"Gladys! Gladys! Gladys!"
He stood triumphant upon the corpse of Eve. Again this year, he had won. A six-year champion of the Colosseum—a champion of the people.
Someone else would feel pure joy for such an achievement. Yet, he felt... nothing. He had won, yet it felt as though he hadn't.
"Gladys! Gladys! Gladys!"
In the stands, a spectator felt incredibly nervous. Elyon had tried to teach his student about true strength, yet his student had died. Why didn't I do anything sooner? He thought bitterly. Why didn't I help Eve just like I did in her fight with the Defilement? He didn't know; an intense guilt started to probe his mind.
"I'm sorry, Eve," Elyon whispered.
Gladys just stared down at her corpse for a while. She had promised him that she would kill him. But just like everyone who had come before her, her words didn't seem to hold any real belief.
Thump-thump, a bloodless beat.
Two insignificant sounds echoed through the dirt, yet no one heard them.
"Gladys! Gladys! Gladys!"
Gladys watched her for a bit more. "When I was a child, I ripped the wings off a butterfly to show it how beautiful it was. After that, I crushed it with the sole of my foot... Ahh, you should've seen my face. That was the moment I realized my destiny. To become someone great who would help others. And that's exactly what I intend to show you, Eve—just how beautiful you are."
The words rang hollow in his own ears; he didn't necessarily believe them, nor did he dismiss them. He just wanted to break the heavy silence of her death, since it had started to become... suffocating.
Thump-thump, a dry beat.
"I remember once Aureth told me something," Gladys murmured to the dead air. "The beauty of the past will always be determined by the beauty of the present."
The blazing sun bore down into the heads of the spectators, intensifying their maddening, fanatical state. And yet, those words didn't seem to apply to her. Eve's past was ugly, messy, and it certainly wasn't beautiful.
Except... it was beautiful.
Thump-thump, bloodless flower.
And since her past was beautiful, that meant her present had to be the exact same.
Asters, Begonias, Carnations, Dahlias, Edelweiss, Freesias, Gardenias, Hibiscus, Iris, Jasmines, Kalmias, Lilies, Marigolds, Narcissus, Orchids, Poppies, Queen Anne's Laces, Roses, Sunflowers, Tulips, Ursinias, Violets, Wisterias, Xeranthemums, Yarrows, Zinnias.
Every single flower imaginable turned the bloody sands into a vibrant sea of colors. Their scent grew so impossibly potent that it drove the spectators even more mad than mad.
Thump-thump, seeds began to grow.
Her lifeless heart started beating slowly again, then again, and again. Eve's corpse was actively becoming the most beautiful thing in this world.
Gladys stared in stunned silence at the sight of so many blossoms. The flowers were many, and then they became many more. They slowly lifted Eve's corpse up, placing her gently on a bed made entirely of them. Tendrils of pure color reached high up toward the clouds, turning the sky itself to color, until the remaining clouds completely disappeared. In their place, the sun bore down even harder on the blooming field.
Only one single question ran through the minds of both Gladys and Elyon: What are you?
She was beauty.
No.
She is beautiful.
Her corpse rose. A thick vein of flowers reached out, pulling her exposed insides back into her torso. Then, another vein snaked out and pulled her severed left arm back to her shoulder. They were planted firmly back into the earth that was her body.
Nightfall guided her limbs. The blade bent down, and it helped Eve craft a crown made of vibrant flowers. Each scar, wound, and sin started disappearing as she meticulously crafted the headpiece, which, after its completion, fell gently on top of her head.
Nightfall guided her eyelids shut, and then the massive mountain of flowers started to disappear, slowly dissolving away. Once the mountain was no more, and just the flat field of flowers remained, the corpse opened its mouth.
"My master is unable to fight. I will be in your care, champion."
Its lips remained entirely unmoving, and so was her tongue.
Gladys pointed his index finger directly toward Nightfall's puppet. "You are a monster."
"Speak for yourself," the corpse responded. Nightfall mimicked the champion's exact gesture, moving its finger toward the champion's arm. "You are ugly, champion. Let me change that."
"Eve... I'm sorry for turning you into thi—" Gladys's words were cut off instantly.
"Silence."
Gladys's left arm suddenly turned violently colorful. Petals of many words scattered wildly into the wind, and his arm was simply no more.
Nightfall began to walk the corpse toward the champion, stopping right in front of him. Gladys was tightly clutching his newly formed stump, slowly backing away in shock. Nightfall reached down and pulled the cloth that Eve had previously used to tie her own wound. Silently, the corpse began to tie the champion's new wound shut.
Gladys stared in absolute amazement.
After it finished its task, the corpse began to walk back to its original position. But as it walked, it never once turned its back on the champion.
"One strike," Nightfall spoke through her.
Gladys picked his trident back up. "An eye for an eye, huh?"
"My eyes will remain. Yours won't."
Gladys readied his posture for an upcoming, explosive dash. "Make no mistake, corpse... I'm still the strongest."
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Nightfall remained rooted in place, then suddenly, the corpse exploded into a heavy rainfall made entirely of petals. Where Eve's body was supposed to be, the only one remaining was Gladys. His bare body was giving off intense steam, and his breath was incredibly heavy.
Behind him, something stirred awake. The souls of Gladys's past victims were awakening. But instead of flesh, they were made completely out of flower heads.
"The wandering day of condolences."
Gladys whipped around, and what he saw struck absolute fear into his very being.
The ones who had died with anger were painted in deep red roses. The ones who had accepted their death were painted in pure white gardenias. The ones who had died with grief were painted in pale carnations. And there were many, many more without end. Every single one of them was controlled completely by their queen.
Behind the vast, spectral army that filled the walls of the arena, Eve's corpse was found. Her mouth was closed, and a visible, serene smile was present on her face.
She was radiant.
The army began its march.
---
I remember once a guard told me about an experiment they did in Scholar's Rest. They wanted to make a clone of me—a perfect one.
Yet they failed.
They couldn't match my true strength. They pumped drug after drug into that poor soul, and they stuffed it with food, yet they failed miserably. The scientists simply couldn't match what I was. Their most successful experiment was named Slackjaw—a feeble copy of no real strength.
For two years they kept me sealed in a dirty cage for whatever reason.
And once I left...my hatred burned so bright that day that I unlocked something that had been dormant inside of me all along.
My power.