Ash's POV
The crowd's roars jolted me awake, my head pounding with a pain so severe it felt like someone had taken a hammer to my skull. I groaned, pressing my palms against my temples as I tried to orient myself. The last thing I remembered was watching the battle between Su and Kilian, the sickening waves of corruption radiating from Kilian's exposed mana core washing over the arena. Then... nothing.
I forced my eyes open, squinting against the harsh sunlight. All around me, some spectators lay unconscious, some just beginning to stir while others remained motionless. The arena floor below was a wasteland of cracked stone and scorched earth. And there, in the center of it all, I witnessed Su violently cough blood, his body swaying unsteadily for a moment before collapsing to the ground beside his fallen opponent.
"Su!" The cry tore through the air—Mervan's voice, filled with panic and desperation.
Beside him lay Kilian, seemingly defeated. Had I missed the end of the match?
A flash of movement caught my eye—Mervan vaulting over the railing, plummeting toward the arena floor in a reckless dive to reach his friend.
"Kid... w-wait!" I called out, my voice hoarse and weak.
Everything happened in an instant. As Mervan ran towards Su, the air around them rippled with malevolent mana. An explosion of sickly green light erupted from nowhere, aimed directly at the falling boy and the unconscious warrior.
A blur of golden movement intercepted the blast—Sheherazade, her twin daggers crossed before her, repelling the attack in a shower of sparks and clashing energies. She landed gracefully, one arm cradling Mervan, the other extended defensively before Su's prone form.
"Where..." My eyes darted across the arena, searching for the source of the attack.
That's when I saw him—a figure hovering above the arena, surrounded by an aura of corrupted mana that made my stomach turn. He was tall and gaunt, with skin that seemed stretched too tight over his bones, giving him a corpse-like appearance. His robes, once perhaps magnificent, hung in tattered shreds from his emaciated frame. But it was his eyes that chilled me to the core—pools of swirling darkness rimmed with sickly green light, the same unnatural hue as the corruption that had emanated from Kilian's core.
"Oh, Princess of Mahraja," the figure's voice echoed throughout the arena, each syllable dripping with false reverence, "what an honor."
I didn't know who this man was, but the wave of dread that washed over me at the sound of his voice was filling me with nothing but uneasiness.
"KALA!" The old man—Eldran—bellowed from across the arena, his voice carrying such raw fury that I felt it like a physical force.
Kala. The name meant nothing to me, but I could see from Eldran's reaction that this was the probably the puppetmaster, the one who had been pulling Kilian's strings.
Kala's laughter echoed throughout the arena, a sound like glass breaking and metal scraping against bone. "Oh, old friend," he called to Eldran, "I really enjoyed our disciples' fight. It was really beautiful seeing them at each other's throats." His grin widened unnaturally, splitting his face in a way that seemed way too terrifying to describe. "Doesn't it remind you of the old days?"
The casual way he spoke, as if discussing a pleasant sporting match rather than a battle that had nearly destroyed everyone present, made my skin crawl. This wasn't just evil—this was something broken, something fundamentally wrong.
His demeanor shifted abruptly, the laughter vanishing as if it had never existed. "Though I must admit," he continued, his voice now cold and precise, "I am somewhat... disappointed that my Kilian didn't achieve the results he was tasked with."
He gestured casually toward Kilian's fallen form. "Kilian. Wake up. It's time to go."
To my astonishment, Kilian's body twitched, then slowly began to rise. He should have been dead—I had seen Su's victory. Yet here he was, broken and battered but alive, pulling himself upright with trembling limbs.
Kilian's gaze drifted to Su's unconscious form. There was something in his eyes—not hatred, as I would have expected, but something closer to... grudging respect.
Sheherazade stepped forward, her daggers flashing with golden light as she positioned herself between Su and Kilian. "Don't you dare," she warned, her voice carrying the unmistakable authority of royalty. "This man is under my protection. If you move even a hair closer, I will strike you down where you stand."
Kilian paused, his eyes meeting Sheherazade's for a long moment. "He fought well," he said simply, before turning and limping toward his master. "Master, I—"
The sound of Kala's hand striking Kilian's face echoed through the arena, cutting off whatever he had been about to say. The blow was so powerful it nearly knocked Kilian back to the ground, fresh blood spraying from his reopened wounds.
