so faint it almost escaped me, yet it commanded the most attention. When the woman addressed him with "my lord," the weight of his presence settled over the room like a suffocating fog. This was no ordinary man. He was at least a master, or someone of even greater standing.


    I waited, unsure what they wanted from me, unsure if they even knew I was awake. Fear gripped me, but I dared not move. Punishment came swiftly to those who disobeyed, and I had no strength to bow should they demand it.


    Their conversation grew clearer as I listened, though the words felt like knives carving into the fog in my mind. The commanding voice spoke first. "Noble Thorne, this one may start to show promise, as he hasn''t died yet. I want you to take him to the pit and mold him. Bring out any underlying potential."


    The word pit snapped me from my haze. I''d heard other slaves speak of it in whispers. It was where they sent those who looked strong enough to fight, where survival meant brutality and death was a constant shadow. I barely had time to process the weight of it before the gruff, defiant voice responded.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "My king, this boy is far too young. Look at his condition¡ªhe wouldn''t be able to kill a goblin, let alone survive the pit. I know you want to find out if the experiments could truly be used, but¡­ wouldn''t it be better to let him heal more?"


    The words barely registered, save for my king. Was that truly who stood before me? Cold sweat broke out across my body. Equal parts fear and an ingrained need to show respect surged within me. The servile instinct that had been drilled into me since birth won out.


    I opened my mouth. "Forgive this one, my lords. I shall carry out whatever task you have for me." My voice came out high-pitched and strained. I was shocked it worked at all, given the rest of my body seemed on the brink of collapse.


    Their voices stopped the moment I spoke. The silence that followed was as sharp as any blade. Then, the gruff voice snapped, "That useless handmaiden didn''t even check to see if the boy was awake. I''ll have to speak with her later to ensure she doesn''t repeat this mistake."


    The voice that had protested my placement in the pit¡ªMaster Thorne, as I now knew his name¡ªspoke again, his tone tinged with surprise. "Well, maybe he does have some kind of willpower¡­ Maybe I can work with this. He won''t be able to fight for quite some time, but I can start him off training with one of the older fighters."


    His words seemed directed more at himself than the others, as though he were already calculating how to shape me into something useful. My chest tightened. It wasn''t relief. The most important voice still hadn''t spoken.


    "Boy, what is your name?" the king asked.


    Both the other voices fell silent, waiting for my answer. I hesitated, then replied, "My lords, this servant doesn''t have a name."


    There was a long pause before the king spoke again, his voice calm and decisive. "Your name is Edric now."


    The king didn''t address me further, but that didn''t matter. I had a name now. Edric. I felt like the luckiest boy in the kingdom to be given a name¡ªby the king himself, no less. A strange elation filled me, momentarily dulling the pain in my body.


    As my joy swelled, the king turned his attention elsewhere. "Director Dutchmund, I want him to be picked up by Noble Thorne in a fortnight. Thorne, come back for him then."


    I heard two pairs of boots click together, followed by a firm, "Yes, Lord."


    One set of footsteps retreated as Thorne chuckled. "Good luck with him, Director," he said, his tone laced with mock amusement.


    The gruff voice¡ªDirector Dutchmund, I now knew¡ªsighed heavily as Thorne''s footsteps faded. He moved closer to me, his tone cold and efficient. "Well, you should be awake now. Let''s fix that."


    I heard the scrape of something against wood near my head, then felt the sharp prick of a needle in my arm. My mind slipped into darkness before I could think further.

 Lucky find

    Director Dutchmund''s POV


    I looked at the boy. His bandaged face seemed¡­ peaceful. Not in the traditional sense, but there was a faint trace of happiness there, a quiet contentment that felt almost out of place in this room. Perhaps it was because he had been given a name¡ªsomething so simple, yet so rare for someone in his position.


    A faint sense of wistfulness crept over me as I studied his expression. It reminded me of the other patients I''d seen over the years¡ªthose who, against all odds, survived their trials long enough to be visited by a family member. That fragile joy they felt, believing they''d been granted more time, even if they weren''t sure how long it would last.


    But this boy didn''t have a family. All he had was a name¡ªa single word bestowed upon him by the king himself which itself was a grand honor even with the king looking so apathetic, I was glad the boy couldn''t see the king''s face. it seemed to be enough to spark something in him, a small flicker of hope in an otherwise bleak existence. It was almost¡­ admirable, in its way. Or maybe tragic.


    Snapping myself out of my thoughts, I turned to my supplies and began preparing some healing tonics. I would need to extend a fair portion of my inventory just to get him into shape for his pickup with Thorne. A fortnight wasn''t nearly enough time, and yet, the king''s orders were absolute.


    I truly didn''t understand why his majesty thought it wise to send the boy to the pits. A child in his condition, barely alive, didn''t stand a chance.


    But deep down, I knew it wasn''t just the king''s decision. A bitter truth clawed its way into my thoughts: This is my fault.


    The memory came unbidden¡ªhis face bruised and beaten, yet somehow still determined, his hollow eyes staring forward even as his master loomed behind him. I remembered the master clearly: an older man with a cruel glint in his eye, his copper-engraved cane tapping rhythmically against the floor. The cane''s head was sculpted into a hand gripping a silver orb, a symbol of his mastery over the magical arts.


    I had thought about continuing my search, dismissing the boy as too frail, too broken for what I needed. But then the master spoke, his voice oozing with pride and malice.


    "You know, boy, that whore you would have called a mother always claimed she had angel blood in her veins," he sneered, his tone dripping with derision. "She thought she was someone important to the First Flame Holy Order. Delusional, she was. Even when we used her as bait against the same holy order, she still believed she mattered."


    While I didn''t particularly care about the fate of the boy''s mother¡ªcruel as it was¡ªI couldn''t ignore the claim she had made. Angel blood? Ties to the First Flame Holy Order? That wasn''t something I could simply dismiss. If there was even a kernel of truth to it would be worth asking for more information.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    I turned sharply toward the boy''s master, my gaze hard and unyielding. Pointing directly at him, I let my voice cut through the space with the weight of authority.


    "Under the order of the crown, I demand you explain that in more detail," I said, my tone cold and resolute. "Now."


    The man, who appeared to be in his late forties, turned to face me. His balding head, dotted with patches of gray hair, gleamed under the dim torch lights. I hadn''t noticed before, but his gut was massive, protruding so much that it made his thin arms look even smaller in comparison. He sneered at me at first, his expression full of disdain, as if he were about to chastise me as well.


    But then his eyes met mine. The arrogance that had defined his demeanor evaporated almost instantly. His sneer faltered, and his expression shifted into something far more cautious. Without a word, he dropped himself into a deep half-bow, the deference in his posture unmistakable.


    "Lord Dutchmund! My most humble respects¡ªI hadn''t realized it was you. I lost myself for a moment," he stammered, his voice dripping with forced humility.


    I stared at him, bent in his awkward bow, and felt a fleeting urge to kick him in the face. But alas, I didn''t wish to dirty my boot. A verbal lashing would suffice.


    "Hmm, you seem to know me," I said, letting my voice drip with mock curiosity. "Yet, I can''t say I recall you at all. Why are you in the inner walls?"


    The grotesque man in front of me twitched at my thinly veiled jab. His gut quivered slightly as he straightened, though he didn''t dare rise too far.


    "My lord, I live in the inner wall. We''ve met before¡ªat one of the king''s galas. My aunt offered her hand to you nine winters ago. Do you truly not recall me?" His voice strained with desperation, as if hoping to salvage some dignity from the exchange.


    "No," I said coldly, "I tend to forget things that don''t matter. Now, I won''t repeat myself. Tell me about this boy''s mother."


    The fat man''s face turned a deep shade of red, his indignation barely masked. Still, his voice maintained a veneer of tact..


    "You''ve already heard all there is to it, my lord. The boy''s mother was a lunatic who thought she had angel blood in her veins," he said, his tone clipped, as if eager to be done with the subject.


    I studied him for a moment, weighing his words. If there was even the slightest chance that the boy''s mother had been right¡­ It could be exactly what my experiments needed to succeed. After all, I was running out of time¡ªand out of angels.


    The one we had captured was the last, and I couldn''t afford another failure. If this boy''s bloodline held even a fraction of what I needed, it might be my best chance at success.


    "I''ll be taking the boy with me. I''ll let the treasury know to compensate you¡­ What was your name again?"


    The man said his family name, but I barely cared enough to remember it. Instead, I handed him my pocket quill and instructed him to write it down himself. Turning my attention back to the boy, a faint flicker of hope stirred within me. Perhaps, finally, my luck was beginning to change.


    "Boy, follow me," I commanded.


    He bowed his small head in acknowledgment and silently fell into step behind me. I noticed his gaze linger on the fat noble''s head for a moment, his expression unreadable. Whatever thoughts crossed his mind, they were his alone. Once he''d had his fill, his eyes snapped back to the path ahead, his steps steady and obedient.


    I couldn''t begin to guess what he was thinking, nor did I have the time to try. Whatever he had been through, it hadn''t broken him¡ªat least, not yet.

 Just the fix

    The world was still dark. I could hear faint sounds¡ªsoft sobs here and there. For all I knew, they could have come from my own mouth. My body still ached, riddled with pain, but it was manageable now. Yet, something felt¡­ off. My skin didn''t quite feel like my own, as though I were a guest in my own body. Perhaps an invited guest, but a guest nonetheless.


    The gentle scrape of boots on the floor reached my ears, accompanied by the muttering of an older voice. It had to be Lord Dutchmund. His tone was thoughtful, almost distracted, as he spoke to himself. I couldn''t catch all the words, but he mentioned the lack of effectiveness and needing stronger ingredients.


    I wasn''t entirely sure what he meant, but I had a feeling it had something to do with me.


    I gave up trying to focus on what he was doing and instead turned inward, retreating to the dark landscape of my mind¡ªa task that came easily to me. Memories surfaced, clear and vivid, of the books I used to sneak glances at on my old master''s shelves when he wasn''t looking. I was certain that if he''d known I was reading, his punishments would have been even crueler.


    The irony wasn''t lost on me. It was his own son who had taught me how to read. Not out of kindness, of course. He was far too lazy to read himself, so he''d force me to do it for him. Still, I couldn''t help but feel grateful that his laziness had worked in my favor.


    I remembered the books about knights, their techniques illustrated in vivid detail. In my mind, I mimicked the movements, imagining how it would feel to hold a blade, to fight with purpose. I tried to picture myself living as a normal boy, not the son of a slave. A boy with choices, with the freedom to shape his own life.


    But reality intruded, as it always did. I couldn''t forget the sight of my mother strung up, her body used as a human target. The memory burned like a brand, searing my mind with rage and helplessness. I knew it was wrong to hate, but that was all I felt for my old master. Hate. I wanted to poison him, maim him, anything to make him suffer as I had. To feel powerless as I had.


    But deep down, I knew it would never happen. My body, small and frail as it was, couldn''t manage it. And to kill a magic caster like him? You''d have to be one yourself or strong enough to outpace their spells. I was neither.


    But amidst the despair, I felt a glimmer of hope. The king had said I was to be sent to the pit and taught how to fight. Perhaps¡­ just perhaps, I could learn to be strong. Fast. Powerful.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    If I could survive, if I could endure, then one day, I might truly honor my mother''s memory¡ªby driving a blade through that fat, disgusting pig of a man who had stolen her life.


    As I lingered in my illusions, the shuffle of boots suddenly stopped. Before I could process what was happening, something was poured into my mouth, the liquid cool and sharp against my tongue. My eyes almost fluttered open in surprise.


    "I know you''re awake, boy," came the gruff voice of Lord Dutchmund. "That little smile of yours doesn''t hide it well. Now drink¡ªand don''t spill a drop, or I won''t bother making another tonic, his majesty be damned. I''ve already wasted enough on a slave boy."


    The words were cruel, biting, yet I caught the faintest undercurrent of something softer¡ªan almost begrudging care, buried beneath his sharp tone. It wasn''t much, but it was there.


    I did as instructed, swallowing the liquid carefully. Almost immediately, I felt a rapid change coursing through my body. The pain eased, my senses sharpened, and for the first time, I felt¡­ whole. As though I were no longer just a guest in my body but back to the rightful owner at last.


    The most noticeable change was in the darkness around me. What had once been an impenetrable void now seemed to shift, becoming a shadow-like murk I could almost peer into, shapes and faint textures beginning to emerge. It was strange yet oddly fascinating.


    "My lord, may I remove the bindings on my eyes?" I asked, my voice carefully measured, aiming for as much serenity as I could muster. Perhaps it would play into the care Lord Dutchmund had shown me so far, however grudgingly.


    "No."


    The single word cut through my tentative hope, cooling my enthusiasm in an instant. Disappointment settled in my chest, though I dared not press further. Still, I couldn''t help the growing curiosity gnawing at me. What did my surroundings look like? The desire to see, to understand, was almost unbearable.


    As I brooded over my frustration, another thought crept in, catching me off guard. Eating. I realized I hadn''t eaten in what felt like a week. Yet¡­ why hadn''t I felt hunger pangs? Was I so accustomed to them that my body no longer recognized their presence? Or was it something else entirely?


    What felt like an eternity passed in that shadowy landscape. Questions drifted through my mind, but with so few answers, I let them go. Eventually, even the novelty of my shifting vision faded, leaving me to wrestle with an all-consuming boredom.


    Just as I began to sink into frustration, the gruff voice returned, breaking the silence.


    "Now, boy¡­ Edric," Lord Dutchmund said, his tone measured. "Slowly remove your bindings. Do not rush."


    The sound of my name¡ªEdric¡ªsent a thrill through me. Both times it was spoken, it felt strange and precious, like a secret gift meant only for me.


    And now, I was being granted something even greater. My heart raced as I reached up, eager yet careful, ready to finally see the world around me.

 Bright new day

    The darkness faded, and my vision sharpened far faster than I expected. Whatever healing they had done to me worked well enough to make the adjustment almost seamless. As the world around me came into focus, I realized I was somewhere different¡ªnicer than I would have expected for someone of my stature. The room was small, reminiscent of the slave bunks I had known, but with a sense of care in its simplicity that those places never had. The walls were smooth stone, clean and unmarred by grime.


    The cot beneath me was narrow but sturdy, covered with a thick wool blanket that felt coarse against my skin but warm. It was far better than the tattered rags I had grown accustomed to. The air carried the faint scent of dried herbs, mingling with the sharp tang of something sharp that slightly singed at my nose.


    I tilted my head back to examine the ceiling. It was made of dark hardwood, its surface carved with intricate patterns¡ªbeasts and creatures locked in ferocious battles. Four-legged and two-legged shapes clashed with serpentine forms that twisted and flowed, their movements translated in the wood. The carvings drew me in, compelling me to follow their stories with my eyes as though watching a play performed above me.


    Lowering my gaze from the carvings, I took in the smaller details around me: the neatly folded linen at the foot of my cot, the soft glow of an oil lamp on a nearby table. Its flickering light illuminated a figure standing just within its reach, their face partially obscured by shadow but unmistakably watching me.


    As the light shifted, I recognized him. His face was gaunt, as though sleep had long since fought him. Light blue eyes glinted sharply, like a scalpel poised to cut. His greying, receding hair couldn''t quite hide the stubborn streaks of gold that still clung to it. His cheekbones, already sharp the last time I had seen him, looked even more pronounced now, the flickering shadows exaggerating their edges.


    The faint smell of barley gruel lingered on his coat, a scent I knew all too well. Yet, despite his haggard appearance, his expression seemed... lighter. He wasn''t scowling this time, and for Lord Dutchmund, as far as I could tell that was almost considered a good mood.


    He was close, leaning in slightly as if studying my reaction. His piercing blue eyes scanned my face, his expression sharp and calculating.


    "Edric," he said, his voice measured, "do you notice anything? Any dark patches or blurring of the vision?"


    His words drew my attention inward, forcing me to focus on my sight. I searched for any abnormalities, any flaws, but found none.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "No, Lord," I replied, keeping my tone respectful. "My vision is fine. Actually¡­ it''s better than fine. I can see everything clearer than before. I used to have trouble with objects close to my eyes¡ªthey were always blurry¡ªbut now everything is perfectly sharp."


    "Good. Now get up. I need to check if there are any anomalies with the rest of you."


    I found myself getting up easily, which felt strange. How was it that I felt so light, every muscle moving exactly as I wanted? It had never been like this before¡ªbefore they did whatever it was they had done to my body. A slight shiver ran through me as the memory of that experience surfaced.


    I followed Lord Dutchmund''s instructions, performing basic movements while he scribbled notes into his book. I wished I could understand what he was recording, but I had never been taught to read or write. The shapes on the page were as much a mystery to me as the changes in my body.


    After some time, the heavy doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, their sound reverberating through the ward. A moment later, the loud thumping of heavy boots echoed across the stone floor, growing louder with each step.


    Eventually, a massive gut appeared in the doorway, followed by the man it was attached to. His heavy frame seemed dominated by fat, but I doubted that was entirely true¡ªno one could move with that much weight and not possess some underlying strength. His head was completely bald, gleaming as though it had been waxed, much like I used to do to my old master''s boots.


    His skin was dark, a rich hue similar to the wood around me, and adorned with gleaming gold. Earrings hung from his ears, and a heavy necklace rested against his chest. His robe was smooth and elegant, the kind of fabric I imagined was made for royalty. Despite his lavish appearance, it was his smile that struck me the most¡ªcold and calculating, far more chilling than Lord Dutchmund''s habitual scowl.


    His mouth stretched wide¡ªalmost too wide for his face¡ªas he spoke, his tone dripping with exaggerated cheer.


    "My, my, look who''s finally awake. Did you sleep well? Heal well? I hope so. We have a busy day ahead of us."


    I bowed my head low, keeping my voice steady.


    "Lord Thorne!"


    Unlike the director, who had been caring for me in his own gruff way, I sensed that Lord Thorne would care deeply about being addressed properly. There was something about him¡ªhis presence, the way he carried himself¡ªthat reminded me of my old master. The same sharp gaze, the same air of expectation that demanded respect.


    "Raise your head, boy. Or should I call you Edric, as that was the name given to you... Ah, to be granted a name by the king while only being a slave. You must be a truly lucky boy, you know. It''s not that I''m jealous¡ªjust stating the obvious."


    His hand larger than my head waved for me to follow.


    "Come now, Edric. We need to take you to your new residence, and I''ll introduce you to your instructor. I''ll have you know, I picked only the best for you. You''ll be a champion¡ªor dead¡ªin no time... Haha, I''m only joking."


    I moved to follow him, sparing a glance at Lord Dutchmund. He seemed completely disinterested in me and the conversation, his focus fixed on whatever notes or thoughts consumed him.

 Cart ride

    We walked through the halls, the wooden floor beneath us emitting a soft groan with each step. The rooms we passed had their doors shut, but faint noises filtered through¡ªmurmurs, shuffling, and the occasional clang of something metallic. Each sound made me wonder about the activities hidden behind those closed doors.


    As we neared the end of the hallway, we approached a set of double doors that looked far more robust than the others. The wood was reinforced with metal bands, giving it an imposing, fortified appearance. Standing near the doors were several men in armor. Most of them wore plate with a reddish-brown hue, its surface burnished to catch the light in a muted, earthy glow. Among them was an older man whose armor stood apart. Its pale, almost chalky finish seemed to drink in the dim light, reflecting it back with a soft, ghostly gleam.


    I recognized the reddish armor¡ªit was the kind worn by guards and lower-ranked soldiers during the military parades on my old master''s estate. The pale armor, however, was unfamiliar. It looked heavier, sturdier, as if it had been crafted for someone of higher importance.


    As we approached, the man in the pale armor, clearly the leader of the group, snapped to attention. His fist struck the place over his heart with a sharp thud, and his heels clicked together in a crisp, smooth motion.


    "Lord Thorne, the wagons are ready to move. The food and supplies have been secured as well. The only concern is the lack of blessed torches."


    Lord Thorne''s brow twitched slightly at the mention of the torches. His calm expression remained fixed, but there was a sharpness in his tone that felt dangerous.


    "...And why is it that we don''t have the light we need? Surely, it should be an easy affair to procure some, no?"


    The guard visibly tensed, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead despite the cool air of the hallway. His words came quickly, stumbling slightly under the weight of Thorne''s scrutiny.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    "My lord, ever since the followers of the First Flame declared war on us, blessed items like holy water and torches have stopped arriving. They''re only available through smugglers now."


    Lord Thorne paused, his expression unreadable as he considered the guard''s explanation. Finally, with a faint sigh, he began moving toward the doors and the waiting guards.


    "Very well. I won''t blame you for failing to acquire something that wasn''t there to begin with. Find a contractor and have them report to me immediately. I''ll be in my cart. Boy, follow me."


    The guard slammed his fist to his chest again in acknowledgment and quickly turned, barking commands to the other men before jogging off to carry out Thorne''s order. The term contractor lingered in my mind, unfamiliar yet ominous, as I hurried to keep pace with Lord Thorne.


    The cart Lord Thorne had mentioned was massive, its size rivaling that of a large slave bunkhouse, the kind that could fit fifteen or more people. Yet this cart was built for a single occupant. The sheer scale of it felt off, almost excessive.


    As we got closer, something else struck me as strange¡ªthere were no animals harnessed to pull it. The guard had said it was ready, so how could it move? I glanced around, confused, my gaze searching for any sign of the draft animals that should have been nearby, but there were none.


    The absence left me bewildered. What kind of power moved something so large without beasts to pull it?


    As Lord Thorne approached the cart, the door swung open, revealing a woman with sickly pale skin. Her presence sent a wave of revulsion through me, an instinctive reaction I couldn''t suppress. Her hollow eyes locked onto me, and a similar distaste flickered in her gaze.


    " It seems you''ve picked up a stray on your way here. I''ll remove it."


    Her voice was devoid of warmth, cutting and clinical, but what unsettled me most was the strange undercurrent. It was layered, as though a second voice¡ªguttural and masculine¡ªspoke alongside hers.


    Lord Thorne moved faster than I could process. His hand struck her face with a force that sent her head snapping to the side, a sickening crunch echoing through the air. She staggered but didn''t fall. Instead, her head jerked back unnaturally, and she dropped to one knee, her tone shifting to urgent submission.


    "This one apologizes for speaking out of turn, Lord!"


    Lord Thorne didn''t reply. He simply stared at her for a moment before stepping into the cart without another word.


    I lingered, my mind reeling at what I had just witnessed, but when he glanced back at me, I hurried to follow. I climbed into the cart and sat on the floor, my thoughts swirling.

 First meeting

    Her eyes stayed fixed on me, unblinking and unwavering. The hatred in her gaze was unmistakable, despite the stoic mask she wore. It was as though the scowl she wanted to unleash was barely contained beneath her rigid expression. But I felt it, and I met it. Even sitting on the floor, my position both literally and metaphorically lower than hers, I didn''t look away. My eyes locked with hers, defiant in a way I couldn''t quite explain.


    A deep and unbridled disgust rose within me¡ªnot for her appearance, which for the most part seemed normal, save for her sickly pale complexion. No, it was something far deeper, an instinctive revulsion that I couldn''t ignore. It felt as though her very essence was wrong, like she was a stain that needed to be cleansed. The intensity of it startled me, and if not for my small body and young age, I might have acted on it, regardless of the consequences.


    As the silent battle between us played out, Lord Thorne sat nearby, his imposing figure exuding a calm that felt almost deliberate. He lounged with an air of quiet detachment, but every so often, his sharp eyes would flick toward us, and a faint smirk would tug at his lips¡ªas though he found some amusement in our unspoken feud.


    "What do you feel, Edric? I am curious."


    Lord Thorne''s voice broke the silence, his calm tone cutting through the tension.


    I turned my focus from the woman to him, hesitating. "My lord¡­ may I speak my thoughts fully?"


    "That''s what I asked, boy. Do not make me repeat myself."


    His response was sharp but tinged with intrigue. I straightened as much as I could and spoke, steady but deliberate. "I feel like she is a blight¡ªa sickness. Like bread left out to rot, mold spreading across its surface. She should be removed before that sickness takes hold."


    Lord Thorne''s expression barely changed, save for a slight twitch of his mouth. He turned his attention to the woman. "And you?"Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    The woman''s stoic demeanor cracked. Her disgust exploded in an open act of defiance as she spit on the ground near me.


    "This little blessed one should be dragged behind the wagon as we move," she sneered, her voice heavy with venom. "Truly, my lord, you should let me handle him. I promise, I will be quick about it."


    Lord Thorne chuckled softly, a sound that was neither kind nor cruel, but something in between. "Ah, how predictable," he mused, his smirk widening. "It seems at least part of what we tried to accomplish worked. Edric, I expect high things from you. Do not disappoint me."


    His words left me momentarily confused, but the pieces began to fit together. Of course, they had done something to me. That was why I felt such a visceral reaction to this woman, and why she seemed to feel the same toward me. It had to be tied to whatever they had used during the surgery¡ªthe creature whose parts now made up part of me.


    Blessed. That was the word she had used, and it struck me with chilling clarity. Whatever they had done, whatever they had used, it must have been some kind of blessed one.


    As I was finally starting to understand more of what I was now, a sharp banging jolted me from my thoughts.


    "My lord, I have three more contractors that will be accompanying us on our trip. Would you like me to send them in?"


    I recognized the voice as the lead guard from earlier.


    "Send them in," Lord Thorne replied. His gaze shifted to me, his tone carrying an edge of amusement. "And you, Edric¡ªI suggest you sit closer to me, considering how your little spat with her just went."


    I moved closer to him, careful to remain far enough away that my position wouldn''t seem above my station. The door of the cart creaked open, and the three contractors stepped in.


    The feeling hit me immediately. That same deep disgust I had felt toward the woman now returned, amplified to a suffocating degree.


    The first contractor was an older woman whose skin was traced with black, vein-like lines, her eyes pools of inky darkness that seemed to devour the light. The second was a young man, strikingly similar to the woman I had already met¡ªhis pale complexion and unsettling presence mirrored hers.


    The third was a complete enigma. Their face was hidden, and their garments obscured their gender entirely. Their movements were deliberate but unnatural, like a puppet being guided by unseen strings.


    The air in the cart felt heavy, almost oppressive, as they settled inside. My instincts screamed at me.

 best kind of teacher

    Lord Thorne brought his hands down to his knees, pausing for a moment in thought before speaking.


    "Well, it seems like we finally have everything ready to move. You four will be in charge of protecting us as we pass through the Dire Forest. I wouldn''t fail if I were you¡ªyour contracts would not even matter if you fall there."


    The sickly pale woman I had already seen remained unfazed by the news, her expression unchanging as though she had expected it. The other three, however, shifted their postures subtly, their discomfort evident in the tightening of their stances. Despite their apparent unease, none of them raised their voices in protest. Instead, they each moved toward the door in silence.


    A minute later, I heard the faint creak of wood above us as two pairs of footsteps settled on the roof of the cart. Where the other two had gone, I wasn''t sure. Outside, more voices reached my ears, muffled but distinct. The guards, I realized. It seemed they, too, would be accompanying us on this journey.


    Not long after, I felt the cart jerk forward. Whatever pulled it was a mystery, as the small window set into the side of the cart was far too high for me to see through¡ªnot that I would have been allowed to look even if I could. The bumps of the cobblestone road beneath us jostled me lightly, a constant reminder of the movement.


    I thought about what it would mean to leave the city. Truthfully, I had never even learned its name. Slaves were deliberately kept ignorant of geography to discourage thoughts of escape. My old master had gone to great lengths to ensure we knew as little as possible about the world beyond his estate. Still, I couldn''t help but feel grateful for his son''s laziness. Without him forcing me to read and perform tasks in his stead, I would be utterly ignorant of many things. Thinking back on it now, I could see how those small moments of stolen knowledge had planted the seeds of curiosity in my mind.


    It was a boring ride. Lord Thorne didn''t seem inclined to talk much, so all I could do was feel the vibrations through the floor of the cart and try to guess what kind of area we were in. At first, it was rough, making it easy to guess that we were still on the cobblestone roads of the city. Then the bumping became softer, more muted, and I assumed we had transitioned onto dirt roads. Given how long we traveled on that smoother path, I could only imagine we had left the city behind hours ago.


    I was lost in thought when a sudden feeling of unease crept over me. Turning my head, I noticed Lord Thorne watching me. His eyes were distant, as though lost in his own thoughts. He studied me in a way that made my skin prickle, as if he were trying to puzzle something out.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Lord Thorne''s POV


    Looking at the boy, I felt a twinge of pity¡ªnot something I was accustomed to. From what I''d been told about the surgery, it was likely the most expensive and risky procedure ever attempted in our time. To think that the organs, skin, bones, and even parts of the brain of an angel had been implanted into a boy no older than ten winters... It bordered on madness.


    And yet, worse still, the king had been fully on board with the experiment. I would have thought that having a daughter around the same age as the boy would make His Majesty more cautious, more mindful of the risks... or perhaps even more human. But clearly, there was something I didn''t understand¡ªsomething His Majesty had already considered and prepared for.


    Looking out the window, I could see that the little town surrounding the medical center had long since vanished from view. Now, the open prairies that bordered my territory and Dutchmund''s stretched endlessly before us. The low-lying grass rippled gently in the breeze, offering a stark contrast to the oppressive weight of my thoughts.


    I glanced down at the boy again, his small frame shifting slightly with the cart''s movements. The king''s words replayed in my mind, catching me off guard even now. But I had spent enough time navigating the noble world to mask my surprise. Still, I couldn''t shake the nagging realization: this boy, as he stood now, would likely die in the pits¡ªnot for lack of physical strength, as I had seen children younger than him fighting there¡ªbut because he had been born into a different kind of environment.


    My gaze drifted back to the grass outside as an idea began to take shape. Perhaps there was a way to prepare him better for what lay ahead. Something unconventional, perhaps even unorthodox. If he was to survive and fulfill the king''s expectations, I would need to rethink my approach.


    I told the boy I had the best teacher for him, but truthfully, I think I have found someone better.


    "Stop the cart!"


    I bellowed, my voice filling the cabin with such force that I saw the boy flinch. Even I felt the faint vibration of my own command.


    There was a knock on the door, and the guard in iron armor stepped inside, immediately dropping to one knee.


    "My lord, what orders do you have for us?"


    I leaned forward, a slow smile spreading across my face. "I want you to bring me some goblins alive. If possible, bring any gear they might have on them as well. If you can''t find goblins, then something of similar strength will do. Send the lower-ranked guards¡ªthey shouldn''t have any trouble with such a task."


    The guard hesitated only briefly before nodding sharply. "As you command, my lord." He rose and stepped back out, shouting orders to the others as the cart came to a full halt.


    I leaned back in my seat, pleased with myself. This should prove entertaining.

