《Order of Fate》 Prologue With slow steps a figure cladded in a magnificent golden robe walked through the great expanse of a dark hall. The hall bore no ornaments, yet its obsidian composition gifted it a sense of sinister beauty. Not many could claim to admire that beauty thanks to the deep shadows that engulfed its every corner. The golden figure was one of the few who could. His expression did not betray any interest in the grand structure¡¯s desolate beauty, long since tired by its sight. He merely walked forth, until he reached before two vast doors. They towered over him like onyx walls, their foundations inexorable. The golden figure did not attempt to push open such mountains, instead he simply stood, waiting. Before long the obsidian castle trembled and the sound of two doors parting, their weight that of mountains, reverberated. RUMBLE Even now the golden figure appeared uncaring. When the parting was complete, he stepped forth into an even greater hall. Here the darkness ran so thick that every step felt like walking on the surface of an unfathomably deep lake. The calm steps continued until the figure arrived right upon the hall¡¯s center. Their golden eyes stared straight ahead, into the area where the darkness laid most condensed. He bowed. ¡°Your grace.¡± The golden figure said. For a few seconds, no response came, however two scarlet gems suddenly ignited within the dark. With their gaze came a powerful gush of inexorable presence. Many armies would crumble upon such a sight alone, but the golden figure did not. He rose from his bow, golden eyes meeting with that of the crimson ones. Then a deep voice came. ¡°Setheran, to what do I owe this presence?¡± The void beneath the darkness asked. The golden figure, Setheran, adopted a sinister smile. ¡°To a simple matter, your grace. I hear whispers that you intend to travel to Merabeth and meet with its sovereign, the recently risen Desolation God.¡± The crimson eye¡¯s slit pupils sharpened, like a viper readying itself to strike. However that intensity did not last. The figure shrouded in darkness snapped their fingers and upon eight mighty pillars, eight fires ignited. They burned with a thirsty vigor, their crimson deeper than blood. At last the hall¡¯s darkness was pushed back, revealing its magnificence. Setheran¡¯s pupils shrunk, despite the might he wielded, his eyes had never been able to penetrate this hall alone. The obsidian hall was bathed within a red hue before long, laying bare a figure which sat upon a massive throne. That figure sat with incomparable grace. His skin was like that of snow, and long silky black hair cascaded down upon him, serving as dazzling ornaments to his unmatched fairness. His features were just as perfect, matched perfectly by the crimson eyes which he bore. Covering his body was long black robes, their design elegant, exuding the presence no lesser than that of any king.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. An amused smile rested upon his lips, his eyes still set upon Setheran. ¡°It appears that many can not keep from chirping. In any case, It is not a secret. Tell me Setheran, what might this matter interest you in?¡± Setheran¡¯s smile grew. ¡°I ask that I be taken along.¡± The figure adorned in black only grew more amused. ¡°Setheran, I do not travel through normal means. My body need not go personally, should I expect your other sibling to tag along with you? Or shall I need to wait until you journey past the desert? What shall all that effort yield for me? A fight between Emperor and God? A pointless thing that would be.¡± Setheran grew excited. ¡°You are not opposed to it entirely I see¡­ Well, let me correct one fact, your grace. I know better than to intervene within your discussions, however I hear the people of Merabeth are strong. They thirst for bloodshed, so would it not be wrong to deny them that? And besides, two Emperors shall prove a sufficient might, one even a Divine Power shall not ignore lightly.¡± The figure chuckled upon his throne. ¡°True enough, very we¡ª¡± It was as the figure spoke that his words halted abruptly. His gaze then turned upon a great wall of obsidian. It appeared like his sights fell upon nothing, but Setheran knew that his eyes pierced far beyond this castle. Far beyond the dreaded miasma which surrounded it, until it encompassed the world. The dark lord¡¯s eyes remained fixated for a long moment after. His lips moved, turning into a smile which overflowed with jubilation. ¡°Your grace¡­?¡± ¡°It seems our plans for the Desolation God can be placed on hold. One of the Truths has awakened.¡± Setheran¡¯s golden eyes widened. ¡°Are you certain?¡± ¡°You doubt me?¡± Setheran shook his head, his expression that of utter delirium. The crimson stare returned upon him shortly after. ¡°Call back the Apostles, we must make preparations for the war to come. From today forth, unless spoken from my breath, none of you shall be allowed to roam as you please.¡± Setheran nodded. ¡°By your will.¡± He bowed, then left like how he came.Situated on the grand throne the dark figure began to chuckle, his voice sinister. Eventually that low laughter ceased. ¡°The tides of fate roar upon us all¡­¡± He whispered. The crimson fires all extinguish themselves, leaving behind sharp, ferocious, scarlet eyes. With the gleam of a sinister predator, they remained drenched in an ocean of darkness before they too disappeared. Chapter 1 - Slave Suris Fifth of the Seventh Twentieth of the Sixth 85 FA Upon a vast expanse of orange sand, a city with great walls stood in defiance to the objections of the desert which hosted it. Inside that city was a massive structure made of stone, circular in shape. It was not the greatest construction which stood upon this city, however today it was brimming with far more moving parts than those around it. ¡°Walker 248, do you plan to do nothing?¡± The voice which spoke was deep, its tone indifferent. Its owner was a tall man with copper skin, cladded in gray robes and wore a soft fabric which wrapped around his face, exposing only his brown eyes. Facing him was a much younger youth. The youth was considerably shorter, his skin much paler, and he possessed shortly trimmed black hair and unique red eyes. Those scarlet vessels were currently attempting to conceal obvious resentment. The man in gray robes did not take offence to that piercing glare, he knew that the youth¡¯s resentment was not directed at him but at the youth¡¯s own self. The youth nodded. ¡°Sir Record Keeper, with all the respect within me, I must express to you my inability to complete this task. It has been almost a year of struggling with no success still, I harbor no more illusions of my abilities. Please accept my forfeit from this exercise.¡± The figure referred to as Record Keeper could only nod in acceptance. ¡°If such is your choice¡­¡± Pity, he was once a promising product, a golden apple amongst the pile. Just when had it rotted? Thinking such, the Record Keeper wrote upon his paper sheet then returned his gaze to the young man¡¯s red eyes. ¡°Walker 248, you have forfeited the given exercise. As such you stand no opportunity to win today¡¯s 1000 award points.¡± Saying nothing further the Record Keeper left the young man¡¯s side. The young man¡¯s red eyes followed the exiting figure¡¯s back for a few seconds. Only once he was certain that the Record Keeper would not hear him did the young man sigh. Damn it all! He thought bitterly. On his hand he grasped a thin pointed stick, embedded on its base was a red gem hosting a subtle glow. He stared at it with complicated feelings, then shifted away only after he felt gazes landing on him. The young man was not alone upon this vast arena, instead he was but the starting part of a straight line which stretched onward from his side. Every five meters was another youth, cladded in the same battered gray pants and shirts as he was. It was those closest to him that were currently staring his way, their expressions somewhat smug. Whilst he had failed before he even tried, they were different. Their gazes did not last long, beside them was another Record Keeper watching them intently. Stolen novel; please report. Soon the staring youths returned to their task. The young man watched them do so with a frown. The first to his right reached out a hand holding the same type of stick, he then opened his mouth and a foreign language rang forth. ¡°In front of me my enemies wait, before my eyes I ask that they become part of your dance as they are set in a glorious blaze, I Manifest thou, Fireball!¡± The voice of the caster became layered upon itself, and the very act of speaking the foreign language was enough to visibly bestow pain. The youth¡¯s face contorted heavily but he had not failed¡­ Inside him, his Inner-Mana was stirred by his will, it sizzled forth, just barely kept in check by the youth¡¯s trembling body. The youth felt his body grow hot, and a sensation akin to steam pressure pressing upon his every organ, bone, and inner muscles assaulted him. If he was not careful enough, then the chains placed upon them by his will would be shattered and then the Inner-Mana would shoot outwards in all directions, like an unstoppable river current. Perhaps only pieces of his flesh would be left then. A cold sweat covered the youth¡¯s entire back, but he somehow managed to direct the warm power into his hands, then outside his fingers and into the red gem upon his wand. The red gem suddenly began glowing intensely. He had done it! Now only one step remained. He stretched out his arm more, clumsily attempting to aim it upon the distant wooden target a few dozen meters away. A small fireball formed then shot forward. Boom! It landed upon the stone walls of the massive arena, completely missing the target ahead. Seeing this the figure, who was already way beyond their limit, paled and turned with trepidation to the Record Keeper. ¡°Is this the limit of your day¡¯s practice? You may have done better than Walker 248, but you are far from being a successful product yourself Walker 247¡­ 108 points¡­¡± The youth¡¯s face fell and he nodded grimly. Hah! Serves you right! Staring upon this the young man with crimson eyes wanted to laugh but held his tongue. Soon three to his left and five more figures much farther to his right attempted the same thing, their success rate varying. It was only after the immediate Record Keepers left that the figure from before turned to him, his eyes filled with fury. ¡°Wipe that ugly grin from your face Walker 248! At least I can use magic unlike you, this stage¡¯s biggest failure!¡± The crimson eyed youth scoffed then pointed with his thumb behind him. ¡°Oh yeah? Then why are there three Walkers ranked behind me? I have yet to ever gain points on any magic exercises and yet here I stand to your side. Careful maybe I will overtake you in this next Battle-Grade Day.¡± The figure ahead of him scoffed. ¡°As if! And even if you do, what does it matter huh? Haven¡¯t you realized how bad our situation is? If the next Battle-Grade Day arrives and I have yet to skyrocket to the Dagger Rank, then I¡¯m as good as dead. At least it''s still a possibility for me, but for you? Hah for someone who can¡¯t use magic, It¡¯s pointless. You are truly a dead man walking¡­¡± The young figure chuckled hatefully. The crimson eyed youth clenched his fists but he did not say anything back. He knew it best of course, just how dire and hopeless his situation was. Here within the third stage of the Sounra Kingdom¡¯s Slave Army Training Role, only death awaited someone like him. A slave born without the ability to wield magic. Such was his approaching fate. Suppressing the dread which crept up his heart, the crimson eyed youth shifted his focus away completely. By now the sun was already nearing the horizon, soon today¡¯s exercise would be over. They had spent the entire day simply practicing the manipulation of Inner-Mana within their bodies. A standard routine, however for slaves of the Walker Rank, such tasks were more grueling upon the body. And for the crimson eyed youth, it was a day full of despair. Many near his rank struggled considerably compared to the top ranked slaves, however what they failed in was adequate control of their Inner-Mana, he on the other hand, failed to even sense his Inner-Mana. At the end of those days, they would be tested. The goal being to fire forth five spells. Each successful shot was 100 points, then performance would grant the following 500 points. The young boy sighed again. His eyes turned to the far corner of the arena. There the best of them began their own compilation of the daily exercise. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! In the distance, fireballs, earth rocks, and water streams, all shot forth. Some missed the target, others lacked strength upon their conjured element; however those in the opposite corner of him, where the top ten slaves practiced their arts, no visible error could be found by any observer. The young boy felt especially envious of their skills, that feeling only made his own self loathing more vigorous. He was forced to endure those upheavals of emotions for a few dozen more minutes until finally, the sun disappeared and the testing ended. Chapter 2 - Promise When the daily training came to an end, a bell¡¯s ring echoed throughout the large arena and all the slaves moved in practiced formation. The circular arena had two massive steel doors upon both its northern and southern sides. Once inside, a series of paths led them to a massive underground tower. Like a drill the tower had carved deep into the soil, each level circular in shape. The underground tower served as the resting place for all the slaves under its embrace. The tower had five levels, the bottom three were the homes of the slaves while the second and first levels served as defensive choke points. There many guards cladded in rust colored armors patrolled its halls, ready to respond in the unlikely event that the slaves attempted a revolt. Soon they were led inside the slave chambers and a heavy door closed behind them. Now left alone, everyone present was finally given a moment to breathe. Some immediately huddled together and began to discuss the day¡¯s practice while others preferred not to be bothered and began striving towards their designated rooms. The crimson eyed slave was one of them, he walked silently, doing his best to not seem troubled. Before long he arrived at a room situated on the bottommost level. It was a squared room with a stone bed to its side. He stared upon that stone bed as if it was the most comfortable thing in the world. Maybe some sleep will help. He laid down on the bed and soon became lost in thought. Another disaster¡­ At this rate¡­ Trepidation began surfacing in his heart and before long it turned into despair. What was he to do? The young slave was known as Walker 248, to a born slave of Sounra, it was both his rank and his current name. He was born into the central city of Al-Intys, the manufacturing heart of the Sounra Kingdom¡¯s booming slave industry. Once bred and after they turned six, the slaves would then be placed within the White Rooms, where they spend the next four years being educated about various topics. Only after are they evaluated and placed within one of the city¡¯s three slave roles. That of: Servant, Pleasure, or Soldier. Each role then had three stages, with the crop being optimized upon the ending of each one. Walker 248 had been unfortunate to be placed upon the soldier role. Unlike the previous two roles, the kingdom had no intention of selling the soldiers forged, instead they were destined for the kingdom¡¯s own slave army sector, an elite division under direct control of the king himself. Due to this, not only did his role have stages which increasingly intensified upon focusing on physical might and combat prowess, but the grading was also much more strict. The Sounra Kingdom was a land which believed in results. That mindset could be seen etched into the being of each slave role but even more so upon the soldier role. In the beginning, Walker 248 had just over a thousand peers which shared in this role, now only around five hundred remained. The last two stages had cut the herd by 250 each, and now the time for the third stage¡¯s end was approaching, only being a week and a half away. Those who survived would graduate from this city and be taken to the capital as the elites of their generation. There they would then go through the final stage of their training before truly becoming part of the slave army. Ultimately, that was each of their goals, Walker 248 included. But this goal appeared almost impossible to be obtained by him. As his name and rank suggested, he was at the 248th slot within the walker rank. They had been given that name because they were the 250 slaves which would be killed should the stage end arrive, they were dead ones walking. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Above that and among those which had their lives guaranteed were the 150 Daggers, followed by the 60 Silvers, 30 Golds, and the best of the best, the 10 Swords. Just thinking of holding such ranks made Walker 248¡¯s heart yearn with envy. After all, only three ranks followed behind him which made him land firmly within the ten lowest ranked slaves within this stage. With only two more major chances to reach the Dagger Rank, it could be said that his situation was hopeless. Furthermore, Walker 248 did not possess the ability to wield magic, the focus of this third stage. Once more despair drenched his entire being and he could not stop his quivering lips from uttering a pleading cry. ¡°Mom¡­ I won¡¯t be able to keep our promise.¡± The moment he spoke those words, the image of a woman surfaced in his mind. It was that of his mother. Even though he had only spent his first five years with her, she had encompassed him with so much care that he could not forget her even now. He still vividly remembered her long black hair, red eyes, and warm smile. How she told him stories within that small prison of theirs at night, of how she ruffled his hair until he fell asleep. Back then, he had taken such motherly affection for granted, only learning of its rarity when he met other bred slaves like him. To them, their mothers had been distant and cold, a result of them being forced to have children against their wills. This only made Walker 248¡¯s love for his mother solidify eternally into his heart. Yet it was this very love that made his situation fill him with so much dread. Walker 248 was afraid of death, but he could come to accept it. However, his soul was never allowed such inner peace since the moment he separated from his mother, since the day of their promise. Back then, upon their final day together, she had held him tightly and with words full of sorrow she made him a promise. ¡°I¡¯ll come back for you! When.. When I do everything shall turn for the better! So please son promise me that you will remain unharmed, please Arren do not let yourself fall here, even if you have to stand above a mountain of corpses, survive and wait for me! Promise me!¡± She had made his heart tremble then, and of course, he had agreed without hesitation. After a few years he had truly come to understand that such a promise was impossible for her to keep, in fact the chances that she was sold away or was already dead far surpassed any hopes that she was still within this city. Even if she was, it was impossible for her to escape let alone with him by her side. He knew that well, yet it did not matter. The first five years of his life were the most precious memories he had, he loved her dearly and while she could not keep her side of the promise, he himself could struggle bitterly to uphold it on his side. He would survive even if only the life of a slave awaited him in the end. He would do so with all his might because his mother wished so, a desire born from her love for him. How could he dare tarnish those feelings? A sudden tide of motivation rushed into his very veins and his despair subsided somewhat. Two more chances still remained after all and he could not give up now! Walker 248¡¯s red eyes had been fixated on the stone ceiling of his room. When the rush of motivation died down, only a melancholic face remained. A specific word then surfaced in his mind. Arren¡­ He thought of the word which he only heard his mother utter upon her desperate plea. Back then he had thought little of it, however over the years which followed he came to a bold conclusion. It was his name. Slaves were not allowed to hold names, yet his mother had chosen one for him regardless. This made his heart feel warm. Her care for him had been truly plentiful. Of course, there was a possibility he was wrong. Even if he was not, he would never dare to speak it out loud. It had long since been adapted as his name, yet it had never been uttered beyond the borders of his mind. Before Arren had realized, a warm smile was etched onto his lips. Mom, if¡­ If we ever meet again, I¡¯ll thank you for this wonderful name, and for everything else. As he was deep in thought, a sudden voice snapped him back into reality. ¡°Why are you in bed so early?¡± Arren lifted his head and his crimson eyes found a pair of blue eyes staring at him. He smiled. ¡°Golden 29, congratulations on your stellar performance today.¡± Before Arren was another of his fellow slaves, and perhaps the only one which he could consider a friend. Chapter 3 - Old friend When the figure before Arren heard his words, he frowned slightly. ¡°Hey, please remember that my name is Sieg, not Golden 29.¡± Arren rolled his eyes at Sieg¡¯s words. ¡°Fine, fine, I¡¯ll try.¡± Hearing the annoyed reluctance upon Arren¡¯s voice, Sieg sighed. ¡°You need to stop disliking things just because he is responsible for them. I know it¡¯s uncommon, but I was the one who chose to accept the name Reed gave me.¡± By now Arren had risen from his stone bed and met Sieg¡¯s blue eyes at equal level. ¡°I know¡­ Listen I have no issues if you choose a name for yourself, I have no issues with calling you by it. But that Reed fellow is bad news, he is placing things in your head that slaves like us shouldn¡¯t dare think.¡± Arren spoke from concern, however beneath that tone was an unquestionable disdain of the fellow in question. The two had known each other since the days of the white rooms, yet it wasn¡¯t until this stage that such a large difference in opinion had risen. Regardless, both Arren and Sieg did not wish to argue over a topic which neither would compromise on. They already had too many wasted hours traveling down such a dead-end road. In the end they would just need to back down. Sieg took the initiative and changed the topic. ¡°Anyway, I came by to check up on you. The others are talking their usual shit but don¡¯t let it get to you! There are still two more Battle-Grade Days left, more importantly, the last Battle-Grade Day will surely have special rules which will enable even those at your rank the opportunity to rise to the Dagger rank!¡± Sieg had a concerned look on his face, yet that sight strangely enough made Arren irritated. After all, Sieg was within the Golden Rank, one of 30 elites which held such a stance and second only to the 10 swords. Within the previous two stages, Sieg struggled considerably. As a result he had developed into a timid individual who lacked confidence. When coupled with his naturally slim appearance, he had been considered a frail stag before the tigers of this generation. Yet when they arrived into the third stage, his talent for magic was revealed. At the same time, Arren¡¯s own incompetence was exposed. Like a falling star he crumbled down while Sieg soared to the skies like a dragon. As he was now, Sieg had nothing to fear. How could you understand?! Arren did not allow his irritation to appear upon his face. After all, it was not Sieg¡¯s fault that he had fallen so far from the peaks which he previously stood. He sighed. ¡°Thank you Sieg. Truly I appreciate your concern, but they speak what is true. I¡¯m not likely to live past this stage.¡± Sieg¡¯s expression turned ugly. ¡°So what? Forget about how bad it looks on the surface, believe in yourself regardless! If you can¡¯t do that first then you really are a dead man.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. I do! But even still¡­ Arren¡¯s fighting spirit had yet to be snuffed out, however he could not say that the coming two trials did not scare him. They did. Before Arren even spoke, Sieg examined their surroundings. Once he was certain no one was around, he leaned in and whispered. ¡°Listen, I know how you feel about it but you have to actually consider that you might not make the ranks in time. Please, reconsider doing Reed¡¯s plan with me.¡± Arren scowled then shook his head in adamant denial. ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry Sieg but Reed is crazy for even thinking of such a thing. You shouldn¡¯t entertain the idea either, you are in the golden rank after all, why risk your life in such a terrible gamble?¡± Sieg showed signs that he expected this answer. He just sighed. ¡°Because I wish for something beyond this¡­ I don¡¯t understand, even at death¡¯s door you remain so stubborn.¡± Sieg rubbed his brows, irritated. ¡°I merely don¡¯t want to die, that is the extent of my ambitions Sieg. I would think you would have understood that by now.¡± Sieg stared at Arren for a few moments, his thoughts impossible to read. Then he was about to speak when a different voice called out. ¡°There you are.¡± Almost in sync, both Arren and Sieg turned towards the direction of the voice. Arren frowned while Sieg smiled. Before them was a tall figure with handsome features, green eyes and short brown hair. This was none other than Reed himself, the topic of so much discord between the two old friends. Reed scanned them both with his eyes, his stare somewhat uncaring when landing upon Arren. He soon looked past Arren however, turning instead to focus on Sieg. His lips curled and he began to approach. ¡°Sieg the ending of this stage is approaching quickly. We can¡¯t let ourselves get complacent, we need to come together daily from now on and discuss everything we saw.¡± Sieg nodded. ¡°Yes I know, I just wanted to check on my friend before I went to meet with you.¡± Hearing such, Reed was not surprised. Instead he turned to watch Arren again, his eyes turning a little icy. ¡°Walker 248, sorry but I will have to take Sieg away.¡± Arren shrugged. ¡°Go ahead, I can¡¯t stop you two from talking¡­¡± He hesitated but continued in a more serious tone; ¡°But hey, do me a favor and stop putting ideas into Sieg¡¯s head. I don¡¯t wish to see my friend die before my hair turns gray.¡± Reed raised a doubtful eyebrow. ¡°So you say, but at this rate I would be more concerned with your hair turning gray at all.¡± Of course, the implication behind such words was obvious. Arren frowned and his voice went from serious to angry. ¡°Duly noted, but worry not, I¡¯m a walking dead man, sure, however my corpsy legs still have a lot of sprint in them. Who knows, I might reach the Dagger Rank yet!¡± Reed chuckled mockingly, then scoffed. ¡°I wonder, do you even believe yourself when you say such words?