"You will receive your punishment later," Kala said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Then he turned his attention back to Eldran, a cold smile spreading across his face. "Oh, and Eldran," he called, his voice carrying a mocking edge, "I will see you soon old friend, since serving him, will only get our paths crossed again."
The words seemed to hit Eldran like a physical blow. His eyes widened, and for the first time since I'd encountered him, I saw something flicker across his face that looked like genuine anger.
With a roar that shook the arena, Eldran launched himself forward, black flames erupting from his hands as he summoned a power unlike mana (Ash doesn't know Sutra). The power radiating from him was staggering.
But his attack met nothing but empty air. Kala and Kilian had vanished, leaving only a faint echo of that terrible laughter behind.
I slumped back against the wall, my head still throbbing, trying to process what I had just witnessed. Who was Kala? Why was he provoking the old man? And most importantly, what had happened to Su?
Sheherazade's POV
The arena slowly emptied, spectators filing out in a daze of confusion and fear after Kala's brief but terrifying appearance. I remained beside Su, my daggers still drawn, though the immediate threat had passed. Questions churned in my mind like desert winds, scattered and relentless.
Who was Kala, truly? I had heard the stories, of course—tales of the traitor sent by the empire who had helped orchestrate Mahraja's downfall. But Mahraja's downfall was.. 300 years ago..
And Eldran... what had Kala meant about "serving him"? Eldran had been the most loyal servant of the royal family for as long as I could remember. No knight had shown the unwavering devotion that Eldran had demonstrated throughout my childhood, even if 'the royal family' is nothing but a facade right now. His objective couldn't possibly differ from my own—the revival of Mahraja and vengeance against the three kingdoms that had stolen everything from us.
But most troubling of all.. was Su. What was that display of power? Sutra ? But he is an outsider ??The golden flames intertwined with black fire, the chains that moved with a will of their own, that sealing technique that even I, with my knowledge that i acquired through the library of Ahad, had never witnessed before... it was magnificent.. yet terrifying.
And Why hadn't Eldran simply jumped in to kill Kilian himself? He certainly has the power. Was he testing Su? Did Eldran want to train him as a Mahrajan Knight?
Or was his objective to see if Su could Summon Sutra?
A chill ran down my spine as another possibility emerged. Could Su be the one from my mother's ..?
My thoughts were interrupted as Eldran approached, his face grim with concern. The corrupted veins on his arm seemed to have spread further.
"We need to take Su to the Amazigh sanctuary immediately," Eldran said, his voice low and urgent. "His condition is critical. He prematurely invoked Sutra with no training whatsoever. If we don't stabilize him soon, he'll die."
I nodded. Whatever questions plagued me would have to wait. Su's life hung in the balance, and that took precedence over everything else.
"Yes, let's hurry," I agreed, watching as Eldran carefully lifted Su's limp body. The golden gauntlet that had replaced his severed hand remained, but the chains had vanished completely, just as they had in the final moments of the battle. All that remained was the ornate armored hand, a permanent reminder of the power that had briefly manifested.
I turned to Mervan, who stood nearby, his small face pale with worry and fear. His eyes were fixed on Su, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. I knelt before him, taking his trembling hand in mine.
"Everything will be alright, Mervan," I said softly, squeezing his hand. "Su is strong. He'll survive this."
"Promise?" he whispered, his voice breaking.
I felt a pang in my heart. How many broken promises had this child already endured? The world had taken his brother, his home, his security—and now he feared it would take Su as well.
"I promise we will do everything in our power to help him," I amended, not willing to give words I couldn't guarantee. "And I promise you won't be alone, no matter what happens."
Mervan nodded, wiping his tears with the back of his free hand. His resilience in the face of such adversity was humbling.
My mother.. she spoke of a time when the fate of Mahraja would rest on the shoulders of an outsider, one who carried both light and shadow within their heart.
Looking at Su's unconscious form, I couldn't help but wonder: Is he the one? And if so, which path would he choose?
Only time would tell. For now, all I could do was ensure he lived long enough to make that choice.