 Deal of a lifetime

    I sat in relative silence, the occasional gust of wind brushing against the cart breaking the monotony. It had been a little while since Lord Thorne gave the order to the guards to retrieve goblins¡ªor something similar. He seemed to be in a notably good mood, smiling more than before. Whatever his plan was, it clearly pleased him.


    As boredom crept in, I let my mind wander. My thoughts turned to the strange changes I had been noticing within myself. Everything felt sharper now, my memories no longer shrouded in the murky haze they once were. Before the surgery, recalling anything had felt like trying to peer through muddy water. Now, every memory surfaced effortlessly, clear and precise, as though etched into my mind.


    Without realizing it, my hand moved to my head. My fingers brushed over the faint circular groove in my skull where the surgery had been performed. It wasn''t fully healed, and the sensation sent a shiver through me. My thoughts lingered on what they might have done to me, what I was now. But a sudden banging on the door jolted me from my thoughts.


    "My Lord," came the muffled voice of the guard outside. "We have found and captured five goblins. Two armed with clubs, one with a dagger, one with a staff¡ªlikely some kind of caster¡ªand one that is in the early stages of evolving into a hobgoblin. The evolving one wields a bronze warhammer and is the only one with armor. It has a gambeson, likely scavenged from a battlefield. There is nothing else of note to report. We await your orders."


    I glanced at Lord Thorne, unsure of what to expect. His smile widened as he leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes gleaming with something I couldn''t quite place¡ªanticipation, perhaps, or amusement. Whatever it was, it made my skin prickle.


    "Boy¡­ get out of the cart."


    The weight in his voice froze me for a moment. He seemed... different. His usual composed demeanor was shifting, his posture looser, his mannerisms more unpredictable. It unsettled me, the subtle wildness in his tone hinting at something deeper, something dangerous.


    I climbed out of the cart, my feet landing on the packed dirt. Nearby, the guards stood in a tight formation around the goblins they had captured. The creatures were smaller than I had imagined, their greenish skin mottled with darker patches. Their yellow eyes darted about frantically, sharp teeth bared as they hissed and growled.


    What struck me most, however, were their swollen bellies, protruding as though they had eaten far too much. It reminded me of how the masters often looked after a feast. The thought curdled in my mind. Did these creatures live better than us? Eat better than us? The idea stung, leaving a bitter knot of frustration in my stomach. Was I truly below a beast?


    "Where did you locate them, Captain?" Lord Thorne''s voice broke through my thoughts.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    The captain in pale armor snapped to attention before answering. "My lord, we found them a bit east, near one of the battle sites. It looked like they''d been there for some time, as most of the bodies had already been picked clean of meat. Fortunately, the group itself wasn''t large enough to pose much difficulty in capturing."


    Lord Thorne nodded, placing a hand on the captain''s shoulder briefly before turning to me. "Boy, I want you to put on that gambeson over there," he said, gesturing toward a padded coat draped over the side of the cart.


    I hesitated but quickly stepped forward to retrieve it. The gambeson was far too large for me, its thick padding nearly swallowing my small frame. It smelled of damp earth and old sweat, its weight heavier than I had expected. As I slid it over my shoulders, the coarse material pressed against my skin, grounding me in the moment.


    "Good. Now, boy, I want you to pick a weapon."


    Lord Thorne gestured toward a pile of crude weapons laid out on the ground¡ªthe spoils taken from the goblins. My pulse quickened as I approached. Slaves were not allowed to handle weapons, and the thought of touching one filled me with equal parts fear and exhilaration. Yet, defying Lord Thorne wasn''t an option.


    I scanned the pile. The clubs seemed simple enough, the dagger sharp and practical. But my gaze kept drifting toward the warhammer. Its wooden shaft was rough, its head heavy and brutal. One end came to a curved point, while the other bore three blunt nubs. It was a weapon that demanded respect, and somehow, it called to me. Slowly, I leaned down and wrapped my fingers around the shaft, lifting it. The weight was unfamiliar, yet it felt... right.


    "I straightened, glancing cautiously at Lord Thorne, waiting for his reaction. My grip tightened instinctively on the hammer, my heart pounding as I awaited his next command.


    He looked at me, and the wildness in his smile deepened. Slowly, he walked toward me, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over where I stood. I tilted my head back to meet his gaze, but it was difficult to make out his features. His skin, dark as the deepest earth, contrasted sharply with the bright sun behind him, its light nearly blinding me. Squinting, I struggled to focus on him, but his voice cut through everything, commanding my full attention.


    "Edric," he began, his tone steady but laced with something sharp and deliberate. "I know you have only known slavery, never a thought of rising above your station."


    I stiffened at his words, my grip tightening further on the hammer''s handle. The way he spoke made it impossible to ignore the weight of what he was about to say.


    "Well," he continued, his voice lowering slightly, "I will make a deal with you. The same one I was once offered."


    He paused for a moment, as though to let the gravity of his words settle over me.


    "Should you become a champion in my arena, I will propose your freedom to the king. From there should he allow it, you''ll be a free man."


    The air seemed to thicken around me, his words striking me with a force I hadn''t anticipated. Freedom. It was a concept so foreign to me that, for a moment, I wasn''t sure I''d heard him correctly. I had spent my entire life being told that freedom was something I could never hope for¡ªsomething reserved for others, never for someone like me. And yet, here he was, dangling it before me like a distant star, impossibly bright and out of reach.


    For a moment, I could only stare at him, the hammer feeling heavier in my hand. Could he truly mean it? Was this another cruel game, or was there a sliver of truth in his offer?


    Lord Thorne''s smile widened, his sharp eyes gleaming as though he could see the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind. "What do you say, boy? Do you have it in you to fight for something more?"

 Goblin I

    I turned away from Lord Thorne, my grip tightening around the hammer as unease coiled tightly in my stomach. I understood what was expected of me. The thought of facing all the goblins at once sent a spike of fear through me, but my nerves eased slightly as one of the smaller creatures was pulled forward. Its bindings clinked as it stumbled into the clearing, and I silently thanked whatever mercy had decided to test me with just one.


    I studied the goblin carefully. Its wrists were raw and bloodied, the skin rubbed away from futile attempts to free itself. I had seen marks like that before¡ªon slaves who had struggled against their chains. The familiarity of it struck me, an unsettling connection forming in the back of my mind.


    The guards shifted, their armor clinking softly as they encircled us. Their weapons hung loosely at their sides, but their expressions betrayed keen anticipation. Even the contractors took an interest in what was unfolding. From the roof of the cart, the veined woman with black, hollow eyes and the pale woman I had encountered earlier watched in silence. Their gazes made my skin crawl, a chill spreading under my skin as if their eyes could pierce through me.


    I glanced briefly around for the other two contractors but saw no sign of them. My wandering gaze caught on the cart''s source of movement¡ªa group of four black horses, their sleek coats shining faintly in the light. At least that mystery was solved. But the knowledge didn''t settle the knot twisting in my stomach.


    When I turned back to the goblin, I noticed a shift in its demeanor. Its frantic writhing had ceased, replaced by a quiet intensity. Its wild yellow eyes locked onto mine, a low growl rumbling in its throat. The change was unnerving, and yet, it felt like we both understood the unspoken agreement: one of us would leave this fight alive.


    "Now, boy," came a voice from one of the reddish-armored guards, surprising me. They rarely spoke to me. "I understand you might not realize it, but if you go easy on this beast, it will kill you¡ªor worse, it''ll start eating parts of you while you''re still alive."


    I swallowed hard and nodded, clinging to his words like a lifeline. My grip on the hammer tightened as my heart pounded in my chest, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.


    "Ready! Begin!" Lord Thorne''s voice cut through the stillness, final and commanding.


    The goblin''s restraints fell away, and it began to move toward me, each step deliberate and careful. Its yellow eyes never wavered from mine, and I mirrored its approach. My breathing was shallow, but I felt a peculiar sensation stirring in my mind¡ªan instinct tugging at me, guiding me. It whispered for me to let go of thought and let my body act.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I surrendered to that pull, moving forward step by step. The goblin crept closer, the stench of its unwashed body hitting me like a wave. My nose wrinkled, but I pressed on. One more step, and I was close enough to see the feral hunger glinting in its eyes. Then it lunged.


    The world slowed. That strange sensation took over, sharpening my movements. I sidestepped with fluid precision, narrowly avoiding its claws. My arm lifted instinctively, the hammer heavy in my grip, and I swung down hard.


    The sound was sickening¡ªa crunch of bone and a wet thud as the hammer connected with its shoulder. The goblin shrieked, stumbling back, its arm hanging limp and useless. But it wasn''t finished. Its snarling face twisted in pain and fury as it staggered, trying to recover.


    Before it could, I pulled the hammer back, aiming the spike at its bloated belly. My body moved without hesitation, driving the sharp point into the soft flesh. The goblin groaned as its stomach split open, its insides spilling onto the ground. Its eyes flickered with confusion, as though it couldn''t understand what was happening to it.


    But I didn''t stop. I raised the hammer again, this time bringing it down on its skull. The crunch of bone and wet impact reverberated through my arms, and the goblin crumpled to the ground, lifeless.


    I stood over its body, my chest heaving, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. And then it hit me¡ªa sensation I couldn''t describe. It wasn''t pride or relief, nor was it sadness. It was something raw, something primal. Hunger.


    Without fully understanding why, I crouched beside the goblin''s corpse. My left hand flipped the body over, my surroundings fading into a blur. My movements felt automatic, as though compelled by something beyond my control. My hand plunged into the gaping wound in its chest, my fingers closing around something solid.


    When I pulled it free, I found myself holding a stone-like object, slick with blood and still warm to the touch. Its surface pulsed faintly, almost as though it were alive.


    Opening my mouth, I placed the stone-like object inside and swallowed it whole. A warm sensation radiated from my stomach almost immediately, spreading out in tendrils that seemed to prick at my heart. It wasn''t painful, but it was strange, like a low hum of energy resonating inside me.


    I staggered slightly, feeling unsteady on my feet. My mind raced as I tried to process what I had just done. Why did I feel compelled to swallow it? I couldn''t explain my own actions. When I looked up, everyone was staring at me, their expressions ranging from disgust to confusion. The guards exchanged uneasy glances, and even the contractors seemed momentarily taken aback. The pale woman''s lips curled in what looked like a sneer, while the veined woman''s hollow eyes bore into me with vivid intensity.


    "Boy," Lord Thorne''s voice broke the silence, calm yet probing. "Do you know what you just did?"


    I turned to face him, my breathing shallow. There was no anger in his tone, but his sharp eyes betrayed a flicker of interest, as though he already had an idea of the answer and was merely testing me. I shook my head slowly, unsure of what to say, unsure of what he wanted to hear.


    "I¡­ don''t know, my lord," I admitted, my voice small but steady. My hand instinctively moved to rest over my chest, where that faint warmth still lingered. Whatever I had done, it felt significant¡ªthough whether for good or ill, I couldn''t say. Lord Thorne''s expression didn''t waver.


    "Interesting¡­ Well, I guess I''ll explain something to you later, but going forward, don''t fight that feeling of yours. It was god-given, you know. Hahaha!"

 Goblin II

    After the first fight, it seemed they thought more highly of me¡ªat least as a fighter. Though, it was hard to tell if eating the glowing stone had shifted their view of me beyond that, perhaps making them question whether I was even entirely full human anymore. The next goblin they brought out was the second smallest, nearly identical to the first in appearance. The only truly notable difference was its height. While the last one barely reached my shoulders, this one stood roughly the same height as me. Its demeanor was different too¡ªsharper, more calculating. It glanced at the fallen goblin before locking its yellow eyes on me, a strange intelligence flickering behind them, as if it were already devising a plan to avoid the same fate.


    I tightened my grip on the hammer, steadying myself as the tension built. Just as I began to ready myself for the fight, Lord Thorne raised his hand, halting everyone.


    "Give the creature a weapon," he said, his tone calm but commanding. "I feel like the boy can win this too easily if we don''t."


    The guards exchanged swift, uncertain glances. Their hesitation was brief, but telling. One of them complied, tossing a club onto the ground in front of the goblin. There was a flicker of doubt in their movements, as though they questioned whether this was wise. To my small relief, the club landed a fair distance from the goblin, forcing it to lurch forward to retrieve it. The guards, at least, seemed to want to give me a fighting chance.


    Even so, Lord Thorne''s order stung. He had seen what I could do in the first fight, and yet he raised the stakes without hesitation. My hands gripped the hammer tightly, the knuckles turning white. I glanced between the goblin and the club, dread and determination mixing in my chest. This fight would not be the same.


    The guards stepped back, unlocking the goblin''s shackles. The creature hesitated for only a moment before darting toward the club, its raw wrists smearing red against the dirt as it scrambled to pick up its weapon. I didn''t wait for it to ready itself. I lunged forward, hoping to catch it off balance before it could gain a foothold. I''d seen guards use this tactic to subdue unruly slaves before, and I thought it might work for me.


    That strange sensation returned¡ªthe one I had felt in the first fight, a pull that whispered for me to let go of thought and let instinct take hold. But this time, I resisted it. I didn''t trust it yet. I pushed it aside, keeping my focus sharp as I crashed into the goblin, sending us both sprawling into the dirt.


    I raised the hammer, ready to bring it down, but the goblin moved faster than I expected. It twisted beneath me with shocking agility, its crooked teeth snapping out like a viper. A sharp, searing pain flared where my upper chest met my shoulder, spreading like fire across my back. The goblin''s teeth tore free, and I staggered backward, gasping as a warm, sickening sensation spread down my side. I looked down to see a jagged chunk of flesh missing from my shoulder. My blood oozed freely from the wound¡ªbut it wasn''t normal blood.


    The deep crimson was threaded with glowing motes, faintly pulsing as it ran down my arm. My breath hitched. I''d bled before¡ªplenty of times. My old master''s punishments had ensured that I knew what blood should look like. But this? This was something else. Something wrong.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The goblin swallowed the chunk of my flesh, its mouth smeared red as it let out a low, guttural snarl. It seemed emboldened, as if tasting my blood had ignited something in it. My mind raced, panic and confusion colliding, but anger was quick to rise, overwhelming everything else.


    I clenched my jaw and lashed out with my free hand, driving my fist into the goblin''s face. The impact stunned it for a brief moment, its yellow eyes widening in surprise¡ªconfused, perhaps, that I hadn''t used my weapon. But I didn''t stop there. I surged forward, closing the distance between us, and bit down on its throat.


    The goblin shrieked, the foul taste of its flesh and the sour tang of its blood flooding my mouth. My stomach churned, but I didn''t let go. I tore a chunk free, spitting out its ragged throat tissue as it gurgled in pain. Its eyes¡ªwet with tears now¡ªwidened with fear. For the first time, it looked at me not as prey, but as a predator.


    It shoved me off with its trembling hands, choking out a garbled cry as it stumbled backward. I rose slowly, blood smeared across my mouth and chin. The pain in my shoulder dulled, though I knew the wound wasn''t healed. My mind simply tuned it out, as if my body had decided it didn''t matter.


    The goblin staggered back toward the club, its hands shaking as it bent to pick it up. I began to move forward, slow and deliberate. I took my time, watching the goblin''s every movement. Each step I took, I feigned a lunge, causing the creature to flinch, raising its club to guard itself.


    I didn''t follow through. I stopped, waited, and did it again. And again. The goblin''s movements grew erratic, its breathing frantic. It was panicking now¡ªangry, stressed, and exhausted. The moment its guard faltered, I struck.


    I gripped the hammer closer to its head and lunged, driving the spike upward in a sharp, brutal arc. The point pierced beneath its jaw, sinking into its skull with a sickening crack. The goblin froze, its yellow eyes going wide with shock before the life drained from them. Its body sagged, falling limp as I yanked the hammer free, leaving a jagged hole where the spike had been.


    I stood over the body, panting, my chest rising and falling with the effort. My shoulder ached, and my head buzzed. The world felt quieter now. I looked down at the goblin''s lifeless form, and I smiled.


    Power. That was what I felt, raw and intoxicating. My mind raced as I stared at the fallen creature, my eyes drawn instinctively to its chest. I wanted to see if this one also had a stone in its body. No one moved to stop me. My hands were steady as I crouched down, gripping the hammer''s spike again. I drove it into the goblin''s torso, carving a jagged hole in a spot similar to where I''d found the stone in the first one.


    Reaching inside, my fingers found it¡ªthe same smooth, hard object. I pulled it free, slick with blood and glowing faintly. Even though this goblin had been larger, the stone was identical in size and appearance to the first. Its faint warmth pulsed in my palm, and without hesitation, I opened my mouth and swallowed it whole.


    The sensation was immediate. Warmth spread from my stomach in waves, but this time, there was something more¡ªsomething deeper. A new sensation began to stir within me, like something growing inside my chest. The warmth turned sharp, and I gasped as a searing pain racked my body. My hands flew to my chest as I doubled over, curling into myself. My skin felt cold and clammy, sweat soaking through my gambeson. My chest throbbed with each beat of my heart, the pain so intense it blurred the edges of my vision.


    Footsteps approached, heavy and deliberate, cutting through the fog of agony. I heard faint words, spoken with a mix of annoyance and dismissal.


    "Okay, okay, that''s enough of that now. Let''s load up the cart and move on. Kill the other goblins, except for the evolving one. It''s worth a bit of coin."


    The voice was Lord Thorne''s, his tone calm and uncaring, as if I were no more than a minor inconvenience in his plans. The world around me faded as the pain grew unbearable, my body succumbing to the pressure. The last thing I remembered was the sound of the hammer slipping from my grasp and the cold dirt beneath me as I blacked out.

 Dream

    I normally didn''t dream¡ªat least, not that I ever remembered. My nights were always a void, an endless black that carried me from exhaustion to waking. But this time was different.


    I dreamed of a bird, or something like it. Its wings were immense, golden-bronze feathers stretching wide enough to shadow the land below as it soared effortlessly through the sky. It was beautiful, powerful, unbound by anything as it rode the wind.


    I watched it, mesmerized, and for the first time, I felt a yearning deep in my chest¡ªa desperate desire to fly. To feel that freedom. To rise above everything that weighed me down, to be unburdened by chains, by pain, by the cruelty of this world.


    As I watched, I felt myself begin to lift, the ground slipping away as though the bird''s power was pulling me upward, inviting me to share in its endless sky. The wind whispered past my skin, and for a moment, I truly believed I was rising¡ªfree at last.


    And then I woke up.


    The cold press of wood beneath me was the first thing I noticed, its rough surface biting into my skin. Every muscle in my body ached with a stiffness that made even the smallest movement feel monumental. My shoulder throbbed relentlessly, the wound a dull, pulsing ache.


    But there was something else. Something new.


    It wasn''t pain, nor was it comfort¡ªjust¡­ a presence. Near my heart, deep within, I felt it: a subtle weight, like a second heartbeat. It pulsed faintly, a rhythm that seemed to hum in harmony with my own. It wasn''t constricting or oppressive. If anything, it felt alive¡ªpowerful. Like it belonged there now, as much a part of me as my flesh and bone.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "I see you''re awake now. How do you feel, Edric?"


    Lord Thorne''s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned my head to look at him, wondering for a fleeting moment what he truly thought of me. It seemed as though he read the question in my eyes, because he answered before I could speak.


    "Edric," he began, his tone carrying that familiar mix of amusement and cold calculation, "over the few days we''ve known each other, I''ve come to realize I wasn''t entirely wrong about you. Your mind¡­ it seems sharper than others your age. I don''t know why, but I have a strong feeling it wasn''t always that way."


    He paused, studying me closely, as though I were a riddle only he could solve.


    "The way you fought was also unnatural," he continued, his voice dipping lower, as if sharing a private truth. "It was raw, instinctive¡ªlike a beast and man mixed. Those two things have solidified my thoughts about you."


    Lord Thorne leaned back slightly, the faintest curl of a smile tugging at his lips¡ªone that felt both calculated and hungry.


    "I''ve decided to invest in you. I see potential here¡ªmore than His Majesty or Dutchmund could ever grasp. They would wait until you''re older, but by then, your true potential would be wasted. You could make me richer, Edric. More powerful. I''m betting on you to be my golden duck, the one that lays the eggs I need. After all, I want more than to simply manage the slave pits."


    The weight of his words settled over me, heavy and suffocating. I wasn''t sure if his promise was a blessing or a curse or something in between.


    "I will tell you what I know of what they did to you," Lord Thorne continued, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "I will give you the best possible chance at freedom. I will ensure you do not want for anything. All I ask is for you to give me your everything."


    He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my response. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, left no room for hesitation.


    I swallowed, feeling that faint pulse near my heart again¡ªthe hum of something powerful and unfamiliar.


    "You have it, My lord" I said quietly.


    It wasn''t truly a choice. Not really. But it was a path¡ªone that led to answers and, maybe, freedom. I needed to know what had been done to me. Because whatever it was¡­ it felt like it was only beginning.

 Dire Forest

    For a good while after our talk, Lord Thorne and I didn¡¯t speak. He seemed content to let me sit in silence, granting me the privilege of looking out the window. I welcomed the distraction¡ªit was better than the gnawing boredom that had settled in my chest.


    As my eyes wandered across the landscape, I noticed that the open fields had long since vanished. In their place loomed a wall of trees, impossibly tall and densely packed, their dark forms stretching endlessly toward the horizon. The ground itself had begun to rise in a gentle incline, as though the land were guiding us upward, deeper into the tree line.


    The trees seemed ancient, their gnarled trunks draped in moss and tangled with ivy. Their canopies intertwined, forming a near-impenetrable roof that turned the air beneath into a world of shadows. The sunlight struggled to break through, and what little light did filter in created an eerie mosaic of fractured beams on the forest floor.


    I turned my attention back to the men surrounding the cart, noticing for the first time the tension that gripped the guards. Their hands rested on their weapons, knuckles white. Even the contractors, normally unreadable in their stoicism, showed signs of unease. The fully covered one¡ªshrouded in thick, concealing garments¡ªstood rigid, their posture radiating a subtle wariness.


    I didn¡¯t know much about the Dire Forest, but the way they carried themselves told me enough. This place wasn¡¯t just a stretch of trees¡ªit was something to be feared. And as the wall of trees loomed closer, an unsettling weight seemed to settle over the cart, thick and oppressive.


    A bit later, the sun disappeared entirely as we passed beneath the forest¡¯s canopy. The air inside was different, heavier. The scents of the forest hit me all at once¡ªa deep, damp earthiness, like the ground after a long rain. There was a wet greenness, mixed with the sharp tang of rotting wood and decaying leaves. Every breath carried a faint metallic bite, subtle but distinct. Occasionally, fleeting whiffs of something sweet or acrid would drift past, lingering for only a moment before vanishing entirely.


    I leaned closer to the window, letting my gaze drift into the forest¡¯s depths. That¡¯s when I saw them¡ªor thought I did. Shapes lingered in the shadows, watching me, or perhaps they weren¡¯t watching at all. They blended seamlessly into the darkness, like ink spilled across the contours of the trees. I could only discern them because of the slight differences in the depth of blackness.


    And then I heard it¡ªa whisper. Soft, almost too faint to notice, threading through the dense silence of the forest. The words twisted and warped, in a language I didn¡¯t understand but somehow felt I could. They danced just on the edge of comprehension, beckoning me to listen harder, to strain my ears against the oppressive quiet.


    A chill ran down my spine. The thought of listening closer filled me with a nameless dread, as though the act itself would draw something closer. Something that should remain far away. Why would I want to listen harder? Why would I even consider it? I pressed back into my seat, forcing my eyes away from the trees and trying to shake the unease that had settled over me. But even then, I could still feel them¡ªor the idea of them¡ªwatching from the shadows.


    ¡°Boy, don¡¯t look out of the window. Don¡¯t listen to them, and don¡¯t ever step out of the cart.¡±


    Lord Thorne¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and unyielding. His own tension was impossible to miss. His usual calm was gone, replaced with a tightness in his features I hadn¡¯t seen before. Stress lines etched into his brow, and his jaw was clenched so hard it looked painful.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°You might hear someone call to you,¡± he continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°They¡¯ll promise that they¡¯re your friend, maybe even a family member. But do not, under any circumstances, open that door. Do you understand me?¡±


    I swallowed hard, nodding. ¡°Yes, Lord. I understand.¡± I hesitated, then asked, ¡°What is out there?¡±


    I wanted to know. I hoped he would tell me.


    ¡°The souls of the lost.¡±


    I echoed back what he just said. I felt like it should make sense but it didnt at least to me. How was a soul lost?


    Long ago, this forest was home to a thriving kingdom of elves," Lord Thorne began, his voice low and edged with something between disdain and caution. "They were a proud people, prosperous and strong, living in harmony with the land. For a time, they thrived, until their ambitions or perhaps desperation drove them to war. Whether it was human expansion or something more sinister that sparked their conflict, no one can say for certain. What we do know is that they waged war against the neighboring kingdoms¡ªours among them¡ªand the cost was steep."


    He paused, his gaze shifting toward the dense shadows outside the window, as though searching for something only he could see.


    "They fought for years," he continued. "But as the battles raged on, their fighters dwindled. Desperation crept into their ranks, and they turned to a covenant with a devil from Hell itself. They sought power, a way to turn the tide and secure their kingdom¡¯s survival. But, as is always the case with such deals, they didn¡¯t read the conditions of their contract well enough¡ªor perhaps they simply didn¡¯t care anymore."


    His voice hardened, the weight of his words filling the air between us.


    "Whatever the case, the war ended. But their victory came at a cost far greater than they ever could have imagined. The forest was twisted, transformed into this shadowed place you see now. Their kingdom crumbled, consumed by darkness and decay. The elves themselves vanished¡ªor perhaps they became something else entirely. No one truly knows, but their souls¡­ those, it seems, were lost to the bargain. This place became their prison, and their tormentor''s playground."


    I swallowed, the oppressive atmosphere of the forest pressing against me. "And that¡¯s why they whisper? Why they¡­ watch?"


    Thorne nodded, his expression grim. "The whispers you hear are them. Fragments of what they once were, reaching out, trying to ensnare anyone foolish enough to listen. They¡¯ll promise you anything¡ªfriendship, safety, freedom. But step out there, or even open the door, and you¡¯ll be lost to them. Your soul is too weak to handle being near them, even the guards struggle.¡±


    I shivered, forcing myself to look away from the window. The forest outside felt alive in the worst possible way, its shadows shifting and writhing like living things. I thought back to the whispers, the words that felt so close to understanding but remained maddeningly out of reach. The weight of Lord Thorne''s words settled over me like a cold blanket.


    "And all of this happened before our kingdom," I murmured, half to myself.


    "Long before," Lord Thorne confirmed. "Our kingdom, the followers of Zephyros'' founding, came centuries after the fall of this forest. The full records of what truly happened are held by the devotees of the First Flame, the kingdom of Luminara. But they guard their knowledge jealousy, and even they likely don''t know the whole truth."


    I didn¡¯t reply, the silence between us filled only by the faint creaks of the cart and the whispers I tried desperately to ignore. For the first time, I understood why the guards and contractors carried such tension. This wasn¡¯t just a forest.


    For the first time, I understood why the guards and contractors carried such tension. This wasn¡¯t just a forest.


    It was a graveyard¡ªa cursed remnant of a kingdom that had damned itself. And we were traveling right through it.

 It comes at night

    Sitting back on the floor, I found myself, for the first time, grateful to be unable to sit higher up. There was a strange sense of safety in being low, close to the ground, where I could almost blend into the floor of the cart¡¯s interior.


    Outside, the noises were sparse. The occasional clank of armor broke the heavy silence, the guards shifting in their tense vigilance. The heavier, rhythmic thud of the horses¡¯ hooves punctuated the stillness, each step seeming to echo against the oppressive quiet of the forest. But for the most part, it was quiet¡ªa long, uneasy stretch of quiet.


    Then, the light we did have began to fade, dimming into an unnatural twilight beneath the thick canopy. Lord Thorne shifted where he sat, his calm demeanor strained as he stood abruptly, his voice sharp when he called out to the men. ¡°Make camp!¡± he ordered, his tone steady but carrying an edge that hinted at unease. He seemed to have traveled this path before, yet there was a tension to him, a tightness in his movements.


    The cart came to a stop, and the guards moved swiftly, unloading torch poles and planting them in a wide perimeter around the cart. Flames flickered to life, their glow barely pushing back against the oppressive darkness pressing in from the forest. Beyond the torches, additional fires were lit, scattered at the edges of the camp, forming a barrier of light. I watched the flames with a puzzled frown¡ªit seemed excessive, even wasteful. They were using so much of it that I couldn¡¯t help but wonder why.


    The contractors moved silently, spreading out like clockwork to take their positions around the camp. Each one stood vigil at a different side, their forms barely illuminated by the flickering light. They began to mutter¡ªsoft, rhythmic words that carried the cadence of a chant but were too low for me to make out. Their synchronized actions heightened the sense that we were warding off something.


    I glanced at Lord Thorne. For all his commanding presence, there was a flicker of fear in his expression. His eyes darted to the shadows just beyond the firelight, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn¡¯t speak again.


    Whatever lurked in this place, even he¡ªexperienced and confident as he was¡ªcould not shake its hold. The flames danced, their light flickering over his face. I tried to relax, and slowly, after a while, I began to drift asleep. The guards were watchful, the contractors were chanting, and the flames felt like a shield against the unseen dangers of the Dire Forest. I trusted that they would keep us safe.


    Then I heard it.


    A sound pierced the quiet, sharp and harrowing¡ªa woman¡¯s scream. It wasn¡¯t the startled cry of someone in pain but something deeper, more mournful. It sounded like a mother being torn from her child, raw with despair. The sound rooted me in place, my chest tightening. I recognized it. My own mother had made a sound like that when she was taken away from me.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    The scream reverberated through the camp, echoing in a way that defied reason. The guards yelled to one another, their voices tight with alarm, and the contractors¡¯ chanting grew louder, faster, as though trying to drown out the sound. But the scream¡ªit didn¡¯t just linger. It burrowed into my mind, reverberating long after it had stopped, an imprint of grief and anguish that refused to leave me.


    I pressed my hands to my ears, desperate to block it out, but it was inside me now. No amount of covering my ears could silence it.


    Then, just as suddenly as it began, the scream stopped. Silence reclaimed the camp, but the quiet felt heavier now, like the aftermath of a storm. I sat there, trembling, when I heard a shuffling sound. It wasn¡¯t subtle¡ªit wasn¡¯t even trying to hide itself¡ªbut it also wasn¡¯t announcing its presence fully. The sound was deliberate, slow, and it came closer with each step.


    Despite knowing better, my curiosity got the better of me. I turned toward the window and peered out. At first, I saw nothing but the glow of the fires casting uneven light across the clearing. Then, I saw one of the guards. It was the one who had seemed sympathetic during my earlier fight. Relief washed over me momentarily as I watched him, standing just at the edge of the firelight.