¡± Arren was not ready to back down, however before he could continue his spar of words Sieg angrily interjected. ¡°Hey, stop bickering!¡± Sieg turned to Reed. ¡°Reed stop treating him like he is already dead. I told you before, didn''t I? He is coming with us! Even if I have to drag him!¡± Sieg then shifted his focus to Arren. ¡°You too! Stop provoking Reed. While you''re at it, stop being so stubborn and understand that some of us have greater wants. If everything goes to shit when this stage ends then disagree all you want, I don¡¯t care, I¡¯ll take you with me even if you kick and scream the whole way!¡± Seeing how riled up Sieg appeared, the two dropped the issue immediately. Arren shrugged it off whilst Reed tilted his head to the side with rolling eyes. Seeing this, Sieg sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll be going. Make sure you show your prowess in tomorrow''s exercise. It¡¯s your specialty after all.¡± With those parting words Sieg went to Reed¡¯s side and the two left shortly after. Arren meanwhile was left staring at their backs. When they were out of sight he could not help but sigh to himself. Tomorrow huh¡­ Each day had a designated focus which the slaves would practice, with a trial exercise at the day¡¯s end. The Sixth of the Seventh had always been left as a random slot. Only at the start of each week did the focus become known. And this week they had announced it to be combat focused. Such news made Arren feel better, after all when they had been within the second stage, one which centered around combat prowess, Arren had been at his peak. So ferocious was he then that the other slaves had given him a nickname: The Crimson Demon. Chapter 4 - Fallen Rival Sixth of the Seventh An hour before the sunrise, all within the slave chambers were already up and about. As slaves which had spent many years being trained to become elite soldiers, they naturally were taught discipline long ago. Arren was among his fellow slaves, moving to the showers for a quick drenching of water. Before long he arrived at the shower area, they were the five rooms located opposite to the entrance door within each level of the underground tower. He joined the line, spotting a few familiar faces among the crowd. He chose the fourth line and coincidently to his right was none other than his close friend Walker 247. The two noticed each other at the same time however their reactions could not be more different. While Walker 247¡¯s face paled, Arren''s own donned a wide, toothy, smile. ¡°Walker 247, I hear today is a combat focus day! Just my luck! Don¡¯t worry though, should fate decide to make you my opponent then I¡¯ll be sure to hold back. Hmm how about only shattering your teeth but letting your jaw stay in place?¡± Arren said earnestly, reveling in the other party¡¯s visible fear. ¡°Damn you! Everyday I pray that this stage¡¯s end approaches quicker, that way I can finally witness a savage dog be put down!¡± His words remained ineffective against Arren. ¡°Walker 247, you seem to have forgotten, if I¡¯m put down then it will only be a moment before you join me. Doesn¡¯t that sound great? Returning to the sand together!¡± As the two spat hateful words at each other, none around them bothered to interject. However the small commotion they were causing was interrupted when the increasingly growing lines suddenly began to move. At this point Arren turned his head to see what was happening. It was not long before he saw three figures walking leisurely towards the showers. As they cut past the line, none of the other slaves dared to stop them. After all, all three were part of the 10 Swords. They were the kings of this generation, and standing at the peak naturally came with some unspoken privileges. The first of the three figures was a man with brown eyes, and short brown hair. Unlike the rest, he did not wear his gray shirt uniform and walked with his pants alone. His body was wide and filled with muscles which appeared as hard as rocks. He wore an aloof expression, almost appearing perpetually mad. He was the Seventh Sword, nicknamed: The Stone Golem. The second figure was far more lean yet his sturdy body had been tested many times over within the past years and none would dare underestimate him just because of his lacking appearance. He walked with confidence, his blue eyes never bothering to turn to anyone. This was the Third Sword, nicknamed: The Unbreakable Twig. Lastly was the figure which stood the tallest, he possessed black eyes and fiery red hair. He had a lean, muscular body, walking confidently without a care in the world. Of the three he appeared the least threatening, however none here were ignorant of his strength. After all he was the First Sword, the strongest of their generation and nicknamed: The Dual Wielder. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The Seventh Sword and Third Sword walked forth to the showers without delay, however to everyone¡¯s discomfort, the First Sword suddenly halted half way. His black eyes then turned towards the fourth line, landing directly upon Arren. Arren immediately turned tense, however his outward expression remained indifferent to the First Sword¡¯s stare. A smile then etched its way onto the tall youth¡¯s face and he began making his way towards Arren. Everyone watched this unfold, eager to see what would occur. None here were ignorant of the history these two shared. ¡°Walker 248, I see that your luck with magic has remained poor even now. Best hurry and fix your foundation or death is all that awaits you.¡± The First Sword said, his tone friendly yet sharp like a blade. Arren met his dark eyes then answered nonchalantly. ¡°Venerable First Sword, thank you for your considerate advice. I shall take it to heart.¡± The First Sword¡¯s eyebrow raised, and a moment after he could not help but burst into laughter. ¡°Venerable? Shall? Hah-hah, since when has the ferocious tiger of the second stage turned so tame? Even bothering to speak properly towards his old prey!¡± His laughter rang across the silent chamber, sounding maniacal to all which it reached. Eventually he ceased and his polite demeanor shifted into a serious, almost contemplative one. ¡°What a pity. Back then the rank of First Sword appeared unreachable with you as its holder. Just how many times did I fall short of you? And now¡­¡± His dark eyes examined Arren¡¯s figure from head to toe, a frown slowly forming on his brows. ¡°And now you stand here so pathetically as nothing more than a fallen rival.¡± Saying nothing more, he turned and continued down to the fourth shower. Arren was left with nothing to say. He watched the fleeting figures back, his heart a whirlpool of emotions. Back within the second stage, Arren¡¯s talent for combat was laid bare for all within his generation to witness. The current First Sword was the Second Sword then, and the two often fought tooth and nail for the right to stand at the peak of the stage. However, when the third stage began, the Second Sword¡¯s talent had not faded, while his own lack of more was exposed. It was not long after that a new First Sword arose, a consequence of their final duel together and one which ended with the last stage¡¯s undisputed king as a pitiful sight, crawling upon the sand. The First Sword had not accepted Arren''s ineptitude then, yelling vigorously for him to rise and face him once more. But the truth was not what either of them wished. In the end, Arren fell from the top, leaving behind a bitter conclusion to a long rivalry. ***** After they were done cleansing themselves they returned to their respective rooms, standing like statues before it. Not long after, a heavy door squealed and it was pushed upon by two guards dressed in rust colored armor and hosting a maroon sash around their waists. Behind them were a plethora of women dressed in gray robes, each holding a plate at hand. Some sort of orange liquid moved within the plates, black meat protruded from the orange substance occasionally as they walked. In practiced synergy they made way to each slave, handing them a plate. The slaves bowed respectfully to the caretakers, not daring to disrespect them within the gazes of the many guards which had walked forth. A ten minute period of silence passed, each slave taking the small moment to enjoy the meal bestowed upon them. Among them, Arren found his meal to be especially delightful. That was only natural, for today his mood had yet to fall. Alas his bliss was not meant to be eternal like the heavens. Soon he finished his meal and each slave readied themselves for the day to come. Less than an hour later everyone was once again within the expanse of the grand arena. Far upon its spectator seats were the many Record Keepers, watching each of their actions with keen eyes. At the ground floor, the slaves entered a familiar routine. Back within the second stage they had done these series of combat exercises many times. In truth it mattered little when all was said and done. The reason was because if one did not possess the skill already, then a single day was not enough to shield them from the trial to come. Just as expected, when the time turned noon, the Record Keepers stood from their seats and began their journey down. The time for combat was here. Chapter 5 - An opportunity to evaluate The trial of a combat oriented day was rather simple, the 501 slaves would be divided into 100 groups of 5, then a single flag would be placed upon a designated area. He who manages to claim it shall be granted the 500 reward points, with the other 500 points being decided by the performance of the individual slave. The different groups were decided upon at random, however the usage of magic was not allowed. Furthermore, throughout the vast circular walls of the arena which trapped them laid countless varieties of weaponry and equipment. Everything was free for use, and the Record Keepers would stand by ready to take away any slave which brushes with death. It was truly a familiar format. Many of the Walker Ranked slaves could even be seen with smiles etched upon their lips. They had fallen in ranks due to their lack of magic proficiency, however many among them could rival those within Dagger Ranks, Silver Ranks and even some of the Gold Rankers if it was solely on combat skill alone. A bell in the distance rang three times, and the Record Keepers walked to each slave, allowing them to reach inside upon a vase filled with cards. The color of the card was the first indicator, along with the number which it had written upon it. When Arren pulled his, it was of a blood crimson color and had the number ¡®3¡¯ on its surface. His head rose and he examined the area in which he saw such a flag be placed. When everyone had taken theirs, the distant bell rang forth again and all the slaves moved towards their designated area. Upon arriving, gasps could be heard reverberating throughout the arena. When Arren heard this he could not help but feel sorry for the Walker Ranks which he saw end up in groups filled with Gold Ranks or even worse, the 10 Swords. Arren was the first to arrive. He hovered around the crimson flag, already examining the different weapons available to him upon the nearest wall. It was as he did so however that a sudden voice called out. ¡°Hah-hah, has fate played a joke on us both?¡± The amicable, yet sharp voice rang in Arren¡¯s ears like a death siren. His body tensed and he turned with a guarded look. Meeting his crimson gaze was a familiar dark pair of eyes. His heart sank and a single thought emerged within his mind. Fuck¡­ Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Before him was a wide grinned First Sword, a crimson slit grasped between his fingers. ¡°Venerable First Sword, I¡¯m afraid it is me alone who fate is hoaxing¡­¡± Arren said, his caution apparent in his voice. The First Sword laughed, yet his eyes obtained a ferociously ecstatic glint within their dark depths. It made Arren¡¯s body stiff with tension. ¡°Regardless, this is wonderful! Without magic at play, I might have the honor of seeing that feral beast once more! And besides¡­¡± First Sword began clenching and unclenching his fists as he spoke the following words with sinister excitement in his voice. ¡°I have improved leagues above the days when I watched upon you with trepidation. Today will be an opportunity to evaluate whether my efforts bore any results.¡± Arren could not help but sigh within his heart upon seeing such a sight. He felt that his luck had been truly dreadful. Suddenly, he felt less sympathy for those gasping voices from before, if anything he now felt empathetic. He sighed then a glint of his own fighting will surfaced upon his crimson eyes. If there is no magic involved then what is there to fear? ¡°So be it, let us reenact the past with great fondness then, Second Sword¡­ Oh wait, my bad, it''s the First Sword right? I keep forgetting.¡± His blatant disrespect and provocation against the First Sword made those within the surrounding designated area freeze. They could not believe that Walker 248 dared to be so bold. ¡°I suppose the fallen top dog is still bitter¡­¡± ¡°Does he not understand what the word ¡®fondness¡¯ means perhaps?¡± ¡°He''s dead for sure¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think Walker 248 understands the concept of past and present. I mean if he did he would know not to challenge the king of this generation with such provocation.¡± They whispered amongst themselves. After all, those within the designated areas around Arren and First Sword had not gotten any big fish within their shallow lake. Instead most were at the Walker Rank, with a Dagger Ranker here and there. The First Sword could not help but smile wide upon hearing Arren¡¯s provocative words, revealing his white teeth. ¡°Good! I want to see a glimpse of those past days too! Don¡¯t you dare hold back!¡± With nothing more to be left for words to convey he turned and began making his way near the wall which hosted all the available equipment. Arren tracked him with his eyes, his guard up. However when he saw that the First Sword was truly walking away, he let out a sigh of relief. It was as he did that a sudden, pathetic squeal reached his ears. Arren raised a brow then turned towards the direction of the sound. His eyes lit up immediately after. Standing just outside the designated area was Walker 247, a crimson card grasped on his hand. His brown eyes were that of utter horror upon seeing Arren within his group. Arren on the other hand gave the most radiant smile he could muster. ¡°Ah! So fate slaps you with one hand but offers you a gift with the other!¡± Walker 247 had a look filled with spite and trepidation, his feet hesitated to enter the marked designated area. Meanwhile as he saw a dazzling smile emanating from Arren¡¯s face, a single thought surfaced within his mind. Fuck! Chapter 6 - Sword Styles Soon after Walker 247¡¯s fearful entry into the designated area, two more figures arrived. They were both of the Dagger Rank and their expressions immediately turned grim when they saw the pale figure of Arren standing near the crimson flag. They both stared upon each other, hesitation evident in their gazes. Yet what was there to be done? Refuse to fight all together? Doing so would merely qualify them for ruthless reprimanding from the Record Keepers. They sighed in their hearts and stepped forward. It was only now that their focus turned to a depressed looking Walker 247, who was situated on the farthest point of the designated area which was in the shape of a wide circle. They sympathized with him and were about to approach him when they noticed that his depressed gaze turned even more dejected when shifting away from Walker 248. They followed this gaze and immediately their hearts jumped onto their throats. ¡°Is.. Is that the First Sword?!¡± One exclaimed in shock. The other nodded grimly. ¡°It looks like we have terrible luck¡­¡± Standing nearest to the arena wall with all the available armory was the imposing figure of the First Sword. That alone made them fall into despair, any glimpse of triumphing upon this test escaping from their minds. Dagger 102 and Dagger 134 gained the same depressed look as Walker 247. As the commotion throughout the arena gradually settled, soon each slave had arrived at their area. Only then did the figures cladded in gray robes approach them. The arrival of the Record Keepers signaled that the test would soon commence in earnest. However, before it could, they would all be given the chance to adequately prepare. This was not a test of martial prowess alone after all, combat strength encompassed everything, even their mastery over the seven sword-art sword-styles. Within the vast world there were naturally many means in which others used to strengthen themselves. The wielding of magic was such a means, using the many forms of Mana to obtain powerful abilities. However, magic did not strengthen the body in any significant way, that was the characteristic of harnessing one¡¯s Auras. Such was how the path of combat was first paved many ages ago. From it the art of the sword could be found, one which is divided into seven styles. Those are the Fire Sword-Style, Water Sword-Style, Wind Sword-Style, Earth Sword-Style, Binary Sword-Style, Artifice Sword-Style, and Iron-Body Sword-Style. Each style focuses upon different principles which distinguish them. That is what each slave present spent years mastering within the second stage of the soldier role. Naturally they lacked the knowledge to wield their Auras and truly tap into the potential which they have sown. The Sounra Kingdom is not such a trusting entity, nor are they foolish. They would never allow such potential strength to be harnessed by those yet to truly be bound by true slave-crests. ¡°Prepare for the exercise!¡± Suddenly the loud voices of different Record Keepers echoed throughout one after the other. Upon hearing their voices, none hesitated and all hastily made their way towards the assigned weaponry. Although every part of the wall had shelves hosting a multitude of weapons and armor, the slaves were all limited by their designated area. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. This meant that they felt urgency over the potential of having their preferred equipment be snatched away. Three out of the five in Arren¡¯s group felt the same and they quickly ran forth towards the Arena¡¯s wall. The only two which did not rush were Arren himself and of course the First Sword. They calmly made their way over. The First Sword did not hesitate to walk towards the direction where the weapons hung, however Arren chose the opposite. He set his sight upon the different armors available to him. Soon his lips curled. My favorite type is here, how lucky. Before him was a particular set of armor that he liked. Without hesitation he reached out and took hold of it. A minute had passed when he was finished donning it. Arren''s whole body was now under a layer of thin padded black cloth armor. Beyond that he also hosted a chest plate, shoulder plates, greaves and a set of thin vambraces. They were all rust-colored and did not exert much weight on his body. Arren nodded to himself, satisfied with his favorite set of armor. Arren was a practitioner of the Fire Sword-Style and Wind Sword-Style, as such he valued agility and speed. After all, the Fire Sword-Style believed in absolute offence, and speed blitzing others to land the first strike was a key part of its principles. A user of this style would never wait for the enemy to come to them, they would instead aim to strike hard and true. So deeply ingrained was this to the style that it lacked any defensive moves, a user must simply be fast enough to dodge incoming attacks or, ideally, end the fight in one devastating strike. Naturally its lack of defense was what encouraged Arren to also master the Wind Sword-Style. The wind style centers around learning the dance of battle, one must enact quick strikes, and just as quick counters. Additionally it¡¯s graceful nature leads to its teaching of single hand weapon mastery. Both styles mix well when used skillfully, after all both encourage constant movement within the battlefield. It also allowed Arren to not always be the aggressor as the wind style did not rely on the wielder being the first to strike. When he was done equipping his armor, he turned and walked steadily towards the weapons area. At the same time, the other three had finished upon that side and walked towards the armory area. Three figures ran hastily while one lagged behind. Soon dark eyes met against crimson ones. The First Sword quickly examined what Arren wore then smirked. ¡°I advise heavier armor.¡± He said amusedly, then continued on his way. Arren did not bother to respond. He arrived at the weapon¡¯s section then after a few minutes of inspection, he took hold of a thin long-sword with a triangular design and simple cross guard. He swung the weapon a few times then nodded to himself, satisfied with it. Finally he was ready for the bloody clash to come. His crimson eyes then turned to watch the figure not too far from him. The First Sword¡¯s lean muscular body was now wearing maroon undergarments which were complemented by heavy steel boots, thick gauntlets, and a sturdy chest plate. His abdomen, knee, elbows, and shoulders also had thick leather plates strapped to them, adding to the formidable defenses. Like Arren, he did not choose to equip a helmet, perhaps finding it unnecessary. Strapped upon his back were two short swords comfortably waiting within their scabbards. Additionally his muscular hands held tightly two war hammers. The sight was truly frightening, made more so by the vicious glint of excitement which hung within his eyes. As if sensing his gaze, the First Sword turned towards Arren and their gazes clashed. One was cold yet calm while the other was exhilarated yet ferocious. The First Sword raised one of his war hammers to Arren as his lips curled. ¡°This is it Walker 248! Are you as excited to spill blood as I am?!¡± The other three between the two shivered upon hearing that sharp voice, however Arren merely began stretching his neck casually. ¡°Hmm, I¡¯m quite ready to spill yours, although I don¡¯t exactly feel excited over it. Such a disgusting thing should be kept behind its ugly container.¡± The First Sword chuckled sinisterly. ¡°The Record Keepers won¡¯t let us fall before the final Battle-Grade Day, however I¡¯m sure they won¡¯t mind if I rip off that silver tongue of yours within this trial.¡± The murderous air between the two was only rising. The two Daggers and Walker 247 felt so tense that they struggled to breathe. Each one of them had hidden behind a full set of all steel armor, furthermore they had shields equipped, yet the three had a sinking premonition that even such considerable defenses were inadequate. Before the two tigers could unleash themselves, a figure in gray robes approached. The Record Keeper then ordered that they take their positions. The clash would finally commence. Chapter 7 - Untarnished The hostile tension between Arren and the First Sword was lessened significantly by the arrival of the Record Keeper. Both knew better than to allow their hostility to disturb the Record Keeper and as such they turned away from each other. ¡°Return, it is time to begin.¡± None dared to loiter, following the command without any delay. A minute later the entire arena was at last ready for the commencing of the exercise. Within their designated area the First Sword and Arren were situated opposite of each other. Like a silent clash their gazes did not falter when met by the other¡¯s own. To their sides were the remaining three slaves, each unsure of what their role would be when this exercise finally began. Were they meant to stand still and merely watch the two tigers settle their grievances? Or should they dare to strike a dragon? It was as they contemplated that a distant bell rang three times. For a moment after the entire arena fell into a deep silence, however the sharp voices of the Record Keepers stirred their minds awake. ¡°Commence!¡± With that the arena ignited into a cacophony of violence. All but for a single area. There none dared to move. At first Arren was certain that the First Sword would dash towards him without hesitation yet to his surprise the crouching tiger remained rooted where he was. A vicious smile was etched upon his lips as he turned towards the stilted figures cladded in heavy armor from head to toe. He raised one of his war hammers, aiming it their way. ¡°You three, do not think you¡¯ll escape my notice just because I plan to triumph over Walker 248.¡± His dark eyes gained a hint of amusement as he glanced at Arren¡¯s solemn expression. ¡°Here is the rule. Attack Walker 248 together, if you crush him then I will hold back my slaughter when your time comes.¡± Bastard! Arren¡¯s cold glare shot towards the First Sword, yet the First Sword remained unbothered. Meanwhile the other three slaves, Walker 247, Dagger 102, and Dagger 134, had a moment of stupefaction. Was their ears deceiving them? Did the king of this stage just order them into action with the promise of a lesser beating? What type of arrangement even was that? A beating, no matter the level of severity, was still a beating! Their hearts sighed in utter indignation, however they understood that nothing they did here could change a thing. Like obedient soldiers they readied their spears and stepped forth, their tense gazes turning cold behind the visors of their helmets. Seeing this threat approach, Arren cursed in his heart. His eyes turned murderous as he took a powerful stamp forward. ¡°First Sword, how cowardly of you! If you are that afraid then just let me know, I¡¯ll be sure to lessen my onslaught when it arrives upon your doorstep!¡± Arren said mockingly, he then turned all his focus into the three opponents before him. In the opposite end, the First Sword snorted upon hearing Arren¡¯s words, yet his amusement did not falter. Arren proceeded to take one step after another, however the expected attacks did not come. He smirked. ¡°What? Don¡¯t back off, come!¡± It appeared that wolves did not have the right to threaten a tiger. His opponents were struggling to hide their fear, taking a mirroring step back after each of Arren¡¯s advancing ones. Becoming irritated, Arren turned his gaze towards a slender figure in rust colored armor. He then pointed with his blade. ¡°Walker 247, you first!¡± Despite his words which kept encouraging them to approach, Arren was done waiting. As a practitioner of the Fire Sword-Style, there was a mantra which was often said: Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡®Strike first and true, dominate and destroy, that is the essence of combat, the core of power, the glory of triumph!