EVERYTHING WAS A BLUR.
Rhyssand was relentless, his Spear moving like it had a mind of its own. Artizea was living for this moment, to match another, blow for blow, without mercy. Their weapons sang out, clashing in bursts of light; however, she could feel his hesitation.
"You are holding back," She grunted.
Rhyssand tilted his head. "Am I?"
"You are." Artizea countered, they broke apart, then circled each other, "You fight like someone who does not want to win, surely even you grow tired of this dance."
Rhyssand tilted his head, studying her. "And you fight like someone who has no choice but to win."
Artizea scoffed, stepping back to create distance. Then lunged toward him, he blocked her attacks in their chaotic quantitation. She gritted her teeth in frustration, struggling to keep up for the first time in years. The strain on her muscles reduced her resistance against his onslaught.
The fight grew fiercer with each passing moment.
Rhyssand used his wings to take a few feet in the air, just enough distance before launching strikes from above, but she adapted quickly, sprinting across the field, dashing from left to right, deflecting his attacks skillfully, which spoke of years of rigorous training; her eyes never leaving him.
Yet a thought gnawed at the edges of her mind. Was he watching?
Artizea risked a glance toward the grand dais, scanning the king's expression.
Her Father sat with his chin resting on his hand, his golden eyes unblinking. His face was unreadable, but she could sense his expectations, his silent demand for greatness.
Was it disappointment for not dominating the battle outright?
"Eyes on me." A voice snapped her back to the fight. She met his penetrating gaze. "I expected more from the fiercest woman of the human realm. Is this all you've got?"
Artizea's eye twitched. She raised her lance, setting into stance once more, but before the fight resumed, another voice rang out, clear and unwavering:
"Bring him to his knees, Artizea!"
Artizea froze, her lance lowering slightly. Time seemed to freeze as every head turned toward the royal balcony. Because there, standing tall in her regal armor, was her mother, the Queen.
Gilgamesh turned to her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You came," he murmured.
"Apologies for the delay, I had to get my hair done," Arthuria said to anyone, nonchalantly striding past her husband and the goddess and her scowling features.
Arthur reemerged; he did the impossible, and for that, he declared himself champion.
Alexander rose and gave a respectful bow. "My Queen, I believe this seat is yours," glaring at Gilgamesh.
Arthruia followed his gaze to the chair beside her husband. It bore her initials, her title, and her role. But her eyes did not meet his. "You have been gone for too long, Alexander. For that is no longer my seat." She turned and walked to the balcony edge.
"Holy be Rah.." Alexander murmured, straightening slowly, lips tightening. He dared another glance to his right to see Gilgamesh leaning back in his seat with a defeated sigh, that of a very tired man, for many different reasons, and not the right ones. The king's eye twitched before he downed his goblet in silence.
Artizea straightened. The overwhelming warmth of her mother's support gave her her confidence back. She gave a slight nod, then turned back to him. Whatever the outcome of this battle, she knew she was not fighting alone, not in spirit. Now it was time to get serious
Artizea stood steady. Across from her, Rhyssand's wings frayed once more. Onlookers watched silently as the two heirs prepared for what felt like the final clash.
Artizea braced herself as their weapons clashed with a force that shook the field. The power behind each bow was vastly different now. Is this his full strength? She thought.
When his Spear locked in with hers, their faces inches apart once more, he whispered, "Hypocrite…" he chuckled out. "You have power, real power, but you are afraid of using it. Why?"
She froze, his words striking a nerve she had not expected. They tend to love doing that, but they were too close to the truth. She shoved him back with a growl. "I am not afraid of anything," her eyes narrowing.
"Is that what you tell yourself? When you are alone and there's no one to see what you truly are?"
The taunt stoked the fire in her chest, the beast within clawing to be released.
For a brief moment, her pupils narrowed into slits. Her eyes glowing a brighter crimson, her body felt heavier, her strength overwhelming, as if her true nature was struggling to break free.
Arthur's hand slowly drifted to the hilt of his sword, but Arthuria placed a steady hand on his arm. "Not yet," she said softly.
"This has gone on long enough," he growled, tension thick in his voice.
Eugene stepped forward, calm and ever enigmatic. "Patience, brother. You might be surprised how many versions of the future exist beyond your present point of view."
"May I remind you, brother, what is at stake?"
Arthuria turned to him then, her voice gentle but firm. "Arthur, you asked me to be here. Trust in your mother, that I know my children."
Arthur let out a long, reluctant sigh; his fingers receded from his sword.
Elaine approached, her presence a balm to the rising tension. "I believe in her, brother," she said softly. "You should, too."
Arthur's eyes snapped toward his sister. His jaw locked against memories he had buried, memories that never stayed buried for long.
"Artizea! Come back!" Arthur shouted.
"No, Arthur, let her go—" his mother commanded.
"She's my sister! And if you won't protect her—I will!"
Arthur's eyes snapped back open 1, 2, 3, he counted, and prayed he alone carried its weight.
However, across the ring,Artizea pushed back the memories and the dragon's presence back down, her breath ragged. Not again, "Beware of the fire in you," she remembered the woman saying.But what plagued her was the memory of her last transformation; it lingered in her mind like a fungus, the destruction, the fear in her siblings' eyes upon watching her lose herself.
"Stand back!"
"Artizea! Look at me! It's me, your Father!"
"Fear is an illusion…"
Artizea dared another glance toward her family. I will not lose control, not this time, not in front of him. She must take control. "You do not know what you are asking for, Rhyssand," She growled in warning.