    My eyes felt dry, so I blinked¡ªand in that split second, the guard was gone.


    I froze, my breath catching in my throat. He couldn¡¯t have moved that quickly, and yet, he was nowhere in sight. My eyes darted across the clearing, searching for any sign of him, but the shadows swallowed everything beyond the flames. A cold knot of worry settled in my chest as I turned toward Lord Thorne.


    ¡°My lord,¡± I said, my voice low but urgent, ¡°the guard¡­ he was there, and now he¡¯s gone.¡±


    Lord Thorne¡¯s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he pushed me aside and stepped to the edge of the cart. His voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the unsettling quiet of the camp. ¡°Captain!¡±


    The captain, clad in pale armor, appeared almost immediately, his movements brisk as he approached the cart. Lord Thorne¡¯s gaze locked onto him.


    ¡°We¡¯re down a man,¡± Lord Thorne said, his voice grim. ¡°Make sure you¡¯re staying in the light. All of you. No exceptions.¡±


    The captain¡¯s response was immediate, slamming his fist against his chest in a crisp salute. ¡°Yes, my lord.¡± He turned swiftly, relaying the command to the other guards with an authoritative bark.


    ¡°Stay in the light! No one strays!¡±


    The guards, who already seemed tense, became even more so. They shifted closer to the cart, their armor clinking as they moved into the halo of the torches and fires. Their eyes darted nervously toward the shadows at the camp¡¯s edges. The urgency in their movements betrayed their eagerness¡ªperhaps even desperation¡ªto stay within the relative safety of the light.

 They come at night

    The rest of the night passed without incident, but no one slept. One of the guards, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation, kept calling out into the oppressive darkness.


    "John, come out, man! The game¡¯s not funny!" he cried, his tone cracking like brittle wood. "Jonny, come on, brother. It¡¯s time to be serious."


    Each plea hung in the air, fragile and raw, before being swallowed by the heavy silence of the forest. None of the other guards stopped him. They didn¡¯t scold him, didn¡¯t tell him to quiet down or pull himself together. They just let him keep calling.


    I really wished they hadn¡¯t.


    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the first sliver of light broke through the oppressive darkness. The pale dawn barely touched the forest floor, but it was enough to illuminate the figures lurking just beyond the firelight. There were so many more than before.


    They weren¡¯t just shadows anymore. They had form¡ªvague, but unmistakable. Some seemed almost humanoid. And then there were the smiles. Teeth, jagged and too many to count, grinned widely from the depths of their black forms.


    The guards worked quickly, packing up everything with tense, hurried movements. The torch poles were pulled from the ground, the fires stamped out, and supplies loaded back into the cart. The contractors stopped their chanting all at once. Their silence spoke volumes¡ªthe night had worn on them too. Without a word, they climbed onto the cart, their postures rigid.


    No one really spoke. The air was thick with exhaustion and unease. Lord Thorne allowed some of the guards to climb into the cart to take shifts sleeping while we moved. They slumped down, armor still on, weapons clutched tightly in their hands even as their heads nodded forward.


    And just like that, the second day in the Dire Forest began, the cart creaking forward into the dim, twisted expanse. The oppressive weight of the forest hadn¡¯t lifted. If anything, it felt thicker. The figures remained at the edges of my vision, fading into the shadows yet always there.


    As we moved, I noticed a signpost along the road, its weathered lettering barely visible through the gloom: Fourteen Mille to Maruseti. Lord Thorne caught sight of it and sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.


    ¡°Should be there before next nightfall,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    The day wore on, and I noticed that the plant growth was starting to thin ever so slightly. Not by much, but just enough to hint that we might be approaching the edge of this cursed forest. The guards had been rotating shifts, each taking turns to rest, and they seemed in better spirits as they emerged from their brief slumber. All except for the one who had been calling out for the missing guard.


    He looked terrible. Dark rings clung to his eyes, which were bloodshot and unfocused. His movements were sluggish, as though he were barely holding himself together.


    Suddenly, the cart lurched to a halt, throwing me off the seat I had been perched on. I hit the wooden floor hard, the jarring impact rattling through me. Above, I heard a dull thud followed by a string of curses¡ªthe contractors must have been thrown from the roof.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.¡°What in the name of¡ª¡± a guard¡¯s voice shouted from outside, but it was cut short.


    Lord Thorne stormed out of the cart, his footsteps heavy with anger. ¡°You incompetent fool, why did you stop the cart? I should ha¡ª¡±


    His voice cut off abruptly. A moment later, he reappeared inside the cart, his face pale and drawn.


    ¡°Edric, come on. We¡¯ll be moving by foot.¡±


    I blinked, confused and still reeling from the sudden stop. But I scrambled to my feet and followed him outside. As I stepped down, my eyes were immediately drawn to the cart. The wheels were in ruins, eroded and splintered as though they¡¯d been left to rot for years. Yet I knew they hadn¡¯t looked like that before.


    ¡°Grab everything we¡¯ll need for another night, and let¡¯s move!¡± the captain barked, his tone sharp with frustration.


    We set off through the forest, staying on the road. I noticed the horses were gone, their absence gnawing at my thoughts. Where had they gone? What had happened to them? But now wasn¡¯t the time to ask.


    The guards moved in tight formation, surrounding Lord Thorne and me in a protective box. The captain led at the front, while each corner was anchored by one of the contractors. As we walked, the oppressive silence of the forest was broken by faint sounds¡ªlaughter, hollow and chilling, echoing through the trees. Then came the voices.


    ¡°Not going to make it~~¡±


    ¡°The dark is coming~¡±


    ¡°Your friend says Hello and he misses you.¡±


    That last one hit the guards the hardest. Their shoulders tensed, hands gripping their weapons tightly. A few exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke, their silence heavier than the oppressive air around us.


    Then the voices shifted, honing in on me.


    ¡°Your mom is waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re lying to you, never going to be free.¡±


    ¡°Little bird, little bird, can¡¯t fly, can¡¯t fly.¡±


    The words slid over me, poking at wounds I thought had long since scarred over. But they didn¡¯t cut as deep as the voices seemed to want them to. I was used to verbal lashings, used to being stripped bare by cruel words. This was nothing new.


    What struck me as odd, though, was how the voices ignored Lord Thorne and the contractors entirely. They seemed uninterested in them, as though I and the guards were the only ones worth their time. The guards wore their unease openly, their eyes flicking nervously toward the trees, grips heavy on their weapons.


    The forest felt alive with malice, worse than the day before¡ªmore suffocating, more relentless. It was as if the longer we stayed, the more attention we drew from the spirits that called this cursed place home.


    After what felt like an eternity, the thinning of the tree line became visible. Relief flickered through the group like a weak flame. Maybe another hour or two of walking, and we would be free of this cursed place. But the fleeting hope was smothered as night began to fall once more, descending with an oppressive weight even greater than before.


    The captain barked an order, his voice cutting through the quiet. ¡°Set up camp! Use the remaining wood and poles.¡±


    The guards scrambled to obey, moving with the urgency of men who had experienced too much too quickly. The contractors took their places, the chant they would soon resume was their armor against the unseen.


    Without meaning to, I let my thoughts slip into words. ¡°Why are we stopping, my lords? We¡¯re almost free of this place.¡±


    The captain¡¯s response was swift, his tone sharp but measured. ¡°Failure is most common at the end, boy. Learn to pace yourself.¡±


    His words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. As the camp began to take shape, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if he was right.

 Theyre Here

    I stood in the center of our makeshift camp, feeling scared and awkward. My hands fidgeted incessantly, restless without purpose. When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I flinched, spinning around to see Lord Thorne standing beside me.


    The firelight danced on his dark skin, the faint gold piercings shimmering like embers. Despite his usual commanding presence, his face was etched with something raw¡ªfear. In his other hand, I noticed the hammer I had used to kill the goblin. The head was spotless, gleaming in the fire¡¯s glow, but the wooden shaft still bore dark stains of gore, stark and unclean against the polished metal.


    ¡°They don¡¯t care,¡± Lord Thorne said, his voice low and steady, heavy with meaning. ¡°Age, gender, race, weak, or strong¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter to them. If something happens tonight, fight for your life. We can¡¯t save you if they come for you.¡±


    His words settled over me like a cold shroud. He extended the hammer to me, and I took it with trembling hands. It felt¡­ small. Weak. Like the wielder.


    I wasn¡¯t ready.


    Even if Lord Thorne hadn¡¯t said it, I knew. Should something happen tonight, I wouldn¡¯t survive. My hands tightened around the hammer¡¯s shaft, the slick stains of old blood rough against my fingers. What chilled me more than the thought of dying, though, was the uncertainty of what came after.


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s Chadwick!¡± the guard who had been screaming for his friend shouted, his voice cracking with a mix of hope and desperation.


    Everyone froze, then turned toward where he pointed.


    ¡°Come on, brother, I knew you¡¯d be okay! You made us so worried for you. You better have a good reason for leading us on like that.¡±


    The figure of the missing guard lingered just beyond the firelight, his form barely visible in the shifting shadows. The flickering flames cast his silhouette in sharp, eerie relief. Something about the way he stood was off¡ªhis posture too rigid, too unnatural. I wasn¡¯t the only one who noticed. The other guards, tense and silent, raised their weapons as unease spread through the camp like wildfire.


    Then, the figure spoke.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I have a reason. It¡¯s over here. I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    The voice matched Chadwick¡¯s perfectly, but there was something wrong about it. The tone felt hollow, like a puppet mimicking words without understanding them. It lacked air, as if forced through lungs that didn¡¯t exist.


    When no one moved, it spoke again, louder this time.


    ¡°Come on, it¡¯s over here. I¡¯ll show you. Follow me, it¡¯s over here. Come here. Come here. Come here.¡±


    The words started to loop, faster and faster.


    ¡°Come here, come here, come here, come here, come here, come here, come here, come here!¡±


    The voice became a relentless chant, unnatural and grating. The air seemed to vibrate with its insistence.


    Lord Thorne acted swiftly. Without hesitation, he drew a hand axe from his belt and hurled it with precision. The blade struck true, burying itself deep into the figure¡¯s skull. The sound was sickening¡ªthe crack of bone giving way, the wet squelch of torn flesh. The force of the throw sent the figure swaying slightly, its balance teetering.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    I stared in shock. What stunned me most wasn¡¯t the grotesque display but the sheer strength Lord Thorne had displayed. His body, though thick with fat, carried a power I hadn¡¯t expected.


    But then, impossibly, the figure remained standing.


    Its head tilted slightly, the embedded axe shifting grotesquely as it spoke once more.


    ¡°Why did you hurt me, Lord?¡±


    Before the words could fully sink in, the cry came again¡ªthe scream we¡¯d heard the first night. But this time, it was closer, as though it was part of a chorus. The shadows moved, undulating like waves. Smiles gleamed in the dark, jagged and too wide. White eyes glared from the void, unblinking. The air felt alive with their presence.


    The voices began to call out, weaving through the camp like a poisonous fog.


    ¡°Come on, look what we have to show you! Your friend Chadwick needs help¡ªgo to him, Richard. Don¡¯t you dream of becoming a knight?¡±


    ¡°You left him to die!¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t even look for him, COWARD!¡±


    ¡°Still afraid of the dark? You¡¯re less of a man than the boy! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!¡±


    The taunts came in a relentless barrage, each one aimed at the guard who had been calling out for Chadwick. His face twisted, torn between despair and anger, his hands trembling on the hilt of his weapon. He looked as though he might break at any moment.


    Then the voices shifted, their tone darkening, dripping with venomous accusation.


    ¡°You left me to become this, Richard. How will you tell my wife? My daughter¡ªshe just turned five. Will you look her in the eyes and explain that you still serve the man who killed her father?¡±


    Killed? The word struck me like a thunderclap. Killed? But wasn¡¯t Chadwick still speaking? My gaze snapped back to the figure standing in the shadows, my chest tightening.


    That¡¯s when I noticed it.


    It hadn¡¯t moved. Not a single muscle. Its posture was frozen, unnaturally still. The axe was still buried deep in its skull, and yet¡­ it spoke. The words weren¡¯t coming from its mouth.


    It didn¡¯t try to pull the weapon free. It didn¡¯t weep. It didn¡¯t plead.


    And the voices¡­ they didn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°Edric, we have your father. Don¡¯t you want to know who he¡­ it was?¡±


    ¡°Your mother was crazy, boy. Didn¡¯t you know? She was nothing more than a lunatic. And you¡­ you¡¯ll be nothing more than a failed attempt.¡±


    My breathing quickened, the words clawed at my mind. I pressed my heel into the ground, rocking it up and down in a desperate attempt to steady myself. The voices wanted me to react¡ªI could feel it¡ªbut I held firm, forcing the tension back down.


    Then the voices shifted again, their venom dripping toward another target.


    "Rich, the boy is stronger than you. Look at him."


    "You¡¯re nothing. Your lord would sacrifice all of you just to protect him. That¡¯s not fair, is it? He¡¯s just a slave, and you¡ªyou¡¯re a citizen. A hero."


    The tone grew darker, more insistent, trying to wrap itself around the guard¡¯s mind like a vice tightening with every word.


    "Teach him a lesson. Show him you¡¯re better. Show him you¡¯re stronger. Show him that you¡¯re Mooooorrreeee¡­"


    The voice dragged out the final word. I glanced at Rich, his face taut, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. The tremor in his hands showed the storm raging inside him. His eyes darted toward me, then back to the shadows. His jaw worked as if he were trying to speak, but no words came, only the shallow rasp of his strained breathing.


    Then, suddenly, his voice cut through the suffocating silence:


    "No!"


    It wasn¡¯t just a word; it was a declaration, raw and defiant. Rich seemed to draw himself up, his will unshaken by the venomous whispers. I felt a flicker of admiration¡ªhe was stronger than I¡¯d thought, resisting the pull of the shadows.


    But his resistance seemed to provoke them.


    The forest stilled for a moment. Then, the nightmare truly began.

 Puppet

    The shadows danced just beyond the reach of the flames, which burned more fiercely than before, as though they, too, were straining to hold back the encroaching darkness. My gaze lingered on one particular fire pit. The logs within glowed brightly¡ªalmost blindingly so.


    The shadows near that firepit seemed thicker, darker, almost as if drawn to it. They stayed just beyond the light, as if the flames were a barrier they dared not cross. Yet, the fire itself felt¡­ off. Too bright, too intense, as though it were fighting against the very darkness pressing in on it. The heat prickled against my skin.


    As I focused on the fire, the figure of the guard lurking in the shadows began to move. Slowly, it stepped closer, its limbs jerking in exaggerated movements, like a marionette pulled by strings. Each motion was stiff, disjointed, dragging it forward in a grotesque rhythm that made my skin break out in goosebumps.


    Step by step, it advanced until the firelight revealed more of its features. What I saw twisted my insides. It wore the same reddish armor I had noticed before, now stained and scuffed, its surface caked with loose dirt as though it had been rolling in the ground. The face, once familiar, was now a painting of pain.


    The right side of its head was destroyed, the remnants of the hand axe embedded there a gruesome reminder, But the left side¡ªThe left eye in particular, bloodshot and trembling, darted around frantically, its movements filled with a haunting plea. The mouth didn''t speak, but it quivered as if struggling to form words it couldn''t utter.


    As my gaze swept over its distorted form, I noticed something beneath the pallid skin¡ªbulging, vine-like ridges twisting and writhing just under the surface. They snaked across its body like rivers, pulsing faintly. Each movement it made caused the vines to tighten, as though coiling for control. When it stopped, they relaxed, pulsating in eerie synchrony.


    The captain''s voice cut through the mounting dread.


    "It''s a Puppeteer! Don''t let yourselves be grabbed by anything!"


    The urgency in his voice sent a jolt through me, spurring me into action before I even understood what I was doing. My hands scrambled for a nearby stick. Without thinking, I thrust it into the nearest fire until it caught flame, the heat searing hot against my skin.


    Gripping the burning stick, I hurled it toward the twisted form. The shadows writhed and recoiled, scattering momentarily like ink spilled into water. But Chadwick¡ªor what was left of him¡ªdid not move.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    For a moment, I thought the fire had done nothing. Then I noticed his body twitch, the human muscles straining as though in defiance. It was brief but undeniable¡ªan instinct, perhaps, still trapped within him, fighting against whatever controlled him. The flaming stick struck his armor and smoldered uselessly. Smoke rose in faint tendrils, but the pulsing vines beneath his skin remained undisturbed.


    Finally, the body of Chadwick moved. It didn''t jump¡ªit launched, lifting unnaturally off the ground, closing the distance between us with horrifying speed. One of the guards, armed with a spear, acted quickly. He thrust the weapon forward, the spearhead burying itself into Chadwick''s face with a sickening crunch. But the grotesque puppet didn''t stop. One of its arms jerked up, grasping the shaft of the spear with inhuman strength.


    Another guard stepped in, jabbing his spear into the creature''s torso, aiming near where the heart should have been. The strike was solid, the spear piercing deeply, but still, Chadwick continued to push forward, relentless. A third guard followed, driving his spear into the grotesque form, but even with three spears impaling him, the puppet still moved.


    Then Richard acted. He pulled a dull, gray sphere from his satchel, its surface worn and unremarkable save for the waxed rope protruding from it. I had never seen anything like it before, and when he leaned into one of the nearby fires to ignite the rope, confusion overtook me. What was he doing?


    Richard ran toward Chadwick, the rope on the sphere now burning with a fierce, hissing glow. He tossed the ball just behind the puppet, his movements precise and practiced. At the same moment, the guards holding their spears pushed with all their might, forcing Chadwick''s thrashing form atop the strange object.


    "Move back!" Richard yelled, urgency cutting through the chaos.


    The guards obeyed without hesitation, retreating quickly and covering their ears. I followed their lead, my heart pounding as I crouched low, bracing myself for whatever was about to happen.


    The explosion hit like a thunderclap, a deafening roar that seemed to tear through the air itself. The sound was so overwhelming, so all-consuming, that it wasn''t a sound at all¡ªit was pressure, a force that seemed to hammer my skull.


    Then came the silence. Not true silence, but an unnatural kind where the world''s sounds should have been. In its place was a high-pitched ringing, sharp and constant, cutting through the absence of everything else. It felt like it lived inside my head, buzzing just behind my eyes, persistent and invasive.


    No matter how hard I pressed my hands to my ears, the ringing didn''t stop. I could just barely make out faint echoes¡ªthe muted shouts of the guards, the crackling of fire, but all of it drowned beneath that relentless, keening whine.


    It wasn''t just noise¡ªit was disorienting, almost dizzying, like my balance had been stolen along with my hearing. The world around me felt far away, what i didn''t notice was the rock that had hit my head making me bleed.

 Contract in blood

    The world swayed beneath me, rocking like a ship adrift in the wind. My stomach churned, a nauseating lurch that made me feel as though I¡¯d swallowed something rotten. My head pounded in time with my heartbeat, each throb sending waves of pain that blurred the edges of my thoughts. I tried to breathe, but my lungs would only accept short, ragged gasps.


    I forced my eyes open, desperate to make sense of the chaos, but the world around me was a murky smear of dark red and black. Shadows and shapes twisted at the edges of my vision, their movements blending with the flickering flames. Distant voices echoed, muffled and warped, like hearing a conversation underwater.


    The sharp buzzing in my head began to fade, but it left behind an ache so deep it felt as though my skull were splitting. Slowly, the voices grew clearer, pulling me back from the void. Before I could focus, my head was wrenched upward.


    Lord Thorne loomed over me, his features hazy and distorted. Firelight reflected off his dark skin and the faint gold of his piercings. I tried to focus, squinting to make sense of him, but the harder I strained, the worse the pounding in my skull became. My body begged for rest, my eyelids growing heavy.


    As they began to close, something tapped my cheek, snapping me back into the present. My eyes fluttered open, and there he was again. His mouth moved slowly, deliberately, but his voice was sharp and commanding, cutting through the fog in my mind.


    ¡°Edric! Look at me! Let me see your eyes¡­¡± He leaned closer, his gaze scrutinizing. ¡°Mmm, one¡¯s off-sized.¡±


    His hand gripped my face firmly, forcing my eyelids wide as he lifted a torch close to my face. The light pierced through the haze, making me squint and flinch, but I couldn¡¯t pull away. His gaze bore into mine, intense and searching.


    ¡°And it¡¯s not shrinking in the light,¡± he muttered, almost to himself. His tone was low, but the worry was palpable.


    He released me and grabbed one of the guards, pulling him over. ¡°Keep him awake and focused on you¡ªhead injury.¡±


    I tried to listen, to make sense of what he was saying, but the throbbing in my head drowned out his words. The guard, younger than most in the group, knelt down to my level. His face was pale but determined as he tried to engage me. His voice was steady, but the words barely registered. My gaze drifted into the darkness, unable to resist its pull.


    Each time I looked away, the guard grabbed me, his firm grip dragging my attention back to him. This happened again and again, until finally, his voice cracked with urgency.


    ¡°My lord! His condition is very dire. He won¡¯t last through the night.¡±


    Lord Thorne froze, his jaw tightening as his gaze locked onto me. His expression darkened, and he muttered a sharp curse under his breath. Without hesitation, he turned and marched toward the contractor cloaked in thick, tattered robes. Grabbing their arm, he dragged them closer, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for objection.


    The contractor hesitated, their steps reluctant as they allowed themselves to be pulled. As they stepped away from their position, their chanting ceased. Instantly, the air around us shifted¡ªthe oppressive darkness pressed closer, more tangible, as though it had been waiting for this exact moment. The flames surrounding the camp flickered and dimmed, their glow no longer strong enough to fully hold the shadows.


    Lord Thorne leaned in close to the contractor, his words quick and urgent, but his tone was unmistakably firm. Whatever he was saying seemed to spark resistance. The robed figure stiffened, shaking their head slightly, their posture defiant. A tense back-and-forth ensued, the contractor gesturing faintly, their movements tight with unease. Still, Lord Thorne remained unyielding, his voice cutting through their hesitation like a blade.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Finally, after a long pause, the contractor relented. Their shoulders slumped as they knelt down in front of me, their movements slow and deliberate. Reaching up, they pulled back their hood.


    It was a woman. Her hair reminded me of bread fresh out of the oven¡ªsoft and warm in color, and it fell over her shoulders in smooth waves like it belonged in a picture. It caught the firelight and moved gently, almost like it was alive. Her skin was the kind of tan you¡¯d see on someone who spent their days in the sun, but it didn¡¯t look rough or worn. It was smooth, almost too perfect, like a statue of someone important.


    Her nose was straight and neat, with just a little tilt at the end that made her face look kind of cheerful. I noticed her ears peeking out from her hair, and they weren¡¯t like mine or anyone else¡¯s I¡¯d seen before. They were pointed, not much, but enough to look strange and sharp, like little arrows.


    Her lips were a soft red, like the berries I¡¯d sometimes see growing on bushes before the harvest. They looked gentle, but something about them made me think she could talk you into anything if she really wanted to. And her eyes¡­ her eyes were the kind of blue I¡¯d only seen on the clearest summer days, the kind where the sky felt like it went on forever. But there was something strange about them too¡ªlike they could see right through me, even if she wasn¡¯t looking too hard.


    Everything about her seemed a little too much¡ªtoo smooth, too perfect, like the way the masters always seemed different from the rest of us. But there was something else, something in the way she moved or held herself. I couldn¡¯t put it into words, but it felt like she didn¡¯t belong here.


    Her hands, soft and warm, cupped my face as she leaned closer, her piercing blue eyes searching mine. There was something strange about her touch¡ªit didn¡¯t carry the cold detachment of the other contractors. It was calm, steady, and... almost kind? It caught me off guard. I didn¡¯t feel the gnawing hate I usually felt for them. With her, I felt something different¡ªsomething close to happy, though I couldn¡¯t name it.


    Her gaze sharpened, and whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find it. Her expression scrunched in mild frustration before she pulled a knife from her belt and called over the guard who had been speaking to me earlier.


    ¡°I need you to hold him still for me,¡± she said, her voice steady but firm. ¡°And open his mouth... Thank you.¡±


    I didn¡¯t understand what was happening, but the guard obeyed, his rough hands gripping my shoulders tightly as he pried my jaw open. I squirmed, my breaths coming fast and shallow, but there was no escaping the firm hold.


    She held her palm over my mouth and drew the blade across it without hesitation. Dark red blood spilled from the cut, dripping into my mouth. The taste hit me immediately¡ªa metallic tang that was strangely sweet, like honeyed tea. It coated my tongue, thick and warm, and I tried to turn my head away, but the guard held me firm.


    ¡°Swallow,¡± she ordered, her bloody hand pressing against my mouth to force it shut. The warmth of her palm mingled with the sticky wetness of her blood, leaving me no choice but to obey. I swallowed, the thick liquid sliding down my throat.


    With her hand still firmly over my mouth, she began to chant. It was different from the chants I¡¯d heard from the others¡ªsimpler, quieter, but it resonated in a way that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. The words seemed to settle into my chest, vibrating like the low hum of a drumbeat.


    The change was immediate. My vision cleared, sharpening with startling clarity. My shoulder, which had been mangled and throbbing, felt whole again. Every ache and pain I had collected in this trip and before melted away, leaving behind a strange sensation I couldn¡¯t place.


    But as the pain left me, something else took its place. A weight pressed down on my thoughts, coiling in my mind like a serpent. It was anger, raw and unbridled. Malice, sharp and suffocating. It was disturbingly familiar¡ªlike the feeling that had guided me in the fight with the goblin. Only this time, it felt stronger, more insistent, and harder to ignore.


    Along with the feeling in my mind, I became aware of something etching itself into my skin. It was subtle at first, like a faint burn or the slow crawl of an insect under the surface. I couldn¡¯t see it in the dim light, but I knew something was there¡ªlines or patterns being carved into me, unseen yet undeniable. The sensation wasn¡¯t entirely painful, but it wasn¡¯t normal either. Whatever she had done to me, it had left a mark.

 Fire

    I felt a connection¡ªnot to the woman who had just helped me, but to something else. Something deeper and far more primal. The mark etched into my skin began to grow warmer, the heat spreading outward like tendrils of sunlight breaking through a dense fog. Then it turned hot¡ªso hot it should have burned me, should have left blisters and charred flesh in its wake. But it didn¡¯t hurt. Instead, the heat soothed me, cradling me in a strange comfort. I felt a sense of belonging.


    Without thinking, my free arm lifted, the motion not my own but guided by some force I didn¡¯t fully understand. My hand extended toward one of the nearby fires. As my gaze locked onto the flames, I felt them¡ªnot as an observer, but as something connected. They weren¡¯t just fire anymore. They were alive, writhing under the oppressive weight of the shadows that surrounded us. They twisted and coiled, desperate and hungry, crying out in a way that I seemed able to hear. Their plea wasn¡¯t in words but primal: a need for food and for freedom.


    That need resonated deep within me, stirring something. I gave in to the feeling, letting it guide me. The flames responded instantly, surging upward with a ferocity that made the air hum and crackle. They burned brighter, hotter, their light and heat pushing back the shadows that had crept so close. The fire was no longer contained by the pit. It spilled over, reaching out like a living thing, devouring anything in its path with a hunger that mirrored my own.


    And then it turned toward me.


    The flames slithered like serpents, coiling and weaving as they drew closer. Their movements were hypnotic, almost tender. I didn¡¯t flinch or retreat. Instead, I opened my arms wide, inviting them in. The fire answered eagerly, wrapping itself around me like a hug from a long-lost and deeply missed family member. The heat seeped into my skin, not as something foreign but as if it had always been a part of me, waiting to return.


    I felt the flames settle on my back, stretching outward and shifting into shape. Wings. Wings of pure, radiant flame unfurled behind me, each movement fluid and alive. Embers dripped from their edges like molten gold, trailing in the air before dissolving into nothingness. The wings moved with me, attuned to my every thought and motion as though they were extensions of my own body. Their presence felt natural, as if I had always been meant to have them.


    Then I felt the fire crawl upward, trailing along my spine before circling around my head. It hovered there, forming a faint halo of flame. It would have concealed the scars from my surgery, had they still been there.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    The light of the flames began to shift, softening from a deep, flickering orange to a warm, almost yellowish white. It bathed the area in a glow that seemed to push back not just the darkness, but the dread that clung to the air. My hammer began to glow, too. The metal warmed in my grip, its dull surface catching the light and reflecting it outward.


    The shadows recoiled, no longer daring to creep closer. They hovered at the edges of the light, writhing as though unsure whether to flee or attack. For the first time since entering the Dire Forest, they grew silent.


    The guards stared at me, their wide eyes filled with awe¡ªand in one, something more. The younger one, the one who had tried to help me, made a motion with his hands that looked like some kind of triangular shape. The contractors, save for the woman, stopped their chanting altogether. Their gazes fixed on me. They didn¡¯t look at me as hated prey anymore. Their expressions shifted to something almost akin to recognition, as though they had a better idea of what I was.


    Lord Thorne¡¯s reaction was different. His eyes gleamed, bright and hungry. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips¡ªnot one of joy, but of satisfaction. He looked at me as though I were a treasure chest, freshly unearthed and filled to the brim with riches.


    I felt more powerful than I had ever felt in my life, like I could burn the world with a thought. But then my hammer began to change. The wood turned darker and darker, while the head glowed brightly and began to soften and melt. At the same time, exhaustion washed over me, a wave so intense it felt like I had just done the most grueling thing imaginable. It was worse than my first fight. Every muscle screamed, my mind frayed at the edges.


    ¡°You need to stop this¡­ whatever you did. His body won¡¯t be able to handle this much longer,¡± Lord Thorne said, his voice sharp as he turned to address the woman.


    She had been watching me the whole time, a playful smile lingering on her lips. For a moment, she didn¡¯t move, as if considering his words. Then, finally, she walked over to me. Her hands grasped my face gently, and she leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead.


    The moment her lips touched my skin, all my strength fled from me. The flames extinguished like a candle snuffed out, leaving only a faint warmth in their wake. My wings of fire vanished, and I dropped to my knees, utterly drained. I couldn¡¯t move. I could barely breathe. The firelight returned to normal, flickering like it always had. The shadows receded but didn¡¯t disappear completely, lingering at the edge of perception.


    I turned my head, weakly, to where Chadwick¡¯s twisted body had stood. There was nothing left¡ªjust a hole in the ground and scattered chunks of unrecognizable meat. The world around me was silent. It stayed that way until dawn.

 Out of the woods

    Once again, the sun crept its way through the trees, casting dappled light over the forest floor. This time, we didn¡¯t wait to move. No one had slept, and the cart was gone. We set off at a light jog¡ªor at least it was a jog for them. For me, it was closer to a run.