¡¯ Swoosh! Orange sand shot forth into the air as Arren¡¯s lean body dashed forward. Walker 247 felt the back of his head go numb and he hastily readied his shield whilst shooting forth his long spear. Like an attacking python cutting through the hot air, it aimed directly at Arren¡¯s head. Arren¡¯s cold eyes shone with a hint of viciousness as the tip of the spear approached his head. However Arren did not halt his momentum, only when the spear was inches away from his face did he suddenly turn his head. He heard it whistle past his left ear before he reached out and took hold of the spear. His grip was monstrous when placed in protest against Walker 247¡¯s own. SNAP! With lightning speed he brought his sword down upon the spear¡¯s fragile wooden body. It held no hopes of resisting his strike and snapped into two like a twig would. Arren then took a step forward, strengthening his stance before he took hold of his sword with both hands and swung down. He wished to see just how much that shield would deter him! Bang! Walker 247 felt his body tremble violently as the shield he raised desperately was cut almost perfectly half way through, even tearing his flesh and becoming trapped within bone. Utter fear overcame him upon that moment and the image of a ferocious youth with demonic red eyes smiling sinisterly whilst covered in thick crimson blood emerged. It had been a long time since then, yet how could he ever forget the way which this youth commanded violence. It was as if he was born to shed blood, as if violence itself was a sword which shook in glee each time he grasped it. He was a demon! Meanwhile Arren was left satisfied by the depth which his sword reached, at the same time he had not forgotten the two remaining wolves which were rapidly circling him. Perhaps anyone else would find three opponents a daunting task, yet currently he felt exuberant. His heart danced with new found vigor within his chest and he could not help but curl his lips slightly. He attempted to suppress it with little success, he simply loved the art of violence too much. Each time he fought his mind turned calm, like a tranquil lake, and despite the rushing of his blood, he could not feel more relaxed. He was ecstatic! A product of a familiar feeling creeping up into his heart. It was that of domination, of utter suppression of those which mocked him. Back within the second stage, he stood at the top and crushed those which dared to stand before him. He had never felt more safe than those days. Was that what being the strongest allowed? Peace of mind? The lack of constant fear? Just how long had Arren been dreading his situation for? Now finally he would have some time to vent. Even if ultimately this was just but a glimpse into that secure feeling of the past, he would bask within it without reservations. Arren could feel just how deeply his sword was etched into Walker 247¡¯s flesh. Hearing that bastard¡¯s pained groans was the sweetest melody. Arren released the grip on his sword, he then allowed all strength to leave his legs and his body rapidly fell down. A second after, the head of another spear whistled past where he stood. The other two wolves had finally made their move. Arren quickly rolled away, dodging another spear attack which struck vertically at his head. He had rolled over to where Walker 247 still stood in agony. He then unleashed a powerful sidekick which made Walker 247 stumble to the sandy ground pathetically. Arren then gave a fierce yet excited gaze at the two Dagger Rankers watching him warily. They felt a cold sweat travel down their backs yet they could not retreat. They dashed forward in sync and unleashed countless attacks onto Arren. Arren however, moved swiftly and decisively between each one. Like a dance which was choreographed beforehand he remained untouched by the tips of the different spears. At the same time he did not halt his attacks either, he exploded into bursts of strikes with his bare hands alone. Some struck the shields, cracking their wooden bodies little by little, while others reached their armors directly. Each strike of his felt like a miniature war hammer, leaving fist sized dents behind, along with the pain of its impact. A demon! Dread was slowly clouding their hearts. This tiger may have failed to grow its claws upon this stage, however, its fangs remained untarnished. By now Arren¡¯s body felt relaxed, he could not explain it but a warm, comfortable sensation was coursing through him, side by side with his flowing blood. This sensation was always present when he fought, even back since the days where he reigned supreme. He loved the peace which it brought to his body and mind. However as much as he enjoyed basking within that feeling, he knew what was yet to be done. From the corner of his eyes he could still see the First Sword watching on with a sinister smile. As a result, Arren¡¯s own gaze turned sharper. Let''s end this¡­ The moment he decided such, the three way battle entered a more vicious stage. Arren¡¯s already impressive speed doubled and he quickly shattered yet another spear, however this one with his hands alone. Taking its tip, he then proceeded to thrust it into one of his attacker¡¯s neck. This immediately made the Record Keeper retrieve them for treatment. His second opponent was not spared either, he disarmed them of their weapon, then rammed it through their wooden shield, armor, and some of their flesh. He did so by thrusting forward with his arm strength alone, adding a powerful kick after, then pressing upon it with his weight once his opponent lost their footing and fell onto the sand. He stared at them with cold indifference as his hands grasped their own spear, slowly etching it deeper into their chest despite their desperate resistance. This continued until the Record Keeper deemed the Dagger Ranker¡¯s pitiful attempts to stop the spear¡¯s advance inadequate and recalled him as well. Arren then stood before a still pained Walker 247, which he had purposely left for last, and the distant First Sword. The two locked eyes yet again, however Arren did not attack. He smiled apologetically at the First Sword. ¡°First Sword, wait just a little more, you see, me and Walker 247 had an unbreakable agreement. If I don¡¯t cave in his teeth then he might never want to be my friend again.¡± Arren said. His tone was as sincere as he could make it. Walker 247 heard his words and he immediately fell into despair as he resentfully lamented why he had been foolish enough to evoke the wrath of a demon?! Chapter 8 - Settling a score Upon hearing Arren¡¯s words, The First Sword merely shrugged. In truth he wanted no one to remain within this battlefield before the two finally clashed. That was the reason he instigated the elimination of the three lesser ranks. They were but a nuisance within this field meant for thirsty beasts. Seeing that The First Sword showed no signs of intervening, Arren¡¯s lips curled into a radiant smile which he directed at the injured Walker 247. Walker 247 meanwhile felt his entire body tremble upon witnessing such a terrifying thing. His arm was under immense pain, a blade still firmly stuck between his bones. Furthermore, splinters of the half broken shield had dug into his skin like the quills of a porcupine. With a racing heart he attempted to stand, yet Arren dashed towards him at that very moment. ¡°No!¡± He yelled in horror, however he was powerless to stop him. Bang! Arren did not hold back upon reaching his prey, he unleashed a feral punch forth, directly impacting Walker 247¡¯s rust colored chest plate. The steel groaned under the force of the impact then quickly faltered and collapsed inward. ¡°Ark!¡± Walker 247 wailed as his expression turned wrinkled. He fell onto the orange sand once more, yet with no one to distract Arren this time, Arren did not halt there. He calmly walked to where Walker 247 laid, then ignored his pained groans, choosing to dislodge his weapon first. He took hold of his weapon¡¯s handle, then twisted the blade a few times to ensure the process would not be painless before finally pulling it out with some effort. ¡°Heh-heh, that was stuck quite firmly wasn¡¯t it? Walker 247, if nothing else, no one can ever say that you lack sturdy bones.¡± Arren said mockingly. Arren did not proceed to utilize his sword despite going out of his way to retrieve it. He calmly thrust its tip into the sandy ground, then once more turned his focus upon Walker 247. He smiled. By now, Walker 247 was cursing ever being born. In his desperation he attempted to roll away, choosing to exit the designated area and face the Record Keeper¡¯s punishment than be left to Arren¡¯s whims. However before he could, Arren¡¯s feet stamped him down, rooting him in place. Left without options, Walker 247 fell into despair. Meanwhile, Arren was reveling within every passing moment. Having done enough taunting, he pressed his knees upon Walker 247¡¯s arms. His prey attempted to resist, yet Arren quickly overpowered him. He then used both arms to remove Walker 247¡¯s helmet, revealing the terrified figure beneath. Arren beamed. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Ready? This is in the name of our friendship!¡± He said, his tone amicable. And for all the crap you¡¯ve said this entire stage! Discarding the helmet, Arren proceeded to unleash punch after punch. Walker 247 was unable to even resist. His legs wailed about and his arms tensed as he strained every muscle in hopes of escaping Arren¡¯s onslaught. Alas Arren¡¯s hold on him was absolute, making all his efforts meaningless. Soon Arren¡¯s hands turned bloody while Walker 247 had his face painted crimson. So savage was the onslaught that the Record Keeper had to step forth and command Arren to halt. Arren was not surprised or angered by this, after all, he had already done as promised. Most of Walker 247¡¯s teeth were gone, yet his jaw remained firmly attached. Seeing his bloody visage still etched with utter horror warmed Arren¡¯s heart. Ah what a wonderful sight that is! He thought to himself, satisfied with having succeeded in settling the score. That said, his glee did not remain firm for long, as he felt a sharp gaze aimed directly his way. He turned to face that gaze. ¡°Are you done with your fun?¡± The First Sword asked. Arren shrugged. ¡°I suppose¡­¡± Arren¡¯s eyes glinted with murderous intent as he continued. ¡°Now then, shall we settle this as well? It seems today I¡¯m gifted with the chance to pay those which are owed my fury.¡± The First Sword did not falter any longer. For the first time, he took a step forward while brandishing his two war hammers. His sinister smile gained a further dosage of vigor as he finally readied to take action. Swoosh! The sand beneath his foot was shot up, then before Arren truly expected it, his eyes widened as The First Sword¡¯s figure rapidly approached. When he arrived just moments after, he raised the first of his war hammers high before unleashing it forth within a deadly, ferocious, and perfect vertical arc. Faster¡­ Arren calmly observed. The brash and feisty Second Sword which Arren knew so well had never been this fast on his feet before. Feeling a strange sense of exhilaration, one drenched with nostalgia, Arren¡¯s lips turned into a toothy smile as he retaliated with a one handed all-in swing forth. Bang! His sword immediately clashed with the war hammer¡¯s descending head, creating sparks of steel which flew forth in all directions. Surprisingly, despite its purpose dictating otherwise, the sword was able to push back the incoming war hammer. This was a result of Arren¡¯s monstrous strength and not the sword¡¯s natural functionality. Yet that small reprieve did not mean the attack was fully countered, after all, The First Sword was a practitioner of the Binary Sword-Style, a master of dual wielding. Just as the war hammer and sword clashed, a different war hammer shot forth horizontally, aimed at Arren¡¯s abdomen. With his weapon occupied, Arren had no choice but to bring down his arm and use its vambrace to take most of the force which the deadly blow carried. The sound of clashing steel reverberated once more, and Arren¡¯s figure was forced back slightly. Around them, the areas which had already finished their battle¡¯s watched on with anticipation. Naturally, they had seen these two clash countless times within the second stage, however so much had changed since then and getting to witness a magicless fight between these two mighty figures filled their hearts with a nostalgic sense of reverie towards the skill of both fighters. Meanwhile, within the designated area, Arren¡¯s expression hosted a slight frown as he looked down upon the wrecked vambrace. It had done its job well, blocking most of the attack, however in the process a hole was shattered open, allowing for its now jagged edges to bite into his flesh like fangs made of steel. Binary Sword-Style users are really troublesome¡­ He thought bitterly before wiping away his trickling blood with the padded cloth underneath his armor. He then gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands and entered a battle ready stance. Seeing Arren bleed made The First Sword gleeful smile even more radiant. ¡°Heh-heh, Already huh? Were you always this susceptible to war hammers?¡± He mocked before preparing his two weapons for the second strike. Just like so, nothing could stop these two tigers from baring their fangs at the other, not even if heaven were to fall all over again. Chapter 9 - Bloody Duel The First Sword was always someone considered ahead of his time, not so in the way he was or thought but merely when it came to the state of his body. He had begun growing long before the other slaves of his generation did. As a result there was never any question in which role he would be assigned to. And so before he realized it he was within the first stage of the soldier role. It was a boring period, a time where all were taught everything which was needed to understand the many forms of combat but with no actual practicing of it. Had it been then that he first made a mistake? Despite the lack of any actual battles, many were not ignorant of what the following stage promised. As such, each sprouting talent had already pinpointed any potential threats. Yet none were able to recognize the sleeping dragon which lingered among them. Back then, Arren had yet to grow into his age, lagging behind slightly from the rest of his peers. All which others took note of was his crimson eyes, a trait rarely seen on humans. However a sharp look was infinitely duller than any blade so none cared to bother him. The First Sword was no different. Yet when the time for the second stage arrived, all received a harrowing awakening. That lean brat had grown a bit, and despite his physique which suggested otherwise, the youth possessed monstrous strength. It was almost comical how easily he dominated those who dared to challenge him. The First Sword being among them. Back then, he felt rage and indignation for being inferior, promising to himself to slay the bastard with his two hands. However, over time, and after each bitter defeat, The First Sword came to respect his rival. He learned to fear him as well. That was why the monumental shift which occurred upon entering the third stage became such a sour point for him. When he challenged his bitter rival then, it was the first time he saw that bastard¡¯s skin be adorned by his own blood. It was pathetic really, just how easily he fell. The First Sword could not accept that victory then, rejecting it so vigorously that one could have thought it had been his own defeat which he was protesting. However, regardless of how unsatisfied he was, that was the reality of it all. The giant which he feared so deeply, one which he dared to challenge time and time again, had truly crumbled from atop his throne. The First Sword then sat upon that throne as the stage¡¯s unquestionable king. He should have been elated by that, after all standing upon his generation¡¯s peak was what he wished for. As a slave destined to turn into another nameless soldier which his king would command at a whim, this period of his life was perhaps the only chance he would have to carve out a legacy, however small and insignificant it may be. And yet he was not satisfied with such a result, what he wanted all along was to siege the throne, not inherit it. That was why this battle mattered to him. If the old-king could not adapt to the changes and meet him upon the peak once more, then he would travel down that mountain, down to its very chasm, so that the two can enter a familiar dream, one where the old rules still stood. Even now his heart burned with an fervent desire to know. Was he still not this person¡¯s equal? Could he truly dare to call himself their better? ***** Bang! Arren gritted his teeth as his hands vibrated from the blow which The First Sword¡¯s descending war hammer brought. The blow was enough to dissolve his stance somewhat, an opening which The First Sword would not hesitate to exploit. The second war hammer shot forth with explosive might towards Arren¡¯s knee. However the weapon did not reach its target, the polish steel of Arren¡¯s sword instead doubled its speed as it was arced down to intercept the incoming attack. The move was performed with a single arm, its cut through the air elegant. This of course came at the cost of the remaining force of the first war hammer to impact Arren¡¯s chest-plate, knocking him back a few steps. In the end however, one weapon¡¯s might was significantly dampened, while the other was elegantly redirected to harmlessly strike the sand below. The First Sword snorted slightly, both in veneration to the sheer skill of his opponent and in annoyance of failing to bypass that skill. He did not halt his offense though, exploding forth without hesitation. Naturally Arren did not shy away either. The two were like stubborn bears relentlessly biting at each other, yet their skin seemed to always be just thick enough to make every wound a shallow one.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Blood trickled down upon different areas of their bodies. Both paid these injuries no focus, their sharp gazes instead locked upon the other¡¯s every action. Arren was especially calm, even as a deadly threat was slowly emerging. For a moment he allowed his eyes to wander, landing upon his steel blade¡¯s body. Its polish surface had suffered considerable strain. Its sharp edges were now becoming chipped, and a thin, almost imperceptible line was appearing half way through its thin body. In the end, regardless of Arren¡¯s own personal strength, the sword was not a hammer. Its purpose was not to trade devastating blows with a block of steel, but to cut. Now it was near its end, ready to shatter. Arren returned his gaze upon The First Sword. He had managed to cut upon a few weak points of The First Sword¡¯s heavy armor, yet that would not give him this fight. He sighed in his heart before readying to strike once more. This is going to be ugly. He thought to himself. Whoosh! His lean body sprang forward, his speed turning almost terrifying. The First Sword remained calm, his body tensing to receive the inevitable strike. He did not have to wait long, Arren reached him within seconds, then with perfect footing and with all of his core, he grasped his sword with both hands and swung down with deadly fury. The First Sword growled as he poured all his might into the retaliatory strike of his two war hammers. Bang! Then the impact occurred, and the sound of steel shattering echoed throughout. The First Sword¡¯s eyes bulged slightly upon seeing Arren¡¯s sword shatter, however shock quickly shifted to dread as he felt a chill travel down his back. His instincts were screaming at him to fall back. He soon understood why. Whilst his sword shattered, Arren had leaned in low, using the commotion as cover for the set up of a deadly strike. A fist was being pulled back. A sight which made The First Sword¡¯s skin prickle. Had it been anyone else, The First Sword would laugh at the idea of seeing someone dare to send forth a punch to protest against his thick armor, however this was The Crimson Demon, someone with unexplainable strength which far surpassed what his lean muscular body entailed. And like a domineering harpoon, Arren unleashed his right fist forward with perfect form. Bang! The First Sword¡¯s eyes popped as Arren¡¯s fist punched deep into his stomach, ignoring the thick leather armor which shielded him. Pain assaulted him, along with a sudden loss of breath. However Arren¡¯s assault was not done. He entered The First Sword¡¯s space yet again and readied another strike, sending it forth with deadly precision. The First Sword gritted his teeth then swung one of his war hammers with all his strength. He would take Arren¡¯s second blow, however the bastard would pay dearly for it. However, he was left without words when Arren''s incoming fist shifted to meet his war hammer head-on. The sound of the impact was ear wrenching. One could hear the breaking of countless bones along with the snapping of wood. To every spectator¡¯s surprise, Arren had traded the evisceration of his left hand in order to snap off the head of the war hammer from its body. The heavy steel flew a few meters away before falling beyond the designated area. Arren¡¯s hand was now smashed in, each of its bones were shattered. Yet he did not care, without any delay, and before The First Sword could utilize his second hammer, Arren unleashed a second strike, this one aimed at his head. That was the only area which remained unguarded. By the time The First Sword saw this second strike approaching all he could do was harden his face. With a deadly force, the impact arrived and The First Sword¡¯s jaw immediately caved in. Blood splat forth as his mouth now seemed to hang. The First Sword swung his second hammer to force Arren to retreat, however Arren chose to endure the blow with his body. His face contorted yet his attacks did not relent. Even with his bloodied, mangled stump, Arren kept unleashing blow after blow. Until at last The First Sword fell. With a thump his body crumbled. The First Sword felt dazed, however this duel had not ended yet. He abandoned his second hammer, seeking to equip the two swords strapped to his back. ¡°You think I would just let you?¡± Arren¡¯s sinister voice rang out as he jumped on top of the bloody First Sword. It was then that a feral second stage of their fight commenced, with the two unleashing their fists to mangle the other¡¯s face until both appeared unrecognizable. Blood flowed in all directions, their wounds became covered by hot orange sand, their teeth were knocked clean out, their lips were bust open, their noses were shattered, and yet, neither was willing to yield, to give a single inch. Arren¡¯s hand was mangled, but his almost inhuman strength allowed him to not falter behind The First Sword despite such a disadvantage. Furthermore, the further the bloody onslaught continued, the wider his grin became. It was a bloody toothless grin. He smiled because he was winning, because The First Sword¡¯s eyes already showed a glint of fear even as he desperately fought back with ferocious vigor. Sure The First Sword was landing more hits, however Arren¡¯s blows possessed more tyrannical strength to them. There was a secret to why Arren was so ferocious upon each of his battles, it was because he treated each as if he would die if he failed. Therefore, he could not allow himself to lose. Of course, even this had grown ineffective upon this third stage. But today, a day of magicless battle, it was the perfect dosage of motivative vigor. After all, when it came to combat prowess, none were his equals. Of that truth he had long since been certain of. As the bloody exchange continued, The First Sword was slowly being overwhelmed. Within the depths of The First Sword¡¯s heart, one which was ruthless and vicious, a spark of dread was slowly awakening. It was something which had never left him, merely dimming over time. It was his fear of this person, of the brat which seemed unstoppable even when one possessed all the advantages. Sure, The First Sword may have been favored by the brutal mistress which was violence, however, his foe was not just favored, he was her blessed, her beloved. After all, as if commanding an elemental nature, whenever he called forth her assistance, none ever seemed to escape his tyrannical fury. That said, The First Sword had already given a good fight. However, there was no point in continuing further. He could feel his limit approaching. Alas he had received his answer¡­ No. He would never dare call himself this person¡¯s equal. When he accepted such a reality, fear rushed forth unopposed, overflowing his heart in an instant before beginning to crush it beneath its immense weight. Bang! Bang! Bang! Eventually The First Sword¡¯s resistance grew so miniscule that Arren¡¯s blows quickly outnumbered The First Sword¡¯s own. Then when his face grew so bloody that Arren himself could no longer recognize the man before him, he felt a hand grasp his descending arm. The Record Keeper had finally intervened after the two tigers had struggled in the ground for half a dozen minutes. Arren smiled eerily when he realized what had happened. Naturally, this meant he was the victor of this bloody duel. Chapter 10 - A chance for laughter Around the designated area of the third deep crimson flag, the slaves which had remained behind even after the conclusion of their own battles were left in utter silence. They could not help but feel that their own scuffle was merely that of children enthralled in a playful exchange of skills when placed beside the sheer brutality of the duel which they laid witness to. ¡°The¡­ The First Sword lost?!¡± Finally, one of the slaves was no longer able to suppress their shock as they blurted out those words, his voice breaching through the previous silence. Those around that slave, a Dagger Ranker, looked at him with complicated stares. Sure The First Sword had lost, however, was that really so surprising when his opponent was none other than The Crimson Demon? Perhaps they had already forgotten just how domineering he had been during his reign? Everyone else however, felt a chill travel down their spines. A familiar feeling of fear towards that pale individual with unusual crimson eyes was reigniting within their hearts. The old king may have truly fallen, but a dragon which loses its wings does not suddenly become equal to a stag¡ª No, if anything, such an injured beast might just grow more ferocious and feral. Their bodies trembled at the thought of facing the youth before them like The First Sword just did. They all averted their gazes soon after, suddenly eager to have the Record Keepers announce the trial¡¯s end. Sure enough, that announcement was not long to arrive. Five minutes after Arren¡¯s bloody duel concluded, the Record Keepers loudly proclaimed the end of the exercise. They then approached the different participants, excluding those taken away for treatment, and offered them their results. ¡°Walker 248, your performance was beyond excellence. As such, you have earned yourself the full 1,000 award points. This raises your total to 101,300 points¡­¡± The Record Keeper, one long since in charge of his point tracking, stared at Arren with a mixture of emotions. Arren could easily understand what the Record Keeper felt, he was pleased with Arren¡¯s display of prowess, however he was also disappointed that it was but a glimpse into a past glory. At the end of it all, since Arren could not wield magic, the focus of this stage and a key factor of his future, he was nothing more than a defective product. Despite what was normal, the Record Keeper seemed to linger. They seemed to hesitate before adding in a neutral tone. ¡°Walker 248, there is still one more regular Battle-Grade Day for you to significantly raise your points and rank. Even if you fail to enter the Dagger Rank, the final Battle-Grade Day shall have special rules which shall allow even more points to be acquired. Do not let your talents be condemned to the sand prematurely. Should you survive, you shall make a fine addition to the Slave Army indeed.