The audience, like the divine kings who had just witnessed the spectacle, remained speechless and silent. Among the tiers of the arena, one could discern faces mixing terror and astonishment. What they had just witnessed far surpassed anything mere swordsmanship students could achieve—and even exceeded what might be expected of newly appointed master swordsmen.
The most stunned of all was, without question, Thorne: all his attempts had just been shattered with disconcerting ease. His pride took a terrible blow before the extraordinary power his opponent had just displayed. Thorne had known, in part, the strength his adversary possessed, but he had never imagined the gap between them to be so overwhelming—an unbridgeable chasm.
He then recalled a conversation he had had with the being who had entrusted him with his mission: to capture Kyriel, dead or alive. In Thorne's memory, the strange individual gave him instructions and handed him a mysterious object, which the young man had slipped into the inner pocket of his tunic.
Thorne thought, terrified yet resolute:
"I was warned about the power slumbering within the fragments, but never did I imagine such a difference between him and me… Damn it! I trained for this moment—I won't mess it up now."
"Even if I've never faced such a powerful opponent, I cannot afford to fail the mission entrusted to me."
"My lord had foreseen everything from the start… But if I swallow this, there'll be no turning back… What should I do?"
Kyriel, his face still menacing, called out:
"It seems I asked you a question earlier. Who are you? And why are you attacking me?"
"I entered this competition to become a master swordsman—it's my greatest dream. I don't recall offending anyone enough to deserve death," Kyriel continued.
—"My name is Thorne, and your execution was decreed on the day you were born," Thorne replied. "You were born with a burden far too heavy for you; I was sent to capture you, dead or alive. I have nothing personal against you, but I have a mission to fulfill."
Kyriel retorted:
"And those you attacked and killed before coming here? All those badges you claimed at the cost of others' lives—did you have nothing personal against them either? Why did you attack them when your mission didn't concern them?"
"Those wretches? They deserved to die, though I spared some of them. In this world, only the law of the strongest prevails; the weak must perish—that's how it is."
Thorne's answer darkened Kyriel's face even further.
"You're just a pawn. What is this mission, and who sent you?" Kyriel demanded.
"Someone who defies the very laws of this world by his mere existence. A being of immeasurable, ineffable power to creatures as inferior as you. The only one to whom I've entrusted my life and hopes—the one who fed and raised me. My god," Thorne replied fervently.
Kyriel, stunned, immediately sensed the absolute devotion Thorne bore toward this mysterious being; through that confession shone the immense importance this mission held for him.
"A god, you say? A god who sends a young man to kill others? A god who teaches his disciple to scorn the lives of his peers? How can you call divine someone who preaches death? The fact that he instructed you doesn't make him the guardian of your life and choices to the point of leading you to murder. A true divinity must be merciful and respect life. The being you describe sounds more like an assassin than a god."
Kyriel's words made Thorne boil with rage—he could not bear to see the greatness and admiration he felt for his god trampled underfoot.
"Silence! How dare you? I forbid you to profane lies and utter such absurdities about my god! You have no idea what I've lived through or what I know. You're just a fragment without a future, meant to be used. I'll prove to you here and now that faith in my god can move the heavens!"
At those words, an object resembling a black seed floated out of Thorne's pocket, as if drawn by telekinesis; he placed it in his mouth and inhaled it. Almost instantly, his eyes widened, veins bulged all over his skin, his hair stood on end, and he screamed in agony. The screams were so intense they seemed to echo a pain worse than having one's insides torn apart. His face twisted with unbearable suffering; Kyriel stepped back several meters.
The screams, so powerful, spread to the other arenas where badge battles were taking place: some participants turned their heads, intrigued, seeking the source of the cries. In the grand arena, thousands of spectators covered their ears to protect their eardrums. One of the contestants began running swiftly toward the origin of the screams.
One could only imagine the intensity of the cry that reached Kyriel's ears as he remained near Thorne. The latter opened his eyes and let out an even more piercing shriek, creating a shockwave that hurled Kyriel ten meters backward. The wave spread for kilometers, knocking out some apprentices and interrupting several duels. In the arena, the astonishment was total.
"I think we should end this examination—it's becoming dangerous," said one of the commanders, the one wearing glasses.
"The decision isn't ours, but that of the divine kings," replied another commander.
"Those old relics should really put a stop to this trial. That boy's appearance is no coincidence," added the commander with a cigarette between his lips, staring at the divine kings, who nevertheless remained impassive.
The screams ceased. Thorne's jet-black hair had turned a brilliant white; his body, which had taken on titanic proportions during the first transformation, returned to normal size, now covered in crimson markings. His eyes turned white as well. Kyriel stood in stunned silence before the sight. Then Thorne spoke.
"After swallowing that seed, there's no going back. I'll be dead in a few minutes, but that's long enough to fulfill my duty," said Thorne. Almost immediately, he lunged at Kyriel and struck him with a punch that sent him flying several meters back. Kyriel's arm, which had blocked the blow, trembled; he dropped to one knee.
"That's where you belong, fragment—on your knees," declared Thorne. "Do you feel how my strength has increased? My abilities have been multiplied thirtyfold. My body is coursing with a poison thirty times stronger than the one I injected into you at the start of our duel. Speed, strength, magic, endurance—you could say I'm thirty times more powerful… The art of body manipulation: Titan is nothing compared to such a boost."
"But all this comes at a price: my life. This enhancement feeds on my very existence as fuel. You were stronger than anything I'd imagined, but now that I've entered this state, it's the end—for both you and me. I will complete the mission I was given," Thorne declared.
"Art of Environmental Manipulation: Hurricane of Flames!"
At his words, a wave of fire surged toward Kyriel.
"These flames are unlike any other. They burn at seventy-two thousand degrees. They'll vaporize you; I'll harvest your soul—the source of your power—and deliver it to my master. Your body will be nothing but a useless remnant."
The flames rushed toward Kyriel, still on one knee and visibly weakened by the poison induced by the punch. Yet, at the very moment the wave was about to reach him, a voice rang out from behind.
"Sacred Art of the Light of Life: The Sacred Cut!"
At those words, the sea of flames vanished, as though sliced into thousands of fragments.
"I knew it! Things are much more entertaining over here," said Larva Leventis, arrived at the scene of the battle.