    I managed to keep pace, my stamina holding up surprisingly well. I was used to long days of carrying heavy loads and running back and forth for my lords and masters. Compared to that, this wasn¡¯t too bad. The only thing weighing me down was a torn-up gambeson, so I felt relatively unencumbered.


    The guards seemed to be handling the pace well enough, their steps steady and disciplined¡ªno doubt a product of their training and experience. The contractors, too, moved with ease, their cloaked forms gliding forward as though untouched by fatigue.


    But the Lord¡­ he was struggling.


    His breathing was heavy, labored, and his face had turned a deep shade of red. Sweat glistened on his forehead, dripping down his temples. I couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of pity for him. Despite his obvious discomfort, he was the one who kept urging us on, his voice sharp and powerful whenever anyone slowed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop! Keep moving!¡± he barked, pushing himself as much as he pushed us.


    We pressed on until the sun was high in the sky, its rays piercing through the thinning canopy above. Patches of sunlight broke through more frequently now, illuminating the forest floor in golden streaks.


    The sight filled me with hope. The oppressive gloom that had shrouded us since entering this cursed place was finally beginning to lift. True light had found its way here, reclaiming the space inch by inch.


    I had thought the distance to the forest¡¯s edge was shorter when I glimpsed it the day before, but now it was clear how deceptive the terrain had been. The end was closer¡ªbut not as close as I¡¯d hoped. Still, the thinning shadows served as proof that we were nearing freedom.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    And then, finally, after two full days of horror and exhaustion, we stepped out into the light. The nightmare was behind us. We were out. We were safe.


    As if on cue, everyone collapsed onto the ground, too drained to care about anything else. We lay there for a while, letting the sun warm our faces, its light chasing away the lingering shadows that had haunted us. I could hear murmured voices among the guards¡ªfragments of relief, disbelief, and exhaustion. Somewhere to my left, I thought I heard Richard crying, his quiet sobs mingling with the soft rustle of the breeze.


    The ground beneath me was soft, a fine sand that shifted and molded around my body like a comforting embrace. It was unexpectedly soothing, inviting me to stay there and let the weight of everything that had happened sink away into the earth.


    Eventually, Lord Thorne and the captain moved away from the group, speaking in low voices. They seemed to be trying to verify our location, their gestures pointing around. As I watched them, a question lingered in my mind, one I couldn¡¯t shake: Why did we go through the forest? That miserable, terrible place. Surely, there had to have been another route to wherever we were going. Why endure that nightmare?


    After a while, the captain pulled out a wax-covered ball with a rope attached to it. He waited until the sun began to set before striking a flint and lighting the rope. Carefully, he placed the ball into a leather patch with more rope attached to it. He swung it around several times before releasing one end of the rope, sending the ball soaring into the sky. It erupted into a bright yellow light accompanied by a loud, echoing noise.


    Lord Thorne strode back to the group, his expression calm but his voice strong with command.


    ¡°Make a fire,¡± he ordered. ¡°Use the rest of our wood. I want it as big as we can make it.¡±


    While we waited around the fire, I looked out at the landscape. The horizon was dominated by towering plateaus, their steep cliffs rising abruptly from the surrounding lowlands. They seemed to touch the sky, their edges softened by the haze of the distant sun. The sunlight played across the rock faces, painting them in hues of warm gold and deep rust. Once the sun dipped below the horizon, I heard the faint footfalls of hooves and saw a dust trail rising in the distance.


    ¡°Stand up and be ready!¡± the captain shouted at his men. Even though the contractors and I weren¡¯t soldiers, we stood too.

 knight

    The horses stopped before us, their riders towering above, their silhouettes stark against the fading light. The lead man dismounted with practiced ease. He was massive, his frame fully encased in the same pale metal as the captain¡¯s armor, though his seemed¡­ better somehow. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what made it different¡ªperhaps the craftsmanship, the polish, or the way it seemed to command respect. Draped over his armor was a colored cloth, dyed to resemble a cracked wall. It covered the front and back like a sigil of authority.


    He strode toward us with heavy steps, the ground crunching beneath his boots. Then, to my surprise, he knelt before the Lord.


    ¡°Lord, Knight Hert requests to address you,¡± he announced, his deep voice carrying a measured respect.


    Lord Thorne straightened, and in that moment, he seemed to transform. Gone was the weary man who had trudged through the Dire Forest with us. In his place stood someone entirely different¡ªa figure of cold authority, as cruel and commanding as when I¡¯d seen him with the king.


    ¡°I grant you permission to speak,¡± the Lord said, his tone sharp and formal.


    The knight bowed his head low. ¡°Lord, we have a horse ready for you to ride back to your keep. Unfortunately, we only have the one for you¡­¡±


    Before the Lord could respond, the pale contractor¡ªthe one who had always been by his side¡ªspoke up, her voice calm but tired. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about us contractors. I have that covered.¡±


    She raised her arm, and before my eyes, the horses that had once pulled our cart appeared out of thin air. Their forms shimmered briefly, solidifying as if summoned from nothingness. The contractor swayed slightly, her complexion even paler than before. The effort had clearly taken something from her.


    ¡°We contractors will ride these back with the Lord,¡± she said, her tone steady despite her obvious exhaustion. ¡°So you only need to worry about the guards and the boy.¡±


    The knight¡¯s gaze shifted briefly to us, his eyes lingering before he turned back to Lord Thorne. There was a pause, a silent look of understanding, before the Lord walked toward the waiting horse. The knight assisted him, his armored hands steady as he helped the Lord into the saddle.


    Once seated, Lord Thorne adjusted his posture, looking every inch the commanding figure. He glanced down at the knight. ¡°Take over here. I¡¯ll speak with you back at the castle. The boy is to go to the pits. Have one of the doctores take him under their wing.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The knight responded with a sharp salute, slamming his metal-covered hand to his chest in a gesture of loyalty.


    Without another word, we watched as the Lord and the four contractors rode away, their figures fading into the horizon, leaving us behind.


    I hesitated for a moment before deciding to approach the knight. Everyone had been relatively kind to me so far, despite my status as a slave, so I thought I might be able to ask a question. I stepped closer to him, speaking timidly but with curiosity.


    ¡°Lord¡­ Might I ask what a doctore is?¡±


    Before I could register what happened, my head snapped to the side. A sharp, stinging warmth spread across my cheek, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. The cold air stung where the wetness spread, making the sensation even sharper.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever fucking address me, slave,¡± the knight spat, his voice dripping with venom. ¡°The gods-damned nerve¡­¡±


    I nodded quickly and backed away, lowering my gaze. He turned away as if I no longer existed, his dismissal absolute. My face burned with humiliation, and I fought the urge to cry. I had started to forget what it felt like to be treated as a proper slave, and now the memory came rushing back.


    A hand rested gently on my shoulder. I turned to see one of the guards standing there, his expression heavy with sympathy. He guided me over to where the other guards were sitting.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about it, Edric,¡± he said softly. ¡°The knights are always like that. Even to us guards, they¡¯re often dismissive or downright rude.¡±


    His words were meant to comfort me, but they only partially eased the sting. I nodded silently and sat down with the others, my cheek throbbing as I tried to push the incident from my mind.


    ¡°So¡­ what are you?¡±


    The question came from the guard who had helped me. All eyes turned to me as he spoke.


    ¡°What do you mean, sire?¡± I asked, genuinely confused.


    ¡°The flames, the wings, and the way you fought. It seemed like you¡¯d done that before,¡± he said, his tone both curious and cautious. ¡°Also, it¡¯s beyond strange for a lord to go out of his way to personally pick up a slave.¡±


    I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. My mind raced, searching for an explanation. Finally, I shook my head, trying to put my thoughts into words.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what happened with the flames, to be honest,¡± I admitted, my voice low. ¡°That woman¡ªshe made that happen when she fed me her blood. As for the fighting¡­ that just came to me naturally.¡±


    I avoided mentioning the surgery. It felt like a secret, something I wasn¡¯t ready to share. I also tried to downplay the mark hidden beneath my clothes, even though I could still feel its connection to the fire near us. The warmth wasn¡¯t just on my skin¡ªit pulsed deep within me, like a quiet ember waiting to ignite. My gaze drifted to the flames as they danced, flickering and alive, almost as though they knew I was watching.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ maybe she forced some kind of contract onto you then. Poor boy¡­¡± one of the guards muttered, his tone a mix of pity and sadness.


    The others nodded solemnly, their expressions grim, as if I were some unfortunate patient they¡¯d stumbled upon, someone marked by a fate they could neither change nor help.

 City

    I wanted to ask what a contractor was¡ªit had been on my mind since I first met one. But I hesitated. The guards had been kind to me so far, but after what had just happened with the knight, I didn¡¯t want to risk asking something I shouldn¡¯t.


    Richard, the guard who had helped me earlier, walked over and sat down beside me. He gave me a small, reassuring smile.


    ¡°Boy,¡± he began, his tone warm but tired, ¡°honestly, even if you¡¯ve got one of those demons or devils in you, you¡¯re still a good kid. You saved all of us, even if it was accidental.¡±


    I lowered my head slightly, unsure how to respond. ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± I said quietly.


    I didn¡¯t know what else to say, because, in truth, I did think what happened earlier had been an accident. But then the first part of what he¡¯d said sank in: demon¡­ devil¡­ What are those?


    The question rose in my mind, growing louder until I couldn¡¯t ignore it. I hesitated for only a moment before deciding to ask Richard. He seemed approachable, and I figured he might actually give me an answer. I opened my mouth to speak.


    Before I could get a word out, the knight strode over, his presence cold and haughty.


    ¡°Everyone, get up and put out the fire. It¡¯s time to go.¡±


    I followed the guards, trailing slightly behind them as we approached the horses that had been led over. There was another knight present, accompanied by some unfamiliar guards. These guards wore cloth emblazoned with the same cracked-wall design as the knights¡¯ armor. It struck me as odd. The guards I had traveled with didn¡¯t have those clothes. Did that mean they weren¡¯t of the same rank¡ªor maybe not even part of the same group?


    As I followed the group I¡¯d been traveling with, I noticed something else. When everyone mounted their horses, there wasn¡¯t one for me. I stood awkwardly to the side, unsure of what to do, until the knight who had struck me earlier sneered in my direction.


    ¡°Consider this part of your training, slave. And here¡ªcatch.¡±


    He tossed a satchel down. It hit the ground with a heavy thud, and when I went to lift it, I realized why. The weight was staggering, so much so that I had to use both arms to heave it up. My knees nearly buckled under the strain.


    ¡°You can carry that until we get back to town,¡± the knight said dismissively, not even sparing me a glance. ¡°Everyone, make ready. We¡¯ll be riding at half pace the whole way, so it should be an easy ride.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I fumbled with the sack, trying to find a comfortable way to hold it. My arms strained, the coarse material digging into my skin. As I was still adjusting, the group started to ride away. Their ¡°half pace¡± was almost a full run for me.


    Gritting my teeth, I hugged the sack tightly against my chest and pushed forward, my legs burning with every step as I struggled to keep up.


    The run felt endless, stretching on for what seemed like half the night. My chest heaved with labored breaths, and at one point, I vomited on myself from sheer exhaustion. Sand clung to my clothes and skin, mixing with blood from scraped knees and hands when I¡¯d fallen. My eyes burned from salty sweat, and tears streamed down my face unbidden, mingling with the grime that covered me.


    Finally, in the distance, I saw the faint glow of city lights.


    ¡°Group! Halt!¡± the knight commanded.


    The riders stopped, their horses shifting restlessly. I stumbled to catch up, lagging behind as I had been for some time now.


    ¡°Slave, open the sack and let out its contents,¡± the knight barked.


    I dropped the heavy sack to the ground and opened it as instructed. Inside, I found only rocks¡ªjust rocks. My gaze lingered on the pile for a moment before shifting to my filthy, trembling body. A strange new feeling welled up inside me, something I couldn¡¯t quite name. It wasn¡¯t anger, nor sadness, but something harder to define.


    When I looked back up at the knight, his expression darkened. He must have interpreted my gaze as disrespectful because he dismounted and strode toward me.


    ¡°Insolent cur,¡± he snarled, his voice icy with contempt. His armored hand lashed out, striking me hard across the face. The blow left me reeling, my cheek stinging with fresh pain. ¡°Look at me like that again, and I¡¯ll have your eyes removed.¡±


    I quickly lowered my head, forcing myself not to meet his gaze again. The weight of humiliation pressed down on me like the sack I had carried.


    The knight mounted his horse once more, the sound of hooves clinking against the ground signaling his retreat. I fell in line behind the group, stumbling forward until we finally reached the gates of the city.


    The city gates were guarded by four men dressed in the same cloth-styled uniforms as the knights, each holding long poles tipped with red metal. As we approached, they stepped aside in unison, slamming their fists to their chests in a salute.


    The city itself was clean, with a stone-paved main street that stretched out before us. Dirt paths branched off into the shadows between buildings, which were dimly illuminated by candlelight or torches hanging near their entrances. Guards patrolled in pairs, their presence unusually heavy. From what I had seen at my old master¡¯s estate, cities didn¡¯t typically have this much security, and I couldn¡¯t help but wonder why.


    As we continued down the main street, we came to a fork in the road. Everyone but the knight who had struck me earlier split off, leaving me alone with him. I hesitated for a moment but followed him as he turned down the left path.


    The road ahead was quieter, the shadows deeper between buildings, until a massive circular building loomed into view. Its size was imposing, the structure built of stone that seemed to be as strong as most castle walls.

 Welcome home

    As we neared, I noticed more of those same guards patrolling the city, some entering and exiting the circular building ahead. The structure loomed large and imposing, its silhouette dominating the dark sky. Along its walls were window-like openings that dotted the stone exterior. The darkness made it hard to discern finer details, but as we approached the base of the building and I looked up, I felt impossibly small like standing at the foot of a mountain.


    Two men flanked the entrance, their postures stiff. When they saw the knight, they clicked their heels together and slammed their fists to their chests in the same manoir i had seen the other guards do.


    ¡°Sire!¡±


    they barked in unison, their voices sharp but perfunctory, as though they were more concerned with protocol than genuine respect.


    The knight returned the gesture with a half-hearted tap to his chest, dismissing them without a word. The guards, seemingly content with the bare acknowledgment, returned to their posts without further interaction.


    I followed behind the knight as we stepped through the doorway. The air inside was warmer, lit by rows of torches that cast an orange glow along the stone hallway. The flames flickered softly, their light creating dancing shadows against the walls. Each torch seemed to call out to me, faint and distant, as though their warmth was beckoning me closer.


    The hallway led us to a spiral staircase that descended into the depths below. The stone steps were worn smooth, evidence of countless feet having tread this path over the years. Without hesitation, the knight started down, his heavy boots echoing in the enclosed space. I followed close behind, the weight of the silence broken only by the rhythmic clinking of his armor and my own hesitant steps.


    The descent felt endless, but eventually, we reached the next floor. This level was starkly different from the one above. The torches here sat in pale metal sconces inset into the walls, their flickering orange glow casting long, jagged shadows. The air was heavier, thicker, and the pale metal bars that lined the walls gleamed faintly in the dim light. They stretched from floor to ceiling, enclosing small cubbies that barely passed for cells.


    Inside each cubby was little more than a mat of straw and a wooden bucket. The smell hit me like a physical blow¡ªa nauseating mix of blood, excrement, and damp rot like a festering wound. It clung to the air, invading my senses and churning my stomach. My body tensed as bile rose in my throat, but the fear of upsetting the knight again forced me to swallow it back down. The effort left my chest tight.


    The knight didn¡¯t seem to notice¡ªor care. He continued forward, his pace steady and unbothered by the oppressive atmosphere. Each step echoed in the corridor. As we moved further, my eyes caught sight of a set of thick wooden doors ahead. They were large and imposing, their surface reinforced with heavy metal bands.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Sitting behind a simple wooden desk just before the doors was a lone man. His desk was plain, the surface cluttered with parchment, ink, and a thick ledger. As we approached, he looked up from his book, his gaze shifting between the knight and me. After a brief pause, he dipped his quill into the ink and began jotting something down.


    ¡°What cell group is he going to, sire?¡±


    the man asked, his tone professional but distant. It was clear his task was to keep meticulous records of who entered and where they were assigned.


    The knight sneered slightly before replying.


    ¡°He¡¯s heading to the section where the Fire Cultists are kept.¡±


    There was a distinct venom in his voice when he mentioned the cultists, as though he carried a personal grudge against them.


    ¡°Understood,¡±


    the man said, making a few more notations in his book.


    ¡°I have you logged, and the boy recorded. You¡¯re free to proceed.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± the man said, making a few more notations in his book. ¡°I have you logged, and the boy recorded. You¡¯re free to proceed.¡±


    Without another glance at the man, the knight pushed open the heavy doors. Their hinges creaked loudly, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent hallway. He stepped through, and I followed closely behind.


    Beyond the doors, the corridor was lined with more of those cubbies, but this time they weren¡¯t empty. As we walked, I couldn¡¯t help but glance into each one. In one cell, a small green humanoid creature¡ªa goblin¡ªhuddled in the corner. Its form was familiar, eerily similar to the ones I had killed before. It was curled into a tight ball, trembling as it let out soft, pitiful sobs.


    In another cell, two ragged men stood pressed against the bars, their eyes vacant and hollow. Their sunken cheeks and gaunt frames told a story of starvation and despair. They didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t speak¡ªjust stared ahead as if the life had been drained from them.


    The deeper we went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The air felt heavier here, colder, as though the despair of the occupants had seeped into the very walls. I tried to keep my focus forward, unwilling to meet the hollow gazes or hear the muted cries coming from the cells we passed.


    Eventually, the knight slowed his pace and turned his head to the right. Without hesitation, he walked over to a metal door and unlocked it with a sharp click. The door groaned as it swung open.


    ¡°Get in. This is your new home when you¡¯re not fighting or training,¡± he said curtly, his tone as cold as the air around us.


    I stepped forward into the room, moving toward its center. It was just as sparse and unwelcoming as the others I had seen¡ªbare walls, a thin mat of straw, and a bucket in the corner. The air was cool and damp.


    Turning back toward the doorway, I opened my mouth to ask something¡ªto say anything¡ªbut the knight was already walking away. He didn¡¯t even spare me a glance as he disappeared down the corridor, the clang of his boots fading with each step. I stood there, alone in the dim, featureless cell, the cool air pressing against my skin.

 Truth

    With no natural light in my cell, it was nearly impossible to tell how long I had been there. A bitterness lingered in the back of my mind¡ªwhy was I locked up like a prisoner? Lord Thorne had said I was to be trained. So why this?


    My legs were my only distraction. They felt rubbery and sore from the grueling run, aching with every small movement. My face, still slightly swollen from the knight''s strike, made it uncomfortable to lie down. So instead, I sat against the cold, rough wall, facing the cell door.


    I tried to close my eyes, hoping sleep might come. Anything to take me away from this miserable place, even for a little while.


    I didn''t know exactly when they had arrived, but when I opened my eyes, I saw a small group of people in the cell adjacent to mine. They looked peculiar, their clothing mismatched and their ages varying wildly. The oldest among them was unmistakably near the end of his life, his frail form a stark contrast to the youngest, who seemed only a few years older than me.


    I watched them for a while, curiosity tugging at my exhaustion. The elder noticed my gaze and shifted closer to the bars of his cell. With deliberate care, he lowered himself to my eye level, his movements slow but steady, as though every action carried purpose.


    "Poor child¡­" he murmured, his voice low and gentle, like the rustle of leaves in a quiet breeze. "What misfortunes could have brought you here, to a place such as this? Come closer, let me see if the mark upon your face is serious."


    I hesitated, my feet refusing to move toward the door. Something about this group felt¡­ off. Their mismatched appearances and the strange calm in the elder''s tone made me uneasy. What if these were the cultists the knight had spoken of? I didn''t know exactly what a cultist was, but it didn''t sound good.


    Keeping my distance, I tried to mask my unease. My hands fidgeted nervously at my sides as I shook my head slightly, unwilling to close the gap between us.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    The elder''s expression softened further, as though he could sense my fear. "Dear boy, it''s okay," he said, his tone warm but tinged with a quiet sadness. "You need not fear us. We are followers of the Immortal Flame of Rebirth. We are here because we tried to help people escape this accursed kingdom."


    His face radiated kindness, but the people behind him didn''t share the same demeanor. Their expressions twisted, as though the mere mention of the kingdom had left a bitter taste in their mouths. I had never considered the possibility of anything beyond this kingdom, so his words sparked a strange curiosity in me. Why would leaving it be better?


    I wanted to move closer, to ask questions, but the feeling from earlier returned¡ªonly stronger this time. It was a strange, split sensation. My mind urged me to step forward, to learn more, but a tightness bloomed in my chest, centered near where the hard new organ had been placed. It was as though something deep within me was warning against it, holding me back even as my thoughts pushed me forward.


    The feeling in my mind won out. It had helped me before, and I had no reason not to trust it now. Slowly, I moved toward the cell door, my small feet scraping lightly against the stone floor. The rawhide coverings on my feet, worn and tattered from age and neglect, hung like chewed-up rags¡ªhardly worthy of being called shoes.


    As I drew closer to the door, the flickering firelight illuminated me more fully. The elder''s face transformed. His eyes widened, and his mouth curled into a strange, unsettling smile. He let out a soft gasp before doing a little shuffle in place, almost like a child overwhelmed with excitement. Grabbing one of the others in his group, he shook them enthusiastically.


    "See! I told you he was a blessed one!" he exclaimed, his voice nearly a shout.


    The sudden shift made my stomach twist with regret. Every instinct screamed that I shouldn''t have approached. Slowly, carefully, I began to back away, not wanting to provoke him further. Each step felt heavier than the last, my mind racing with thoughts of what "blessed" might mean to someone like him.


    But then, I thought back to what the contractor had said¡ªthe strange ritual, the flames, the mark I now bore. Could there really be something to this? The thought lingered, pulling at the edges of my fear. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to what had happened to me than I realized.

 Training day

    I walked over to the far wall of my cell and sat down. I wanted to get back up, but my legs had finally had enough, so I just leaned my head against the wall. The little energy I''d saved up from dozing off was seemingly worn away by the elder and his group. I tried to close my eyes again, but it was even more difficult now; I could feel their stares lingering on me.


    I thought about what they''d said and everything that had happened since the surgery. It was obvious to me now that whatever was on that table had been some kind of object of worship for the cultists. The pieces placed inside me must have caused me to consume the goblins¡ªor at least I hoped so. Finally, whatever the contractor had done made me able to feel the fire as though it were part of me. It was a lot to process, and slightly overwhelming. It was hard to think of myself as human at this point and was there any point in being human? Maybe whatever I became could finally be free if Lord Thorne was to be believed but considering where I was, I was doubtful of that.


    I let my focus drift to the weak flames that lit the walls, their faint flickering casting restless shadows. I wanted to see if I could manipulate them, and when I really tried, I felt like I made one drift slightly to the left. I couldn''t be sure if it actually moved, but I felt it. It was kind of pathetic, really; just attempting that left me drenched in sweat and out of breath.


    After a little while longer, I finally fell asleep. My dreams carried me to an endless void dotted with tiny motes of light, drifting aimlessly. When I tried to focus on one, it disappeared, but as I adjusted, I realized I could observe them better with my peripheral vision. As I honed in further, I could discern some details: they weren''t just lights¡ªthey were tiny people with golden wings.


    The more I focused, the blurrier everything became, as though the act of looking too closely warped the dream itself. Amidst the growing haze, a massive golden flame appeared in the distance, its glow radiating warmth even in the void. I tried to move toward it, but before I could reach it, my eyes opened.


    A guard stood in front of my cell, holding a bucket of water. He looked like he was about to throw it at me, but when he saw I was awake, he stepped inside and set it down along with a bowl of brownish-grey gruel studded with hard chunks of meat.


    "Eat and drink," he said curtly. "I''ll be back soon to take you to the training area."


    I obeyed without hesitation. It was the first food I''d had since the forest, and it tasted divine despite its unappetizing appearance. I tore into it, eating voraciously and chugging down the water as though I might never see another drop.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    From across the hallway, one of the cultists¡ªa woman¡ªstepped closer to the bars of her cell. Her soft voice carried an almost maternal tone. "Blessed one, you must eat slower. You''ll make yourself sick."


    Her words startled me, but the kindness in her tone made me pause. I forced myself to slow down, nodding slightly in her direction. "I will, sister. Thank you."


    I mimicked the respectful tone and slight head nod I''d seen others use when addressing someone of higher status but of the same social class. She smiled faintly, but there was something in her eyes¡ª a knowing look. I quickly returned my attention to my meal, slightly queasy under her gaze.


    The guard returned just as I finished eating, the heavy door screeching open once more. "Follow, and don''t waste my time," he barked, already turning to walk away.


    I got to my feet, my legs still sore and rubbery from everything that had happened the night before¡ªassuming it had only been one night. As I followed him into the dim corridor, I glanced back at the cultists. One of them¡ªa younger woman¡ªmoved swiftly to the bars, her footsteps muffled against the stone floor. She held out a small pendant, its surface glinting faintly in the flickering firelight.


    "Take this," she whispered urgently. "It will give you the protection of the Immortal Flame."


    I hesitated, a strange tightness blooming in my chest near the hardened organ. My mind wanted to reach out, but my body rebelled, as if warning me to stay away. Despite the conflict, I took the pendant and tucked it into my shirt. The guard didn''t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn''t care.


    As I walked, the pendant felt unnaturally warm against my skin, pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat. It wasn''t unpleasant, but it wasn''t exactly comforting either. What did she mean by "protection"? And why had she looked so desperate when she handed it over?


    The hallway stretched on, lit by the faint orange glow of torches. The flames flickered softly, their shadows dancing against the cold stone walls. I couldn''t feel the fire with the pendant on, but it felt as though everything else became sharper, clearer.


    We ascended the same stairs I had come down earlier, but this time, we turned down a different hallway. It looked much the same as the others, except for the blood spattered across the floor. It wasn''t an overwhelming amount, but enough to suggest that someone had been badly injured.


    At the end of the hallway, we came to a set of doors that looked even sturdier than the others I''d seen. The guard pushed them open, grunting with effort as he forced them to move.


    I was blinded by the light for a moment as I stepped forward. Once my eyes adjusted, I looked around, taking in my surroundings. It was like standing at the center of a massive bowl. We had entered a flat, sand-covered area encircled by towering walls. Beyond the walls were rows upon rows of seats, all empty. The sheer height and scale of it all made me feel dizzy. I quickly turned my gaze forward, trying to steady myself.


    Ahead of us stood a group of men and women, all dressed similarly to me. Scattered around were guards stationed at each set of doors. In front of the group was a man clad in bright red armor, adorned with gold ornaments that glinted in the light.

 first day

    I was forced to move over to the group and stood with them for a bit, confused as to what was happening. It didn¡¯t take long for more men to emerge. These ones didn¡¯t look like guards, though they wore armor of their own. Each of them was distinct in appearance, but one in particular caught my eye¡ªa large man carrying a sword. It wasn¡¯t like the ones I¡¯d seen before; its blade was uniform in width from hilt to tip, which ended in a blunt, rounded edge. The sight of it was unsettling, as though it wasn¡¯t meant for battle but for something far more deliberate.


    ¡°Alright, I don¡¯t want to waste any time, so here¡¯s how this will work,¡± the man in the gold-adorned armor said, his tone carrying the weariness of someone already tired of their own words. ¡°These fine trainers will each take a handful of you for training. You¡¯ll rotate between them daily until we figure out which art suits you best. Do as they say, or I¡¯ll have you flogged.¡±


    The guard began separating us into groups of ten. I was assigned to a trainer armed with a long pole and dressed in lightly padded clothes. He seemed to specialize in ranged melee combat, emphasizing speed and precision above all else.


    Our training began with thrusting exercises using straight wooden sticks. The repetitive motion went on for what felt like hours. Each thrust demanded the use of my legs, and the strain quickly became unbearable. My legs burned, threatening to give out beneath me, but I refused to falter. The thought of messing up my chance for freedom kept me pushing forward, even as exhaustion clawed at every fiber of my being.


    When I started to falter, the trainer walked over to me, his expression a mix of observation and mild irritation.


    ¡°You¡¯re putting too much strain on your back and legs when you thrust. Use your arms more, like this,¡± he said, demonstrating the motion again with deliberate precision.


    I tried to mimic him, but he stopped me mid-movement, shaking his head slightly.


    ¡°Hmm. No, it seems like you don¡¯t have the joint flexibility to do it properly,¡± he muttered, almost to himself.


    He made a subtle motion with his hand, and a guard approached.


    ¡°He has potential, but I¡¯m not the right fit for him,¡± the trainer said, his tone matter-of-fact. ¡°Send him back over here if he doesn¡¯t work out with the others, and I¡¯ll take another look.¡±


    The guard nodded, taking the stick from me before gesturing for me to follow. I felt a pang of dejection. Didn¡¯t he just say I had potential? Then why was he sending me away?


    The guard led me to the side, where I stood and watched the others continue their training. My thoughts churned as I observed their movements, their sweat-drenched determination a mirror of my own. Before long, the man in the gold-adorned armor called out.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.¡°This is the end of training for today. Do not assume what you did today is what you¡¯ll be doing in the future, so don¡¯t carry it with you to tomorrow.¡±


    With that, the guards began escorting everyone back to their quarters. The others were taken back to wherever they¡¯d come from, while I was returned to my cell. A bucket of water waited for me in the corner, and as I entered, the guard handed me something. I looked down to find a block of some kind of dried meat and a green, unidentifiable substance.


    ¡°That¡¯s your dinner. Eat it all and don¡¯t save any,¡± he said curtly. ¡°If we find out you¡¯re hoarding food, you¡¯ll lose your rations for a period of time.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back down the hall. I watched him go, straining my neck to see as far as I could until the shadows swallowed him. Turning my attention back to the cultists¡¯ cell across from mine, something felt¡­ off.


    It seemed less populated somehow.


    The elder approached the cell door with that same unsettling smile.


    ¡°Young blessed one, would you like to join us in prayers?¡±


    I was about to refuse, but then I remembered my plan to stay on their good side. Reluctantly, I nodded and said, ¡°Yes.¡±


    He motioned for me to follow, and I complied, kneeling down despite the protest of my worn-out legs. I tucked them beneath me, sitting back on my heels. The elder gestured for me to straighten my back, and I mirrored his posture.


    As I settled into place, I noticed the others in the cell were doing the same, all facing the wall where a torch burned. Unsure of the significance, I shifted my body to match their orientation. The elder¡¯s smile widened, and he gave a small, approving nod before beginning what I assumed was a prayer.


    ¡°Immortal Flame, bearer of renewal and light,


    Guide us through the shadows of despair.


    Cleanse our hearts, strengthen our resolve,


    And burn away the chains that bind us.