¡± Hearing such unexpected encouragement from this familiar figure, Arren''s eyes widened and he was left utterly speechless. The Record Keeper did not add anything further, simply signaling to a healer to commence their treatment of Arren¡¯s wounds. And so, the day¡¯s trial came to a close. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ***** That evening, when the slaves all were redirected to their underground slave chambers, they could not help but whisper over the many battles which occurred. They spoke of the vicious skirmish between The Sixth Sword and Golden 1, additionally, they whispered of a Silver Ranker which fought two Golden Rankers and won. They naturally spoke of the poor souls which were unfortunate enough to end up upon an area with a sole member of The 10 Swords. With no Golden Rankers, or other Ten Swords present to even hope to suppress them, those designated areas all emerged with tails of utter domination and slaughter. However, even among all the exciting chatter of the different battles, one quickly rose to the top, becoming known to everyone. Of course, it was the duel between The First Sword and The Crimson Demon. Naturally, everyone knew of their history, however while the result was not necessarily surprising, it had definitely been a bucket of cold water which rudely reminded them that the old king of the previous stage, someone which they had now grown accustom of ridiculing behind his back, was without question still no less vicious than before. Many slaves suddenly had a deep sense of apprehension emerge within their hearts. From here on, until the day that savage dog was put down, they would take better care to walk softly around him. Not everyone had felt this way however, all of The 10 Swords for example did not feel threatened by this result whatsoever. They still remembered the days of that crimson brat¡¯s reign, but today was but a glimpse into the past. A past far removed from their current present. Similar thoughts emerged within some of the more prideful Golden and Silver Rankers. As those who stood only beneath The 10 Swords, they felt a sudden urge to suppress Walker 248 before he began thinking things were still the same as the old days. Luckily for all those who felt so, and perhaps not so much for the subject of their malice, tomorrow was the second to last Battle-Grade Day. A day where the rules which allowed this wingless dragon to scuffle with the best of the best would no longer apply. After all, within this third stage your skill with magic was everything. ***** As the chatter within the slave chambers entered a new stage of fervor, the subject of so many conversations was laying down upon his stone bed. His eyes were blankly watching the ceiling of his room without any obvious emotion. Like usual, almost a routine by now, his heart was filled with worry and doubt. A feeling amplified by the fact that tomorrow promised to be a day of hard struggle, and bitter defeat. However, before he could truly wallow within such heavy emotions, a familiar voice called out to him. ¡°Looks like your popularity will know no bounds after today.¡± Hearing such, Arren smiled softly. He then turned and saw Sieg¡¯s familiar smile aimed his way. Arren¡¯s worries seemed to take a step back at that moment as he chuckled. ¡°What can I say? It is the curse of royalty I¡¯m afraid. Even fallen kings can¡¯t escape from the minds of those which they once reigned over. Much less when they ruled as efficiently as I did. Perhaps they find this new one unfit? Tell me Sieg, should I ascend the throne once more and fulfill the people¡¯s needs?¡± Sieg chuckled. ¡°Efficiently you say? I have never heard a king describe beating their subjects daily until they were but bloody pulps in such a way¡­ Then again, I have never met a king before either.¡± Arren frowned. ¡°You dare claim me a false king then?¡± ¡°Oh no, your achievements were grand, true, but king? That''s a mighty word, too mighty for your skinny body to bear. Hmm, how about Duke? Yeah, that fits you better. The Duke of Slaves! Or rather, The Fallen Duke of Slaves!¡± Arren snorted. ¡°Brat! You¡¯re skinnier than me! And I¡¯m lean, not skinny, lean!¡± ¡°Huh, who are you calling a brat, you brat!¡± The two stared angrily at each other, before they both exploded into laughter. While the rest gossiped over what had occurred and what was yet to transpire, the two friends merely indulge themselves in a moment of joyous repartee. After all, with what was promised to come, a chance for laughter should never be missed. Chapter 11 - Conversations Within the slave chambers, the two old friends laughed heartily for a few dozen seconds before finally shifting into a more serious focus. Seeing Sieg¡¯s somewhat pale visage, Arren furrowed his brows. ¡°Enough about me, what about you? How bad was the beating? Which bastard did it?¡± Sieg¡¯s eyes shifted to the side, his expression turning embarrassed along with carrying a hint of resignation within it. ¡°Well¡­ Damn, why even conclude that I suffered a beating?! Is your faith in me so miniscule?¡± For a moment Sieg appeared to almost answer honestly, however, he instead began to sourly complain. Arren sighed. ¡°Cut the shit Sieg. Within this stage you are a mighty tiger, sure, however today was different. Combat may be my specialty but we both know it isn¡¯t yours. So again, how bad and by who?¡± Arren and Sieg had known each other since the days when they had first separated from their mothers, they had both turned six back then and they both felt concerned of what exactly their fates would be upon entering the slave role stages. They had been within the same white room back then, then even more astonishingly, they ended up within the slave soldier role. Arren had thought that Sieg was rather endearing since the days of the white room. Regardless of his social ability, there was no denying that he was smart and kind. It was his company, however casual it may have been, which helped Arren first overcome the terrible anxiety which plagued him upon separating with his mother. For that simple reason, when he saw the youth struggle so intensely within the first and second stages of the soldier role, Arren had gone out of his way to help him. Thanks to that, when the end of the second stage arrived, Sieg just barely managed to survive. Arren was truly relieved for that, he even readied himself to watch his friend¡¯s third arduous struggles within the third stage, determined to assist him in whatever way he could. In retrospect, it was almost comical. Their roles had immediately reversed upon entering the third stage, Arren¡¯s ineptitude was exposed while Sieg¡¯s true talent was unraveled. And so here he was, this time it would be him bitterly struggling for survival while his friend watched worried from high above. It was a terrifying sensation. So much so that it sparked a deep sense of reverie for his friend¡¯s own will. He had never given up on his life, even when everything was so hopeless. Arren hoped to be like that too, similarly, he hoped to overcome the odds as well. After all, if Sieg managed to do so twice, then doing so once was the least he could do. Sieg hesitated to answer Arren¡¯s question for a few seconds before sighing in defeat. ¡°It was by Walker 23, he was quite feral too, shattering my left arm then stomping my face to the sand.¡± Arren¡¯s eyes shone with a hint of murderous fury. ¡°That bastard is dead tomorrow!¡± He spat angrily. However Sieg¡¯s own reaction was mellow, he merely shrugged it off. ¡°No need to do anything. I know my fighting skills have not improved so I only have myself to blame when it''s all said and done. Besides, this was just a one off. He can beat me in a magicless fight, but I¡¯d like to see him do so again in tomorrow¡¯s Battle-Grade Day.¡± Sieg¡¯s voice turned serious, a small sense of murderous intent surfacing from beneath his words. Arren took a moment to chuckle inwardly at the fact that this youth was once shy and appeared harmless. He nodded. ¡°True enough, then be sure to scorch him tomorrow, I¡¯ll be watching your duel with a wide grin in solidarity.¡± Sieg smiled. However, his expression turned pensive. ¡°Hey, the end is coming¡­ After this stage, those who win will be moved to the capital¡­¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. He hesitated but then added. ¡°You better give it your all and prepare for not just tomorrow but the final Battle-Grade Day next week. I want to hear that you will make it there at least.¡± Hearing Sieg¡¯s worry, Arren felt grateful to his friend. However at the same time, he remembered something troublesome and could not help but comment. ¡°Sieg, you talk about me making it past this stage, about hearing of me making it to the next stage, but you know full well that I¡¯ve heard your words before. When you and that bastard enact your scheme, will you really try to drag me with you?¡± Arren sat properly, his stare serious as he genuinely felt curious to hear Sieg¡¯s response. They locked eyes for a few moments before Sieg sighed once more. ¡°Look, I won¡¯t force you. Not because I¡¯m above doing that but simply because I know I can¡¯t do it. Just imagining dragging you around while you viciously fight back is a headache. My skill with magic won¡¯t help either in that situation. And if it is truly what you want, then I will respect that. However, we won¡¯t have a choice to do anything if you die. As much as I want to rush it, the plan can only be executed after the final Battle-Grade Day ends. So please, stay alive. I will respect what you decide, so survive and let¡¯s bitterly argue about how stubborn you are when the time for that fateful choice arrives.¡± Sieg spoke sincerely, his heart filled with turmoil over the thought of a possible disastrous ending. Arren¡¯s crimson eyes intently watched Sieg for a few long moments. Eventually Arren could only nod. ¡°Fine, whatever. I have to survive regardless. So stop worrying so much okay, focus on your own battles to come. If anything I think currently you have the means to dethrone one of The 10 Swords.¡± Sieg shook his head. ¡°What nonsense even is that? Are The 10 Swords a joke to you? Do they look so easy to topple?¡± Arren smiled wryly ¡°Why not? Did you perhaps not hear me do that very thing this morning?¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t count and you know it!¡± Having had the important topics dealt with, they both entered a friendlier stage of the conversation. Eventually, their discussion came to an end and Sieg bid his farewell. He then made his way over to a room located opposite of where Arren¡¯s own was situated. When he arrived he first peered into the room before his steps suddenly froze. Before him, Reed¡¯s tanned back was facing him, the person seemingly preoccupied with something as he crouched low to the ground. That was not what had startled Sieg however, instead it was the small streams of dripping blood which littered the floor above Reed¡¯s feet. Sieg¡¯s brows knitted slightly as he coughed a few times. His doing so immediately made Reed¡¯s body jolt in surprise as he turned his head at a record speed. His expression was that of obvious wariness. However, upon seeing Sieg¡¯s familiar figure, his body relaxed and he let out a sigh of relief. ¡°Sieg, it''s just you¡­ Damn don¡¯t scare me like that.¡± Reed stood up from his crouched state and properly turned to face Sieg. As he did he discarded a small shard which he was grasping. Sieg¡¯s blue eyes could not help but wander towards the source of Reed¡¯s bleeding. His knitted brows somewhat relaxed as he pointed to Reed¡¯s chest, specifically to the left side of his chest where, right above his heart, was a faintly glowing circle engraved with many patterns of lines. Around the skin of that circle were small gashes which Reed seemed to have caused to himself, thus the bleeding. ¡°Another experiment?¡± Sieg asked. Reed naturally understood Sieg¡¯s concern and quickly waved his hands. ¡°Yes, but do not worry, I am not foolish enough to carve it out. I value my life, you know.¡± Hearing Reed¡¯s reassurance, Sieg¡¯s brows finally relaxed. ¡°Good then.¡± He said simply as he stepped inside the small room. Although Sieg knew Reed had been experimenting within his own time, he had never seen him carve so near his chest before. After all, if anything threatened the slave mark, then he could very well trigger it to pop open a hole onto his chest by accident. Reed reached out for his gray shirt and began using it to clear out his trickling wounds. ¡°You done talking with Walker 248?¡± He asked neutrally. Sieg nodded. ¡°Yeah, sorry did I take longer than usual today?¡± Reed shook his head. ¡°No, no, one should cherish their loved ones before their passing after all.¡± Hearing his mockery, Sieg snorted. ¡°Reed, stop with the shit talk. He will be okay, and after you see for yourself, I will convince him to come with us.¡± Reed could not help but roll his eyes at Sieg¡¯s proclamation. ¡°Even if he survives, you really believe he will agree¡­ To escape with us that is? That dog is far too afraid of death to ever try something so bold. I hate ambitionless people like him, actually I hate every slave here beyond you.¡± Sieg merely waved his hand as he stretched his back leisurely. ¡°Sure, sure. Like I said, I¡¯ll convince him. However, before anything else we need to make sure the plan is still solid. So, on that note, have your experiments achieved a breakthrough yet?¡± At this moment, Reed flashed Sieg a wide grin, exposing his pearly white teeth. ¡°I believe I finally figured out the method.¡± Grasping to where his slave mark was, which dimly glowed with white radiance, his voice suddenly had a spike in complicated emotions as he continued. ¡°This was the final part of my prying. We should finally be ready.¡± Sieg turned exuberant at such a revelation. ¡°Is that so?! Did you really figure out how to break the slave mark?!¡± Reed nodded, his grin turning even more radiant. ¡°Naturally, I am an unrivaled genius after all.¡± And so, while the night entered its late stages, two slaves silently discussed an outrageous scheme. One which perhaps no slave within The Sounra Kingdom¡¯s history had ever dared to enact. Chapter 12 - Foreign Prince The Seventh Twenty-Second of the Sixth 87 FA An hour before the sunrise, within the city of Al-Intys, a certain slave with pale skin and deep crimson eyes awakened with a heart full of trepidation. Regardless of his hesitation though, he steeled himself for what the day had prepared for him. Such was the weight of his desire for survival. Meanwhile, upon the vast desert expanse of The Sounra Kingdom, the sun slowly rose. Its embrace quickly engulfed the land of sand, causing each of the kingdom¡¯s many cities to quickly become a beacon of vibrant activity. Amongst the kingdom¡¯s seven vast cities, two were crucially located upon its easternmost end. Those being its two famous market cities; Rellunh, The North Eastern Market City and Gurenh, The South Eastern Market City. They were situated just a few kilometers from the kingdom¡¯s vast borders with their eastern neighbors, those being The Land of Labyrinths, Home of Hell; The Laywin Kingdom, and The Desert Oasis, Land of the Eternal River; The Nation of Pladus. Naturally with how popular The Sounra Kingdom¡¯s slave industry was, many different customers, adventurers, noblemen, and wealthy merchants would travel the arduous borders for the chance of acquiring their desired products. For that reason, the two market cities were the most bustling cities within the entirety of The Sounra Kingdom. They were also the cities which at any given time had more foreigners within their walls than actual born Sounrans. Today was no exception from that norm. The moment the sun fully rose, within the City of Rellunh, the markets came to life. Countless foreigners exited their stables and alongside them were the city residents as they began their busy day. While the city residents had their work to focus on, the numerous foreigners had already begun storming into the city¡¯s many markets which peppered its grand expanse. Naturally, they were all covered by robes which helped them combat against the searing heat. They were all also of different backgrounds which made for stand out contrasts when one compared different groups. The most obvious of these differences was that of the humans and those of the beast-race. While most chose to hide their animal features, if one looked hard enough, they could quickly discover them among the large crowds. That was especially true to those of the beast-race which possessed eye-catching horns or antlers which stuck out from their heads. However, even when amongst such distinguishing crowds, three figures cladded in the standard gray robes walked about leisurely. The three figures consisted of two men and a sole woman. They walked in a somewhat sloppy triangle formation whereas the youngest of the three walked ahead with great leisure while the two tailed his back. To the right back side, the second male figure walked with a heavy load of supplies strapped to the leather bag on his back. Although his face was covered by the hood of his gray robe, that could not hide his older features such as his white beard and wrinkled cheeks. To his left, the sole woman walked as she glanced at each of the passing stalls. Her perfect curves were unable to be hidden by her robes while her temperament was that of utter elegance, even as the sun battered down at her. Underneath the shadow of her raised hood was a perfectly proportioned face with smooth jade-like skin which made her appear like a beautifully sculptured porcelain doll. As they continued to pass by stall after stall, the young man leading the trio suddenly halted before one which had a plethora of jewelry laid bare for all to be tempted by. The two behind him naturally halted their walk as well. Meanwhile, the young man¡¯s focus was upon the elderly lady overseeing the stall. With a gentle voice he asked. ¡°Madam, might you tell me about these jewelries? They appear beautifully crafted, it is truly a crime to find such treasures hidden upon this small market.¡± The young man''s entire temperament overflowed with both confidence and charm as he spoke. The elderly lady meanwhile gave a toothy smile. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°How kind young sir, I thank you for your words. My jewelry is bought from merchants of The Laywin Kingdom, however, that is merely the raw materials¡­¡± The elderly lady stood from her seat and pulled back the curtain situated behind her. The moment she did, an entirely unseen part of her small business was revealed. Behind the curtain was a wide room filled with numerous working tables, shelves, raw materials, and tools. Walking about rapidly with practiced synergy were a group of young girls cladded in white dresses, each responsible with managing a section of the production process. ¡°These are my slaves, they work with great skill each day to ensure my business¡¯s prosperity. I have them to thank for the quality of my products.¡± Turning her head back to the young man, the elderly lady¡¯s smile grew even wider, this time however, there was a clear hint of greed shimmering beneath her brown eyes. ¡°Naturally, this being Sounra, I also have these slaves for sale. Should you be interested then I can assure you a reasonable price¡­ Hmm how about 20 Silver Pens?¡± There it is, truly without fail huh¡­ Thinking inwardly while smiling beneath his hood, the young man shook his head. ¡°Ah, my apologies madam, however circumstances prevent my purchasing of slaves at the moment. For now just the jewelry alone shall be enough.¡± ¡°Hmm, are you certain young sir? I can assure you that you shall regret nothing, I am even willing to lower it to 15 Silver Pens.¡± The young man shook his head once again. Understanding that she had no means for a greater transaction, the elderly lady gave up and returned to her seat. As she did, she eagerly began explaining some notable information of the products before her. ¡°Quite detailed indeed. I must say, the people of Sounra have mastered the art of business.¡± The elderly lady chuckled. ¡°Heh-heh, I must say that your tongue is of the finest silver. So which shall it be?¡± The young man pointed at a red necklace with intricate patterns etched onto its rubies. ¡°This one.¡± The elderly lady¡¯s eyes shone with excitement. ¡°Excellent choice young sir! It shall be 10 Copper Pens or 1 Silver Pen.¡± The young man nodded, however pausing slightly, he curiously asked. ¡°I do apologize, I should have asked sooner, however do you perhaps accept Vanastrean currency? It is all which I currently possess.¡± The elderly woman¡¯s expression froze, before her eyes shimmered with delight. Then with a realization she asked. ¡°Young sir, are you a Vanastrean? Heh-heh, no wonder your accent sounded somewhat off, it all accounts now.¡± The young man smiled, then said in a self-deprecating tone. ¡°Ah, yes, you see I have studied Southern Gianese to its mastery, however I neglected the much more difficult Dornish Dialect. As a result I can only speak it crudely. I do apologize if it has offended you.¡± The elderly woman shook her head, her elation untarnished. ¡°Nonsense! You speak it well enough young sir, I merely asked to satisfy my own curiosity. And as for your earlier inquiry, yes, Vanastrean currency is more than acceptable. In fact, I welcome it.¡± Hearing such, the young man gestured for the figure not far from him. ¡°Vince, add it with the rest.¡± The elderly figure cladded in gray robes, Vince Marcel, nodded and proceeded to purchase the desired item. As he did, the beautiful woman approached the young man¡¯s side. Upon seeing her do so, the young man donned a smile as he asked. ¡°These are some fine jewelry, what do you think Rosena? Shall it prove as a perfect gift for my dear sister?¡± The figure which he addressed, Rosena Hayward, could not help but openly sigh as she whispered. ¡°Your royal highness, we have already bought a mountain¡¯s worth of treasures for the crown princess. If we continue to loiter about for yet another day, then not only shall our finances continue to dwindle, but I¡¯m afraid that the king shall think you perished under my watch.¡± Hearing Rosena¡¯s sweet voice host such an exasperated tone brought some amusement to the young man. He chuckled. ¡°Perish under your watch? Surely you jest, is such a thing even possible?¡± Rosena held back another sigh and then spoke helplessly. ¡°Your royal highness, I was merely exaggerating my point a bit. Please do not act as if you misunderstood. If we do not hurry and deal with the task placed by your father, then he might grow impatient.¡± Hearing her concern, the young man cladded in gray robes chuckled once more. ¡°Heh-Heh, I have been procrastinating on my assignment most certainly, however, before anything else I prefer to become acquainted with the many sides of such a close allied kingdom. Do not worry though, my royal father shall never grow impatient I¡¯m afraid. He is simply too stagnant of a person for such things.¡± Seeing that Vince, his retainer, was done purchasing the necklace, the young man bid his farewell then began walking upon the bustling streets of the small market which they found themselves in. Not forgetting his conversation however, the young man soon turned to address the beautiful Rosena which had silenced her concerns and began following him. ¡°Worry not Rosena, I have loitered long enough. I already planned to take action today and begin our travel towards the capital.¡± Hearing such a conformation, Rosena let out a sigh of relief before nodding. The young man meanwhile, returned his focus to the market before him. As he did, his gentle smile soon faded and his ocean blue eyes turned cold. Today, William Emestra, first son of King Andor Emestra The Second, royal prince of The Vanastrea Kingdom, and its current ambassador, readied himself to at last take action upon the task ordered of him after two long days of leisure sightseeing. Chapter 13 - Requesting an Audience Continuing further down his walk, William calmly watched the city¡¯s lively scenery. He quite liked its bustling personality and had become rather interested in exploring its many intricacies within the last two days. Such was the nature of his character. However, while it may have appeared that he paid the important task assigned to him by his father little care, the truth could not be more opposite. William would never dare take anything which involved the affairs of his kingdom lightly. Furthermore, he would never do so when the issue which he had been sent in to mediate involved the armed conflict between one of Vanastrea¡¯s warships and The Sounra Kingdom¡¯s South Eastern Port City; Al-Neryda. Such a skirmish would, under normal circumstances, have already sparked a deadly war between the two kingdom¡¯s naval powers. However, considering the special relationship between the two kingdoms, that of dominator and vessel, William¡¯s job here was simple. It was to remind The Sounra Kingdom that regardless of the circumstances, they should never forget that daring to act against them would result in a retaliation which would crumble the very idea of this desert kingdom to the ground. Their alliance aside, The Vanastrea Kingdom was currently regarded as the most powerful land within the known world. A product of the sheer amount of Great Powers which walked within its borders. Such beings were unrivaled among both heaven and earth, as a result, it is said that even a Dragon would not dare fly too high within its lands. And within The Fifth Age, The Dragon Age, The Great Ranks were everything. However, while William did not wish to limit his harsh approach, he better than anyone knew a troublesome truth. The current Vanastrea Kingdom stood too divided to properly move the powers underneath its skies. As such, no matter how vexing, William would need to appease this nation somewhat. That cursed father of mine has truly troubled me this time¡­ Thinking such to himself, William, along with Vince and Rosena, at last exited the small market which they had been traversing. Upon doing so, he immediately reached out and called forth a passing carriage currently being dragged by a large four-legged lizard-like creature. The creature possessed orange scales which would have blended perfectly with the sand had the entire city¡¯s ground not been padded by stone. The driver noticed William¡¯s call and immediately pulled upon the reins to halt the beast. The broad four-legged lizard released a low growl which made one''s body vibrate even when situated more than ten meters away. William did not hesitate to take cover under the carriage''s embrace, Rosena followed suit while Vince began speaking with the driver. Within a dozen seconds, the carriage began moving once more. They traversed the city for a following hour before finally arriving at their destination. The trio then exited the carriage and proceeded to pay the owed amount to the driver. William then turned to face a massive yard which was hidden behind a thick ten meter tall rampart. Around the wall¡¯s gate were numerous soldiers cladded in rust colored armor, none bothered by their attire even as the scorching heat assaulted them. Seeing such, William commented. ¡°They are men of endurance if nothing else.