    May your warmth protect us,


    May your light never falter,


    And may we rise, reborn, in your eternal embrace.¡±


    I repeated the words, letting them roll off my tongue with the same quiet reverence the others did. As I did, two things happened. The necklace I¡¯d been given began to warm against my chest, its gentle heat spreading through me and easing the fatigue that had been weighing me down.


    At the same time, that familiar feeling in the back of my mind grew stronger. It wasn¡¯t alarming¡ªit spread like a fog, soft and enveloping, yet strangely comforting. Instead of fear, I felt a deep sense of safety within it, as though I were cradled in unseen hands, shielded from harm.


    After the prayers, I returned to my spot against the wall, letting my body sink into the cold stone. Exhaustion pulled at me, and before long, sleep claimed me. That night, I didn¡¯t dream of anything¡ªno void, no golden lights¡ªbut the lingering warmth from the prayers remained. It wrapped around me like an unseen blanket, soft and reassuring, even in the stillness of the dark.

 Picked

    I woke the next day to the same guard bringing me the same gruel as before. I ate it eagerly, my hunger making quick work of the bland meal. Across the hallway, the cultists seemed to be in a good mood, their energy noticeably lighter. I figured it had something to do with the prayers the previous night.


    I couldn¡¯t blame them. I kind of understood why they did it. The feeling I¡¯d had afterward¡ªthat comforting warmth¡ªwas almost addictive compared to how I normally lived and felt. It was a stark contrast to the cold, harsh reality of my usual existence, and for a brief moment, I didn¡¯t feel quite so alone.


    After I finished eating, the same guard escorted me to the sandy pit for another round of what I assumed was either pre-training or some sort of selection process. I still wasn¡¯t entirely sure. This time, my trainer was a robust man clad in middling armor that covered his whole body. He carried a small shield he called a buckler and wielded a mace.


    For that day¡¯s training, he had us pair up and practice moves designed to throw our partner to the ground. The problem for me was my weight and size; I struggled to throw anyone of my own gender. Seeing this, he paired me with a small woman. At first, I hesitated, worried I might hurt her. But when she slammed me into the sand without any hesitation or care, I figured it would be fine to do the same.


    Surprisingly, my legs didn¡¯t bother me as much that day, so I was able to move more freely. By the time the exercise ended, I¡¯d been slammed into the ground at least ten times, but I¡¯d also managed to do the same to her. The trainer called us to stop and walked over to my partner.


    ¡°You¡¯re done,¡± he said bluntly. ¡°You don¡¯t have any potential here.¡±


    Her face twisted in shock, and she immediately tried to argue, but he raised a hand to silence her.


    ¡°If a child can slam you to the ground more than once, you¡¯ll die when someone bigger comes at you. This is for your own good.¡±


    Finally, she managed to get her words out. ¡°Then why did you pair me with him? This was a trap!¡±


    The trainer chuckled, his tone almost amused. ¡°I paired you two together because I thought you¡¯d be a hard match for the boy. But he was still able to match you. Now, wait over there.¡±


    He pointed toward the waiting area I¡¯d been sent to yesterday. I could already see a few others standing there, their faces a mix of defeat and uncertainty. My partner sulked her way over, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel a strange mix of guilt and relief that I hadn¡¯t been sent there myself¡ªat least not yet.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The trainer looked at me, his expression measured.


    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not a good match for you at your age and weight,¡± he said plainly. ¡°I¡¯ll let the guards know you have potential here, but we¡¯ll need to wait until you¡¯re better suited for this style. In the meantime, you should try working with the other trainers.¡±


    While his reasoning was logical and fair, it didn¡¯t feel good to hear. Knowing that something beyond my control¡ªmy age and size¡ªwas holding me back left a bitter taste in my mouth. I nodded silently, swallowing my frustration, and prepared myself to be sent to the next exercise.


    After the training for that day, I returned to my cell and, just as I had the night before, prayed with the cultists before settling in for the night. Once again, I didn¡¯t dream, but the lingering warmth from the prayers stayed with me. It was a faint comfort.


    The next day¡¯s training paired me with a wiry, rat-like man who wielded a dagger. His sharp, beady eyes and quick movements gave him an untrustworthy air. He announced that we¡¯d be working on an agility course, but just as I was about to step forward and begin, the man with the large sword from before strode over. His presence alone seemed to command attention, and without hesitation, he began speaking with the rat-like trainer.


    ¡°You, boy. Come here. You have been selected to train with Instructor Kushim,¡± the Rat-man said, his sharp tone cutting through the air.


    I hesitated for a moment before walking over, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and apprehension. Why was I chosen? I hadn¡¯t done anything extraordinary. As I followed the Rat-man, I noticed how others seemed to give him and the Combat Master a wide berth. There was something about this situation that felt different from the other selections.


    When we arrived at the Combat Master¡¯s training area, I realized I was the only one there. The space was quiet, almost painfully so, with none of the noise or chaos from the other training zones.


    Instructor Kushim turned to me, his gaze sharp and assessing. He wasn¡¯t the largest man I¡¯d seen, but there was an aura about him¡ªdangerous, commanding, predatory. His presence alone felt heavier than anyone else¡¯s. Even his scent was distinct, a natural musk faintly tinged with the metallic bite of blood.


    ¡°Boy, do you have a name?¡± he asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.


    ¡°Yes, sire. It is Edric,¡± I replied, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest.


    He nodded slightly, his piercing eyes never leaving me. My nerves heightened as I stood before him, feeling as though I was being stripped bare under his gaze. This man wasn¡¯t the largest or loudest, but he exuded a raw, undeniable danger that made everyone else seem almost harmless by comparison.


    ¡°How would you like to be an executioner?¡±

 Class

    I didn¡¯t even take a second to answer.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said firmly. I figured my chances would be better with an instructor who chose me rather than one who just happened upon me.


    Good, good. I didn¡¯t want to force you, but I was going to make you my student either way,¡± he said with a grin that felt more like a wild animal than a man. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you, and Lord Thorne has filled me in on your situation.¡± His eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity as his grin widened.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make you the best killer this kingdom has ever seen,¡± he added, his tone laced with pride that made my skin crawl. The way he spoke, it wasn¡¯t just about honing skill¡ªit was about shaping me into something monstrous. His smile, brimming with satisfaction, only solidified that impression.


    I was about to respond, but he raised a hand, cutting me off. ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry. You¡¯re still far too young and weak to be killing much. For now, it¡¯s just going to be training. Speaking of which, here¡ªput these on.¡±


    He handed me a set of clothes that looked like linen, though far sturdier than any I¡¯d worn before. The shirt had wooden blocks sewn into the front and back, positioned at the center, and small slots stitched into the arms and legs. I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it, but I took the clothes and began to change.


    As I stripped down, Instructor Kushim walked around me, his sharp eyes scanning my body with a detached intensity, as though I were an object under scrutiny. His murmurs filled the silence, more directed at himself than at me.


    ¡°I see what Lord Thorne meant about there being no scarring¡­ how odd,¡± he muttered. ¡°And the bumps near the spine and scapula¡­ interesting.¡± His voice lowered as if he were piecing together a puzzle. ¡°I don¡¯t see a contractor¡¯s mark, though. And that chest¡­ it doesn¡¯t beat normally. How fascinating.¡±


    I shifted uneasily under his gaze, but he didn¡¯t seem to notice¡ªor care. Once I finished changing, he motioned for me to stand up straight. His expression remained unreadable as his eyes continued to appraise me, his mutterings trailing off into silence.


    ¡°Now, hold still.¡±


    He began walking toward me, his fists balled tightly. The urge to flinch rose within me, but I forced myself to remain still as instructed. His steps covered what would have taken me three, and soon he was closer than an arm¡¯s length away. His hands moved in what felt like slow motion as they approached me.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    I felt my arms grow heavier, then my legs. Turning my head slightly, I realized he was filling the slots in my clothing with sand. The pockets on the shirt and pants sagged under the weight, bulging like full waterskins. Once satisfied with the weight he¡¯d added, he stepped back and pointed toward the far end of the circular pit.


    ¡°Run there and back. Do it until I tell you to stop. If you fail, I¡¯ll turn you over to the other instructors and stop teaching you myself.¡±


    The tone of finality in his voice sent a chill through me. For a brief moment, the thought of training with someone else didn¡¯t seem all that bad. But then I remembered what Lord Thorne had promised me¡ªthe chance at freedom. The idea of leaving this place, this life, pushed me to my limits.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I said, already moving toward the starting line, the heavy sand weighing down every step.


    My eyes burned from the salty sweat running into them. Each leg felt like a waterlogged straw, barely able to hold its shape, but I forced them to keep moving. My arms hung limply at my sides, long since drained of strength.


    I made another turn at the end of the pit¡ªmy fiftieth, maybe? I couldn¡¯t be sure anymore. Exhaustion clouded my thoughts, making it difficult to focus on anything except the path ahead.


    The sand beneath my feet, once soft and fine, had been compacted by my relentless pacing. The trail I had carved into the ground now resembled sandstone, solid and unforgiving beneath my aching feet. I kept moving, driven only by sheer willpower and the distant hope of freedom.


    As I neared the end of the path once again, a voice cut through the pounding in my ears.


    ¡°Enough, you¡¯re done with that for today. Come over here and sit down.¡±


    Instructor Kushim pointed at the ground near where he was standing. Without hesitation, I trudged over, my legs barely supporting me, and collapsed onto the ground with a dull thud. He made a noise¡ªclearing his throat¡ªwhich drew my eyes up to meet his.


    ¡°Now,¡± he began, his tone shifting slightly, ¡°I¡¯m going to teach you the basics¡ªnot of fighting, but of life and the things you may not know about the world. Information is a weapon, and it¡¯s one you need to train with for a long time to be deadly.¡±


    He tried to adopt a scholarly demeanor, but his rugged face and thuggish posture made it hard to take him seriously in that role. Still, I listened. What he shared wasn¡¯t anything I had heard before. He told me about the metals I had seen¡ªthe pale metal, iron, and the reddish one, bronze. He explained their uses, their strengths, and why they mattered.


    He went on, teaching me about other things I hadn¡¯t known. It wasn¡¯t just information; it felt like he was giving me tools, a foundation for understanding a world that had always felt distant and out of reach. For the first time, I enjoyed learning.


    I also found out why Lord Thorne had chosen the Dire Forest as our path. The kingdom we are part of, Caldrithy, is at war with the nation of Emberlain, home to the Followers of the Flame of Rebirth. The other routes to Maruseti, the region we¡¯re in now, were heavily patrolled by Emberlain forces. The Dire Forest, though dangerous and filled with its own terrors, was considered the lesser risk compared to the enemy¡¯s patrols.

 Anticipation

    From then on, I trained daily with Instructor Kushim. The training was relentless, ranging from sand runs to pull-ups and even dancing, which he claimed would improve my balance and flexibility. At night, I would join the Followers of the Flame of Rebirth in prayer. I had stopped calling them cultists; once I began to truly listen to their prayers and understand the philosophy behind their religion, I found myself aligning with their beliefs in ways I hadn''t expected.


    Once I turned thirteen, Instructor Kushim began teaching me how to use a sword. For now, I was only allowed to train with a wooden practice sword, as real weapons were reserved for seasoned fighters. Until I won my first fight in the arena, I wouldn''t qualify to wield anything more deadly. Kushim drilled me relentlessly, making me practice the same sword swings until my palms bled and thick calluses began to form. Each block he taught was drilled repeatedly until I could perform them seamlessly in conjunction with the sword swings I had learned.


    One technique Kushim drilled into me was a downward swing that didn''t seem practical at first. It left my core exposed during the upward recovery, but he insisted it was the most essential move for an executioner. Alongside this, he began teaching me the core tenets of being an executioner¡ªa role that, according to him, was far more serious outside of the arena. I would be expected to carry out justice on criminals for the court when deemed necessary.


    "I didn''t initially see the point of having someone dedicated solely to executing criminals when any guard could do the job. But Kushim explained that killing always took something from you, and that was why only a select few should bear the burden. I wasn''t sure I agreed. I had killed a goblin when I was eight and didn''t feel much afterward. Maybe killing humans was different.


    By the time I turned sixteen, the day I had been preparing for had arrived¡ªmy first real fight in the arena. I was leaning against the bars of my cell, speaking to Elder John, the man who had guided me on my spiritual journey with the worship of the Flame of Rebirth.


    "Today''s your big day, my boy. Are you ready?" he asked, his familiar, warm smile stretching across his face.


    "I am. Hopefully, once I win this fight, I''ll be able to ask where the others went." My gaze drifted to the empty cell behind him. One by one, the others had been taken away, leaving only Elder John. Each time someone left, a quiet sadness settled over me. I had no delusions that they were heading somewhere good. But I held onto the hope that their souls would be reborn into lives far better than this one.


    Elder John placed a hand on his chest, his expression softening. "Don''t worry too much, my boy. I''m old and soon to be reborn myself. I''ve made my peace with the others. I know they''ll find peace sooner than I will."


    His words were comforting, but there was a heavy finality in them that made my chest tighten. I wanted to say something, to promise that I''d find a way to help him, but no words came. The weight of the moment hung in the air between us, unspoken but deeply understood.


    I could hear the clink of bronze-plated boots echoing down the hall, a guard making his way toward our cells. Turning to Elder John, I felt a sudden urge to share a moment of faith before facing what lay ahead.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "Elder, would you like to lead a small prayer today?" I asked. Normally, he was the one to guide our prayers, but lately, I had been taking over occasionally. Still, I felt he might appreciate leading this one.


    His ever-present smile softened as he nodded. "Of course."


    With slow, deliberate movements, Elder John lowered himself to his knees. His arms pressed tightly against his sides, hands clasped together with interlaced fingers, a picture of solemn reverence. The flickering torchlight cast shifting shadows across the cell, playing over his weathered face as he led us in the prayers of rebirth once again. His voice, though quiet, carried a power that seemed to fill the space.


    As we finished, the clinking of bronze-plated boots grew louder, and a guard appeared in front of my cell. His expression, as always, was one of disdain.


    "Let''s go," he barked, his tone gruff. Then, with a sneer, he added, "And you should stop wasting your brain rambling with that nutjob cultist over there. You''re young, so I get it¡ªyou ain''t wised up yet. But take this as some words of wisdom."


    This guard had been the one assigned to me for years. I knew he harbored a deep dislike for the Flame of Rebirth and anyone associated with it. Figuring it was best not to provoke him, I kept my tone light and accommodating.


    "Of course, sire," I said, attempting to sound as if my actions had been nothing more than kindness toward an elder. "I just wanted to help him fulfill his request."


    The guard eyed me critically before grunting. "Mmm. Still, pick your compassions better. Now let''s go."


    He unlocked the cell door and gestured for me to follow. We took the same path we''d walked every day for the past few years, the familiar stone walls passing by in a blur. But this time, a thunderous noise echoed through the halls, vibrating in the air around us. It was different, like the whole atmosphere had changed.


    We ascended the staircase and walked down the hallways. Now, I could hear people yelling, their voices rising and falling like a chaotic tide. As we approached the pit, I was directed into a side room. The walls were made of wooden planks, the roof constructed of the same material. Dust drifted down from the ceiling with every thundering vibration from whatever was happening above me.


    As I stood waiting, Instructor Kushim entered the room. His face carried its usual stern expression, but there was a faint glimmer of anticipation in his eyes.


    "Okay, here''s what''s going to happen," he began. "Since this is your first fight, they''re going to have you go first along with the other beginners. I think this is going to be a team fight scenario. You''ll be playing as the Followers of the Flame of Rebirth, going up against our military¡ªthough those guys will be beginners, too."


    I thought about it for a moment, uncertainty dashed in my mind. "Is that¡­ okay?"


    "Yeah, it should be fine," he replied with a dismissive wave. "It''s not to the death. When you see someone on the ground, treat them as if they''re dead. Got it?"


    "Yes, I understand, sire." I nodded, feeling a little reassured. It sounded simple enough.


    "Oh, one other thing," Kushim added, his tone becoming more serious. "There are going to be beasts thrown into the mix. You can kill those. It''ll just be goblins and, I think, kobolds. Nothing to worry about."


    With that, he handed me a set of gear. The gambeson and padded pants fit snugly, and over them, I donned bronze armor that protected my shins, arms, and chest. He gave me a helmet, which I carefully placed on my head. Finally, he handed me an iron two handed sword. It was the first time I''d ever held one, and despite its weight, I finally felt like a real executioner. The two handed sword was long and heavy. It was perfect. A giddy excitement bubbled up inside me at the thought.


    "Alright," he said, holding out one last item. "Put this on."


    He handed me a tabard¡ªa golden one with a red flame emblazoned at its center.


    "Don''t hurt anyone wearing this," he instructed. "They''re your teammates. Now, good luck and wait to be called."


    With that, he left, the door creaking softly behind him. Alone in the room, I adjusted my gear and tried to steady my nerves. All I could do now was wait for my time.

 All for show

    *The booming voice of the announcer echoes across the arena, amplified by the high walls and carried to every corner of the massive structure.*


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen of Caldrithy! Honored citizens and noble guests, we gather today under the benevolent gaze of His Majesty, the illustrious King Aldemir, whose wisdom and strength guide our kingdom to greatness!¡±


    *The crowd roars in approval, their cheers reverberating like a rolling wave.*


    ¡°Today, in this blooded arena, we honor not only the glory of our kingdom but the indomitable spirit of its people. The sand before you has borne witness to countless trials of strength, courage, and resolve. Each grain carries the legacy of those who have fought and fallen, of those who have risen and claimed their place in history.¡±


    *The announcer¡¯s voice swells with excitement, rising to a crescendo.*


    ¡°By decree of our noble King, we present to you the first round of the Trial of Blades! Here, the brave, the bold, and the untested will clash in combat to prove their worth, to sharpen their skills, and to honor the crown! Among them, there are those who fight for glory, for freedom, and for the dream of standing tall among the kingdom¡¯s champions.¡±


    *A pause for dramatic effect as the crowd quiets slightly.*


    ¡°And remember, dear citizens, this is no mere spectacle. This is the proving ground where heroes are forged, where destinies are written, and where the will of our king shines brightest. May every swing of the sword, every clash of shields, and every drop of blood shed today bring honor to His Majesty and the enduring might of Caldrithy!¡±


    *The crowd erupts once more, the thunderous applause matched only by the anticipation coursing through the arena.*


    ¡°Now, let the Trial of Blades commence!¡±


    With that, the gates began to creak open, revealing the expanse of the arena. To my right and left, others dressed similarly to me emerged from their respective holding cells. Across the way, men clad in bronze and iron armor stalked the landscape, already positioned and given time to set up a defense.


    The ground beneath my feet felt uneven, a mix of packed sand and scattered debris, making every step cautious. Though I didn¡¯t see any of the beasts yet, the memory of Kushim¡¯s warning lingered in my mind. My senses sharpened, wary of their presence as I trotted forward into the fray.


    I watched as others charged headlong into the defenders¡¯ shields, only to be dropped to the ground instantly. It looked like someone who had been trained by the mace-and-buckler instructor¡ªpredictable and ineffective. Another tried to sneak around the outskirts, but his black cloak stood out so starkly against the tan sand that it was almost comical.


    I slowed my pace, taking a moment to assess the battlefield. My eyes scanned the others, searching for teammates who might actually prove useful in this fight.


    My eyes landed on a small group that had already formed. Among them was a woman wielding a spear, an older man carrying a large shield and a short sword, another woman armed with a three-pronged spear and a net, and a younger man holding some kind of bow. They seemed organized, or at least competent enough to last longer than the others.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I made my way toward them, intending to give a quick introduction.


    ¡°Name¡¯s Edric. I use an executioner¡¯s sword and would do best on the frontline.¡± I kept my introduction short and to the point. Time wasn¡¯t on our side, and I figured getting straight to business was the best approach.


    ¡°Nice. You can help us cover the archer,¡± one of them said, motioning toward a wiry figure already adjusting their bow.


    They didn¡¯t bother to give me their names, but I didn¡¯t particularly care¡ªit wasn¡¯t the time or place to press for details. I joined their group, positioning myself to shield the archer. Together, we moved with purpose, gathering other teammates who looked lost or unsure as we prepared for the fight ahead.


    We managed to amass a decent group¡ªmaybe close to twenty. It wasn¡¯t much compared to the nearly thirty fighters the other side had, but it was something. One of the older men in the group took charge, organizing us into a defensive formation. The shields moved to form a circle around the group, with swordsmen like me stationed just behind them. The spear-wielders stood behind us, and the archers were positioned at the very center.


    Both sides hesitated, neither willing to make the first move. The tension hung heavy in the air, but it wasn¡¯t long before the crowd grew restless. Their murmurs of discontent filled the arena, and then the announcer¡¯s voice cut through the noise like a whip.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen¡­ what a predicament we have here. Neither side is poised to move. What shall we do?¡± His voice echoed across the arena, silencing the stands as everyone leaned in to hear. ¡°I know! It was supposed to be a secret, but the king told me to share this with you: the winner of this contest will have a chance to meet the princess! What an honor!¡±


    The murmurs turned into a roar of excitement. I noticed some of the men around me shifting, their resolve visibly shaken. Was the chance to meet a princess really worth risking everything? I couldn¡¯t understand it.


    The announcer¡¯s voice boomed again, his tone dripping with theatrics. ¡°But as the princess is such an important person, only one can win! That one person must embody all that our kingdom stands for¡­ and frankly, I¡¯m not seeing that here, folks. Are you?¡±


    The crowd erupted in jeers and boos, their insults raining down on us like a storm. The noise was deafening, and it was hard to think. The pressure mounted, and I could feel the tension cracking.


    Then, it happened. Fighters on both sides, unable to bear the weight of the crowd¡¯s disdain, broke formation and charged into the fray.


    Instructor Kushim had assured me this wasn¡¯t a fight to the death, but that illusion shattered almost instantly. I saw one of our teammates¡ªa woman armed with a dagger¡ªleap onto an opponent and slash his throat. Blood sprayed across her face, a vivid, horrifying arc of red. Before she could step away, a mace came down with a sickening crunch, splitting her skull open. She crumpled to the ground, lifeless.


    Shock froze me in place for a moment. This wasn¡¯t a contest. This was a slaughter. The crowd, however, erupted in deafening cheers, their excitement feeding off the carnage. My stomach churned, but the roaring energy around me demanded I take action.


    After that brutal exchange, any pretense of strategy or formations dissolved. Both sides gave up on coordination, plunging headlong into chaotic melee. Even I had no choice but to join the fray¡ªthere was no point in trying to defend the archers solo  when the whole battlefield was collapsing. The archers stayed back, still firing into the chaos, but I knew standing still was a death sentence.


    As the fighting descended into utter chaos, the arena''s side doors creaked open. From one door emerged a wave of goblins armed with crude sticks, their shrill cries piercing the air. Leading them was a larger, tan-skinned goblin, its movements more intelligent and commanding. From the opposite door burst a pack of dog-like creatures, their speed and ferocity sending chills down my spine as they leapt onto combatants . Their snarls echoed in the pit, a sharp contrast to the cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd.

 chaos

    I strained my eyes and ears, searching desperately for the next immediate threat. My breath came in ragged gasps, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. My arms screamed in protest as I swung at a goblin charging toward me. Any semblance of strategy had long since been abandoned¡ªI could barely make sense of the chaos around me.


    The goblin screeched as my blade met its mark, cleaving through its frail body. Its companions snarled in fury, scattering momentarily before regrouping. Their movements were erratic but disturbingly coordinated, each attack designed to distract while others flanked. A rock whizzed past my head, thrown by one of the creatures lurking at a distance. I turned instinctively, raising my sword to defend against another charge, but it never came.


    Instead, a kobold darted in from my blind spot, jaws snapping at my ankle. I twisted, bringing the flat of my blade down like a hammer. The creature yelped and collapsed, its twitching form lost in the churn of sand and blood.


    Around me, the Flame Fighters stumbled through their defenses, their inexperience showing in every panicked move. One of them, a spear-wielder, jabbed wildly at a goblin, missing entirely before being tackled to the ground. The goblin didn¡¯t hesitate, its claws raking across his chest.


    I rushed toward the man, but before I could reach him, the goblin bit down savagely into his throat. The wet, tearing sound was followed by a sickening spray of blood. The goblin¡¯s maw dripped with gore as it hunched over its victim. The man¡¯s eyes were wide with terror, his mouth open in a silent scream, his agony etched into his features even in death.


    Gripping my sword tightly, I stepped forward, my blade already positioned for a horizontal strike. I flexed my core and swung with every ounce of strength I could muster. The edge of my blade bit into the goblin¡¯s neck, cleaving through bone and sinew. Its body slumped over the man, twitching as blood pooled around it.


    I spared a fleeting glance at the fallen Flame Fighter. There was no time to mourn or pray for him. The wind whipped past my face, and a shadow darted across the sand, catching my attention. I turned quickly, my eyes tracing its source, and saw the military team¡¯s archers positioned behind their frontline. Their formation was tighter than ours, a clear attempt to protect their ranged fighters while still maintaining an offensive stance. It was a solid strategy, one that made immediate retaliation too risky for me¡­ for now. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I shifted my focus, scanning the chaos for any teammates I could assist. My gaze fell on the first group of fighters I¡¯d met¡ªthe ones who had regrouped earlier. They had managed to hold their ground surprisingly well, their defensive line steady despite the madness that was surrounding them. I felt some relief. They might not be seasoned fighters, but they were holding their own; it looked like there was a leader who took charge.


    Without hesitation, I moved to join them. My feet kicked up small clouds of sand as I sprinted across the arena, my sword ready at my side. I didn¡¯t call out¡ªnoise would only draw unwanted attention but as I approached, one of them spotted me and gave a nod. The group adjusted slightly to let me slip into their formation, and I took my place among them.


    A larger man wielding a crude club stood at the center of our group, barking out orders with surprising authority. He wasn¡¯t an official leader¡ªnone of us were¡ªbut in the chaos, his voice carried enough weight to keep us moving as one. I took position at the front of our formation, readying myself for what was to come. Together, we gathered the remnants of our team, piecing together a shaky unity from the scattered fighters.


    Slowly, we pushed closer to the opposing team. Their numbers loomed larger¡ªabout five men more than ours. It was a grim sight, one that ate at the edges of my confidence. But hesitation wasn¡¯t an option. If we wanted to leave this arena alive, we had to act.


    The crowd roared with deafening excitement, their cheers almost drowning out the clash of weapons and the cries of the wounded. They seemed to revel in our suffering, their enthusiasm rising with every drop of blood spilled. Strangely, they jeered when we tried to save each other, as if mercy offended them. The atmosphere was suffocating, but amidst the chaos, I felt something else¡ªa different kind of attention.


    A cold shiver ran down my spine, a sensation that felt far more invasive than the crowd¡¯s bloodthirsty gaze. It wasn¡¯t from the mass of spectators; it was singular, focused, and unrelenting. Though I couldn¡¯t afford to spare a glance, I could sense its source. It came from the direction of the royal viewing box. That unseen scrutiny felt heavier than any sword, and it took every ounce of willpower to keep my focus on the battlefield ahead.

 Eyes of Gold

    *Princess Aliynn¡¯s POV*


    I opened my eyes, feeling the soft light of day filtering through the curtains. A gentle knock echoed from the heavy doors of my room, but I couldn¡¯t muster the energy to respond. Instead, I lazily glanced at my guard, Olivia. Her bronze-colored face remained as passive as ever. She reminded me of the many statues of my father that lined the palace halls¡ªthough, admittedly, she was far easier on the eyes.


    With a stretch, I raised my arms above my head and let out a small, contented grunt. Olivia, ever attentive, moved to open the door for the servant waiting outside.


    ¡°Mistress,¡± the servant began, her voice wavering with nervousness, ¡°your father has instructed me to inform you to prepare for travel. You should expect it to last three weeks.¡±


    The faint tremor in her words might have irritated me on another day, but I was feeling particularly magnanimous this morning. I waved off my annoyance and allowed her to continue uninterrupted.


    ¡°Mmm, yes¡­ yes¡­¡± I murmured lazily, stretching once more. ¡°Thank you for that. Now, is there anything else?¡± I paused, noting her hesitance. ¡°No? Then get out.¡±


    The servant scurried off, leaving the room in a hurry. Slowly, I turned my gaze back to Olivia, arching a brow and tilting my head as I spoke.


    ¡°Traveling¡­ Mmmm, I wonder what could make Father decide on that. You wouldn¡¯t have a clue, would you?¡±


    The stoic woman gave no reply, barely acknowledging that she¡¯d heard me at all.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so. Ever the conversationalist, by the way.¡±


    I rose from my bed, my nightgown fluttering lightly in the draft from the open window. I was tempted to step out onto the balcony, but the thought of my family¡¯s disapproval at me flaunting my undergarments to the servants below quickly dismissed the idea. With a light spin on my toes, I turned to face Olivia and offered a mock curtsy.


    ¡°Now, who is it today that¡¯s going to dress me? I expect Father will be wanting me downstairs shortly and I''d imagine in a more courtly attire.¡±


    For the briefest moment, Olivia¡¯s brow twitched¡ªjust the faintest quiver.


    ¡°It would seem the servants were called off today,¡± she replied, her voice as steady as ever. ¡°So I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll be responsible for dressing yourself today, oh princess.¡±


    Shock coursed through me. Me, a princess, having to dress myself like some commoner? That simply wouldn¡¯t do.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I said, my tone sweet but cutting, ¡°I see a servant right in front of me. Now, I highly recommend that you get to dressing me.¡±


    For the first time in what felt like forever, a flicker of emotion crossed Olivia¡¯s otherwise impassive face. A hint of anger¡ªdeliciously restrained but unmistakable¡ªlit her eyes. It was exactly the reaction I craved from her. If my father insisted she shadow me day and night, I might as well enjoy getting under her skin.


    I let Olivia doll me up, her movements efficient and precise as always. Once I was ready, I made my way out of the room, my steps echoing faintly in the halls of my wing. The endless corridors of the palace never failed to annoy me; hall after hall, all grand yet monotonous, stretched before me. My heels clicked sharply against the polished floor, and my feet already ached, testing the light smile I always wore as I walked.


    As we neared the main halls, the activity increased. Maids and other members of the cleaning staff moved about, their presence more noticeable now. Whenever I approached, they shifted toward the walls, bowing slightly or murmuring greetings to ensure they were properly out of my way. I didn¡¯t bother acknowledging them. Why would I? They knew their place, and I had no need to remind them.


    The hum of conversation grew louder as I approached the doors, a mix of casual banter and weighty tones that hinted at important matters being discussed inside. My pace remained steady, my expression composed, as curiosity flickered at the edges of my thoughts.