¡± Glancing upon him, Rosena added. ¡°Your royal highness, while I hate to cheapen the facade, their armors actually have runes engraved into them. They are disguised well, seeming as nothing more than decorative features of their armor. However, when passing them, the Atmospheric-Mana around them is being moved, flowing through the runes and towards the two Fire Mana-Gems etched to their vambraces. It is a rather impressive method to ward away the heat.¡± Raising his eyebrows slightly, William¡¯s lips curled into a charming smile. ¡°Rosena, your title is truly earned, I doubt many could notice such things upon a glance alone.¡± Rosena shook her head before continuing with a hint of enthusiasm. ¡°Actually it is rather simple, I am certain any Sorcerer above the Initial-Rank could do so at a glance. Language Magic is not known to be subtle upon activation after all.¡± William chuckled. ¡°Not subtle for magic users you mean¡­ Regardless, since we do not share the luxury they do, let us not linger.¡± William began walking towards the distant gate, arriving before them shortly after. When he did however, three guards stepped forth and warily glanced at them. One of them then stepped forward, his visage was rough and possessed both a thick beard and a set of bushy brows while completely lacking a speck of hair upon his shimmering head. Additionally, his armor had a more elaborate design etched onto its rust colored surface, along with him being the only one present which wore a maroon cloak made of fine cloth. Upon seeing him, it was rather easy to discern that he was the guard captain. When examining the three unknown figures, the guard captain, Lardah-Ru, could not help but knit his brows as his voice turned unfriendly. Booming forth, he demanded. ¡°Halt! State your purpose for nearing the pristine estate of The Venerable-Warden!¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. As Lardah-Ru¡¯s voice traveled forth, the two guards to his side reached for their sword handles as a soft emerald green illusory glow began emitting from their bodies. That subtle glow soon grew more ferocious, raging around the two guard¡¯s bodies like illusory fires before transforming into a palpable pressure which extended outwards. As the two invisible pressures rushed forth, they seemed to distort the sun¡¯s light wherever they passed. Upon seeing this, William¡¯s brows furrowed before he felt the pressure slam into his body. As a result both he and Vince were made to take a few steps back. ¡°They are rather boorish, aren¡¯t they.¡± William said coldly before then defiantly taking a few steps forward, returning to his previous standing. Naturally the two pressures continued to assault him however he found the thought of yielding to them once more as unbecoming. To his side, seeing the invisible force impact William, Rosena, who remained unshaken this entire time, suddenly furrowed her smooth brows. Her eyes then shone with a murderous fury before she quickly calmed herself. They are but victims of ignorance. As she thought so, she casually swiped her right hand whilst saying in a cold voice; ¡°I shall never understand why swordsmen feel so eager to flaunt their Auranic Pressure wherever they go.¡± When her hand finished its leisure gesture, the space around her trembled as a gust of wind suddenly gathered and shot forth. The power of the wind gust immediately overpowered the invisible pressures which lingered throughout the air before splitting into two streaks of raging tides which directly targeted the two guards. The two guards could not even think of reacting before their bodies were hit by what felt like a mountain ramming into them at a tremendous speed. Their armors immediately imploded, causing numerous shards of steel to dig into every inch of their flesh before they were sent flying back like human javelins. Bang! Bang! Soon after, the two guards impacted the thick stone rampart which surrounded the grand estate. The stone did not give in under the impact, however the two human javelins did, the sound of their bones shattering to countless smithereens reverberated throughout. The rest of the guards watched on with absolute terror in their eyes as two Initial-Rank Swordsmen were turned into bloody pulps before them. Some immediately ran to help their fellow soldiers while the rest glanced warily at the unknown figures. And in front of them all was Lardah-Ru. Currently his eyes too shared in his guard¡¯s terror as he crossed his arms before his face. His heavy steel boots were deeply etched onto the stone floor while two vertical lines which began where he had previously stood and ended where he was currently situated could be seen. Lardah-Ru¡¯s bushy brows were tightly knit together as his expression turned ugly and his entire body trembled slightly. He had not been targeted, yet just their passing resulted in such a powerful pushback. Had he not tensed himself with all of his strength, then he might have very well been lifted high in the air by the two terrifying gusts of wind. Such a display of power was appalling! Especially so because he was of The Ascended-Rank. Trepidation filled his heart as he stared at the three figures before him, most especially at the slender beauty cladded in gray robes. Prior, she had not even made a sound, yet now, her every movement seemed to be accompanied with small shimmering''s of light which danced around her. It was as if the world itself was exuberant to be near her. Sensing something, he stared down at his armor, at the runes which decorated it. Lardah-Ru saw its previously unseen flowing of Atmospheric-Mana being sucked away from it, causing its cooling effect to begin weakening. His eyes grew wide as he quickly raised his head. Only then did he notice yet another harrowing thing. Like a subtle vortex, the Atmospheric-Mana all around them was moving towards her. Drawn uncontrollably to her. His body trembled once more, however this time much more viciously. Could she be¡­?! With a horse, trembling voice he asked. ¡°W-Who¡ª Who are you all?!¡± As William heard those words and saw the utter terror upon the head guard¡¯s expression, he could not help but sigh inwardly. Despite how they had reacted, he could not take offense to their aggression, after all, as he was now, who would ever believe he was of any importance? Good thing the elders of the distant past had great wisdom. He thought as he reached into his pockets and took out an insignia carved from gold and engraved with many diamonds. As Lardah-Ru¡¯s shaken vision fell upon the small item, he heard William¡¯s calm voice proclaim. ¡°Hello soldiers of Rellunh, my name is William Emestra, royal prince of The Vanastrea Kingdom. I am here to beseech you to inform Barunh-Ru, The City¡¯s Venerable-Warden, that I request an audience with him.¡± Lardah-Ru, along with the swarms of guards behind him fell into a momentary state of utter stupefaction. After all, on a regular day, without any prior warning, and from a group which appeared like insignificant commoners, such a harrowing proclamation arose. Lardah-Ru was the first to recover. Pondering solemnly, the situation from just moments ago suddenly became clear. Meanwhile, behind him, some of his soldiers felt ill will towards the unknown individuals which had hurt their fellow comrades, they instinctively wanted to reject this supposed identity, however the insignia was a far too irrefutable evidence for them to ignore. Doing so might very well lead to their heads being detached from their bodies. Furthermore, with such a show of might by the slender woman to the side of the young man making the proclamation, any sparks of doubt quickly faded. Rapidly adjusting himself, Lardah-Ru turned to his men and ordered. ¡°Take the two for treatment.¡± Now that it was revealed who these figures were, the fact that the lives of the two guards were spared even after what they had done was nothing short of a miracle, or perhaps a sign of their benevolence. As his guards followed his commands, Lardah-Ru turned to face the three figures before bowing his head low. ¡°Venerable-Highness, I ask that you forgive my previous discourtesy¡­¡± William shook his head. ¡°It is a past matter already so worry not, however shall my request be granted?¡± Lardah-Ru raised his lowered head before speaking forth apologetically. ¡°Venerable-Highness, I am afraid that your request may not be possible.¡± William¡¯s brows knitted as his eyes asked the obvious question; why not? Lardah-Ru could only nervously continue under such a gaze. ¡°Venerable-Highness, Barunh-Ru; The Venerable-Warden, has fallen ill¡­¡± Seeing that William¡¯s face turned more complicated, Lardah-Ru hastily added. ¡°However, there is still another figure whom you can seek an audience with, he shall perhaps be more fitting for your company than even The Venerable-Warden¡­ That is none other than The Sounra Kingdom¡¯s First Son; Ceunh-Ru Sounra, our Venerated-Prince.¡± William¡¯s brows could not help but raise upon hearing the guard''s words. Before entering The Sounra Kingdom from its eastern border with The Laywin Kingdom, he had already read over the known information of all the seven current wardens, the heads of each city. However, nothing had suggested that the royal children of Sounra ever ventured regularly towards any of the two market cities. Is this perhaps due to the warden falling ill? Hmm, well I suppose it matters little. After a moment of silent pondering, he nodded. ¡°Very well, then let us meet with this esteemed figure.¡± Lardah-Ru quickly nodded profusely before turning and barking at his men. Immediately after, all the guards exploded into a cacophony of activity. Shortly after, the large steel gates groaned as they were pulled back. ¡°Please, follow me.¡± Heeding his call, the three began following Lardah-Ru beyond the gate. Chapter 14 - Succession Trial It did not take long for the trio to be escorted into a large elegant manor which towered at the heart of not just the grand estate but the city itself. Upon entry, Lardah-Ru directed them towards one of its many expansive waiting rooms. Inside they were met by a tall dome-shaped ceiling which was adorned with beautiful murals. The murals depicted the desert¡¯s vast reach along with figures cladded in elaborate armor and even horrid monsters which laid slaughtered beneath their feet. Aside from such, at the ceiling¡¯s peak, an elegant chandelier hung high while to the room¡¯s side were mighty shelves hosting numerous books. At the center of the room was a long table carved out of pristine white jade. To its side were a total of ten seats made of the finest wood with golden outlines adorning them. The final notable feature was the wide half oval shaped window which exposed the bustling activity currently situated within the estate. Having been taken here, neither William nor Rosena stood in ceremony and immediately took a seat for themselves. Vince was the only exception to this as he merely walked to William''s side and stood there silently. Having finally escaped the sun¡¯s relentless onslaught, they had all removed their hoods. Now left bare was Rosena¡¯s dazzling face. Her beauty was worthy of being called exceptional. The soft features of her visage were perfectly complemented by her emerald green eyes and wavy brown hair which cascaded down to her shoulders. Naturally, her elegant temperament had yet to recede once, even as she made the most leisure of motions such as seeping the fragrant tea she had been handed. Similarly, William¡¯s own charm did not lose out to her in the least. He possessed a well defined jawline, smooth pale skin, ocean blue eyes, and bright golden hair which remained neatly kept. Although his youth did make his face possess a somewhat childish bearing, the sharpness in his eyes would deter anyone from ever daring to treat him with anything less than the utmost respect. As they waited, servants would occasionally enter with trays filled with delicacies. Beyond that, a few maids also entered before silently standing upon the corner of the room, ready to accommodate any request which the esteemed guests desired. Then after half an hour of waiting, the heavy doors were pulled back and a figure clad in a long majestic robe stepped forth. The figure¡¯s majestic robes perfectly complemented his stern temperament. Furthermore, decorative silver chains rested upon his neck, shoulders, and wrists, contrasting beautifully with the fine cloth which was of a deep maroon color. He possessed tanned skin, light brown eyes, and smooth black hair which was neatly slit back. Of course, the person which stood before them was The First Son of The Sounra Kingdom, Ceunh-Ru Sounra, The Venerated-Prince. Standing with his hands hidden behind his back, Ceunh-Ru¡¯s eyes immediately locked with William¡¯s own as a confused and somewhat troubled expression appeared upon his chiseled face. ¡°Venerated-William, I do apologize for my late entry, however I had never expected to meet such a mighty figure without any warning beforehand.¡± William chuckled. ¡°Ah, yes, yes. I am to blame for that. You see, I was in the middle of my own affairs within The Laywin Kingdom when word of what occurred in The Port City of Al-Neryda reached my notice. Soon after, my father sent me an order to serve as ambassador and mediate this matter.¡± Upon hearing William¡¯s words, Ceunh-Ru¡¯s expression turned somewhat cold. When he spoke once more, his voice lost some of its previous reverence and shifted into a more neutral tone. ¡°So The Vanastrea Kingdom, in its great wisdom, sent only you? After nearly two weeks of utter indifference no less? I do apologize if this shall sound harsh, however that is an insult after we have patiently awaited their response and halting any retaliatory actions even as the people of Al-Neryda protested fiercely that we do so.¡± William¡¯s amicable smile subtly shifted, turning somewhat cold. Similarly, his voice lost some of its friendliness. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°They sent a royal prince, who better to make amends than me? Furthermore, is Sounra so concerned with the cries of a single city that it would jeopardize the long standing relationship between our kingdoms? Tell me, is war what you would have preferred Venerated-Ceunh-Ru? Has Sounra perhaps forgotten what occurred the last time it dared to act against us?¡± Ceunh-Ru''s expression darkened as he snorted. ¡°Your status is high, of that there is no denying. However, you are but a child still. We require those with the wisdom in foreign affairs to be present, else how shall we guarantee we are not being made fools of¡­¡± Ceunh-Ru¡¯s eyebrows turned into a weak scowl as he continued, his voice turning cold. ¡°Furthermore, how dare you come here and pretend as if the bombardment of a city section by a warship is a simple matter which should be brushed aside. The truth of the matter is that Sounran blood was spilled, lives were reaped, and then what? We are to look past that? The very fact that we share such a close relationship should have warranted more respect. That is especially the case when we have appeased The Vanastrea Kingdom¡¯s every demand for over a century now. To be frank, the very fact that your first urge is to threaten total war when you were the aggressors perfectly displays how unfitting to mediate you are.¡± Quite brazen, isn¡¯t he? William¡¯s smile had completely faded. He now looked on at Ceunh-Ru with an aloof expression. Understanding the anger which Ceunh-Ru currently felt, William decided to halt his bickering here. The fact was that doing so would gain him nothing for Ceunh-Ru held no authority over this matter. He sighed. ¡°In any case, I am who came and so I shall handle it. On how offensive it is or how fitting I am, only your father has the right to decide such. On that note, I had wanted to come here and meet with the city warden so that he could inform the king of my arrival to Sounra and the scheduling of our impending audience. However I was surprised to find that not only is he ill, but you are currently within Rellunh. Tell me Venerated-Ceunh-Ru, what brings you here?¡± Seeing that William did not wish to argue further, Ceunh-Ru naturally did not continue as well. While his feelings on the matter were rather sour, he knew there was a fine line of disrespect which he could walk. Sighing he answered William¡¯s inquiry as his brows knitted. ¡°It is as you have heard. The Venerable-Warden has been ill for the past two weeks, as such I have fully taken over all management responsibilities for Rellunh. However even had the warden not fallen ill I would still have done the same, just to a lesser extent.¡± William raised a brow. Ceunh-Ru meanwhile continued. ¡°Venerated-William, you may be unaware of this, however unlike The Vanastrea Kingdom, The Sounra Kingdom does not believe that just because you are born first then it means you possess the right to inherit the throne. No. Capability is everything. That is what we have believed since the day of our conception and shall continue to believe until the time comes that our kingdom returns to the sand. Just like everything, trials are taken, history is accounted for, reputation is earned, and then, only then, can one be given anything.¡± Ceunh-Ru made a gesture with his hands which signified him pointing out the entire estate. ¡°We of the royal family undergo what is known as The Succession Trial. It involves taking a year to manage one of Sounra¡¯s cities under the careful supervision of the city¡¯s respective wardens. After every year, we move to a different city and repeat the process for a total of six years. The reviews of the wardens, measured by the stocks which they buy under our name, shall be what determines which royal child shall be named the crown prince or princess. So to answer you Venerated-William, that is why I am here¡­¡± William nodded in enlightenment. ¡°Then I must wish you luck. With my curiosity satiated, tell me, shall you grant my request in the warden¡¯s stead?¡± Ceunh-Ru naturally would not reject William, however, his expression turned somewhat dark as he sighed. ¡°While I am rather busy, worry not it shall be done¡­ However, Venerated-William, I do apologize but I can not assist you in making the journey towards the capital itself. I may be dissatisfied with The Vanastrea Kingdom¡¯s decision of sending you, however that would not have made me neglect my duties as host should my hands not already been tied so tightly with the issue of the warden¡¯s illness.¡± With the appearance of such a high status individual, not to mention that of royalty, then the standard course was for the warden to ensure their passage through the desert with a grand force acting as protection. Despite hearing such, William appeared unbothered. His lips soon curled as a smile appeared on his handsome face. ¡°Worry not, I understand fully. Actually, this shall work even better for me. I am an enjoyer of traveling to new lands and seeing its every intricacies. Therefore, I am rather pleased at the chance to try out your City Traveling Services which have been mentioned to me by many within Rellunh¡¯s markets.¡± Ceunh-Ru¡¯s worry subsided somewhat, as a result he nodded before quickly excusing himself. He was quite busy after all and this audience had truly been unexpected. Had it not been related to Vanastrea¡¯s royalty then he very well would have refused to meet anyone. William understood this and did not hold him. However, just as Ceunh-Ru was about to exit the grand waiting room, his steps halted. ¡°Ah, one final thing, Venerated-William. Even if you travel to the capital using Rellunh¡¯s services, please understand that the journey might be one harsher than usual. Currently our desert has been restless and fierce.¡± Pausing slightly, Ceunh-Ru¡¯s eyes suddenly acquired an emotion which none present could discern. ¡°Such a thing is a result of a Morthak¡¯s appearance. A Great Ranked Hell-Fiend which has not been seen within our lands since The Chaos Age.¡± Chapter 15 - Suspicion After passing down his warning, Ceunh-Ru did not linger any further and promptly exited the grand waiting room. Just a minute after he had, the familiar figure of Lardah-Ru returned to escort them out. Just like so, without any trouble, they exited the estate. Just outside the rampart was also a carriage which had been acquired by the estate guards. Naturally it would be a service free of charge. As per the norm, Vince began his discussion with the driver while William and Rosena entered inside. Half a minute after, the four-legged lizard-like creature let out a low roar before it began moving its legs forth. Upon seeing the carriage slowly take away the three esteemed figures, Lardah-Ru could not help but sigh in relief. The figure of the woman cladded in gray, along with her tremendous strength, had really left him with a restless feeling. Only now that she was gone could he at last relax somewhat¡­ Meanwhile, inside the carriage, William was currently seated upon the carriage¡¯s right end, his body facing the way forward. To his left was Rosena¡¯s dazzling figure as she sat with unbridled elegance while Vince sat facing them both. The heavy bag which he dragged around everywhere currently rested to his side, like a fourth passenger. As the carriage moved forth with a steady pace, William¡¯s ocean blue eyes were fixed on the window nearest to him. Buildings of different shapes and heights could be seen passing by, their only commonality being that they all were forged with lime-stone. Upon every corner were countless stalls which littered the city¡¯s expanse. Some forged markets of different sizes while others stood alone. When witnessing this, one would easily understand why Rellunh was considered a prominent market city and a beacon of many allures. However, despite staring upon the scenery, William¡¯s mind was not registering anything. After a few minutes of deep thought, his brows slowly knitted into a slight frown. That did not go unnoticed by the other two present inside the carriage. Both Rosena and Vince¡¯s expressions turned concerned as Rosena directly inquired. ¡°Your Royal Highness, is something wrong? Hmm, are you perhaps bothered by the news of potentially encountering this Morthak Hell-Fiend upon our journey?¡± Realizing that he had made his troubled state of mind plain for them to see, William¡¯s brows loosened as he flashed them an embarrassed smile. ¡°Ah, my apologies, I was unable to mask my thoughts¡­ However, worry not. Even if we were to encounter this Morthak, so long as you are by my side Rosena, then what is there to fear?¡± Rosena gave a helpless smile upon realizing the extent of William¡¯s faith in her. ¡°I am honored, however a Great Rank shall be no easy foe, even for me. Your royal highness, I ask that you do not inflate your expectations of me.¡± At her response, William''s expression did not shift. It was evident that he did not believe Rosena¡¯s attempts to downcast her capabilities. To that Rosena could only sigh before once again inquiring. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Then if not the Morthak, what has you so troubled?¡± Upon her question, William furrowed his brows once more. Instead of answering though, he asked a question of his own. ¡°Rosena, does Detoxification Magic or Healing Magic help with illnesses?¡± Somewhat startled by his inquiry, Rosena did not immediately respond. However, after a slight pause, she began speaking in an excited tone. ¡°Detoxification and Healing Magics are specialty branches. Detoxification Magic is mainly focused upon countering poisons along with having purification properties. Healing Magic on the other hand focuses upon mending injuries, from large to small. However, that said, Detoxification Magic has proven to help with illnesses somewhat if cast over a period of five to seven days. How quickly it is effective depends on a multitude of variables; however given how slow the process is for most, it is not seen as better than conventional medication. Hmm, I believe that covers it.¡± Rosena had gotten elated in talking about the art which she cared for dearly that only after she finished her monologue did she realize a troubling thought. ¡°Your royal highness, this knowledge should be part of your education course. Have you perhaps not been taking your studies seriously?¡± Being subjected to Rosena¡¯s suspicious emerald green eyes, William could not help but chuckle slightly. ¡°A fanatic indeed¡­ I have not been ignoring my studies, worry not. I just needed confirmation.¡± Hearing this, Rosena¡¯s soft brows furrowed slightly. Suddenly a guess emerged within her mind as she asked. ¡°Your royal highness, could it be that you wish for me to treat the warden? If so then I must insist against doing so, even for me, the process shall still take two to three days. We have already agreed that we can not loiter any longer have we not?¡± William flashed Rosena a charming smile before shaking his head. He then lifted two fingers. ¡°No, no, you have misunderstood. It is not my place to help them even if I wished to do so, and I do not wish so. However if what you mentioned to me is accurate, then is it not strange that the warden has been sick for two entire weeks now?¡± Only upon having it pointed out did both Rosena and Vince suddenly widen their eyes slightly. Seeing that they understood, William added. ¡°The wardens are second only to the royals, I find it difficult to believe that they have yet to deploy a Sorcerer to aid him recover¡­¡± Pausing for a moment, he added the final part in a serious tone. ¡°Something is not right here¡­¡± Both Rosena and Vince fell into silence as they pondered. Eventually Rosena broke the silence by asking William directly. ¡°If your suspicion is correct, then what do you wish to do?¡± William''s serious demeanor immediately faded away as he merely shrugged. ¡°For now, nothing. However¡­¡± Shifting his eyes to Vince, William smiled. ¡°Vince, me and Rosena shall continue to the capital. You shall remain behind, I want you to tell me if there are any changes such as if the warden re-emerges. I also want that you gather information, dig into everything which seems odd. Most especially look into any information regarding Sorcerers which can perform Detoxification Magic within this city. If you do find anything of note, write to me with the usual method.¡± Vince did not hesitate to agree. As a royal retainer, his lord¡¯s whims were just as powerful as any law. ¡°As you wish.¡± Satisfied with this, William returned his focus upon the scenery flashing past him. As he did, he murmured to himself. ¡°Let us see what you are hiding, oh Venerated-Prince¡­¡± Chapter 16 - Masters of Business With its steady pace, it took the carriage another hour for it to arrive at the requested destination, that being The City Traveling Service''s main office. Situated on the far west side of the vast city, just a few roads north of Rellunh¡¯s western gates, was a massive five story building with a wide yard full of bustling activity. Upon arrival, William and Rosena saw that they were far from the first to arrive. All around them many more carriages were also coming to a halt with numerous different figures stepping forth and heading directly towards the double-wooden doors of the main office. Naturally, William did not linger under the sun¡¯s embrace and promptly entered the lime-stone building with Rosena to his side. Just moments before they had arrived at their location, Vince had already exited the carriage with the goal of immediately seeing through with William¡¯s command. Now left as a pair, they entered through the wide doors. Almost instantaneously the overlapping of countless voices assaulted their ears. The inside of the main office was rather vast, remaining spacious even as crowd after crowd stepped inside and walked freely about. Furthermore, upon entry one could witness that every corner of the building had a desk with a few personnel ready and willing to assist whichever person or group alike walked towards them. The clerks numbered in the thirties and were easily distinguishable by the pure white robes which they wore. Even now, with how bustling the crowds inside the hall were, William was surprised to see that eleven clerks remained free. Not placing too much thought onto his choice, William promptly walked towards the nearest desk he could find. Situated behind the one he chose was a beautiful woman with lightly-tanned skin, dark hair, and lovely blue eyes. With a myriad of papers before her, she merely looked upon the bustling main hall with a gentle and friendly smile. When she noticed William approaching, the woman stood, adjusted her white robes then briskly bowed. ¡°Hello travelers and Sounrans alike! I welcome you to Rellunh¡¯s inner city travel organization where we strive to ensure that no fiend threatens your safety while under our watch. Beyond that, our guides also have rich experience traversing the desert¡¯s great expanse making the chances of becoming lost an impossibility!¡± The woman spoke with great delight, her tone sweet. With a confident temperament, William¡¯s handsome face became engulfed by a polite smile. ¡°That is just what we seek, tell me, what options are there for me to decide from?¡± Nodding, the woman reached out for two sheets of papers and handed one each to William and Rosena. She then began explaining their services with a practiced familiarity. ¡°Our Rellunh branch provides passage to: Dorn-Ru, The Capital of Sounra; Al-Intys, The Central City; and Al-Erytoptya, The Northern Port City. If you wish to travel towards Gurenh, The South Eastern Market City; Vertress, The Southern Port City; or Al-Neryda, The South Eastern Port City, then that service can only be found upon our Dorn-Ru City branch. If you wish to proceed then we provide three package levels: Bronze, Silver, and Gold¡­¡± With a third sheet of her own which she placed facing William and Rosena¡¯s direction, she traced where the relevant information was with her finger as she spoke. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°The Bronze Package is considered as The Common Deal. This consists of 1 guide with less than 5 years of experience, a cohort of 5 swordsmen of the Initial-Rank along with a single Sorcerer, and a second generation fortified carriage. The price shall be 10 Silver Pens, or 100 Copper Pens, or 50 Silver Penlets¡­ Moving from there is The Silver Package, also known as The Premium Deal. This consists of 1 guide with over 5 years of experience, two cohorts of 5 swordsmen of the Initial-Rank along with 2 Sorcerers, and a first generation fortified carriage. The prices shall be double of what was previously stated¡­ Lastly is The Gold Package or The Noble Deal. This consists of 1 guide with over 20 years of experience, two cohorts of 5 swordsmen of the Initial-Rank along with a single Ascended-Rank serving as commander, three Sorcerers, and a first generation fortified carriage. The price shall be triple of the common deal.¡± Upon finishing her long explanation, one which she spoke out flawlessly and without a single stutter, the woman took a moment to catch her breath before continuing. ¡°If you are Sounran then our home discount shall be added, if not then you can also customize a deal to an acceptable level in search for a lower price within any package deal. However, the customization shall need to be approved by our overseer and a damage insurance fee shall be asked. The insurance fee is decided upon hearing the customization request and if all goes well, then upon your arrival the fee shall be returned by our next branch. Lastly, beast-folk are excluded from this, be them Sounran or otherwise. Similarly just having a beast-race individual traveling with you shall disqualify you from the benefits stated above.¡± Finally finished, the woman took a step back and patiently awaited their response. Having paid attention to all her exposition, William¡¯s lips curled after a moment of pondering. Interesting¡­ The Sounran people have truly mastered the art of business. Such was his conclusion once more. Throughout his time here, William¡¯s keen eyes had not missed out on the many ways in which The Sounra Kingdom increased its profits. Beginning with the market cities themselves, despite being advertised as a place where one could find any type of slave product which they desired, be it a slave which could cook, protect, translate, sew, or simply be sexual outlets, the city claimed to have it all. However, while not a falsehood, what was not advertised was that these slaves were not the elite products which are famously bred within the city of Al-Intys. No, those could only be found within the capital city, Dorn-Ru¡¯s main market. What was found in Rellunh, and likely within Gurenh as well, were slaves which were captured and sold to the city by Slave Poachers. The city would not question where the captured individual hailed from and merely purchase them for the purposes of reselling them to the stall owners within their walls. If the owner was influential enough with large pockets then the Slave Poachers could also bypass the city entirely and directly sell to said owner. From there the newly turned slaves are trained to a level where the services would be acceptable enough to charge a profitable price. However, even then the slaves were only given Slave-Marks, not Slave-Crests. Although similar, Slave-Marks could only be used as a kill switch by the master, while Slave-Crests will allow the master the ability to manipulate the slave. While Slave-Crests were available, only Slave-Marks were part of the initial deal. If anyone wished to upgrade, then a large price would need to be paid. Additionally, with The City Traveling Service being the only organization which could traverse the desert with some degree of guaranteed safety, the city made an additional profit from wealthy nobles seeking the high products found within the capital. Furthermore, the fact that no path directly went from Rellunh to Gurenh meant that those seeking to travel to Al-Neryda, one of three port cities within all of The Gia Continent which have consistent ship transports through the sea routes within The Dragon Sea and onto The Ashden Continent and by result The Integra Continent, then it meant that one would pay double to continue on their journey or alternatively travel back through The Laywin Kingdom and enter either The Nation of Pladus or The Nation of Acos to arrive at the next cities which provided such a service. Upon reflecting on all the information, William was genuinely impressed by the means which The Sounra Kingdom deployed in order to increase their profits. I suppose with their economy relying upon slavery so profusely and lack of so many natural resources, then they had no choice but to use such tactics. Still, I understand now why The Laywin Kingdom is so apprehensive of their economic growth within the last three decades. Truly he had found all of it interesting¡­ However, interrupting his deep pondering was Rosena¡¯s voice. ¡°Have you decided?¡± Snapping out of his contemplative state, William nodded with a smile. He then turned to the woman cladded in white robes and stated. ¡°I wish to customize The Gold Package¡­¡± Chapter 17 - Distant Storm William''s customization request was rather simple, it was to forgo all protection personnel and merely have the experienced guide and the first generation fortified carriage. Naturally, his request did not only appear ludicrous to the clerk assisting them but also to the overseer which she had to call forth. His request was promptly rejected, however, William was rather adamant about his desire to proceed without external guards. The reason for such was simple, if it was not necessary then why do so? In the end though, the overseer only reversed on his decision after William revealed his insignia along with having Rosena take a moment to demonstrate the extent of her capabilities. After such a monumental reveal, not only was his customization request granted but the overseer even escorted them to a private chamber where they would await for the preparations to be completed. Beyond that multiple servants were also deployed to see fit that any request which they had was fulfilled. Just like so an additional two hours passed until at last a figure stepped inside the private chamber. Their guide had arrived. Cladded in dark brown robes, possessing a bald head along with white brows and a thin beard of the same color, was the man who was to be their guide; Kernah-Ru. Upon seeing William and Rosena situated on a few lavish seats, Kernah-Ru bowed politely as he greeted. ¡°Venerated-Highness, I stand before you as a Sand-Guide of Rellunh¡¯s City Traveling Services. I have been informed of your mighty status and of the honor which I now hold. Rest assured that my experience shall not fail you in reaching The Capital City; Dorn-Ru.¡± At his words, William merely smiled. ¡°I shall be in your care then¡­ That said, shall we get going? Waiting around is rather uneventful.¡± With his introduction made, Kernah-Ru promptly began escorting William and Rosena towards one of the numerous yards where the many carriages were kept. Upon arrival, they were met by the sight of a six-legged lizard-like creature with dark orange scales and slit, blood red eyes. Strapped to the creature¡¯s neck and shoulders were thick iron chains which attached themselves to a carriage. The carriage itself was not made of wood but rather forged out of thick steel. It was larger than the average carriage by almost double, however the design still retained the familiar side windows for outside gazing and the sole driver window. Apart from its armored state, what distinguished the carriage further was that it possessed six wheels forged of steel which had protruding spikes. The purpose of those spikes would be made clear once the carriage began its traversal through the desert terrain. Upon witnessing the fortified carriage, William turned to Kernah-Ru. ¡°Is that the first generation fortified carriage? May I ask what exactly separates them from the second generation?¡± William asked, not just because he wished to quench his curiosity but also because from the corner of his vision he could see Rosena¡¯s eyes shimmering with excitement. Considering her passion, he quickly guessed what had her so elated. Kernah-Ru smiled before answering. ¡°Of course, ask whatever comes to mind Venerated-Highness¡­ As for the differences, it is rather simple. The first generation fortified carriages have more sophisticated runes which are to ward away the heat. Not only are the runes better, but the Fire Mana-Gem which absorbs the heat is many times larger which allows for longer traveling time. Beyond the better cooling system, the fortified carriage also possesses engraved defensive magic circles upon its steel surface which shall activate should a monster reach the carriage.¡± Enlightened, William did not ask more. To his side, he could see that Rosena was also satisfied to have heard Kernah-Ru¡¯s explanation. Kernah-Ru then led them towards the carriage where upon entry, they immediately felt the temperature drop to a level where one almost felt cold. The sudden shift was so jarring that William could not help but tremble slightly. ¡°Fine work, yes. Truly so!¡± Behind him, he heard Rosena excitedly comment. William chuckled to himself before taking a seat. Moments after Rosena joined him. Not long after they sat inside, Kernah-Ru finished his needed preparations before climbing upon the driver''s seat. The six-legged lizard-like creature unleashed a low roar which made even the fortified carriage shake slightly. After the tremor ceased, the heavy steel carriage began moving. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. And just like so, they were off. ***** Around two hours after departing from Rellunh, William had found himself within the driver¡¯s seat with Kernah-Ru by his side. Despite the fortified carriage having a small protruding slab which attempted to shield them from the sun¡¯s infernal embrace, the two still had to cover themselves. William did so by pulling up his robe¡¯s hood once more while Kernah-Ru had a cloth wrapped around his face, leaving only his eyes bare. Despite the heat however, William did not mind, after all, it was he who chose to leave the interior of the fortified carriage. As for why he had done so? It was simple, because he did not wish to remain inside alone. Such a journey would be simply too boring for him to bear. While at the beginning Rosena was to his side, giving him a partner to have leisure chatter with, after they crossed the city walls she had exited the fortified carriage and began fulfilling her role as its protector. Currently she was standing atop the fortified carriage, her emerald green eyes watching far into the distance for any signs of trouble. Additionally, pieces of rocks which varied in size were floating upon the air, like moons to a planet they steadily circled around the fortified carriage. Such a sight brought both William and Kernah-Ru a sense of security. They continued forward in this way and long after the towering walls of Rellunh could no longer be seen without any complications emerging. All around them now was but orange sand which was in the shape of dunes. As a result, the carriage would sometimes sway one way or the other, however, the steel teeth of its six wheels prevented it from ever losing its grip on the sand. That along with the six-legged lizard-like creature¡¯s tremendous strength ensured for a relatively smooth ride forward. Upon just a glance, it was evident that whatever the creature was, it was home when embraced by the desert sand. Not only did its dark orange scales blend in perfectly, but its grip never faltered and it even could seemingly barrel head first into the sand dunes with frightening ease, swimming inside as if it was water. However, Kernah-Ru did not let the beast indulge itself often, only allowing it to do so when he needed a sand dune to be lessened in size. The creature did so by entering then shaking profusely until its massive frame displaced some of the sand. And just like so they continued to move forward for yet another hour. Within this time, neither William nor Kernah-Ru caught sight of any monsters. Instead, they would merely see the rotating rocks suddenly increase in pace before a few shot forth into a distant direction with incredible speed. Most of the time, they would hear pained cries of varying sounds follow after, along with the sight of sand being sent high into the air. At first this sudden action would startle them, however the more time passed, the more relaxed Kernah-Ru and William became. Then, as they stared upon the distant mountain ranges just barely peeking out, the two engaged in some leisure conversation. It was as they conversed that the first sights of trouble at last arose. Situated on the carriage¡¯s ceiling, Rosena¡¯s head suddenly snapped north as her eyes narrowed and her soft brows furrowed. Beyond her reaction, the hot desert air had also begun increasing its pace, as if fleeing, it began rushing south. Only then did Kernah-Ru halt his talking and pull on the reins. The six-legged lizard-like creature disobeyed Kernah-Ru¡¯s first attempts at halting it, even increasing in pace somewhat. However, after a few more methods, Kernah-Ru was able to halt the creature. His head then turned to face north and his expression turned ugly. Far, far ahead, a massive wall of sand which rose to the heavens could be seen. Like a storm the sand inside raged forth. What made such a sight so daunting however, was that it appeared to be growing, to be approaching towards them! With a trembling voice, Kernah-Ru muttered. ¡°T-The Morthak¡­¡± The moment those words left his lips, as if the beast had heard its calling, deep crimson lightning flashed within the distant raging sand storm, revealing the outline of a colossal figure for a split second. Then a thunderous roar reverberated forth, one which could shake the heavens and earth alike. The few nearby clouds which hung in the sky dissolved under such a cry and the orange sand vibrated violently as dune after dune collapsed. When it arrived to where they laid, the fortified carriage groaned as it too was made to tremble. Meanwhile, both William and Kernah-Ru felt pain assault them. As if in tune their bones vibrated with the sand around them, making them feel like they would shatter at any moment. Luckily, the pain soon subsided as the trembling of the world ceased. However, what followed was the six-legged lizard-like creature¡¯s own roar, one made from clear distress. This immediately made Kernah-Ru begin his attempts to prevent the beast from sprinting forth. As he struggled he spoke out. ¡°Damn it! The Morthak changed course from what we estimated, it''s traveling south! With it nearby I do not dare move or risk losing control of the carriage! But if we stay then we are as good as dead!¡± Despite the clear horror etched into Kernah-Ru¡¯s voice and the horrific scene which slowly traveled towards them, William¡¯s expression remained calm. Instead what shone in his eyes was merely curiosity rather than fear. In the distance crimson lightning continued to flash within the vast sand storm, revealing yet another glimpse of the colossal creature which dwelled at the heart of the storm. And yet, despite the frequency in which the lightning flashed, he failed to fully make out the shape of the outline which revealed itself. Perhaps only when it was far more closer would he be able to discern its full appearance. After a while he merely sighed in disappointment before then turning to Kernah-Ru. ¡°Worry not, it is far away. Let us just wait here and see if it changes directions. If it does not do so within the next two dozen minutes, then my personal guard shall take action to deter it.¡± Kernah-Ru flashed a look to William which seemed to say: ¡®Are you mad?!¡¯ However, given William¡¯s status, he refrained from saying anything unbecoming. He is a royal of Vanastrea, if he is not afraid then¡­ Then his guard might actually be a Great Rank herself! His whole body felt a chill, even as the desert heat continued to assault him. Kernah-Ru could not help but stare in the direction where Rosena still stood. He could not see her from where he sat, however, had he been able to do so, then he would have witnessed Rosena staring upon the distant sand storm, undaunted. Beyond her calm state, her green eyes now possessed a sharp shine to them. One full of murderous intent, and tyrannical will. Chapter 18 - Worthy The following dozen minutes felt like an eternity had come and gone many times over. Or at least it did so for Kernah-Ru. Within that time, two more thunderous roars had spread forth, causing the world to tremble beneath its power once again. Despite his attempts, Kernah-Ru could not calm himself as the storm kept on approaching. To him the end was all but inevitable. However, upon just a few more minutes before the time in which Rosena was meant to interfere, the sand storm suddenly shifted slightly. Before it had been traveling south, yet now it was shifting eastward ever so little. Considering the distance, if they began a steady pace forward then they could very well avoid colliding against its path. At that moment Kernah-Ru could not help but feel eager to sprint forward at his maximum speed, yet his rich experience allowed for him to remain calm of mind. Even now things were not over yet, The Morthak needed to shift more eastward and create more distance between them for its mere presence to not startle his Xorapter; the six-legged lizard-like creature. That frustrated him to no end, he could see the light within this dreadful tunnel yet he had no means to travel towards it. However, just as trepidation continued to rise within his heart, Rosena¡¯s calm voice suddenly reverberated. ¡°Sir Kernah-Ru, worry not for your beast, I shall ensure that it does not fall into a frenzy.¡± As she said such, the rocks which orbited around the carriage suddenly stirred and a few of them detached from the main body and began circling the Xorapter¡¯s large frame. Upon witnessing this, Kernah-Ru¡¯s eyes shone with elation as he did not hesitate to act. He began carefully controlling the Xorapter, their pace much slower than before. The Xorapter meanwhile was rather restless, it wished to flee at full speed to escape the dreadful being which loomed nearby, however whenever it attempted to do just that the rocks which circled it moved to contain it. After a while of this, the Xorapter had little choice but to obey the directions which Kernah-Ru bestowed upon it. And so, after an unknown time of traveling forth using this method, they at last truly escaped clashing with the distant storm. ***** Kernah-Ru brought down the cloth which covered his face as he sighed in relief. His body too was at last able to exit its tense state. Meanwhile, to his side, William sat unperturbed as he occasionally stared behind and unto the disappearing storm. After a few minutes of doing so, he returned his full focus forward as he retrieved into his gray robes for a flask. He then drank some of the water stored within before turning to the recovering Kernah-Ru and inquiring. ¡°Tell me, how long has the Morthak been roaming around within Sounra¡¯s borders?¡± Kernah-Ru turned to face William with a thoughtful expression before he answered. ¡°It has been two years since it entered our lands from The Laywin Kingdom.¡± William nodded, however his questioning did not cease there. ¡°The Morthak is a Great Rank, yes? Perhaps one at the level of a Worldly Saint, why has The Sounra Kingdom not demanded that The Laywin Kingdom send forth their Celestial King to eradicate the grave threat. After all, is it not The Laywin Kingdom¡¯s duty to slay any and all Hell-Fiends?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Kernah-Ru¡¯s brows knitted slightly before he shook his head. ¡°Ariadne Fu Bellot huh¡­ Hmm well Venerated-Highness, from what I know The Laywin Kingdom did offer to send her after it crossed our borders, however the king of Sounra himself denied their offer. You see to us, those of the sand, The Morthak could be considered a Sacred Beast.¡± Hearing such, William showed a visible sign of surprise. Kernah-Ru then continued. ¡°Venerated-Highness, just what exactly do you know of The Sounra Kingdom¡¯s founding?¡± Kernah-Ru asked. ¡°Hmm, the records I read said it was founded with the start of The Fourth Age.¡± Kernah-Ru shook his head. ¡°Yes, that is not wrong¡­ However, it was merely officially founded within the first year of The Fourth Age, but in truth, our land joins The Nathery Kingdom in the right of stating that we were founded during The Third Age.¡± Taking a small moment to stare behind them, where the sand storm slowly etched further and further away, Kernah-Ru continued. ¡°What I shall speak now is our founding legend¡­ From the witch¡¯s touch they fled, a group which had no fear of the sand entered the desert in search for a sanctuary. Leading them was a single man, Dorn-Ru Sounra, his heart vast with compassion, his strength even greater. However, the sand did not welcome them, and beyond the many beasts which lurked in its sea was one towering titan, one of stone and thunder, a Morthak. The beasts of the sand they could fight against, yet the massive Hell-fiend alone barred their path forward, threatening to finish that which the witch had failed to do. The people were ready to surrender it all, yet it was their leader who stood forth in defiance to such a fate. And so the heavens trembled and the world shattered as the two clashed for three blistering days and three moon lit nights. Only after the third day threatened to arrive did one at last fall. In the end, the treacherous stone behemoth fell and Dorn-Ru alone rose with the sun. When the people saw him stand with the beast¡¯s corpse to his feet, then they knew; he alone was meant to lead them, he alone could be king, he alone was worthy of the sand. And so, Sounra was born...¡± Pausing for just a moment, a look of reverie appeared within Kernah-Ru''s eyes. He then turned once more to William. ¡°The Morthak is our foundation. Just as every person which holds power must prove themselves worthy to be placed there, be them a worker, a city captain, or even warden, so must the king. The Succession Trial has been acting as the test for royals in the absence of a Morthak. However, since only our founding father, Dorn-Ru Sounra, has slain a Morthak then it would not be wrong to state that only he has been a true king of Sounra. That is why our current king; Maxanh-Ru Sounra, has rejected The Laywin Kingdom¡¯s help for if he could gather his army and slay the Morthak, then history shall be made and he shall become the second one to truly be a king of Sounra. If accomplished, then rest assured Venerated-Highness, none in Sounra would ever dare question his words again.¡± When he saw that Kernah-Ru was finished, William nodded in enlightenment. ¡°So it is then. However, would slaying The Morthak with an army not dilute his achievement somewhat?¡± Kernah-Ru shook his head. ¡°Perhaps a little, but the times have changed. Back then, the king fought because he was the only one powerful enough to do so, however now that a kingdom stands behind him, is it not within the right of a king to move his forces? Would it not be just as impressive to lack the strength to clash directly but prevail regardless through strategy and intellect?¡± After he finished stating such, Kernah-Ru frowned slightly before he added. ¡°Actually, perhaps even that shall not be enough for The Sand-Dwellers.¡± William did not need to inquire just what Kernah-Ru meant, after all, his expression said it all. Seeing such, Kernah-Ru continued to explain, however this time his voice turned somewhat bitter. ¡°The Sand-Dwellers are those which fled into the desert after King Dorn-Ru died. They claimed that since he was the sole true king then unless his son showed that he was also worthy they would not follow him or walk upon the soil which he saw after. Ever since then, they have been nothing but pests which harass travelers and Sounrans alike. They even attempt to attack cities from time to time. Truly worthless scum.