    The palace guards opened the doors for me, their movements precise and practiced, as though every step and gesture had been rehearsed countless times. I stepped into the grand dining hall, the soft echo of my heels swallowed by the vast space. My gaze was immediately drawn to my father, seated at the head of the ornate table. His dark hair, streaked with silver, stood as a silent testament to the years spent ruling this kingdom. His sharp jawline and high cheekbones gave his face a chiseled, statuesque quality, but it was his eyes¡ªcold and calculating, like chips of polished onyx¡ªthat truly defined him. His expression, as always, was unreadable, his brow etched with a faint, permanent furrow that gave him an air of perpetual judgment. The long, dark royal robes he wore added to his imposing presence, their intricate gold embroidery glinting faintly in the light.


    To his left sat a rotund, dark-skinned man, his lavish attire adorned with gems and embroidery that strained against his bulk. Rings glittered on nearly every finger, their stones catching the light with every slight movement. His eyes darted toward me briefly, sharp and appraising, before settling back on my father. I didn¡¯t recognize him, but he must have been a high-ranking noble to be seated here. To his right was a frail, skinny old man I recognized as the physician who had overseen my younger brother¡¯s birth¡ªDutchmund, or something like that. His pale, papery skin and hunched posture made him seem almost spectral, as though he might vanish into the gilded surroundings at any moment.


    I inclined my head in a practiced bow, every movement deliberate and precise, offering the gesture with the poise drilled into me since childhood. ¡°Your Majesty,¡± I said, forcing my voice into a tone I hoped resembled filial warmth. In truth, I felt little for the man beyond a vague sense of duty. I barely knew him beyond the imposing presence he wielded and the weight of his crown.


    My gaze flickered briefly to the two men flanking him, lingering for a moment on the jeweled rings of the rotund man and the trembling hands of Dutchmund. Returning my focus to my father, I folded my hands neatly before me, donned the light smile I¡¯d perfected for moments like this, and waited for the decree¡ªor demand¡ªthat had summoned me here.

 Family meal

    My eyes remained fixed on my father. His expression was calm, even bored, but I couldn¡¯t ignore the way his gaze lingered on me with a sharper edge than before. With sons, such scrutiny was expected¡ªheirs were groomed and watched constantly, their every move weighed against the ever-present threat of regicide. But I was his only daughter. Ultimately, I couldn¡¯t take the throne, even if I wanted it.


    So why did he seem so guarded when it came to matters involving me?


    It hadn¡¯t always been this way. Before his return from the director¡¯s testing facility, his demeanor toward me had been distant but predictable. Whatever he saw or learned there changed something in him. That was over five years ago, yet the shadow of that trip lingered, a constant, silent wedge between us. What could he have seen that made him this way with me?


    ¡°We will be traveling to the Coliceme this year to observe the new fighters,¡± he said abruptly, breaking the silence.


    I blinked, confused. Was this why he¡¯d called me down here? It felt trivial, a waste of time. I hesitated but decided to speak.


    ¡°Father, it isn¡¯t my place to question your wisdom,¡± I began carefully, my tone measured. ¡°But don¡¯t we do that every year? Why treat this year as something different?¡±


    His expression didn¡¯t change, but there was a pause before he responded. ¡°Because this year, I have a task for you.¡± His voice carried a weight that immediately commanded my attention. ¡°You are to assess the fighters and select a few to be groomed as bodyguards for your younger brother. Consider this a test.¡±


    I opened my mouth to reply but stopped myself, letting his words settle.


    ¡°A test¡­¡± I repeated softly, mulling over what it might entail. ¡°And if I pass it?¡±


    I threw the question out lightly, feigning nonchalance. I knew how my father operated. He was always more inclined to grant rewards when approached directly, and my intuition proved correct this time.


    ¡°If you succeed,¡± he said, his tone cool and deliberate, ¡°you may choose one or two of the fighters for your own retinue.¡±


    The offer didn¡¯t seem particularly generous at first glance. But considering my current situation¡ªwhere the only bodyguard assigned to me owed loyalty to my father, not me¡ªthe prospect of having guards who answered to no one else was more valuable than it sounded. Still, before I fully committed, I needed to understand what I stood to lose.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°What happens if I choose the wrong fighters?¡± I asked, my tone just as light, masking the uneasiness creeping into my chest.


    His eyes bore into mine, unflinching. ¡°Our family has no use for princesses who are a drain. If you fail, I¡¯ll have you married off to a neighboring kingdom for a dowry.¡±


    The words hung in the air like a blade over my head.


    His gaze never wavered, and I could tell he meant every syllable. While there were fates far worse than being married off to the highest bidder, the thought of being reduced to a mere transaction¡ªa broodmare to secure an alliance¡ªmade my stomach churn.


    ¡°I understand, Father,¡± I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. ¡°Then I¡¯ll make sure to do my best in this task. When will we depart?¡±


    He regarded me with that same unreadable expression before replying. ¡°We leave at midday. Your attire for the journey has been packed.¡±


    There was a brief pause before he continued, his tone less heavy but no more comforting. ¡°I recommend you eat now. This trip will not allow for delays, especially with the winter snows approaching. If the mountain pass closes, we will have no choice but to take the Dire Forest.¡±


    The mention of the Dire Forest sent a faint chill down my spine, but I masked it with a polite nod. His words lacked their usual weight of looming judgment, but even in this moment of relative calm, his presence was suffocating.


    I tried to shift the conversation as I ate, though the food did little to distract me. Raising my head, I glanced at the heavyset man seated to my father¡¯s left. He seemed utterly at ease, stuffing his face with a distinct lack of the refinement one would expect from a noble.


    ¡°Sire,¡± I began carefully, my tone light but curious, ¡°I seem to not know your name, but you must be someone important to sit here. Might I inquire who you are?¡±


    He paused mid-bite, dabbing at his lips with a napkin before responding. ¡°Oh, me? I¡¯m Thorn. I don¡¯t have a last name, so Your Majesty can simply call me that.¡± His tone was polite, yet there was an undercurrent of defiance in his words, subtle but unmistakable. ¡°I do believe we¡¯ve met¡ªquite a number of times, in fact. I am the noble in charge of the coliseum, though I understand your attention may have been on more pressing matters during those occasions.¡±


    His words, though couched in courtesy, felt like a jab. I arched a brow, letting the edge creep into my voice as I countered, ¡°How is it that you only have a first name? Only slaves lack a family name.¡±


    Thorn chuckled, his tone laced with mock admiration. ¡°Your Majesty¡¯s intellect is as sharp as they say! I was born a slave, but His Majesty, in his infinite benevolence, granted me freedom and much more when I earned the title of champion in the arena.¡±


    I felt my stomach churn. A slave? Sitting in the royal palace, dining beside my father, no less? The thought was revolting. For a moment, I felt my mask slip¡ªjust a flicker of the disgust threatening to rise¡ªbut I quickly composed myself, forcing my attention to the frail figure seated to my father¡¯s right.


    ¡°And you, Lord Dutchmund?¡± I asked, my voice regaining its practiced poise. ¡°How have you been?¡±


    Anything to shift the topic away from the ex-slave playing the part of nobility. The sourness in my stomach had grown, and I doubted I could stomach another bite as long as Thorn was part of the conversation.

 End of meal

    Dutchmund rambled on about his tedious experiments¡ªthe kind of gory details no one should have to stomach at the dinner table. Who discusses such horrors while eating? Rather than endure it, I let my mind wander, taking in the scene around me.


    My father, unfazed, allowed this so-called ''Noble Thorne'' to lean in close and whisper something in his ear. That disgusting jaw of his practically brushed against my father¡¯s cheek, while I wasn¡¯t permitted to speak unless spoken to first. The insult burned me to no end. To make matters worse, the fat fuck had the nerve to glance my way as he whispered, as though daring me to protest.


    I loathed him. It seemed so unfair that someone born so low could be treated so highly, while I¡ªmy father¡¯s own daughter¡ªstruggled to claim even a few seconds of his attention. And those were offered only when he wanted to placate me, as though I were a child waiting for crumbs of affection.


    I exhaled slowly, pushing the surge of resentment into a locked corner of my mind¡ªsomething to address another day, when I had the power to act on it. For now, I needed to maintain my composure.


    ¡°Father, gentle sirs,¡± I began, injecting just enough deference into my tone, ¡°I realize it might be poor form, but may I be so bold as to request an early departure from your company? I¡¯d like to make preparations for our upcoming trip.¡±


    My father pinned me with a stare that seemed to bore right through my soul.


    ¡°Go,¡± he said curtly.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t miss the departure. And one more thing¡ªyou¡¯ll be riding with Thorne.¡±


    I left the table, heading for the door with my posture straight and my steps measured to perfection. I knew I looked every bit the regal princess¡ªmy face carefully schooled to reveal none of my thoughts, and I took solace in that. The guards stood at attention, opening the door as I passed.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Walking down the corridor, I noticed a servant girl hastily stepping aside to make room for me. In her rush, she bumped into a hanging portrait of me, the frame rattling loudly. A flicker of irritation flared within me. It felt like a personal slight, as though another lowborn had just spat in my face.


    I stopped in my tracks, turning toward her with a practiced, unreadable expression. My gaze was cold, but my face still in the practiced smile as I let the moment hang in the air.


    ¡°Follow me. I have a use for you.¡±


    The servant girl¡¯s eyes went wide, and she bobbed her head in a hurried bow. ¡°Y-Yes, Princess!¡±


    I led her down the corridor and back to my quarters, the guards swinging the door open as I swept inside. She trailed behind me, her shoulders tense with apprehension. Once the door clicked shut, I turned on my heel, regarding her with the kind of detached disdain I might give a broken object.


    ¡°Turn around,¡± I said softly, though there was nothing gentle in my tone. ¡°Show me your back.¡±


    She hesitated only for an instant before obeying, her posture stiffening as she turned away. Some small part of me relished the power in that moment, it was the promise that I could do as I pleased. It soothed my nerves just enough that I decided not to go all out¡ªbut I still intended to leave a reminder.


    I crossed to my desk, where a length of heavy cable lay coiled beside a leather rod. Picking up the handle, I tested its weight with a slow flick of my wrist. Then I returned to her, letting the cable dangle, swaying behind me.


    I raised my arm, swung forward in a smooth, and very practiced motion, and snapped my wrist at the apex of the arc. The cable sliced through the air with a sharp crack before biting into her skin. A barely audible whimper escaped her clenched jaw. I could almost feel the tension in her body, the sting of the wound opening a red arc on her back.


    My anger receded just a fraction, replaced by a cold thrill. It was satisfaction,  reasserting my position¡ªof reminding her exactly who held the power here. If my father insisted that those beneath me could act as though they were my equals, I would simply show them where they truly stood.

 Fun trip

    Sweat dripped from my forehead as my anger finally dissipated. I took a moment to admire the tapestry of blood I¡¯d carved into the lowlife¡¯s flesh, reveling in its macabre beauty. Her body quivered gently¡ªa detail I found rather pleasing. Allowing the whip to drop from my hand, I moved to the water basin in my bathroom to wash my face. I considered changing into fresh attire, but a quick glance out the window told me I¡¯d lingered longer than I should. My father¡¯s midday departure deadline loomed.


    I snapped my fingers, and the servant girl I¡¯d just carved up walked over, head bowed low.


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty?¡± she asked in a shaky voice, clearly more respectful now that I¡¯d left my mark on her.


    ¡°Clean up this mess and straighten the room,¡± I said, offering my usual courtly smile as though it were a trivial request. With that, I strode to the door.


    The guards outside stood a bit stiffer than usual as they opened it, but I barely cared enough to wonder why. Moving through the halls, I noticed other servants quickly stepping aside, none daring to try my patience.


    Stepping into the courtyard, my royal guards fell in on either side, guiding me to the waiting carriage. I noted how heavily it sagged on its axles. At first, I assumed it was from the weight of my luggage, but as I neared the door, it swung open, revealing Thorne¡¯s hefty figure. So it wasn¡¯t just the baggage¡ªhe himself weighed it down. Disgusting.


    I quickened my pace, eager for this journey to be done.


    ¡°Princess,¡± he said, his voice tinted with thinly veiled sarcasm. ¡°It is my honor to ride with you. I hope you can accept this humble servant¡¯s presence.¡±


    I would have punished him on the spot if he weren¡¯t so close to Father. Besides, I still felt the residual calm from my earlier¡­ distraction.


    ¡°Of course, Noble Thorne,¡± I replied, letting my own sarcasm seep through. ¡°Why would I ever refuse the company of such a refined, gentlemanly person?¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    He responded in kind, his tone practically purring with mock civility. ¡°It never crossed my mind that you might deny a gentleman¡¯s company, Your Majesty. I thank you for enlightening one such as myself.¡±


    My eye twitched, but I kept my smile from faltering. At least I was starting to see his angle more clearly.


    ¡°No need to thank me,¡± I said. ¡°It is a royal¡¯s duty to educate those less fortunate. Now, shall we dispense with the pleasantries?¡±


    I climbed into the carriage, wrinkling my nose at the greasy odor within. Thorne settled across from me and shut his eyes, evidently content to avoid further conversation. The trip proved uneventful¡ªour carriage blended with the usual travelers, and bandits seemed to find no profit in attacking us.


    I watched as the mountainous forest near the capital faded, giving way to distant peaks. Then the Dire Forest came into view, even at a distance radiating a sense of being watched. Our route ran parallel to it for a time, climbing up and over a high pass before descending again. It was considered safer, though still treacherous when the snows came. If winter blocked the pass, we¡¯d have no choice but to traverse the forest itself¡ªa prospect I found as repugnant as the man dozing across from me.


    Days stretched by in silence, which made sharing the carriage with Thorne that much more unbearable. But once we entered the dusty plains around his arena, he grew more talkative. I mostly tuned him out¡ªhe spouted drivel about journeying through the Dire Forest with a slave boy able to conjure fire, among other nonsense. I did perk up slightly when he mentioned contractors, though. Learning more about them could be useful¡ªone could gain power by forging pacts with devils, or so I¡¯d heard. The exact specifics were what I wanted to uncover, especially if it helped strengthen anyone loyal to me.


    As we neared the town¡¯s walls, I noticed the guards stationed there appeared more heavily armed than I¡¯d expected. They also looked like they¡¯d seen recent combat.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been under constant raids lately,¡± Thorne said, noticing my gaze. ¡°With our province so close to the border, it¡¯s inevitable.¡±


    I nodded, turning my attention to the looming gate. It didn¡¯t take long for the guards to wave us through the checkpoint.


    While the city might impress some¡ªcertainly more than the mud-and-stick huts dotting the surrounding villages¡ªit felt woefully small compared to the capital. Still, at least the buildings were made of stone and sported proper wooden-tiled roofs. The paved roads were also a modest improvement over the dirt paths that snaked around the countryside.


    I leaned back in my seat, intent on catching a moment¡¯s rest before the festivities began.

 What a fight

    The plain exterior of our carriage was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it rendered us indistinguishable from the other traffic clogging the roads; on the other, it offered us no special privileges. What could have been a short, half-hour trip to the coliseum had dragged into a three-hour crawl, thanks to foot traffic and a stream of carriages bound for the same destination.


    I had tried closing my eyes, hoping to pass the time more quickly, but I suppose life couldn¡¯t be that convenient for me. Letting out a soft sigh, I shifted my attention to Thorne. His prodigious girth monopolized the entire seat across from me, and I found myself wondering, yet again, what he meant to my father. Being a champion might be impressive, but it was hardly more than a well-bred dog winning a show¡ªnothing deserving the king¡¯s personal favor, in my estimation.


    His eyes were closed, so I couldn¡¯t be sure if he was asleep, but as I examined him, I noticed the absence of any hint of his former life. No scars, no blemishes from the arena¡ªno visible muscle to speak of, for that matter, though he must have some to support that bulk. I studied the gaudy assortment of gems and finery he wore, far more ostentatious than my own wardrobe. One thing did catch my eye, though: the edge of some kind of tattoo or marking, half-concealed beneath his layers of jewelry.


    As I leaned forward slightly to get a better look, I felt the weight of someone¡¯s gaze upon me. Glancing up, I realized Thorne was watching me. His brown eyes were no longer the mildly sarcastic, aloof eyes of a pampered noble. In that moment, they reminded me of a wild animal¡ªperhaps a killer. But I¡¯d stared down that kind of look my whole life; it didn¡¯t faze me. I let my practiced smile slip into place and angled my head.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re awake, Noble Thorne,¡± I said in my most pleasant, womanly tone. ¡°Did you sleep well?¡±


    His eyes shifted, returning to their previous, detached amusement. ¡°No, but that¡¯s all right, Princess. Just¡­ old memories coming back to me.¡±


    He sounded sincere for once, rather than sarcastic. Intriguing¡ªperhaps I could learn something. ¡°Would you mind sharing, since we seem to have ample time before we arrive?¡± I asked, hoping he might reveal something that would explain his importance to Father.


    ¡°Hmm. I don¡¯t mind,¡± he began. ¡°I was just reliving some moments in the arena¡ª¡±


    He broke off as the carriage gave a sudden lurch, jerking us both. Peering out the window, he offered me a small, resigned smile. ¡°Ah, it seems we¡¯ve actually arrived. Time flew past us, indeed. Shall we disembark, Princess?¡±


    And with that, whatever secrets might have lingered in his memories stayed locked behind his cool veneer.


    We both disembarked, and while Thorne strode ahead, I lingered for a moment to take in the surroundings. It wasn¡¯t my first time here, but the sight never failed to excite me. The colossal walls of the colosseum towered overhead, forcing me to crane my neck just to glimpse the top. At ground level, I could see rows upon rows of people queued to enter, guards checking them for contraband. Vendors hawked their wares¡ªeverything from roasted meats and vegetables to cheap trinkets and gaudy jewelry.


    Before I could observe more, my entourage arrived. The bulk of their armor formed a wall around me, shielding me from the masses. I started forward, making my way into the viewing chambers along a path I knew well by now. It didn¡¯t take long to reach my usual spot.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    I settled onto my seat, scanning the area out of habit. My father and a few other nobles were already present, deep in conversation. They didn¡¯t acknowledge me, which likely meant it was an important matter¡ªone they felt no need to share with me.


    Looking down into the arena, I noticed two groups of fighters: one dressed in the style of our own military from a few years back, and the other decked out like the mutts of Emberlain. I was about to settle into my chair when the announcer¡¯s voice boomed across the stands. I tuned him out at first¡ªuntil my father cut him off mid-sentence.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what Father said exactly, but the announcer soon continued, announcing that the winners would earn a meeting with me. The declaration made me feel like a whore for a fleeting moment. Yet, after a beat of reflection, I realized it might actually simplify my task of picking out the best fighters. So, I let it go.


    Looking down into the arena, it appeared leaders had emerged on both teams, each barking orders to coordinate their fighters¡ªa typical display for this sort of competition. I also noticed a few new additions this year: some manner of dog-like creature and a small, green, childlike monster. Their presence seemed to force the combatants to think more carefully about their actions, which I found more engaging to watch.


    Scanning the fighters for anyone of note, I struggled to pick out true standouts at first. One warrior wielding a two-handed sword caught my eye when he swiftly bisected one of those little green beasts. More interesting, though, was a fighter on the Caldrithy side who dispatched several Emberlain adversaries and even one of those dog creatures with apparent ease. I mentally marked him as a potential choice.


    My attention then drifted to various other clashes breaking out. Archers from both sides fired down on their enemies, and one woman with a bow on the Emberlain team stood out for her accuracy. She appeared to have at least one, possibly two, fighters defending her¡ªan impressive display of teamwork that suggested they, too, could be worth considering.


    As I returned my focus to the Caldrithy side, I noticed that their formation suddenly surged forward, rushing into the opposing team. They had the numbers advantage, so I couldn¡¯t fathom why they¡¯d risk such a maneuver so early. Perhaps there was some strategy behind it, but from my vantage, it seemed reckless. Nonetheless, it made for a more thrilling spectacle¡ªjust the sort of excitement the crowd loved.


    The melee that followed was truly a spectacle. People were torn apart by the roaming beasts, while a dazzling array of fighting styles clashed in every corner of the arena. My gaze darted among three separate battles before locking onto someone in particular¡ªthe same fighter wielding a two-handed sword I¡¯d noticed earlier. This time, he was outnumbered, fending off a spearman and a one-handed swordsman armed with a small shield. It looked like a losing matchup.


    I watched him swing his enormous blade, only to abort the motion halfway to parry the spearman¡¯s thrust. He backstepped again and again, dodging or blocking as needed, but never managing to go on the offensive. Then I caught sight of a dark blur streaking toward him, striking the side of his helmet. He staggered, leaving an opening for the spearman to lunge forward, impaling him somewhere on his torso¡ªI couldn¡¯t discern exactly where from my vantage point.


    I nearly switched my attention elsewhere, convinced he was finished. But then he dropped his sword and tore off his helmet with a single motion, his other hand gripping the spear¡¯s shaft. Twisting his body, he yanked the spearman off-balance and, with swift brutality, slammed his helmet repeatedly into the man¡¯s head. The swordsman tried to intervene, but the youth used the spearman¡¯s body as a shield. After five or so jarring blows, the spearman slumped to the ground, clearly in no condition to continue.


    With the spear now free, the teenager leveled its point at the swordsman. I found myself leaning forward in my seat, my pulse quickening. The raw ferocity of his counterattack was as captivating as it was vicious. I found myself cheering.

 My reward

    I felt a surge of exhilaration, and in spite of my station, I let out a small cheer as the teenager charged the swordsman and brought him down. After dispatching his two adversaries, he returned to retrieve his greatsword. Scooping it up, he dodged a flying arrow by ducking low, then picked up his helmet and gave it a quick inspection before sliding it back onto his head.


    I couldn¡¯t get a clear look at his face, but a strange excitement began to flutter in my chest. Perhaps it was the sheer audacity of what he¡¯d just done¡ªit was so¡­ cool. I wasn¡¯t sure why exactly I felt this tug of intrigue, but I knew I wanted to see more of him.


    ¡°Oh? I believe this is the first time you¡¯ve shown a genuine smile, Princess. I wonder what could have caused it,¡± Thorne¡¯s voice intruded, pulling my focus away from the fight.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m in the middle of an important task. Don¡¯t bother me,¡± I replied curtly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can flap those fat lips at my father if you need conversation.¡±


    I made no effort to hide my annoyance; his presence and prying comments had already worn thin on my patience.


    I caught a few words exchanged between Thorne and my father, but neither made any move to interrupt me, so I felt confident they would leave me be. Turning my attention back to the arena, I saw my newfound interest engaged in another skirmish, though this time it looked more balanced for both sides.


    I could have scanned other fighters for more prospects, but I felt confident my earlier choices were good enough. Fixing my gaze on the match below, I noticed that my chosen fighter¡¯s current opponent wielded a mallet or hammer in one hand and wore a gauntlet with a semicircular protrusion on the other. It looked strange¡ªcertainly nothing like the shields I¡¯d seen before¡ªso I couldn¡¯t guess its exact purpose.


    As the two clashed, my fighter again struggled with the opponent closing distance too quickly. A surge of irritation flared within me. Why couldn¡¯t he control his adversary¡¯s movements better? Was he stupid? It shouldn¡¯t be that hard.


    Just then, the hammer-wielding fighter swung wide. My chosen fighter raised his sword to block¡ªonly to be struck in the head by that odd, metal gauntlet. He staggered from the blow, and before he could regain his footing, he took another hit to the head¡ªthis time from the hammer itself.


    Something in me snapped. ¡°Get him!¡± I shouted, my voice edged with frustration. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare lose here! If you disappoint me, I¡¯ll make death seem like a mercy!¡±


    I suppose I wanted to motivate him. Perhaps I was starting to understand the thrill others felt when they cheered on a favored fighter¡ªthough my reasons were hardly innocent, given my station.


    A man spoke behind me again, and I refrained from lashing out this time. His voice demanded respect.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve ever heard you speak like that, daughter,¡± my father said, his tone deceptively mild. ¡°It seems you¡¯ve chosen someone for your reward?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father.¡± I inclined my head. ¡°I selected those you asked me to for my brother. But there¡¯s also one I¡¯d like for myself.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He appeared more curious than usual, which made me wonder if there was more to this than he let on. Still, I chose to do as asked, pointing first at the fighters I¡¯d selected for my brother.


    ¡°Those there,¡± I said, gesturing to a group I considered suitable candidates for the royal guard, ¡°would serve my brother well. And that one, there¡ª¡± I shifted my finger to the fighter currently being pummeled by a hammer¡ª¡°he¡¯s someone I¡¯m drawn to.¡±


    At that moment, the poor fighter was barely managing to gain his footing, still reeling under the relentless assault.


    My father¡¯s gaze followed my gesture. ¡°Do you have reasons for these choices?¡± he asked, his tone calm but not without weight.


    I inclined my head slightly, adopting a more confident stance. ¡°Yes, Father. You asked me to select candidates worthy of guarding my brother, so I chose three sets of fighters, each for a distinct purpose.¡±


    He nodded, his mouth moving a little as though evaluating my words. ¡°Elaborate.¡±


    I moved my finger toward the archer who was still controlling her area well, along with the teammate protecting her from the roaming beasts. ¡°That pair excels at teamwork. The archer dispatches multiple targets cleanly, and her guard never wavers when shielding her. Anyone who communicates and supports each other in the heat of battle would be invaluable for protecting a royal. And if they function so seamlessly as strangers thrown together in the arena, imagine what they could accomplish with proper training and discipline.¡±


    My father¡¯s expression shifted slightly, suggesting he approved of my reasoning. ¡°And the second set?¡±


    I directed my finger to another group. ¡°Those three adapted fluidly to the beasts¡ªboth goblins and that dog-like creature. They eliminated each threat with minimal fuss, even as chaos erupted around them. That adaptability is crucial for a royal guard. My brother needs protectors who won¡¯t freeze up when the unexpected occurs.¡±


    ¡°Good work. I noticed those fighters you pointed out, along with a few others, but I believe you¡¯ve passed my test. Now, tell me about this reward. Why did you pick him? I¡¯d speak fast if I were you¡ªhe appears to be getting beaten to death.¡± My father spoke as though it were a trivial matter, but to me, it certainly wasn¡¯t. I wanted to glance over my shoulder, but I knew I had to give him a convincing answer.


    My mind raced for a plausible explanation, but that grating voice cut in again.


    ¡°Ah, young love. So sweet, yet in this case entirely forbidden¡­ what a tragedy,¡± Thorne said, his tone laden with mocking amusement. Oddly enough, his interruption helped me steady my thoughts.


    ¡°He was able to fend off an unfair situation and still remain composed,¡± I said, forcing confidence into my words. ¡°I believe he isn¡¯t fully developed yet, but with my sponsorship, he could become a very worthy guard.¡±


    I hoped that would suffice¡ªand that the fighter below would survive long enough for me to prove it.


    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± my father asked, his gaze probing.


    ¡°Yes, Father,¡± I replied, dipping my head again. ¡°That¡¯s my only reason.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s your reward,¡± he said, his tone neutral. ¡°I won¡¯t question your rationale further.¡±


    He cast a look toward Thorne, and while my head was bowed, I couldn¡¯t make out whatever silent exchange passed between them. But Thorne returned the nod, then moved to the balcony overlooking the fight.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Thorne¡¯s voice boomed through the arena. Instantly, fighters and beasts alike froze in place. Doors opened around the perimeter, letting guards flood in to round up the goblins and those dog-like creatures. They also confiscated the combatants¡¯ weapons. A moment later, doctors rushed out to attend the wounded.


    I found myself exhaling, unsure whether I felt relief or anticipation at the thought of seeing my chosen fighter¡ªand, with any luck, ensuring he was still alive.

 Warmth and Water

    My world spun and twisted as I lay on the ground, nausea churning in my gut. I knew I should turn my head to the side, but before that thought could translate into movement, I vomited on myself. Oddly enough, I didn¡¯t care. The slight relief outweighed any revulsion I might¡¯ve felt.


    Faint, distorted sounds reached my ears¡ªfootsteps, voices¡ªbut they echoed strangely, made worse by my dented helmet pressing in all the wrong places. I felt like hell and likely looked worse, sprawled out in the dirt.


    Part of me wanted to replay the fight in my mind, but my body refused. Pain and exhaustion pinned me down, making it impossible to think about the battle. All I could do was lie there, breathing shallowly, waiting for the chaos around me to subside.


    I stared at the sky above, watching clouds drift by without a care. For a moment, I envied them, free and untroubled. Then a black shadow fell across my vision, and my unfocused eyes drifted to the figure standing over me.


    ¡°Still awake, huh? Well, that¡¯s good.¡± Instructor Kushim¡¯s voice was steady, with a hint of amusement. ¡°It wasn¡¯t the best showing I¡¯ve seen, but it¡¯ll do. You passed, so now I can really teach you. Congratulations, by the way.¡±


    He extended an arm as if to help me up, then withdrew it with a grimace.


    ¡°Sorry, but you¡¯re pretty nasty right now. Try getting up on your own.¡±


    Gritting my teeth, I turned onto my side and braced my palms against the ground. It took a while¡ªI had to be careful not to heave again.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, sir,¡± I managed between ragged breaths. ¡°So¡­what happens now?¡±


    ¡°Now?¡± He folded his arms. ¡°You head over to the medics for a full checkup, then get cleaned up and put on the new attire we have for you.¡±


    I nodded, swaying slightly as I got to my feet. Without another word, I trudged over to the medics, doing my best not to collapse again.


    They were meticulous, especially when inspecting my head. Removing the battered helmet felt like each tug might split my skull anew, but after a few tests and basic questions, they concluded I¡¯d probably be fine. Relieved, I returned to the instructor, who waited by a door leading out of the arena.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    I walked briskly; another round had already started. Veteran fighters streamed into the arena, their stylized armor and palpable confidence causing the crowd to roar. Though I couldn¡¯t see their foe, I heard its cries: a piercing shriek like scraping metal overlaid with wailing infants, raising gooseflesh on my arms.


    Pausing at the doorway, I bowed my head in a brief, impromptu prayer for those stepping into that horror. I didn¡¯t know them, but the sound alone made me want to grant any bit of support I could. Then I followed the instructor inside, along corridors where the air grew hot and humid, a thin mist curling around us and thickening as we went.


    ¡°Here,¡± Instructor Kushim said, stopping outside a door framed by drifting steam. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re familiar with a washroom, but I trust you¡¯ll manage. Clean yourself thoroughly¡ªand don¡¯t take too long.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t guess why he was being so lenient, but I simply nodded, grateful to wash away the blood and dirt. Inside, I discovered a single pool of gently steaming water and a faint floral aroma that calmed my nerves. The warm mist caressed my skin, gradually easing the tension coiled in my muscles.


    Stripping down, I left on only the wooden talisman the elder had given me. Then I stepped to the edge of the pool, dipping my feet in. The heat radiated upward, chasing the chill from my battered body. Slowly, I lowered myself in further, letting the water lap at my bruises and wounds.