¡± Unknowingly Kernah-Ru¡¯s expression had turned sour as he spoke of the Sand-Dwellers, all the while William listened on with keen interest in what was being spoken. Then when Kernah-Ru finished his rant, William flashed him a charming smile. ¡°You are certainly full of wisdom, I can see why you come at such a high price.¡± William said amusedly. Meanwhile Kernah-Ru could only chuckle awkwardly as he thought to himself. Surely to a royal of Vanastrea, the cost for the entirety of The City Traveling Services¡¯ assets would be but spare change¡­ Naturally he did not comment such a thing out loud. From there the conversation shifted away from more serious matters and into mundane topics. Despite the difference in status between the two, Kernah-Ru found William to be quite amicable. And just like so, they continued heading west, towards The Capital of Sounra; Dorn-Ru City. Chapter 19 - Battle-Grade Day Meanwhile, as William crossed the great expanse of The Sounra Kingdom¡¯s desert and even long before he had risen from his slumber, upon the city of Al-Intys many slaves were awakening before the sun had yet to greet the sand. Naturally, among them was Arren himself. As he awoke, his emotions immediately threatened to overflow his heart. Arren could only harden his resolve and prepare himself to face what was destined to be upon this dreaded day. It did not take long before all the 501 slaves had finished their morning routine and stood in attention, waiting. Soon the heavy doors of the slave chambers parted and the familiar rust colored armored soldiers made their entrance. Upon any other day, their arrival would signal to the slaves present that they must begin their orderly ascension towards the arena far above their heads, however today was an exception. All those present did not dare move a muscle as they waited for the honored figure to arrive. Their wait was not long, just as the many guards finished their entry into the slave chambers and after they had taken an orderly formation, a sole figure leisurely paced forth. When the figure at last came into full view, all were made witness to his familiar features. A young man with tanned skin, sharp black eyes, long brown hair which was neatly tied behind his head and made to rest upon his left shoulders, and possessing a well defined jawline stood before everyone present. His lean muscular body was cladded under a rust colored armor with elaborate engravings etched into its steel. Beyond that, a deep maroon colored cloak hung upon his left shoulder, just long enough to conceal the entirety of his left arm. The cloak''s cloth was made of pristine material and upon its center a silver crest could be found. Upon his entry, every slave present bowed and spoke in unison. ¡°We greet the Vice-Master!¡± Of course, all present were rather familiar with the man before them as he was the overseer which spectated every Battle-Grade Day; Venerable Julinh-Ru, The Slave Vice-Master. Within the soldier role, there were three ranks of authority. The first and with the least power were The Record Keepers which were responsible for overseeing the day to day trials and the points which the slaves earned. Directly above them was Julinh-Ru, The Vice-Master. He holds command over everything in the absence of his father, The Slave-Master. Naturally, it is the rank of Slave-Master which holds the highest authority in not just The Soldier Role Course but the entire southern district of Al-Intys where said role was being held. Julinh-Ru¡¯s expression was stern and his temperament was that of utter confidence. His dark eyes examined every slave within his sight before his lips at last parted and his deep voice reverberated forth. ¡°Slaves of Al-Intys, those of Steel and Blood, today we shall continue our practice of glory. It has been many years now and only two more of these battles remain for you all to conquer. Now then, let me lay witness to the worthy, to those which shall stand beside The Sounra Kingdom¡¯s king and act as his shield and sword¡­ May triumph come to all which are skilled enough to obtain it.¡± As his words finished spreading forth throughout the slave chamber, every slave once more bowed in respect towards his statement. Satisfied, Julinh-Ru turned and began his march towards the surface. Behind him hundreds of slaves followed with elation, anticipation, and furious determination burning viciously within their eyes. ***** Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You ready?¡± Upon arriving at the arena¡¯s surface, Arren soon heard a familiar voice emerge from his side, it was that of Sieg. Arren shrugged. ¡°Yeah, as ready as I¡¯ll ever be at least¡­¡± He replied with a somewhat self deprecating voice. A hint of worry flashed within Sieg¡¯s eyes as he frowned slightly. ¡°Then I¡¯ll be cheering you on with vigor comparable to that of a thousand men.¡± Upon hearing such, Arren could not help but chuckle. ¡°Just a hundred will do¡­¡± Sieg smiled, he then parted his lips and was about to reply when suddenly he halted. The reason was simple; from atop the eastern side of the arena where a special area reserved for only the most venerated of guests, the figure of Julinh-Ru emerged. He had led their march to the arena before he quickly dismissed himself and began his ascension towards the honored seats. Now that he had arrived, then it signaled the beginning of the second to last Battle-Grade Day. Immediately, The Record Keepers, which had been standing motionlessly, suddenly began to move. As they did, they approached with ten different black boxes grasped upon their hands. Staring at this sight, many slaves felt their hearts become engulfed with trepidation as they knew what such a thing signaled. The Randomly Selected Duels¡­ The structure of each Battle-Grade Day was rather simple, furthermore throughout the entire expanse of the soldier role¡¯s third stage its structure had yet to change once. The slaves all possessed a rank, one which was determined by their points. On a regular day, each slave had the opportunity to gain an exact total of 1,000 points should they find success upon the daily trials. However, in the end what mattered was but this day, for only upon The Battle-Grade Days could a slave drastically change their points. Consisting of two parts, The Randomly Selected Duels and The Chosen Duels, whichever slave could grasp upon absolute victory would be granted half the point value of the loser¡¯s total while the loser would have half of the winner¡¯s new total point value removed. Such was the essence of the challenge set before them, yet with the first half being a random selection those of the bottom ranks could not help but despair at the thought of being set to battle anyone above The Silver Rankers. It was as all of The Walker Ranked slaves'' expressions turned grim that the Record Keeper¡¯s announced the commencing of the draw. Every slave present then formed into ten rows of fifties. Then, one by one, they approached a Record Keeper, paid their respects, then drew a card from inside the black box which they held. The moment one did so, they were required to announce their duel partner out loud and the partner in question was then required to step out of the rows of fifties. Due to such an arrangement, the slaves situated at the far back of each line did not expect to ever reach The Record Keepers before their rank would be called forth. When it came to Arren, upon this day he found himself near the center of his respective line, however his own expectations were the same as those behind him. Due to that, his mind only processed the voices which kept on calling forth the random ranks. ¡°Walker 156!¡± ¡°Silver 2!¡± ¡°Golden 10!¡± ¡°Ninth Sword!¡± As the different voices continued to reverberate, Arren only felt his body grow tenser and his chest become tighter. Please¡­ He desperately thought, however, his suspense was not given the chance to subside as time moved forth and no voice was yet to call forth his rank. ¡°Walker 20!¡± ¡°Dagger 43!¡± ¡°Walker 199!¡± As many more ranks were called, Arren''s line was shortening rapidly. Then to his surprise, he found himself before a Record Keeper, with it being his turn to draw. Hiding his somewhat startled state, Arren composed himself before his hand reached forth and soon grasped a card between his fingers. Please, someone I can handle! As he raised his hand, his heart churned at an even more vigorous speed than before. His inner pleading now a desperate yell. However, his hopes were immediately shattered the moment his eyes landed upon the card within his grasp. It read: ¡®Seventh Sword¡¯ At that moment, Arren froze completely as despair rushed into his heart and a bitter thought emerged. It''s over¡­ I¡­ I can¡¯t win. Chapter 20 - Thin Veil The following moments after Arren laid witness to the name engraved within the card felt like a blur within his mind. Throughout his time within the third stage, never had he been unfortunate enough to encounter one of The 10 Swords within their daily trials, yet upon this week alone he now would have the pleasure of having faced two of them. Just what type of rotten luck was that? Upon a regular day then he would not have felt such despair by the prospect of facing those elites. His duel with The First Sword just prior stood as testimony to such a thing, however today was not regular. He did not only stand to win points but to lose them as well. When it came to that, all within The 10 Swords were the worst nightmare to any slaves present. After all, each one of them had a total point value which numbered above 1,000,000. Within Arren¡¯s case, his opponent currently possessed a total point value of 1,165,000. If Arren lost this coming duel then it would truly close all hopes of surviving past this stage, much less of entering The Dagger Rank. It would be a death sentence. Just that realization alone immediately made Arren lose all strength within his body. He wanted to run away from this fight, he wanted to give up, and most of all, he wanted to not feel so powerless and weak. ¡°Walker 248, who is your duel partner?¡± Snapping him out of his stupor was the crisp voice of The Record Keeper before him. Arren¡¯s dulled out eyes suddenly gained some of its previous luster as he made a bitter smile. ¡°Seventh Sword!¡± Arren yelled out and immediately all of the surrounding slaves turned to stare upon him. Considering what had just occurred between Arren and The First Sword just the day prior, to now suddenly hear that he was to fight yet another of The 10 Swords made many stare upon him with pitiful looks. ¡°Perhaps the goddess¡¯s grace has abandoned him.¡± ¡°Hmph. Serves him good for acting so brazenly yesterday.¡± ¡°What¡­ What if he actually wins again?¡± ¡°Are you mad? He won¡¯t have the rules protecting him from one of The 10 Sword¡¯s wrath this time. He is destined to lose.¡± ¡°I wonder how low his points shall drop.¡± The slaves all began whispering among themselves, with the exception of a few. Those of The Golden Rank saw this as divine retribution towards the fallen king of the previous stage. The rest of The 10 Swords continued to remain indifferent to him with the sole exception of The First Sword. He was situated upon a different row, yet his eyes remained firmly upon Arren. He did not utter a single word, merely wearing a solemn expression. Then not far from him, Sieg also watched the same figure, however his expression had turned ugly as he made a vicious scowl. Despite his wishing for it to not occur, in the end a terrible scenario still awaited Arren. ¡°Curse it all¡­¡± He muttered, a similar type of despair surfacing within his heart, albeit a far more tamed one than that of Arren¡¯s own. Meanwhile, having been called out The Seventh Sword¡¯s aloof expression did not falter. He merely directed his brown eyes at Arren¡¯s back for a moment before stepping out of his respective row and beginning his steady pace towards the designated area where duel partners were required to wait. His burly body still bore no shirt, merely wearing the gray pants which all others did. Since none of The Record Keepers around him ever mentioned anything in protest to this, he continued to do as he pleased. Shirts felt constricting after all. Laying witness to The Seventh Sword¡¯s movement from the corner of his eyes, Arren too began making his way forth. Now only a thin veil of time stood before their inevitable clash. ***** The process of drawing cards did not last for much longer before everyone had a partner. The slaves were then all made to ascend towards the vast rows of spectator seats which were situated on both sides of the arena. They were not given any specific instructions and from previous Battle-Grade Days each slave was aware that none would complain if they sat beside those which they were most at ease with. So long as they remained properly behaved of course, not that any slave would ever dare to do otherwise. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. As a result, it did not take long before Arren found Sieg to his side. That was to be expected, they had always sat together when possible, however on this day a different individual had joined them. Arren could not help but scowl deeply at that third person. Feeling a burning glare his way, Reed, the one currently joining them and sitting beside Sieg, suddenly curled his lips as he asked in a ridiculing tone. ¡°Is something the matter Walker 251?¡± Arren scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s Walker 248 bastard. Why are you even here? Shouldn¡¯t you be within a corner alone like always?¡± Reed spared Arren a side glance before his lips grew wider. ¡°Oh yes, that is your current rank isn¡¯t it? My apologies. I''m one who tends to consider the long run you see, and since you are certain to drop to the bottommost rank today I thought it would be more appropriate to begin addressing you as such in advance.¡± Arren gritted his teeth, Reed''s words were things he knew could not be denied, however upon witnessing the sheer smugness etched on his face, Arren wished for nothing more than to cave it in¡­ Not too severely of course, that was Sieg¡¯s friend as well, perhaps only making his features unrecognizable would do. Fully aware of Arren¡¯s thoughts, Reed chuckled. ¡°Learn to mask your emotions better Walker 251. At least that way when the time for your execution arrives then you can die without revealing the dread that rests within your heart.¡± ¡°Eat shit. I¡¯m not dead yet!¡± Reed shifted to meet Arren¡¯s furious stare as his expression only doubled in its smugness. ¡°The key word there is; yet¡­¡± Arren scoffed, but before he retorted, a familiar voice interrupted. ¡°Have you two had enough? My ears certainly have.¡± Situated between Arren and Reed¡¯s bickering was Sieg. He had remained silent this entire duration, however after his brows had furrowed to their limit, he at last spoke up. Sparing them both a glance no different than a parent does to their children, Sieg scolded. ¡°It''s always the same thing with you two, isn¡¯t it? Seriously¡­¡± Arren leaned back on his seat as he crossed his hands. ¡°What can I say, he stinks so I would rather have him far from me.¡± Hearing this, Reed rolled his eyes. ¡°Someone with such a nasty mouth has no right to speak of stench.¡± ¡°Enough already!¡± Elbowing both of them in an irritated attempt to cease their arguing, Sieg then pointed at the arena grounds. ¡°They are almost finished setting up the battle fields so be silent.¡± Directly upon the area which he pointed to, one of The Record Keepers was currently standing motionlessly, his eyes closed. Upon his hand was an elegant wooden staff which possessed a green gem etched to its tip. Raising it slightly upon the air, he began speaking within a foreign language. ¡°Powerful and unbreakable, Mighty yet mindless, Such is your state, Your very core, For conquest you are unfit, for defending you are indifferent, Yet I stand in seek of utter defiance, I shall demand no less, Nor shall my will be denied, Move forth, Earth Walls!¡± As the incantation was uttered, The Record Keeper¡¯s voice layered atop itself while the green gem upon his staff suddenly began emitting a radiant emerald glow. He then brought down his staff, impacting the soil beneath his feet. The ground immediately trembled viciously before, with him as the epicenter, it suddenly rose into five meter tall walls which quickly divided the vast arena grounds into six perfect sections. Upon finishing his casting, The Record Keeper swayed slightly before using his staff as support and preventing himself from falling forth onto the ground. Not long after, more Record Keepers approached him and helped with his exit from the arena. A different Record Keeper then appeared before the seated slaves, a familiar black box within his grasp. Reaching inside, his hands extracted six cards. Depending on which rank was written upon it, be it any of the two duel partners, then they would be part of the six duels which would occur simultaneously. Each slave did not utter a single word as they silently waited for the results to be stated. And not long after, it was¡­ ¡°The first rounds are: Walker 202, Dagger 65, Golden 29, Dagger 23, Walker 156, and Silver 7¡­ Those of you in relation to these ranks, follow me.¡± ¡°Well, it appears I¡¯ll have the honors of being part of the first batch.¡± Leisurely standing to his feet, Sieg stated. Meanwhile, to his side Arren curiously inquired. ¡°Em, Sieg, forgive me for not noticing but who did you end up partnered with?¡± Sieg spared Arren a complicated look. ¡°You¡­ You had other worries plaguing you so do not worry. As for my opponent, It¡¯s Golden 3.¡± Arren showed a visible shock in his face. ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s a tough one.¡± Sieg nodded. ¡°Yes, but I have a strategy, want to hear?¡± Arren shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t bother, I already know, actually I think everyone already knows.¡± Sieg raised an eyebrow, clearly startled by such a statement. He then turned his attention to Reed, his eyes wordlessly asking: Is that true? Reed meanwhile, chuckled before shifting his eyes away from Sieg¡¯s own. As he did, he murmured¡­ ¡°How could we not know, your strategy is reserved for the few privileged.¡± His words were low, however Sieg clearly heard them. He could not help but sigh to himself before shrugging it off. ¡°So be it then, even if they know it matters little¡­¡± He turned and readied to follow the others behind The Record Keeper, however before he did so, he quickly added. ¡°Oh, try not to fight while I¡¯m gone please.¡± Hearing such, Arren and Reed scoffed in sync. Then upon realizing that, they sharply turned their heads away from each other. Laying witness to this, a sigh escaped Sieg¡¯s lips once more. They¡¯re hopeless¡­ Chapter 21 - Sieg鈥檚 Strategy Sieg joined the others upon The Record Keeper¡¯s side. Immediately, they were escorted down the spiraling staircase which rested upon each edge of the massive arena. From there, they found themselves within a familiar hall. High above them was the ceiling, one engraved with many murals. Then upon the walls were lit torches which simmered silently within the grand hall. Tap. Tap. Tap. With calm steps, the figures walked through, their bodies illuminated by a soft orange hue. Behind The Record Keeper now were a total of twelve slaves, each hosting various expressions. Currently, the hall which they walked upon was located directly beneath the spectator seats. To all those present it was a familiar sight, especially so for the fact that should they take a certain route then they would be met by the stairway which led them towards the underground tower, where their slave chambers awaited them. Today however, they would instead make their way towards the arena ground. Yet before they could, more Record Keepers arrived, each taking a pair of dueling partners with them. Sieg now found himself beside a lean figure with a silent temperament. The figure bore no expression and his black eyes merely remained distant, as if he were in a trance, possibly lost in thought. Sieg did not find this strange since he was well aware of Golden 3¡¯s odd tendencies. None spoke out a single word as they walked side by side, that was until The Record Keeper¡¯s steps suddenly halted. Turning to face them, he pointed at a pair of wooden doors not too far from them. ¡°You have a few minutes to prepare.¡± He said simply. Sieg and Golden 3 then nodded. Soon after Sieg found himself inside an armory. Before him was what appeared like an endless buffet for any battle junky. It possessed every type of armors Sieg knew of along with an ocean of different weaponry, from curved daggers, long claymores, to exquisitely crafted bows. Truly it was a vast arsenal, one designed to accommodate every slave regardless of the varying fighting styles. However, despite the armory having all which a slave could ever hope to need, Sieg was uninterested in it all. He merely turned his focus upon the hung armors and soon found what he sought. It was his signature armor. Sieg possessed a rather skinny body, one devoid of much muscle no less, making it the perfect accessory to his lackluster skill in combat. In the past Sieg had been bothered by his physique, sourcing it as the biggest hindrance within his path towards greater strength. How could it have not really? After all, within the second stage one¡¯s combat prowess was everything. However, the present had long since left the past behind. Many things had changed, most dramatically of which was his own personal power. The present him could now stand tall as a fearsome tiger within his generation, one which many would hesitate to trifle with upon a regular day. All of that had been obtained despite his lackluster physique, for Sieg was not a warrior but a magic practitioner. Of course, all those of the slave role¡¯s third stage could make the same claim, yet only a few among them could proclaim themselves as not just a sorcerer but a mage. To achieve such a title truly highlighted one as a genius of the magic arts. Sieg spared a glance at his clenched fists as he allowed himself to be engulfed by a set of tyrannical emotions. They were his resolve, his vicious desire. Throughout his short life, Sieg had experienced the threat of death loom over him like the blade of a guillotine on a multitude of different occasions. He had failed far more times than he had triumphed, yet here he stood, still taking in breath after breath. At first, that was all which he had desired. To merely remain alive, to survive and become a loyal dog of Sounra. Just when did that change exactly? The obvious answer was when he first met Reed, yet upon reflection, he realized that some part of him had always desired to know how exactly it felt to be free. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. However, despite such a wish, he had never dared to truly believe he could acquire the forbidden privilege known as free will, much less utter such a desire within his mind. It would simply be a far too bitter thought to bear. And yet today¡­ To be a slave no more! To be a slave no more! To be a slave no more! Today he repeated it without fear, without turmoil or shame, without hesitation, without regret. Such was his goal, his reason to fight onwards. The moment he reminded himself of that, his fighting spirit raged forth, transforming into a blazing vigor so fierce that one could extract it from his body and hang it upon the sky then watch as even the sun¡¯s radiance faltered before it. Naturally, doing such a thing was within the realm of impossibility. Not that it mattered, such was how he felt. Having fired his spirit up, Sieg soon snapped out of his racing thoughts and reached out for a particular set of armor situated not far from where he stood. He then began equipping it with great familiarity. Calling it an armor was rather inaccurate though, since in actuality what he equipped was but a short maroon robe. Its fabric was rough and thick, composed of many layers and cascading down onto his knees. From afar it resembled a bulky long sleeved battle tunic with slit sides. Covering his legs was a pants forged of thick fabric and matching in the robe¡¯s color. His feet were grasped by leather boots while all around him were straps of leather belts which made the robe press tightly to his body. Lastly his two arms possessed a pair of leather vambraces which clung tightly to his wrists. Sieg examined himself one final time with a satisfied look before exiting the armory. Just a minute later, he found himself before one of the divided battlefields. His opponent had yet to arrive so The Record Keeper took it upon himself to go retrieve him. It was not long before The Record Keeper returned, Golden 3 at his side. Upon witnessing him, Sieg¡¯s expression shifted as his eyebrows creased. Still embodying the temperament of a calm lake, Golden 3 walked into the battlefield with silent steps. All the while Sieg¡¯s eyes followed him closely. Unlike Sieg, Golden 3 did not shy away from grasping all which he could equip. He currently had a standard set of light armor donned, yet strapped all around him were leather belts which all hosted a myriad of different weapons. Upon his thighs rested two curved short swords, on his waist were numerous throwing knives, while on his calves rested a set of daggers. Then on his back was a thin long sword of lustrous steel whilst his hands grasped upon a tall halberd. That was not the most eye-catching however, instead what Sieg lingered upon was the leather strap which traveled diagonally from his left shoulder to his right waist. Upon it were not the expected sight, instead of daggers or further weaponry, Golden 3 had equipped a grand total of ten wands, each with a red gem etched onto their base. Truly it was an unsettling scene. Yep, troublesome. Sieg thought, his brows yet to unfurrow. After a moment he sighed and any signs of apprehension escaped him, replaced by an aloof demeanor. While it was true that his opponent was strong, perhaps just barely short in combat prowess and magic efficiency than The 10 Swords, Sieg himself was no weakling. While he was not fond of the idea, he also would not shy away from clashing with one of The 10 Swords head on. It would surely be a difficult fight, the most arduous within his entire time upon the soldier role¡¯s second and third stages, yet even then he knew that he could win. A costly victory to be certain, but a victory nonetheless. Such was the depths which his confidence traversed, and furthermore, Sieg had yet to meet an opponent within this stage which could counter his strategy. That of overwhelming force. As he thought so, Sieg¡¯s fingers twitched slightly upon realizing that The Record Keeper had already distanced himself. He then raised a hand up in the air, allowing it to hang for a moment before at last rushing it down and declaring with a booming voice. ¡°Commence!¡± Just like so, Sieg did not hesitate to ignite his Inner-Mana. Like a raging storm it came to life within him, its pressure engulfing his flesh, muscles, and even bones for a split second before Sieg successfully took grasp of it and directed its flow towards a certain direction. As he did such, his hands rose into the air, pointing directly at Golden 3. When that movement was done, his simmering Inner-Mana had already arrived within his arms. Immediately a vicious heat assaulted them, yet Sieg felt no discomfort or pain. It was merely hot. His fingers twitched yet again as the Inner-Mana rushed to their tips. The hot air around him turned even more scorching as small sparks began manifesting in the space just beyond Sieg¡¯s fingers, then those sparks erupted forth into fierce yellow flames. Within just three seconds Sieg had skillfully manipulated his Inner-Mana and brought forth an infernal fury onto the tangible world. It was a fury which took the shape of two raging orbs of flame before they suddenly shot forth at a rapid speed. The orbs stretched as they soared forth, transforming into two bright yellow infernal javelins which scorched the air around them. Their target was obvious, Sieg¡¯s opponent, Golden 3. BOOM! BOOM! A second later the vicious spears struck true, scattering forth the flame¡¯s abyssal fury in all directions. Chapter 22 - Advantages of a Mage Within the realm of magic, there were only but two phrases which mattered most. Those were whether the user was a practitioner of Old-Casting or New-Casting. Better known as the practice of either Sorcery or Magery. While the mortal race''s ability to wield magic has been widely practiced throughout the annals of history, doing so since the very early dawn of The First Age, such a rich history was mostly filled with the usage of Sorcery, not Magery. It would not be until the early dawn of The Third Age, The Chaos Age, that the conception of Magery would first be introduced, solely pioneered by The Great Sage of Humanity; Gaya Vogel. While its practice did not spread across the many continents with ease due to its difficulty and danger, through sheer stubborn persistence by its few masters the practice of Magery now stood as credible within the minds of those of the current age. Truly it even went beyond mere acceptance, for upon The Fifth Age, to gain the title of Mage was not just an indicator of one¡¯s practice but also of proof of outstanding talent within the realm of magic. Yet why was that so exactly? Sorcery is a practice centered on the concept of using previously chronicled incantations to truly bring change upon the tangible world. Each incantation already has a predetermined effect upon the world, yet merely speaking it will not be enough to command forth the miracle of magic. An incantation must be spoken with the usage of what is known as: The Languages of Gods. Those were the original languages which existed since the birth of the mortal races, forged personally by that of a divine. However, with how distant The First Age was to the present, The Dragon Age, currently the mortal races only knew that of two Languages of Gods. Those languages were Dragonese and The Ancient Human-Tongue. By speaking forth an incantation through these languages then the caster can truly tap into its power. However, that is merely the first out of three necessary factors for casting a spell successfully. The second factor is one¡¯s Inner-Mana, both in regards to the amount which the caster possesses and their control over it. To a spell, Inner-Mana serves as its fuel while its stirring as the trigger. The process of manipulating it however is a practice drenched in danger. While everyone has Inner-Mana within them, one has to take time to actually sense it, then form an easy connection between its silent simmering and one¡¯s own consciousness. However, moving its flow is both strenuous and extremely difficult to control. It is equivalent to possessing a fifth appendage which lacks physical form and barely obeys one¡¯s mental command. Yet if one is able to control their Inner-Mana successfully then they must move it towards the third necessary factor of spell casting: The Conductor. The Conductor is typically attached upon a tool such as a wand or staff and is always a mana absorbing material. The most commonly used being The Mana Gems or Crystals. The reason it is a necessity is due to the simple fact that Inner-Mana is a ruthless energy which cares not for its host. Every spell has a level, moreover, they each have specific amounts of Inner-Mana which they demand in order to properly fuel them. Due to this if a foolish sorcerer suddenly attempted a spell far beyond the level which their Inner-Mana Pool could realistically fuel, or even if their chant and concentration was interrupted in the middle of its casting, then the spell would fail to manifest and the stirred Inner-Mana would experience a violent relapse. So fearsome is its flow that without fail the caster would erupt from the inside out, their physical body unable to withstand the Inner-Mana¡¯s raging retreat. However, if a caster instead channels their Inner-Mana into a conductor then even if the spell fails they would not experience the relapse as it would have already been absorbed by the conductor. Depending on how grave the mistake of the caster was, then upon the worst scenarios the conductor would be what combusts and not the practitioner. All this is what makes Sorcery the safest known way to command the power of magic. However, that does not mean that the practice of Magery does not have its advantages. Unlike sorcery, which solely focuses upon mastering the art of casting spells with predetermined effects on reality, Magery has its users merely create the spell which they desire without the usage of incantations. It centers around learning to master the flow of one¡¯s own Inner-Mana and using visualization alone to meticulously manipulate said Inner-Mana into that visualized form and just like so conjuring it into existence. Of course to achieve this requires an extreme connection with one¡¯s own Inner-Mana along with unbroken concentration. That makes the practice of Magery far more susceptible to deaths involving self-combustions, yet the speed, control, and freedom which the practice allows can not be underestimated. After all, every little factor of the spell is within the sole control of the mage. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. That was what made mages so utterly terrifying, so much so that they could even fight head on with Swordsman, The Masters of Aura. That alone was what made the successful practicing of The Magery Techniques an unquestionable sign of generational talent within the realm of magic. And somehow, Sieg had managed to earn such a title. It was what made his present self a force to be reckoned with upon any battlefield. ***** BOOM! BOOM! The scattering of the furious flames seemed to boil the air around them. Without hesitation or care, Sieg did not hold back upon his first assault. If possible he wished to end the fight with just that, scorching his opponent so severely that The Record Keeper would be forced to intervene. However, things were not so simple. His attack was forged using a generous amount of Inner-Mana which made their power a furious one. So much so that upon impact, the sand all around Golden 3¡¯s location had been scattered to the air. Now before him was a cloud forged of dust, orange sand, and fire embers. Sieg stared warily upon that cloud, however the very fact that The Record Keeper had yet to move affirmed to him that somehow Golden 3 had avoided his attack. It was then that his eyes twitched as they noticed the dust cloud sway slightly before a hole was forged by a tall halberd which suddenly shot out. Its travel was swift and perfect, aiming to reach Sieg within no less than a second or two, like the harrowing touch of death. Damn! Sieg cursed inwardly as he rapidly directed his Inner-Mana towards his left arm. Simultaneously he did a powerful motion, as if he was unleashing a side punch. A vicious gust of wind manifested from that hand and immediately sent him flying to the side with its force. Even then, Sieg still felt the halberd¡¯s edge just barely caress his left cheek before it continued soaring past him and impaling itself upon the stone wall behind Sieg. Sieg meanwhile felt his feet leave the comfortable embrace of the sand as he fell into a side roll. Due to how quickly he had summoned his Inner-Mana, Sieg failed to properly control it, resulting in his left arm becoming engulfed by throbbing pain. Luckily, the Inner-Mana which he used was miniscule compared to his first attack and most of it managed to successfully manifest as the spell he visualized which meant the amount which relapsed into his body was not life threatening. It was merely painful. Sieg had experienced such a thing before, it was only natural as he was a mage. Even now he found it fitting to describe a partial relapse of Inner-Mana as the same sensation of suddenly spraining a muscle due to improper technique. Although far more painful and dangerous than a simple sprain. Regardless of the pain however, Sieg removed it from his mind the moment he finished his roll. At the same time, he had already begun directing some of his Inner-Mana towards his free right hand. He suspected that if given the chance then Golden 3 would continue to remain within the dust cloud and merely attack from afar. If so, then Sieg would gladly assist in providing motivation for his exit from it. The moment his roll ended he had already raised his right arm, pointing it straight like a spear. Then a little ahead of his fingers, a fire orb shot forth, then another, then another. Each time he fired he made sure to adjust his hand slightly. With this he would cover the entire dust cloud, from side to side, upon a shower of flames. Before long, five fire orbs reached their destination and immediately unraveled themselves into furious explosives. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Just as the sound of their combustion reverberated across the battlefield. Sieg¡¯s calm eyes caught sight of his target. There! Rapidly exiting from the right corner of the dust cloud, Golden 3¡¯s cold eyes immediately locked onto Sieg¡¯s own. Then with swift movements Golden 3 unleashed three throwing knives towards Sieg. Two were aiming for Sieg¡¯s head, while one had a direct trajectory to his heart. However, with a simple gust of conjured wind, Sieg calmly swatted away the knives. Despite the ease in which he did so Sieg still remained intensely wary of his opponent. After all, Golden 3 was a practitioner of The Artifice Sword-Style, a style centered around trickery. Furthermore, he was a sorcerer as well. As if on cue, Sieg noticed that Golden 3 had not only closed the distance between them under the cover of the three knives, but he had also taken hold of a wand. Finally going to use your magic then? Sieg readied himself to once more summon forth a barrage of terrible heat and unleash it upon his opponent, however, what Golden 3 did next left Sieg utterly baffled for a moment. Instead of casting a spell, Golden 3 had swiftly shot forth the pointy wand as though it was a sharp needle. Sieg readied to swat away the confusing attack, yet his eyes widened when he at last realized that upon the wand¡¯s base, the mana gem was rapidly starting to gain a dazzling red radiance. Don¡¯t tell me?! By the time he realized what Golden 3 had done, it was too late. He had already visualized the wind gust and changing it at the last moment would only endanger him, furthermore the soaring wand was already near him and at its base the surface of the red gem was utterly riddled with cracks. Then¡­ BOOM! A vicious explosion of simmering fire occurred, doing so just a meter away from Sieg¡¯s startled figure. Chapter 23 - Duel of Fire Part 1 Upon realizing the danger, Sieg could only react by adding more fuel towards the wind gust which he had already visualized. However, due to how startled the action done by Golden 3 was, his concentration was not at its peak and as such the control over his Inner-Mana was extremely sloppy. In the end, he managed to just barely conjure the wind gust as the wand erupted into a shower of fire. BOOM! The next moment all Sieg could feel was simmering heat assault him as the force of the explosion sent his body flying a few meters back, reaching mere steps away from the wall of stone which segmented the battlefields. The front of his maroon robe now appeared utterly scorched, with embers of flames still dancing from its surface like glittering stars of red radiance. Upon his hand, and most of the left side of his face, severe burns were evident. To make a bad situation worse, his body could not stop twitching as it once more suffered the side effects of a partial relapse. Although he had increased its fuel, forging a wind gust which absorbed most of the blasts deadly fury, he had performed his technique far too carelessly. The consequence was that a bit of the Inner-Mana relapsed back into his body, bringing forth the intense pain which he currently suffered. Had Sieg not been a mage with plenty of experience in manipulating his Inner-Mana then he might have failed to properly conjure enough of the spell which would make the relapse of the remaining Inner-Mana become a death sentence. His face wrinkled as he allowed himself to release a stifled groan. However, despite such a fatal attack, Sieg had yet to even consider the possibility of defeat. Too many points would be lost if Golden 3 won here, furthermore, with this being the second to last Battle-Grade Day then it meant that this was the last step in ensuring that his foundation remains strong. Within the slave role, one bad Battle-Grade Day was all that was needed for even an elite to fall from atop the peak which they stood upon. It seemed that Golden 3 also did not believe such an attack would be enough to finish Sieg off as well since he was already within a sprint towards the direction of his foe. As he closed that narrow distance Golden 3 swiftly retrieved the longsword which rested upon the scabbard attached to his back then readied to swing down towards Sieg with perfect precision. Realizing the danger before him, Sieg gritted his teeth and managed to lift himself into a kneel just as Golden 3 arrived before him. Through ragged breathing Sieg raised his head slightly and saw the rising longsword become engulfed by the sun¡¯s glow, the lustrous steel of the blade¡¯s body reflected it forth like a dazzling jewel. Just then, Sieg could not help but think that it resembled what he imagined a holy weapon to look like. He also felt a tinge of regret for having neglected the equipping of a weapon. Regardless of his busy thoughts, Sieg did not fail to set his Inner-Mana into a surging rage as he hastily raised an arm. Just as he did the blade descended down with tangible force. Strike at me bastard! I¡¯ll make sure you pay for every drop of my blood with a piece of scorched flesh! Naturally Sieg¡¯s counter was a simple one, he would unleash overwhelming force upon the enemy who dared to attack him so close. Sparks ignited into a ferocious stream of yellow flames which met the descending longsword, the arms which grasped at it, and upon Golden 3¡¯s calm and serious face. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. As expected the strength and speed behind the strike immediately lessened however, where many would have abandoned the attack in the name of preventing severe burns, Golden 3 did not retreat. For a second as the sword traveled, Golden 3¡¯s arms became engulfed by a tide of raging fire along with his face. Sieg then felt a current of pain erupt from within his right hand first then shortly after upon his chest. Just as the pain arrived, he heard the sound of steel falling upon the orange sand and he saw Golden 3 promptly retreating, his arms utterly scorched. They were left so badly burnt that steam rose from his charred skin and his steel vambraces seemed to have melted right onto his very flesh, their surface that of a low red hue. Beyond his arms, Golden 3¡¯s face now resembled the burnt side of Sieg¡¯s own. However, even now his aloof expression had yet to change. Meanwhile Sieg took advantage of Golden 3¡¯s retreat to glance upon his injuries. Immediately Sieg noticed a shallow, yet ugly cut which was perfectly vertical. The edges of his large laceration also appeared to be burnt and injury caused him to experience an intense agony for every breath which he took. However, what Sieg was more cornered over was the wound caused to his right hand. Golden 3¡¯s sword slash had successfully claimed three and a half of his five fingers, leaving only his pinky untouched. The rest of his fingers were scattered on the ground, wet with blood and covered by grains of sand. What remained attached to his palm was now like a small waterfall of crimson. Sieg pulled away his short examination and returned his focus on Golden 3¡¯s back. With gritted teeth he punched the air, a spear of yellow flame then shot forth and soon arrived at its target. Golden 3 felt the incinerating heat approaching before throwing himself into a side roll. The spear of fire merely managed to scorch his right side before impacting upon the stone wall shortly after. Sieg was not disappointed by such an outcome as he merely wished to provide himself some cover for his following actions. The moment he sent the spear of fire, his eyes had narrowed towards the longsword sprawled atop the orange sand not far from where he kneeled. Its previous lustrous silver steel now shimmered with a sizzling red heat, as if it were freshly forged. Sieg stared upon the weapon with grim determination before he pressed his bleeding stems into its hot surface. Immediately a burning pain assaulted his senses, something which had become a normality within this deadly duel. He spat out a groan yet his hand obediently remained still, doing so even as the smell of his own burning flesh reached his nostrils. Sieg only removed his hand when he was certain that his severed finger stems had been cauterized. Curses! I need to learn Healing Magic! As Sieg had spent most of his time within the third stage perfecting his craft with The Magery Techniques, he had yet to fully learn The Ancient Human-Tongue which was essential in casting healing spells. While the slave role conducted specific trials dedicated for each day as well as a general theme for said day, those of the elite class were given more freedom to pursue the route which they were carving for themselves. The art of magic was a vast field after all and within its reach many often chose to favor some of its aspects above others. Unfortunately for Sieg, he had often neglected healing magic for the simple fact that most battles with him as a participant ended swiftly. A product of Sieg¡¯s strategy, that of overwhelming force. Upon this day however, he stood before a fellow tiger, one with fangs no less deadly than his own. Truly it had been a bad draw regardless of how he saw it. Sieg forcefully suppressed his bitter thoughts as he at last returned to his feet. His body ached, his breathing was ragged, and he bore both burns and cuts. His robe too had lost all its previous luster, remaining shared and battered. Sieg was truly a sorry sight for those watching on. Not a moment after he stood, Sieg was back into full motion, almost immediately made to dodge a few short knives which breezed just inches from him. Then¡­ BOOM! Yet another wand was set to erupt near him. It appeared that after their initial first clash, the two opponents would once more enter a familiar dance of flames. Chapter 24 - Duel of Fire Part 2 When the wand¡¯s eruption occurred, Sieg threw himself to the left side, once more performing a skillful side roll. However, such a course of action was predictable despite Sieg¡¯s necessity to do so. Before Sieg could even land, his body was welcomed by a stream of soaring knives which cleanly dug past his robe¡¯s futile resistance and etched themselves into his flesh. Sieg could do nothing but bear the pain until at last his evasion of the deadly blast was complete. The moment he landed he did not hesitate to conjure a wind gust that swatted away the following knives dashing towards him. Sieg paid no heed to the knives which did pierce him and instead focused on unleashing a rain of fire onto his opponent. Golden 3 on the other hand began taking one wand after the other and sending them forth. Just like so the battlefield ignited into a frenzy of flames. Both Sieg and Golden 3 could not avoid the torching of their flesh as they continued the arduous battle. BOOM! A wand ignited into scorching fury before another did, then another, and another¡­ BOOM! As Sieg avoided yet another near encounter with the deadly eruption and just as he retaliated with his own orbs of flames, he could not help but curse at the nature in which Golden 3 chose to approach this battle. However despite his bitterness over it, he could also not deny its genius. To intentionally oversaturate a conductor with his Inner-Mana and then send it forth as it explodes was the perfect way to quickly create devastating attacks while negating Sieg¡¯s inherent advantage of being able to forge spells within rapid succession of each other. In the hands of a lesser foe, then even such a trick would have failed to place a mage within such a precarious situation, yet Golden 3¡¯s mastery over The Artifice Sword-Style was what made this battle such a dire one. Sieg would not win this battle if this continued, however, he did not fear such a possibility in the slightest. After all¡­ BOOM! While once more avoiding another eruption, Sieg felt his legs be pierced by the sharp points of knives. He ignored the small agony which they brought, a task easily done when the heat of the explosion near him was a far worse torture. However, even then his focus was not upon that scorching pain, instead his eyes were firmly locked on Golden 3¡¯s remaining number of wands. It appeared that his foe had at last arrived upon his final wand. While Golden 3 may have successfully suppressed him with the clever usage of sorcery, should Sieg successfully dodge this final wand then it meant that his victory would be assured. That realization made Sieg¡¯s blood boil with elation. I just need to push a little more! Fire erupted in the space before his hands and soon a new barrage of fire spears shot forth towards Golden 3. Naturally, Golden 3 was able to avoid most of their fury unscathed and even through a few more knives forth. He then at last reached for his final wand, grasping it tightly with his left hand. Just as he did, Golden 3 opened his lips and began speaking within a foreign language, that of Dragonese. ¡°In front of me my enemies wait¡­¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Planning to use magic now? As if I¡¯d let you! Just as Golden 3 began his chant, Sieg summoned forth a bombardment of fire orbs. They were small and were forged of a miniscule amount of Inner-Mana yet that allowed their speed to be quicker and their rate of fire to be significantly faster. Golden 3 evaded each fire orb with varying difficulty, his chant never ceasing. ¡°...before my eyes I ask that they become part of your dance as they are set in a glorious blaze, I Manifest thou, Fireball!¡± Golden 3¡¯s voice layered atop itself as a fireball thrice the size of the current fire orbs being sent his way manifested. It burned with sizzling fury, the wand¡¯s tip aimed directly at Sieg. Then the fireball shot forth. Sieg clicked his tongue in annoyance for having failed to disturb the spell¡¯s conjuring and swiftly jumped sideways to evade with the aid of a rapidly manifested wind blast. The fireball would be concerning if it landed, yet far less so than the previous eruptions which Golden 3 had been sending his way. Sieg merely assumed that this was the start of Golden 3¡¯s forward strategy. From what he could tell, Golden 3 would send a few spells Sieg¡¯s way in an attempt to make his releasing of the wand''s combustion unpredictable and increase the chances of it landing. In the next moment however, Sieg¡¯s eyes widened when he saw Golden 3 raising his previously free right hand. His hand grasped at nothing, he merely spread out his palm towards the direction in which Sieg¡¯s body was moving. Immediately Sieg¡¯s surprise turned into dread as he saw it¡­ Don¡¯t tell me! He saw a small ball of flowing water suddenly manifest in the area just before Golden 3¡¯s open palm. Sieg¡¯s head turned numb and he wanted to take action against it; however it was already too late. The ball of flowing water trembled before soaring towards Sieg¡¯s chest at a terrible speed. As it traveled through the hot air it stretched forth and began to transform into pure white ice, an ice within the shape of a jagged blade. Then¡­ ¡°Ack!¡± Sieg felt a cold and wet sensation course through the center of his chest. No! No! I¡ª I can¡¯t lose like this! The agony that the sword of ice brought was instantly drowned beneath the sheer weight of the despair which collided into him. He wanted to scream in protest yet when he opened his mouth only crimson blood seeped out. His white teeth too were drenched in crimson while his chest heaved heavily back and forth. Sieg¡¯s eyes could not mask his despair, nor his utter confusion. So great was his shock that before he realized it, he uttered a murmur. ¡°S¨CSince¡­ Since w-when did y-you learn M-Magery?¡± He had never once expected that Golden 3 would pull out such a card, after all Golden 3 had never even shown a hint of interest upon The Magery Techniques. It was not foolish to think that he lacked the ability to summon forth incantationless spells, and yet he had done so upon this very day, executed in a style familiar to every slave within the third stage no less. However, before Sieg could receive an answer, he saw Golden 3¡¯s expression distort violently before his right hand suddenly bulged. What followed after was the unique sound of flesh, bones, and muscles being rapidly torn apart from the inside out. With that sound came a shower of blood which shot forth in all directions as Golden 3¡¯s entire right arm combusted. Within that explosion were threads of his Inner-Mana which were of a light blue color, contrasting drastically with the crimson of the scattering blood. Seeing this, Sieg was first left within utter shock before his previous suffocating despair transformed into elation. ¡°Hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah!¡± Before he realized it, he had already unleashed a hefty laugh. One accompanied by the sound of gargling blood. ¡°Hah-hah-hah¨C Fool! Y-You had gotten me, I¡¯ll admit that much, yet it appears that your attempts to mimic The First Sword¡¯s style failed, Hah-hah-hah! Now look! See the situation before us! Instead of one of us obtaining absolute triumph we will instead crawl to the end of this duel as pitiful bleeding pieces of scorched flesh! Hah-hah-hah! Come on Golden 3, let us see who has more blood to spare!¡± Sieg could not help but let his mouth run loose, he was far too happy to care. For a moment he had truly thought it was the end, that victory was impossible, yet now things had shifted. With both having received a critical injury it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to it, and the one which fell last would claim triumph over this duel of fire.