    For a moment, I just sat there, steam curling around my face. I scrubbed off dried blood and sweat, watching as the water grew murky with grime, though the sense of relief was worth any mess. I leaned my head back, inhaling the gentle floral scent, savoring the rare chance to simply exist without pain.


    Eventually, I remembered the instructor¡¯s warning not to linger. Still, I indulged in one more minute¡ªletting my heart steady, the knots in my shoulders loosen. In the hush broken only by soft ripples, I closed my eyes and let the warmth envelop me.


    When I rose from the water, something odd caught my attention: the wound in my chest, where I¡¯d been stabbed, was gone. Not even a scar remained. I pressed a hand to the spot, half expecting pain, but felt nothing. Most people couldn¡¯t heal like that¡ªit unnerved me. Maybe it explained why my head still felt intact after that vicious beating.


    I walked over to a neatly folded set of clothes, far better than the rags I¡¯d worn before. The tunic was a deep charcoal linen, sturdy but nowhere near noble finery. Matching trousers were straight-cut and practical, letting me move freely. A simple belt with a brass buckle rested on top, lacking any gems or fancy ornamentation.


    I slipped on the boots next¡ªplain black leather, unadorned except for a short lace along each side. Despite their simplicity, they felt comfortable. It struck me as odd that I¡¯d be wearing anything of this quality, but it wasn¡¯t my place to ask.


    Dressed and momentarily free of grime, I stepped toward the door where Instructor Kushim waited, bracing myself for whatever awaited me.

 Two paths

    ¡°Well, would you look at you? Honestly, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you this clean, boy. You look¡­ well, less like a street urchin.¡±


    I nodded slightly. ¡°Thank you, sir. May I ask where we¡¯re going?¡± After a few years under Instructor Kushim¡¯s guidance, I figured he wouldn¡¯t mind a question or two.


    ¡°Oh, right¡ªI forgot to mention.¡± He gave a casual shrug. ¡°The princess wants to see you. Speaking of which¡­ do you know any courtly manners? If not, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll sort itself out somehow.¡± He chuckled lightly.


    I stopped in my tracks, blinking at him. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Thought I said it clearly, but maybe not. The princess wants to meet you. As for why¡­ I have no idea. But I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a reason¡ªand if there isn¡¯t, consider it a net positive for you.¡± He started walking again, forcing me to keep up.


    ¡°How so, sir? I don¡¯t see how meeting her could be a good thing. If I mess up, she could punish me¡ªor, by extension, punish you, since you¡¯re my instructor.¡±


    He turned his head slightly, still walking. ¡°I never really considered how it might affect me. As for you, you¡¯re a slave¡ªnobody expects much in the way of formality from you. Any show of respect will just make you look that much better. But honestly, it¡¯s probably some noble who asked the princess to take a closer look at you. Happens all the time.¡±


    ¡°Take a closer look at me? What do you mean, sir?¡± I asked, sensing his patience running thin.


    ¡°Use your brain, boy. I know you get it. Sure, it¡¯s more common with female slaves, but you¡¯re a gladiator now. Some noble brat probably got the hots for you, watching you get your skull dented in.¡± He straightened his back and picked up the pace.


    I understood the gist, but I didn¡¯t like it. I would¡¯ve preferred to choose that sort of thing myself. Maybe it was childish to want a meaningful first time, but still¡­ I hoped the instructor was wrong.Stolen story; please report.


    Lost in thought, I realized the atmosphere around us had changed. We were no longer trudging through bare tunnels. The halls here were far more lavish¡ªfresh flowers adorned the windowsills, and framed portraits lined the walls, each featuring Lord Thorne in various victorious or commanding poses. The floor was made of a dark wood I couldn¡¯t name, streaked with shades of red and purple, while the ceiling seemed to be carved from white stone threaded with black veins.


    Glancing outside, I saw the broad savannas beyond, dotted with odd, tower-like mounds of dirt. When I¡¯d left the arena, it had been late afternoon; now the moon was beginning to rise. I faced forward again, deciding to stop dwelling on things I couldn¡¯t change.


    *Princess Aliynn¡¯s POV*


    As much as I liked putting on a confident smile in public, today felt like a test¡ªone quite different from riding around with the walking lard pile. A nervousness clung to me that I simply couldn¡¯t shake. After all, I¡¯d wasted my one choice on this unknown fighter, and I desperately hoped I hadn¡¯t made a mistake. I doubted Father would grant me a do-over if I had.


    I paced back and forth in my temporary quarters, until a loud pounding came from the door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± I said, my gut churning with anxiety.


    At first, it was my guard, his frame encased in steel armor. He was a loaner from Thorne, so I didn¡¯t trust him much, though he¡¯d done his job well enough so far. Then a middle-aged man stepped in behind him, bearing the telltale features of the locals here: warm brown skin, a shade lighter than Thorne¡¯s, and a muscular build that hinted at a life spent training under the sun. I caught only a glimpse before he moved closer¡ªjust enough to note a faint scar along his cheek.


    Finally, the one I was waiting for appeared.


    He stood taller than most boys his age¡ªlean from years of poor meals, I¡¯d imagine, but not lacking wiry strength. Despite this region¡¯s heat, his skin retained a golden undertone that suggested northern origins. His tousled brown hair, cut short, was kissed by the sun, framing a face that was, begrudgingly, far more handsome than I¡¯d expected. But it was the vivid blue of his eyes¡ªa rare sight in these parts¡ªthat held my attention most, as though they fought at the battered state of his body. A flicker of curiosity sparked inside me, but I kept my expression regal and reserved.


    ¡°Ah, my fighter has finally arrived.¡±

 Twisted

    I thought my line sounded impressive¡ªat least, I hoped so. Honestly, I was surprised he didn¡¯t look half as ugly as I¡¯d envisioned, and I wanted to maintain that poised air.


    A sudden thump tore me from my thoughts. My fighter had dropped to one knee with a solid thud, bowing his head. Ordinarily, I¡¯d expect that from any slave, but this man was meant to be my guard someday¡ªsurely he warranted different treatment than a common servant. After all, he was a royal¡¯s slave, and that made him more important.


    ¡°Raise your head. I wish to look at you further,¡± I ordered. When he looked up, my heart skipped a beat. I was more pleased with him than I¡¯d expected to be. His appearance almost made me forget the beating he¡¯d taken earlier¡­ except¡ªwhere were his bruises? And why wasn¡¯t there any blood?


    ¡°Fighter¡­¡± I began, narrowing my eyes. ¡°You look far too healthy after that fight. Care to explain how?¡±


    He seemed about to speak, but the man behind him spoke first.


    ¡°Your Majesty, I am Kethreen Kushim, the boy¡¯s instructor. If I may be so bold, I can explain on his behalf.¡± The man knelt and bowed his head, and since he was the fighter¡¯s trainer, I decided his account might be more reliable than the boy¡¯s own.


    ¡°I grant you permission,¡± I said, turning my attention to him.


    ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty.¡± He straightened slightly. ¡°You see, this boy is¡­ different. He was ¡®blessed¡¯ by the Cultists of the First Flame, who, for some reason, mistook him for something holy. This so-called blessing, though minor, grants him a degree of resilience.¡±


    I studied him carefully. He spoke with conviction, or at least enough to suggest he truly believed it. It sounded ridiculous, but it would explain why the fighter seemed unharmed despite his ordeal. Still, questions crowded my mind: Why would the cultists bestow such a gift on a slave? If they could bless him so easily, why not bless themselves?


    ¡°You said they blessed him. Why not bless themselves?¡± I asked, also curious how this man knew such details.


    ¡°They¡¯re cultists, Your Majesty,¡± he explained, his voice matter-of-fact. ¡°Their fanaticism blinds them to something so obvious to us. They wouldn¡¯t bless themselves, because the thought simply wouldn¡¯t cross their minds. As for how I know¡ªwell, their cells have hidden gaps I can peer through in secret.¡±


    It made a certain sense, even if it might not have been the whole truth. For now, it was acceptable¡ªI could confirm the details later. Shaking my head, I glanced back at my fighter. Perhaps I should come up with a more fitting name.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°You. What are you called?¡± I asked in a tone that implied I could rename him at a whim.


    ¡°This one is called Edric, Your Majesty,¡± he answered. His head remained bowed, so I couldn¡¯t see his mouth move, but his voice was deeper than I expected¡ªno trace of the cracking so common at our age. Speaking of age¡­ he seemed close to mine, as though fate had guided me to choose him. I waved a dismissive hand toward the instructor.


    ¡°You¡¯re dismissed,¡± I said. My gaze was already back on Edric, but oddly, he moved as though I¡¯d addressed him.


    ¡°Not you¡ª you,¡± I clarified, pointing firmly at the instructor to avoid confusion. The instructor cast a quick look down at Edric, and I caught a flicker of emotion in his eyes, though I couldn¡¯t pinpoint what it was¡ªperhaps concern that Edric might offend me somehow.


    I made a show of patting my palm lightly. ¡°No need to worry. Any offense the slave makes won¡¯t be placed on you.¡± I felt magnanimous making that promise¡ªafter all, I am a benevolent princess, and I intended to show some care for my subjects.


    Edric¡¯s POV


    I felt a jolt of nerves the moment the princess dismissed my instructor. It was like my safety net vanished before my eyes. Part of me hoped she¡¯d let me leave, but that obviously wasn¡¯t happening¡ªshe wanted me here.


    What does she even want with me? And why does she keep calling me her fighter? I understand that each slave is property and that, by virtue of her being the princess, we all belong to her. Still, there must be plenty of other men and women more valuable to her than I could ever be.


    I heard the click of my instructor¡¯s boots slowly retreating. Each step quickened my heartbeat until the distinct sound of the door handle turning made it freeze. Then came the click of the door closing¡ªand it was just the princess and me.


    ¡°You know, Edric¡­¡± she began, her voice lilting with a controlled confidence, ¡°I love beautiful things.¡± I sensed her circling around me. My gaze remained on the floor.


    ¡°And you are just that. I picked you on a whim, but¡ª¡± she paused, almost playfully, ¡°I think it was a very lucky whim.¡±


    I knew I needed to respond, but my mind raced, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªto distract her or buy me an escape. I barely registered her next words.


    ¡°Raise your head. I wish to gaze upon your eyes.¡±


    I hesitated, my mouth twitching, but finally lifted my head. ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±


    She inhaled slowly, as though savoring the moment. ¡°They¡¯re like gems¡­ so precious. Do you know what my father told me?¡±


    I gathered it was a rhetorical question, but I shook my head anyway to acknowledge her.


    ¡°He said I could pick someone to be my personal guard. And I picked you. Do you know what that means? Use your words this time¡ªI want to hear your voice.¡±


    My first thought was that my freedom was gone. If I became her guard, I might never escape. Then again, perhaps if I became a champion, I could maneuver myself toward something resembling liberty.


    ¡°I do not know, Your Majesty,¡± I answered, feigning simplicity.


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± she said softly, an unsettling smile touching her lips. ¡°I¡¯ll educate you. It means that from now until the end of your days¡­I will be your world.¡±

 Red

    She stepped closer¡ªclose enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath. Her hand rose to my collar, and I felt her fingers trail gently along it. Our eyes locked for what felt like minutes, until she finally stepped back.


    ¡°Take off your shirt,¡± she said, as if it were a trivial request. I complied without hesitation.


    The cool air prickled against my bare chest, which surprised me¡ªI hadn¡¯t felt cold in years. I realized, just then, how much I preferred warmth, though I suspected I wouldn¡¯t be getting much of it tonight.


    I stood there as she circled around me once more.


    ¡°The necklace you wear¡ªare you actually a follower, or did you just wear it to placate the cultists?¡±


    ¡°I wore it because they gave it to me, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°I see. Well, take it off. It disgusts me to see it on my property. Such a vile religion¡­ To think everyone could be reborn equally goes against the natural laws of this world.¡±


    The instant I removed the necklace, I felt a distinct change. Suddenly, I was acutely aware of the fires nearby¡ªtheir movement in the wind, the voices they seemed to carry. My body, always slightly warmer than most, now felt almost hot to the touch. A sharp sensation throbbed through the mark on my back, like a steel wire boring deeper into my flesh, inching closer to that organ implanted in me so long ago.


    ¡°Oh, oh my¡ªthis is something¡­ I didn¡¯t think there was an actual blessing involved.¡± The princess seemed to relish watching me. While there might not have been any obvious changes from the outside, I felt them all churning inside. My face barely managed to hide the pain, tears dampening my eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay to cry. I won¡¯t tell anyone.¡± She¡¯d stepped in close to say that. I also noticed something in her hand. I didn¡¯t see her do it so much as I felt it: she slipped the necklace back on me. The effect was nearly immediate, but I could still feel faint echoes of the transformation. Thankfully, the pain was far less than before, so I endured.


    ¡°I felt pity seeing you struggle to keep a brave face,¡± she went on. ¡°So I decided to help you. In return, there¡¯s something I wish to try.¡± She moved to the table near her bed, where a plate of what must have been her dinner sat.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Your wish is my command, Your Highness,¡± I managed between ragged breaths, fighting to steady myself.


    ¡°I read somewhere that a gladiator¡¯s blood can be invigorating¡­ that it strengthens the body. I suspect yours might be even more special. So I¡¯d like to find out.¡± She wrapped her fingers around the small knife beside the plate and returned to me. Words stuck on my tongue¡ªthis request was more than I could process¡ªbut before I could voice a protest, she drew the blade across my chest in a clean, decently deep cut. Blood flowed in a morbid stream.


    Without hesitation, the princess grabbed her water goblet, dumped its contents, and pressed it against the wound below the fresh cut. In moments, it was half-filled with my blood.


    She tilted the cup, and I heard and saw its contents flow down her throat. It was an unsettling sensation, realizing someone was feasting on my very body. She kept drinking until the goblet was empty; when she lowered it, her lips were stained deep red.


    ¡°I could get addicted to this, you know,¡± she mused. ¡°It was almost like a sweet red¡ªin both consistency and taste.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad I could be of use, Your Highness,¡± I replied, bowing my head. My eyes involuntarily flicked to the knife still in her hand.


    ¡°Nonsense. You¡¯ve been useful even before that,¡± she said offhandedly. ¡°Now, it¡¯s late, and I don¡¯t want you falling behind on your morning training. You¡¯re dismissed. I¡¯ll call for you if I need anything else.¡±


    She¡¯d already turned back to her plate of food, not even sparing me a glance. Taking that as my cue, I stood and walked to the door. The guard in the room watched me the entire time, his expression unreadable, but I sensed the faintest sympathy in his gaze.


    I slipped through the door and spotted Instructor Kushim down the hallway by a window, staring out at the moonlit view. As I moved toward him, I suddenly felt a prickle of awareness¡ªsomeone was watching me from the opposite direction. Turning my head, I saw a cloaked, feminine figure standing at a distance. Even from that range, her silhouette felt eerily familiar, and something about her aura resonated deep within me in a way I couldn¡¯t explain.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re done. I honestly expected you to take a bit longer, but I guess at your age, stamina isn¡¯t the most pressing concern,¡± Instructor Kushim remarked, his voice drawing my attention away from the cloaked woman.


    What are you talking about sire, she just wanted to speak with me." I faked not knowing what he was speaking about as I didn''t want his comment of being weak in bed to stain his honor.


    ¡°Ah, she just wanted to tal¡ª¡± He stopped short, noticing the fresh cut on my chest. ¡°Boy, what happened to you?¡±


    ¡°She wanted to taste my blood,¡± I said simply, figuring it was pointless to lie.


    ¡°What the¡ª I knew something weird was going on.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s leave before she tries anything else.¡±


    He turned and headed back down the corridor, presumably toward the slave quarters. I glanced over my shoulder in search of the cloaked figure, but she had vanished. Letting out a soft sigh, I followed Instructor Kushim, my thoughts spinning with questions about what had just happened¡ªand why that mysterious silhouette had felt so strangely familiar.

 Half truth

    It didn¡¯t take us long to return to my cell. This time, I found a more filling plate of food waiting. The usual gruel was there, but now it had chunks of white meat simmered into it, making it closer to a light stew. A slice of dark, slightly tough bread lay beside it, along with a small pitcher of goat¡¯s milk. I also noticed my bedding had improved¡ªbetter linens than the thin rags I¡¯d been used to.


    ¡°Compliments of being sponsored, Edric,¡± Instructor Kushim remarked. ¡°Make sure you eat well and sleep well. I heard they want you to train beyond the normal standard, so things will change for you starting tomorrow.¡±


    He gave me a gentle shove¡ªnothing aggressive, more like a teacher¡¯s nudge to a favored pupil. I appreciated the gesture; it made me feel as though he cared. But it didn¡¯t take long for him to say his goodbyes and head back to his own quarters, leaving me alone in my cell. Well, not entirely alone¡ªthe Elder was across from me, though he looked a bit off tonight.


    ¡°Sir, how are you?¡± I asked, probing for any sign of distress.


    ¡°Oh, Edric¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m all right, I suppose,¡± he replied. ¡°But how about you? You seem different somehow. Did your fight go well?¡± He¡¯d been sitting on his straw mat, but he shuffled closer to the bars once I spoke.


    ¡°Me? Haha, no, I didn¡¯t do too well, but I survived, so that counts for something.¡± I scratched the back of my head, then took a seat near my own set of bars.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t sell yourself short, my boy. I¡¯m sure you did well enough¡ªespecially considering you¡¯ve got a small feast over there.¡± He pointed a finger at the plate of food in my cell.


    ¡°Ah, yeah¡­ that¡¯s a long story,¡± I admitted, rising to pick up the bread. I returned to the bars and held it out. ¡°You can have this, sir. I know it¡¯s not much, and I¡¯ll give you more later if I can. But tonight, I think I need to keep up my strength.¡±


    A pang of embarrassment hit me, offering so little to someone I respected, but I was uncertain I could spare more. The Elder simply waved his hand dismissively.


    ¡°Edric, you needn¡¯t do that. This old frame can barely handle the slop they give me now. Keep it for yourself and make sure you¡¯re at your best tomorrow morning.¡± He shooed the bread away, a small but genuine smile on his face.


    ¡°So tell me this long story¡­ we have nothing but time,¡± he said, grabbing his bowl and beginning to eat.


    I recounted everything, from when I left my cell to the moment I saw the cloaked woman. Although the Elder sat quietly, I could tell he wanted to interrupt with questions. Instead, he held back until I finished.


    ¡°So that¡¯s how it went, huh... yeah, that does sound like plenty for one day. As for the necklace, I really wish she hadn¡¯t made you remove it. That spoiled brat¡ªbut what¡¯s done is done.¡± He sounded genuinely angry¡ªthough it wasn¡¯t aimed at me, but the princess.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°Sir, I don¡¯t see why taking it off is such a big deal,¡± I admitted. I understood it did something, sure, but I wasn¡¯t exactly sure what. Even now, I felt little spikes of pain throughout my muscles, like tiny tears or spasms.


    ¡°Edric, how much do you know about your condition?¡± He shifted slightly as he asked, looking taken aback by my comment.


    ¡°Not much, sir. Just that when I was young, they did something to me. Oh, and I have some sort of new organ near my heart, but that¡¯s about it.¡± I tapped the spot on my chest where I felt a solid mass.


    ¡°A new organ? How do you know that¡¯s what it is?¡± His eyes focused sharply, suggesting he might know more about this than he let on.


    ¡°I can feel it¡ªlike a heartbeat that doesn¡¯t pump,¡± I explained, my hand lingering near my ribcage, unsure if I should say more.


    ¡°So you really are the closest they¡¯ve gotten. That¡¯s probably why they haven¡¯t killed me yet,¡± he muttered to himself, but loud enough for me to overhear.


    ¡°Sir, what are you talking about? Why would they let you live just because of me?¡±


    It¡¯s simple, Edric. They surgically implanted parts of a Flame of Rebirth¡¯s Deva in you. This isn¡¯t the first time they¡¯ve tried it, but you¡¯re the only one I¡¯ve seen survive. As for me, I¡¯m sure they kept me around hoping I could notice¡ªor help you¡ªsince I follow the Flame¡¯s teachings,¡± he said, as though it were the most straightforward thing in the world.


    ¡°Sir¡­ what are you talking about? Please explain it one step at a time,¡± I insisted. I sensed this information might be vital. Maybe the winged figure in my hazy memories was the Deva he mentioned, but I still didn¡¯t understand how it all fit together. The rest just left me feeling lost.


    ¡°Yes, yes, well, let me start with the easier questions. That new organ you have is actually a soul core. It¡¯s like a stronger tether for your soul to your body. I don¡¯t know why you have it, but I can tell you Devas have them¡ªor should¡ªand so do most saints.¡±


    ¡°So why didn¡¯t they use the Deva¡¯s soul core when they did the surgery?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°Because it houses their soul. If they transplanted it into someone else, the soul core could¡ªand would¡ªboot out the body¡¯s original soul, since the core has a stronger link to it. That¡¯s why they didn¡¯t.¡±


    I nodded. It made a strange sort of sense. They wouldn¡¯t want their enemy¡¯s soul just reborn into a new body.


    ¡°Now, about the necklace,¡± he continued, ¡°I gave it to you to slow down your transformation. While you probably won¡¯t become a full Deva, given your human base, you¡¯re definitely turning into something else. I hoped that by slowing it down, your body would have time to adapt.¡±


    He held out his palm. ¡°You can give it back, if you want. Now that your transformation¡¯s been kicked up a notch, it won¡¯t do much.¡±


    I shook my head firmly. ¡°No, I¡¯d still like to keep it, if that¡¯s alright.¡±


    He withdrew his hand, smiling. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Now for the last piece,¡± he went on, ¡°you¡¯re not the first they¡¯ve done this to. You might be the only one sent here, but in Emberlain, we had spies who reported a few other Devas being taken. We didn¡¯t fully understand back then, but once I saw you, I realized what must¡¯ve happened.¡±


    I raised my hand to stop him. ¡°How come this is the first time you¡¯re telling me any of this? When we met, you acted like nothing more than an old man.¡±


    He let out a small laugh. ¡°Why would I spill everything to someone I¡¯d just met? Don¡¯t get me wrong, Edric¡ªI liked you well enough, but I wasn¡¯t about to share the whole truth. Now it feels like I have to, at least in part. Also,¡± he added, extending a hand toward the bars, ¡°my name is Mark, in case you¡¯d prefer to call me that instead of ¡®Elder.¡±

 Waking Dream

    It didn¡¯t feel great to realize that the person I looked to as a spiritual guide had only been giving me bits of the truth when it suited him. But I couldn¡¯t¡ªor wouldn¡¯t¡ªforce more information out of him. The Elder, or Mark as he called himself, was practical in his reasoning, and I understood that. Still, from the day I was locked in this cell until now, he¡¯d led me in nightly prayers and kept me company.


    I sought comfort in him whenever the others in his group disappeared one by one. Even if, in the grand scheme of things, they were practically strangers, we shared the same situation. I told him what little I remembered about my mother¡ªhow she conceived me without ever knowing my father, making me a bastard. Those memories felt distant, but sharing them with Mark gave me a small measure of peace.


    Laying my head down on the mat, I stared at the ceiling. I had a lot on my mind, and as I tried to sort it all out, I closed my eyes for just a moment.


    A faint dizziness washed over me, and for a heartbeat I wondered if I was drifting into simple exhaustion¡ªor something else.


    Suddenly, I was standing on a small patch of dirt in the middle of a vast, clear-blue expanse. The ground reflected the sky, which in turn seemed to mirror the land itself. When I glanced straight down, I saw a woman gazing up at me¡ªher eyes a deep, polished blue; her skin smooth; and her golden hair as though it had captured the sun. Her nose was perfectly aligned, and a gentle smile curved her lips. Something about her felt so familiar, it was maddening.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked, not even realizing I¡¯d spoken aloud.


    Her mouth moved, but I heard no sound.


    I tried to ask again, but when I lifted my hand, she lifted hers in perfect unison. Such a small, synchronized motion held my full attention. Slowly, I knelt, extending my right hand toward her. She did the same.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I repeated.


    Once more, her mouth moved while I was still speaking. Confusion etched itself across my face¡ªacross hers too. My fingertip hovered a hair¡¯s breadth away. Then I pushed forward, only for my hand to pass right through the ground¡ªand through her.


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    I stood, staring down at my hand in bewilderment. Water dripped off my fingers, which now appeared almost... feminine. That made no sense; I was a man. I looked up at the figure. Wait¡ªwasn¡¯t she a woman? Why had I assumed she was a reflection?


    She watched me, and I watched her. I spread my arms wide, and she did the same. Leaning forward, determined to see every detail, I kept my eyes open as my face neared hers. The moment we collided, I tumbled through her and landed back on the island of dirt.


    Now the same woman stared at me from within the reflection, encircled by a whitish flame¡ªor was it me who was surrounded by fire? It was hard to tell. Either way, the flame inched closer.


    ¡°I¡¯m you,¡± a motherly, gentle voice murmured, and as she spoke, her mouth and mine moved in tandem. ¡°And I am you.¡± This time, the words came in my own voice. The flames advanced on her and overtook her, yet there was no pain or sadness in her expression. She looked almost pleased. When she spoke again, I didn¡¯t echo her:


    ¡°I¡¯m glad I was able to continue the rebirth. Live well, knowing I¡¯ll always be with you.¡±


    I blinked, and suddenly she wasn¡¯t just a reflection¡ªshe stood right in front of me. A tear welled in my eye, but she lifted her hand and wiped it away, passing the fire onto me. It didn¡¯t burn; instead, a rush of warmth and gentle tingling spread through my skin, as if mending old wounds from within. I felt it soothe not just physical aches but memories too, as though it wanted to replace them with something new. She wrapped her arms around me in an embrace, and I felt safe.


    ¡°Wake up!¡± A loud bang on my cell door tore me from the dream and back to reality.


    For a fleeting moment, my heart pounded as though I were falling, and the echo of the woman¡¯s voice lingered in my ears. I fought to steady my breathing, uncertain if I was truly awake¡ªor if I¡¯d left part of myself behind in that dream.


    I glanced at the door, spotting the same guard as always. This time, he carried a plate of food that looked more substantial than my usual morning gruel. A bowl containing four eggs, some kind of white grain, and an assortment of root vegetables.


    ¡°Eat now. I¡¯ll be by soon to take you to the arena,¡± he said, setting the food on the floor. Then he moved to the end of the hall and waited by the door.


    I did as instructed and ate greedily, feeling as if I hadn¡¯t eaten in ages. I tried to revisit my dream in my mind, but with every passing second, the details faded further, leaving me only with a vague sense that it had been comforting.


    After finishing my meal and drinking some water to wash it down, the guard led me to the arena¡¯s training area.

 Picking a weapon

    I noticed that, as we walked, I was given a bit more freedom in my pace. The guard didn¡¯t seem worried about me keeping up like usual. As we approached the main door leading out of the arena, he unexpectedly turned down a different hallway, which threw me off¡ªnormally, we always went through this door. After a bit more walking, I heard a faint echo of metal clanging. It grew louder the closer we got to an archway with no door, where I saw Instructor Kushim waiting.


    ¡°Finally. Did you take the scenic route or what?¡± he said, directing the remark at the guard. The guard scratched the back of his head apologetically.


    ¡°Sorry, sir. I figured, since he passed his first test, I¡¯d let him take it easy on the way¡­¡±


    That explained my relaxed pace. I felt a bit of sympathy for the guard, who seemed in trouble on my account.


    ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s how it is. Well, no worries¡ªyou did fine. I¡¯ll blame Edric for the rest,¡± Kushim said, waving the guard off and motioning for me to follow. I jogged over and fell into step behind him as we entered a new chamber.


    ¡°Edric, because of your ¡®number-one fan,¡¯ I need to put you through some pretty intense body sculpting. I¡¯ll show you where we¡¯re starting and give a quick demonstration.¡±


    He led me to a metal ball with a handle attached, hoisting it above his head.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re so lean, the princess wants you to bulk up. That¡¯s why your diet was upgraded, along with this new training regimen.¡±


    He showed me a set of exercises with the weight, plus some that didn¡¯t require it. At first, they didn¡¯t seem too bad¡ªjust heavy. But the longer we continued, the more I felt my arms, chest, and shoulders swell with blood, my skin stretching uncomfortably tight.


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    ¡°That¡¯s enough of that,¡± he said eventually. ¡°Now we¡¯ll move on. I¡¯ll show you the stretches you¡¯ll be doing. No point in being big if you can¡¯t move your muscles fast enough to do anything.¡±


    He walked me through various movements that tugged on every muscle in my upper body. It was torturous¡ªmy muscles were already sore¡ªand, after what felt like hours, sweat poured off me by the time he stopped.


    ¡°Okay, now you¡¯re ready for drills. Since you¡¯re terrible with a sword, I want to see if there¡¯s something else we can train you in. But don¡¯t get any ideas¡ªyou¡¯ll still practice with the executioner¡¯s blade, just for special events.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Instructor, could I ask if I¡¯m allowed to use blunt-style weapons?¡±


    I remembered how right they felt in my hands, plus how impressive that metal punch-shield looked when that other fighter was smashing my face in. He seemed to mull it over and then nodded.


    ¡°Fair enough¡ªmaybe you¡¯ll actually be able to win a fight. Any idea what style of weapon, or is a club good enough?¡±


    A dull ache pulsed in my jaw at the memory of that guard with the punch-shield. The way he slammed the metal into me¡ªyeah, it hurt like hell, but in a strange way, it felt right, as if I understood the weight better than a blade. It reminded me of my first fight, recalling how natural a hammer felt in my hands¡ªhow I could unleash a raw force I couldn¡¯t quite manage with other weapons.


    ¡°If possible, could I use some kind of hammer? And a smaller shield that sort of looked like¡­¡± I traced the shape with my hands in the air.


    Kushim raised an eyebrow. ¡°First off, what are you trying to show me? And second, are you sure? A warhammer is good against armored opponents, but with your training, maybe a maul would be better.¡±


    Shaking my head, I said, ¡°I want to try the hammer. I¡¯ve got a bit of experience with it, and I liked using one before, so I should be fine now.¡±


    ¡°If you say so¡ªjust know you can always change, but the sooner you pick a main weapon, the better.¡±


    He stepped away briefly and returned carrying a glossy metal shield, smaller than what I¡¯d envisioned.


    ¡°Before you say anything, Edric, you need to learn proper shield use before we give you anything fancy,¡± he said. He also held a bronze warhammer, much like the one I¡¯d used so long ago.

 Glory

    And with that, we practiced for hours that day, and the next¡ªand the next¡ªuntil it all became routine. At first, each session was excruciating, but day by day, my body adapted. It felt like being thrust into a scorching crucible, shaping me into a near-finished blade lacking only a final edge. That edge was about to be forged in my first solo fight.


    On the appointed day, I stood in a side waiting room with Instructor Kushim.


    ¡°You ready?¡± he asked. ¡°This isn¡¯t a group fight¡ªwhatever happens is on you, whether you win or lose.¡±


    I nodded, the visor on my helmet dipping with the motion. My nerves churned. I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d be fighting, and apparently, neither did Kushim. My only comfort lay in how Elder Mark had grown more forthcoming lately. The scattered truths he revealed helped me piece together why Caldrithy and Emberlain were at war.


    It made sense, in a grim kind of way: Caldrithy had no iron¡ªno mines at all¡ªonly tin, copper, and a fair number of precious stones. Meanwhile, our neighbors advanced rapidly, armed with weapons and machinery we struggled to match. And now, with that gap widening, our kingdom felt the pressure of being left behind.


    That¡¯s why I am the way I am¡ªa last-ditch attempt to see if Caldrithy could harness Emberlain¡¯s Devas by forcibly extracting parts of them and grafting them onto ordinary humans. Considering I¡¯m the only one who lived past a year, I guess they gave up on that.


    ¡°Hey, stop spacing out.¡± Kushim¡¯s fingers snapped in front of my face.


    ¡°Sorry, Instructor¡­¡± It was a terrible time for my mind to wander, but my nerves were all over the place.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry¡ªjust don¡¯t do it,¡± he said. ¡°I know up until now you¡¯ve only fought trash like goblins and kobolds, but that¡¯s something a child could kill. You¡¯re a real fighter, so who knows what they¡¯ll throw at you¡­ especially since they expect you to be a royal guard.¡±


    ¡°About that¡­ is there any way to get out of it? I mean, the princess is downright creepy.¡± I felt more comfortable talking like this to Kushim, given how much time we spent together daily.


    ¡°Master Thorne told me if I became a champion, I could earn freedom,¡± I said, letting my voice trail off. ¡°But with her picking me, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever really be free¡­¡±


    Kushim exhaled. ¡°Honestly, Edric, I don¡¯t know. But I will say if you¡¯re a champion, you¡¯ll have a better chance of negotiating your status than you would as a regular fighter.¡± He gave my chest a light push¡ªnot aggressive, more like an older brother imparting a lesson. ¡°And be careful talking like that in public. They¡¯d cut out your tongue.¡±


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    I let out a laugh. ¡°Thank you sir ill remember that always.¡± i did a moke salute by smacking my fist to my chest, the metal on metal reverberated in our mostly empty room.


    ¡°But considering I¡¯m supposed to be her royal guard, maybe they¡¯ll want me alive, so I¡¯ll get something easy, you know?¡± I said, trying to refocus on the upcoming fight.


    ¡°Mmm, maybe. But I don¡¯t think so,¡± Kushim replied. ¡°My first fight was against a ghoul pumped full of unholy magic.¡±


    ¡°A ghoul?¡± I repeated, the term unfamiliar. Given he said ¡°unholy magic,¡± I guessed it must be something demonic or similar in nature.


    ¡°It¡¯s a type of undead¡ªkind of like a zombie,¡± he explained casually. The problem was, I didn¡¯t even know what a zombie was, either.


    ¡°Sir, you know I don¡¯t know what that means¡ª¡± I began, but couldn¡¯t finish. The door swung open, revealing the arena in all its glory once more.


    ¡°Good luck, Edric!¡± he shouted loud enough to be heard over the crowd, then smacked me on the back.


    I stepped forward onto the dirt, my leather boots shifting slightly in the sand. As I moved closer to the arena¡¯s center, I turned in a full circle, taking in row after row of spectators. It was just a standard fight day, so a few sections were empty, but overall it remained well attended. Finishing my turn, I ended up facing the direction I¡¯d started in.


    A booming voice cut through the crowd, capturing everyone¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen! Today, we present a special event¡ªand an unexpected one, at that. See that young lad down there? He just so happens to be the one who met our glorious princess! Not only that, but she chose him¡ªyes, him¡ªto be a candidate for her royal guard! But it doesn¡¯t stop there. Oh, no! She has decided to grace us with her presence today, just to see him fight again!


    So, in honor of Her Majesty, we¡¯ve transformed this match into something worthy of a royal! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you¡ªthe MANTICORE!¡±


    The wooden gate in front of me burst open, and a massive shadow leaped out. Each of its four paws was the size of my chest, slamming into the ground hard enough to make the sand quiver. Its face was eerily human but twisted in a cruel, mocking way¡ªlike a demented artist¡¯s warped sculpture. Its long, barbed tail flicked behind it as if sizing me up, the rest of its body resembling a ferocious feline far beyond any normal cat.


    Worst of all was the aura it radiated¡ªsomething akin to the contractors I¡¯d sensed before. I felt it deep in my core, an undeniable urge to eradicate this abomination from the world. The force of that instinct nearly overwhelmed me, tugging on that Deva-part of my being. It was almost too strong to contain, but I managed¡ªbarely¡ªclenching my fists as I glared at the beast.


    My breath caught, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted movement in the royal box overhead. A glint of gold¡ªhair or dress, I wasn¡¯t sure¡ªbut I knew she was watching. The princess. I couldn¡¯t let myself freeze. My hammer felt heavier than usual, but I gripped it with resolve and rage, ignoring the thunderous crowd.


    One way or another, this fight would determine more than just survival¡ªit would measure how far I¡¯d come, and how much further I needed to go to escape her clutches.


    I exhaled, locking eyes with the Manticore, and braced myself for the first move.

 Burn

    I stepped out onto the arena floor, my leather boots sinking a tiny bit into the sand. As I advanced toward the center, I spun once to take in row upon row of spectators. It was only a standard fight day, so a few seats were empty, but the arena was still decently packed. Finishing my spin, I ended up facing the same direction I¡¯d started in.


    A roar of cheers and jeers thundered through the stands, the crowd reacting to my every step. I swallowed hard, trying not to let their clamor rattle me. Suddenly, a voice boomed from above, commanding everyone¡¯s attention:


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen! Today, we present a special event on this glorious day¡ªand an unexpected one at that. Look at that young lad down there! He¡¯s the one who met our glorious princess! Not only did she choose him¡ªyes, him¡ªto be a candidate for her royal guard, but she has traveled all the way from the capital just to see him fight again!


    So, in honor of Her Majesty, we¡¯ve transformed this match into something worthy of a royal! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you¡ªthe MANTICORE!¡±


    At that, the heavy wooden gate ahead of me burst open¡ªwood and iron banding splintering into the sand¡ªas a massive shape bounded out. Each of its four paws was about the size of my chest, slamming into the ground hard enough to make the sand quiver. Its face was eerily human yet warped, as if fashioned by a demented sculptor referencing some aged, twisted painting. A long, barbed tail flicked behind it, and the rest of its body resembled a savage feline, far beyond any normal cat.


    Immediately, the crowd¡¯s roaring cheers rose even higher, along with the echo of heels stomping on wooden planks¡ªlike they thought slamming their feet might burn off some pent-up energy. Then, across the arena, I caught a flicker of gold, Princess Aliynn herself moving forward on her balcony. A hush spread outward from her section to encompass the whole arena, as if everyone was straining to see her reaction. The abrupt shift from raucous cheers to silence rattled me more than I liked to admit.


    The Manticore snorted a plume of black smoke, letting out a guttural bellow that filled that hush with dread. My grip on the hammer tightened. Something about its aura¡ªakin to the contractors¡¯ presence¡ªtugged at my Deva side, urging me to eradicate this abomination. The force of that instinct nearly overwhelmed me, but I gritted my teeth and steadied myself.


    I began circling the beast in a wide semi-circle, scanning for weaknesses. A few scattered shouts rose from the stands, but I barely noticed, forcing them out of my mind as Instructor Kushim had taught me. My eyes kept flicking to the Manticore¡¯s barbed tail, which swayed lazily in the air as though it couldn¡¯t care less about me. Then, abruptly, it lashed out like a whip across a slave¡¯s back. I ducked, and a sharp spine whizzed past, thunking into the dirt behind me. Another spine clanged off my helmet, leaving my head ringing. That twisted, almost-human face contorted into a mocking grin.


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    ¡°You¡¯ll have to try harder than that, you overgrown cat. I¡¯ve shat out nastier things than your thorns,¡± I spat, hoping to rile it. The beast let out a rasping chuckle¡ªa disturbingly human sound.


    A swirl of black smoke curled from its maw again, drifting near a brazier mounted high on the arena wall. For an instant, the smoke caught in the flame, creating a burst of heat before dispersing. My heart pounded¡ªif I could lure it near that fire, maybe I could tap into the flicker of power I¡¯d felt before. But using that ability would require focus and precious time I probably didn¡¯t have.


    The Manticore half-charged, feinted, then launched another spine at me. I jerked aside, lifting my buckler in time for a dull clang that left a deep dent in the metal. My hammer swung almost by reflex, striking the creature¡¯s thick tail near its spines. The blow caused more annoyance than actual injury, but it reassured me that my reflexes were holding up.


    Moving left, I scooped a fistful of sand into my off-hand and stepped closer. Faking a wide hammer swing, I abruptly threw the sand at its face. The grains hit both of its eyes, making it rear back, snarling and shaking its massive head. I seized the moment and slammed the hammer onto its skull. A jarring shock rippled up my arm as steel met bone.


    A paw the size of my torso crashed into the ground where I¡¯d just stood. The Manticore¡¯s eyes cracked open, red and swollen with sand. Its previous mocking smirk vanished, replaced by a malice-filled sneer, more black smoke roiling from its maw. I spat on the ground and backpedaled. It followed, gradually gaining speed.


    I risked a quick look at the brazier again. If I could distract it one more time, maybe I could harness that flame. But I needed the right opening. The princess¡¯s gaze seemed to burn into me from her box¡ªFocus, I reminded myself.


    Exhaling, I locked eyes with the Manticore, my knuckles whitening around the hammer¡¯s handle. Then I turned and sprinted for the wall with the brazier. The beast thundered after me, every heavy footfall slamming sand in all directions.


    The closer I got, the more I felt it¡ªlike a single word, Cleanse, echoing in my head. It dawned on me that perhaps the fire wanted the same thing I did: to burn away this impurity. I sensed the Manticore¡¯s massive bulk not even a full pace behind me, its maw gaping wide, black smoke bellowing out. Diving right, I collided with the wall, but it crashed into the stone far harder, knocking the brazier loose.


    I forced my will onto that flame, willing it not just to flicker or drift but to obey me. And in fairness, it did¡ªthough not in any grand way. It dripped downward like liquid, mingling with the roiling smoke below. That alone was enough: fire droplets struck the inky haze, igniting it in a sudden conflagration.

 Road of a champion

    Its body didn¡¯t erupt in a spectacular fireball, but the flames did slither down its throat, scorching everything they touched. The Manticore¡¯s face was no longer contorted in that mocking grin; genuine fear flickered there now as it realized the damage I¡¯d inflicted. But I had no intention of letting it recover, so I rushed forward, legs pumping hard.


    I brought my hammer down on its face, blow after blow. Its eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to protect them. Snarling, I tossed my buckler aside and plunged my left hand into its left eye. My nails dug in, scraping away the gelatinous mass in its socket.


    Something clicked inside me, like a wild urge finally unleashed. After tearing out a particularly large chunk of its eye, I held the gore in view of its other eye and crushed it in my fist. A mad thrill coursed through me, pushing aside all else. I let out a small, unhinged giggle.


    ¡°Who¡¯s the prey now?¡± I taunted. Its massive body still faced me, but for some reason, I felt bigger¡ªstronger than it. ¡°I¡¯m going to break you into little pieces.¡±


    It backpedaled, trying to recover, but I let it. Logically, I should have pressed my advantage, yet the rush of power was too addictive. I needed this to last.


    It managed about nine or ten paces, moving slowly¡ªlikely from its injuries. During that time, I strode to the brazier¡¯s flame and pressed my hammer head into it. I watched it glow red-hot without even looking at the Manticore. Let it try me.


    Eventually, it did. I knew the moment it charged by the sudden roar of the crowd¡ªand I felt the beast hurtling toward me. It wasn¡¯t the same desperate rush as before, but enough time had passed for it to gather itself. Maybe it thought it had a chance now.


    Deciding the hammer was hot enough, I waited until the looming shadow signaled it was almost upon me. Then I turned, diving to the right. Its tail twisted, catching me in the shoulder, but instead of pain, I felt only a rush of excitement. I barely registered the harm it might¡¯ve done.


    In a single fluid motion, I swung my hammer into its hindquarters. The red-hot metal seared flesh on impact, and the Manticore let out a piercing shriek¡ªso loud, half the men in the crowd screamed with it. A faint smell of roasted meat drifted in the air.


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    I didn¡¯t realize then how severe its hit on me had been¡ªmy chest and shoulder were torn open, exposing muscle to the open air. Blood trailed behind me wherever I moved. The Manticore stared at me with its one bloodshot eye, issuing a rage-filled roar. I heard part of it before my hearing cut out; I didn¡¯t even feel the blood trickling from my ears because I was bracing for its next attacks.


    It lashed its tail again. I raised my arm and managed to catch it under my armpit. Even as I clamped down, one of its paws raked my side, knocking me off-balance. I still managed to hook the pick-side of the hammer onto the base of its tail. Another paw-swipe tore away the battered breastplate I wore, finishing what earlier blows had started.


    Refusing to let go, I lurched at its flank and scrambled up, ending astride its back like some demented rider. Hammer raised high, I slammed it down repeatedly, aiming to shatter its spine. After maybe four blows, it bucked me off, slamming me hard into the dirt. The impact tore the hammer from my grip and sent my helmet tumbling.


    Something felt wrong in my body as I stood¡ªdizzy, unsteady¡ªyet I forced myself to move. The Manticore and I locked eyes, both of us looking half-dead. But I started forward anyway, thoughts of retrieving my hammer forgotten. It limped toward me in turn, unsteady from its torn tail and battered back.


    We met in a brutal clash. I lunged for its face with bloodied hands; it opened its maw wide enough to tear huge chunks from me. Unnoticed by me, the blood on my back formed the symbol I¡¯d received so long ago from that cloaked woman. Likewise, the fire¡ªdespite having little fuel¡ªseemed to crawl closer as if drawn to me. The crowd was screaming, but I couldn¡¯t hear them. My vision was red as I drove a fist at its contorted face. I barely felt it bite down on my left arm; it yanked me off-balance, but while it chewed on that limb, I aimed to finish its remaining eye.


    I plunged my hand deeper into that socket than before, until my fingers caught on something like a cord. Gritting my teeth, I yanked outward with every ounce of strength. My prize was more shredded eye matter and a gray lump tethered by a red cord. The Manticore¡¯s jaw slackened, and it began pacing aimlessly, as though its body had lost any sense of purpose.


    I scanned the ground for my hammer, flinging the gruesome chunk aside in the process. Once I spotted my weapon, I walked over to the still-wandering husk of a beast. It took several heavy blows to finally bring it down for good. Its body collapsed, sprawled on the sand, but I found I couldn¡¯t even lift my head to look around.


    It wasn¡¯t guilt¡ªI simply felt too dizzy. Every movement rattled my senses. I barely noticed the men rushing in, dressed like clinic workers, nor did I register the roar of the crowd. The next thing I knew, I was on my back, my vision bleeding into a deeper red, teetering on the edge of blackness.

 Overwhelmed

    Edric''s POV


    Darkness clawed at me with tangible fury, tendrils of shadow whispering tempting promises of rest, of surrender. My limbs felt encased in bronze and made of lead, my muscles spasming painfully with every ragged breath. Every heartbeat was like a hammer striking against my newish soul core sending waves of agony radiating through my battered frame. But deeper than the exhaustion, deeper than the pain, something foreign ignited within me¡ªa relentless drive to rise, to fight, to prove every sneering noble and jeering spectator wrong. I refused to remain on the ground. I would be a champion.


    My vision sharpened slightly as I rolled painfully onto my side, retching violently and spitting red bile onto the sand. Pressing a trembling palm down, I staggered upright. The edges of my vision still swam with murky shapes, shadowy forms reaching greedily for me, but I forced them back, only for a blood-red haze to wash over my world and rage to claim my mind.


    Kushim''s POV


    ¡°A Manticore?¡± I spat the word out in disbelief, anger twisting like hot metal beneath my skin as I gripped the iron bars overlooking the arena. A beginner should never face a beast like that. My heart beat vigorously in my chest as I watched Edric. He had seemed confident, almost self-assured at first, but everything changed the instant that monster prowled out onto the sand. I prayed silently that he remembered our training, my knuckles whitening with tension. The nobles and fight coordinators didn''t usually risk promising fighters this way. What were they playing at? Was it solely for the spoiled girl¡¯s amusement? It was a twisted game, and my student was their pawn. Edric wasn¡¯t family or even strictly a friend, but after years spent together, he had become close enough. Perhaps that had been Master Thorne¡¯s intention from the start when assigning him to me.


    I glanced upward to the royal balcony, searching desperately for some clue, but the figures were too distant and vague to read clearly. Turning my eyes back toward Edric, I saw him fighting, exchanging blows with surprising precision. Pride surged fiercely within me as Edric scooped sand and flung it into the Manticore¡¯s eyes¡ªa move I hadn''t taught him, but one I admired greatly. It was clever, ruthless, exactly what he needed in this moment.


    Yet as the battle escalated into brutal, bloody chaos, something shifted. Edric¡¯s movements became savage, almost animalistic. He was no longer my disciplined student; he fought like a wild beast himself, reckless and utterly without restraint. Fury and dread twisted sharply in my gut. Why was he taking such insane risks? He traded his own left arm for a vicious strike into the Manticore¡¯s eye socket, tearing free a grotesque mass of tissue and gore. I watched, stunned and horrified but also relieved, as the monstrous creature crumbled slowly, becoming nothing but a husk of its former threat.


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    But my relief was short-lived. Edric stood wavering, covered in gore, eyes glazed with an eerie madness. The medical clinic workers rushed toward him, cautious but determined to help him. Yet even as they approached, Edric tensed dangerously, his body vibrating with barely-contained violence. I knew instantly that I had to intervene. Without thinking, I burst out of my watch area and bolted down the hall from there it was the sidelines of the arena, sprinting across the hot sand toward him, desperate to rescue him from whatever terrible madness had claimed his mind.


    Edric¡¯s POV


    My blood burned like molten metal, my vision edged with pulsing crimson. I felt utterly feral, foam gathering at the corners of my mouth, my breaths coming in savage pants. Flames danced around me, mesmerizing and beautiful, drawn to me like serpents answering a charmer¡¯s call. They whispered in crackling voices only I could hear, promises of power, of vengeance, of freedom. I wanted nothing more than to embrace them fully.


    A sudden, heavy pressure pressed into and against my back. Whipping around, I saw my instructor¡¯s face¡ªbut not the calm, joking Kushim I knew. His expression was wary, cautious, like he was confronting some dangerous animal. Reflexively, my lips peeled back to bare teeth, an instinctive growl rumbling deep in my throat. Was he now my enemy too?


    He raised his sheathed sword cautiously, eyes steady but filled with a profound worry. Instinctively, I reached to lift my hammer in response¡ªonly to discover with a dagger twist in my gut that I held nothing more than a charred handle. The hammerhead had shattered or melted away entirely. Panic rose briefly before the fire surged forward, wrapping lovingly around me.


    Instead of burning, I felt its heat flood through my veins, exhilarating and intoxicating. But My vision blurred and darkened as it seemed my body couldn''t handle the new found stress it was placed under.


    Yet, before the darkness could fully seize me, strong hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me back forcefully from the brink. Kushim stood close, his eyes not those of an adversary but those of a worried mentor.


    ¡°Easy, Edric,¡± Kushim''s voice came firm and steady, yet full of concern. ¡°It''s alright now. What''s gotten into you?¡±


    I tried to respond, wanting desperately to apologize or explain, but my voice failed me entirely. Instead, I managed only a weak, shaky nod. Relief, profound and overwhelming, surged within me, knowing Kushim wasn''t here to harm but to help. The last thing I saw clearly before consciousness finally slipped away was the genuine, unwavering concern etched deeply in his eyes.

 Revelation

    When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, ornate with intricate carvings and painted in muted shades of gold and cream. I blinked a few times, disoriented. Turning my head slightly, a dull ache immediately radiated through my skull. The room was lavishly furnished¡ªfar more luxurious than anything I''d seen in years¡ªwith polished wooden furniture, embroidered tapestries hanging from the walls, and gentle sunlight spilling through curtains that danced softly in the breeze.


    A few strands of my hair slipped over my forehead and fell into my eyes, irritatingly obscuring my vision. Instinctively, I moved to brush them away, only to find my hand immobile. Confused, I tugged harder, but it was firmly restrained. Panic surged through me, sharpening my senses as I realized both of my wrists were bound tightly to the ornate bed frame.


    The door creaked softly open, followed by the sharp click of heels on polished stone. The footsteps approached steadily, echoing slightly in the stillness of the lavish room. From my position, I could barely lift my head, leaving the visitor frustratingly out of sight. Panic surged anew at my helplessness, my pulse racing. Desperation lent strength to my limbs as I wrenched upward with all my might. Metal groaned, and the ornate wood of the bed frame emitted sharp popping noises under the strain¡ªbut neither yielded.


    The footsteps halted abruptly. Silence lingered briefly before a woman''s voice, one I didn''t fully recognize yet felt strangely familiar, cut smoothly through the quiet.


    "My, my. Still so spirited, I see," she said softly, amusement lacing her tone. "Careful¡ªyou''ll hurt yourself."


    My back burned as she approached, a sharp sensation rippling beneath my skin, deep and resonant. Something within me stirred, reacting almost instinctively to her presence.


    "Who... who are you?" I asked hesitantly, straining to see who stood beyond my line of sight. Fragments of memories flashed through my mind¡ªblurred, distorted, but powerful. They weren''t my earliest memories, but they felt undeniably important, as if the person standing just out of view held the key to something crucial.


    "Me?" she replied gently, a faint sadness weaving through her voice, even though traces of amusement lingered beneath. "You know me. At least, I dearly hope you do. But given how much you''ve changed, perhaps you''ve forgotten after all."


    I caught only the briefest glimpse of her hair, yet it was enough. Recognition surged through me, vivid and powerful . I didn''t need any further reminder. Still, I remained silent, letting her words hang between us as I lowered my head back down onto the bed.


    "Look at you," she murmured softly, approaching closer. "All grown up¡­but it¡¯s such a shame I couldn¡¯t reach you sooner and flame guide me i tried. The blessing I gave you was never intended for someone built by divinity. Honestly, I think it remains with you now only because you allow it."


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    I stayed silent at first, but my curiosity overcame my restraint almost immediately.


    ¡°What d¡ª¡± I couldn''t even finish my second word before she gently placed her hand over my mouth, silencing me. Her touch was soft, familiar, carrying the same warmth I''d experienced long ago.


    ¡°We don''t have much time,¡± she whispered urgently, leaning close. ¡°Listen carefully, don''t use any power or blessing you''ve received unless it''s absolutely necessary. Your body holds the essence of a Deva, yet the blessing I gave you is infernal¡ªit conflicts with your very nature. I''ll return for you when the time is right, but until then, please, trust me.¡±


    Her face moved fully into my view, and I saw her clearly again. Strangely, she hadn''t aged at all, still possessing the same otherworldly beauty I''d seen in the Dire Forest all those years ago.


    I nodded slowly beneath her hand. ¡°I''ll trust you...mostly because I don''t really have a choice.¡± Then, in a quieter voice meant mostly for myself, I added softly, ¡°But I also want to.¡±


    She moved out of my sight. I knew she was near only by the fading sound of her footsteps, which gradually quieted until I heard the gentle click of the door opening, then closing again. Just as I was ready to let my mind drift and process everything that had just happened, another voice sliced through the quiet, shattering any peace I might have hoped for.


    My greatest torment¡ªthe princess.


    "Awake at last, are we, my dear fighter?" Her voice was smooth, amused in a way that tightened painfully around my chest. "You had me worried, Edric. Damaging yourself like that... Don''t you know how much I care for you? It''s almost as though you''re trying to hurt me. Was that your intent?"


    She stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, echoing in what I assumed was a rapidly cooling empty room¡ªshe made no acknowledgment of anyone else¡¯s presence.


    "No, Your Majesty," I replied quickly, my voice low and careful like I was speaking to a wild animal. "I simply lost myself in the fervor of battle. It was never my intention to hurt you in any way." I poured as much sincerity into my words as possible, hoping not to provoke her further knowing full well what she was capable of when she felt justified in her actions.


    She moved closer, now standing just beside the bed. I tensed involuntarily as her hand rested against my stomach, her touch sending a sickening chill crawling through my body.


    ¡°You know what, Edric?¡± she murmured softly, her voice dripping with unsettling sweetness. ¡°When I watched you fight, I felt this... strange twinge in my chest. It was something entirely new to me. When I asked one of my handmaidens about it¡ªafter a bit of gentle persuasion¡ªshe explained what it was. Love.¡± Her voice twisted around the word, savoring it like something bitter yet strangely appealing. ¡°Imagine that. Me¡ªa princess¡ªfalling in love with you... a slave.¡±


    She spoke as if I were merely an object, a toy she had suddenly discovered held some amusing new quality. Her tone felt slick, tainted, almost greasy, and it churned my stomach to hear her speak about me that way.


    ¡°When I asked them what I should do next,¡± she continued softly, fingers tracing a slow, unsettling circle against my skin, ¡°they assumed it must be some nobleman who¡¯d caught my eye. So, naturally, they told me to make the first move, since my station meant the other party would never dare approach first.¡± A quiet laugh escaped her lips, dark and unpleasantly amused. ¡°They had no idea who I was actually speaking about.¡±


    She leaned in even closer, her breath ghosting over me in a way that made my blood run cold. ¡°Still, I think I''ll follow their advice and make my move anyway.¡±

 Cold

    Her hands traced over my stomach. I tried to move, to resist, but my arms were still bound¡ªand so were my legs. More than ever, I felt helpless. Powerless. Not just as a slave, but as a person.


    ¡°Shh¡­ it¡¯s okay,¡± she cooed, her voice soft and falsely soothing. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry. I¡¯ll take care of you.¡±


    I forced my body to relax, trying to mask the fear clawing its way up my spine. If I couldn¡¯t fight her physically, maybe I could talk my way out. Maybe I could reason with her.


    ¡°Your Majesty¡­ I know you¡¯ve shared your feelings,¡± I began carefully, keeping my voice calm. ¡°And as your servant, I will do my best to comply. But I must say¡ªsurely a royal engaging with someone of my station in this way... it would tarnish your purity. You deserve someone of equal nobility.¡±


    I hoped¡ªdesperately¡ªthat she would hear the logic in my words. That she would stop.


    Instead, my head snapped sideways, pain flaring in my cheek where her hand struck me.


    ¡°Do not mistake my kindness for permission to speak as if we are equals,¡± she hissed. ¡°I am your superior. You will do as I say. Do not think otherwise.¡±


    She climbed over me, straddling me like I was some object beneath her. I shut my mouth. There was no more talking my way out of this. My thoughts retreated inward, my body tensed.


    But before she could move further, a thunderous banging echoed through the room¡ªso loud the metal hinges on the door groaned under the impact.


    ¡°DON¡¯T YOU DARE LAY A FINGER ON MY PROPERTY!¡±


    The roar of a man¡¯s voice¡ªone I knew¡ªcut through the room like a blade. Lord Thorne.


    The princess froze, visibly startled, as if the idea of being interrupted had never crossed her mind.


    The door burst open with a crash. Even with my limited view, I could make out the unmistakable outline of Lord Thorne, his presence filling the room like a stormfront. The flicker of hope I¡¯d buried came surging back.


    ¡°You spoiled, prissy little girl,¡± Thorne growled, his voice thick with contempt. ¡°Get off of him. Royal or not, how dare you come into my house and lay hands on what is mine. The audacity. Your father and I have an understanding¡ªone that places my house as equal to those of noble blood, regardless of how I earned it.¡±


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    He stepped forward, his glare enough to wither stone. ¡°Do you intend to make your father a liar? Or are you simply too entitled to understand diplomacy?¡±


    The princess slowly climbed off me, and the moment her weight left my body, it felt like a crushing fog had lifted. Lord Thorne moved to my side and began unfastening the bindings at my wrists and ankles.


    ¡°Boy, leave. Return to your quarters,¡± he ordered, eyes never leaving the princess.


    I didn¡¯t question it. I didn¡¯t want to give anyone a reason to change their mind. I slid off the bed and started for the door when her voice stopped me.


    ¡°Edric¡­ I¡¯ll be back for you,¡± the princess said softly¡ªalmost mournfully.


    I turned briefly, bowed to them both, and then walked¡ªquickly¡ªthrough the door. The moment I stepped into the hallway, it was like I could breathe again. My heart still pounded, but I felt lighter. Safer.


    I didn¡¯t slow down. I didn¡¯t look back. Whatever just happened, Lord Thorne had stepped in when I needed it most. Whatever else he might be, he¡¯d earned a new kind of trust from me tonight.


    I could thank the Immortal Flame a thousand times and it still wouldn¡¯t be enough¡ªfor guiding him to me, for pulling me from that nightmare before it could finish consuming me.


    The hallways, with their usual cold stone walls, had never bothered me before. But now, after what happened, every step made my skin crawl. I needed to wash¡ªneeded to scrub every trace of her off me.


    I turned down a side hallway and headed to a corner room that held the baths. The pools there cycled water from an underground aquifer. It wasn¡¯t hot, but it was warm enough. Comforting, in a way.


    When I entered, there were a few others already inside, but none of them paid me any mind. I undressed quietly and slipped into the nearest pool. The moment the water touched my skin, I felt a sliver of tension ease from my shoulders.


    That¡¯s when a voice spoke. It caught me off guard.


    ¡°Edric? Why are you here right now? You should be resting¡­¡±


    I looked over. It was Kushim.


    I didn¡¯t expect to see him here, and for a moment, I didn¡¯t know what to say. I just shook my head and muttered, ¡°I¡¯m alright. My body heals quickly. I didn¡¯t need much time.¡±


    I turned my gaze back to the water.


    A moment later, I heard the soft splash of him entering the bath beside me.


    ¡°You sure? Not to be rude, but you look more like shit than usual.¡±


    Despite everything, the comment pulled a small smile out of me.


    He was probably the only person I could actually talk to about what had just happened¡­ so I told him.


    When I finished, he let out a long, heavy sigh.


    ¡°What is her problem?¡± he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what would¡¯ve happened if she got her way. If a royal got knocked up by a slave, it¡¯d be a disaster¡ªfor you, and probably her too. But that¡¯s not even the part that confuses me.¡±


    He looked over at me.


    ¡°She¡¯s a princess. She could have anyone she wanted. So why does she keep chasing after you?¡±