Rhyssand's smirk deepened while he twirled his Spear lazily, "You do not scare me, Princess," he said.
The ground beneath them rumbled as the tension between them grew. Artizea's breath slowed, her chest rising and falling while she wrestled with herself. She could let it out. She could give him the battle he wanted, the fight he seemed to be begging for.
Fine then.
Artizea dropped her lance, the clang of metal echoing against stone. "If you want to die so badly, let it be from my hands."
"Do your worst," Rhyssand muttered under his breath.
Artizea knelt, placing her palm flat against the cold stone floor. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the ground beneath them began to hum, a faint vibration building into a powerful surge of symbols, ancient and glowing, that spiraled outward from her hand in a brilliant display of blinding light. The air crackled with energy as the circle expanded, pulsing with raw magic.
The force of it sent a rippling shock wave. Some shielded their eyes, others were awed at the sheer intensity of her power that swept over them. Yet the celestial Prince stood planted, his expression calm, though his eyes sparkled with intrigue.
Arthuria at last shot a look at Gilgamesh, and he nodded in response to the silent message.
"Fuck this," Arthur cursed. He tried to jump off the balcony, but Alexander's arm shot out. "Get your hands off me, my sister needs me!" he snarled.
"Arthur—" Alexander's tone of voice made him still. "She needs to get shit off her chest, let someone else be the pushing back."
Arthur's eyes glazed, throat tightening.
The light grew brighter, almost blinding, as Artizea's form began to shift. Onlookers fell silent, watching in awe and terror as the transformation reached its apex.
Rhyssand squinted through the haze of dust, his grip tightening on his Spear. Then, through the swirling debris, two massive eyes—fiery and unyielding—pierced the fog. He took an instinctive step back. His signature smirk faltered while watching the enormous figure begin to rise. He had not the faintest of an idea of the horrors he had just unleashed.
But he was about to find out.
As the dust cleared, Artizea's dragon form towered over him. Her majestic red scales shimmered like molten fire, her wings unfurling with a powerful whoosh that sent another gust of wind. Smoke curled from her nostrils, and when she opened her massive jaws, she revealed a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.
"So help me, Marduk…" Rhyssand murmured. For a moment, he could do nothing but stare, his golden eyes upon registering the sheer size of her, and he was not the only one. Onlookers gasped, some falling to their knees in awe. Even Ishtar, who had seemed unshakable, took a step back, her eyes wide with shock. Abomination, she thought.
Below the ground, Artizea's gaze locked onto her prey. Then came a roar deep that tore from her throat as enormous wings unfurled, their span casting the arena in shadow.
Alexander chuckled, "Let there be light," he mocked.
Then Artizea's jaw opened, and a torrent of fire erupted, forcing Rhyssand to dematerialize his Spear to leap out of the way just in time. The flames scorched the ground where he had been standing, the heat so intense that the stone itself began to melt. He rolled to his feet, his armor faintly glowing from the heat as well. which was odd, nothing should be able to combat celestial steel, just then he summoned a non-visible protective barrier. Precautions…
With another roar, Artizea unleashed a torrent of flames, the fiery blast rushing toward Rhyssand with terrifying speed, not waiting for him to recover. She beat her wings with a mighty flap, and she launched herself onto his domain. Then, unleashed another wave of fire toward him.
Rhyssand dived to the side as the ground where he had stood turned to molten rock. He had seen enough. It was time. His Spear materialized once more, glowing with new awakened energy. With deadly accuracy, he aimed at his target. It was impossible for his aim to falter. His veins glowed upon hurling it with all his might as it sang through the air, finding its mark. The weapon struck true to its master's will, piercing one of her wings.
Artizea roared in pain, then spiraled downward, her massive body crashing into the floor with a ground-shaking impact. Dust and smoke billowed into the air as the ground cracked beneath her weight.
In the royal balcony, Arthuria's breath hitched.
Arthur shoved at Alexander's hold, hanging on the balcony for dear life.
Elaine steadied herself with Eugene's cloak. He hesitated, then took her hand, holding it firm.
Ishtar was drumming her fingertips on her seat with a smug smile. Gilgamesh saw it, but even he could not suppress the worry in the way his chest rose and fell unsequenced.
Because there was one rule about he right of challenge, written in the finest of print…No one must interfere.
Arthuria closed her eyes tightly, her hands clasped together as if she could physically hold her daughter's pain. She prayed, a thousand desperate prayers in the span of a single breath.
Please, let her rise. Let her survive.
The smoke began to clear. Artizea lay still, eyes closed, and her wings limp at her sides.
"You are my daughter, and I see the fire in you, the same fire that burns within me. You will stumble, yes. But you will rise, stronger each time."
Artizea's eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide.
Rhyssand stood a short distance away, his Spear snapped back in his hand, his chest rising and falling. He walked at a painfully alarming slow pace, prepared to claim his victory. Then, a low growl rumbled through the arena. He stopped dead in his tracks due to the vibration resonating within his core and every soul present.
Artizea began to move. Her claws dug into the cracked earth, her wings twitching while pushing herself upright. Her fiery eyes snapped open, blazing with renewed determination.
In the royal booth, her mother's eyes flew open with tears, and she exhaled shakily. Her prayers had been answered, this time.
Elaine jumped up and down, still holding her brother's hand. He rolled his eyes but allowed it, just this once.
Arthur simply exhaled. He watched as Artizea rose to her full height, shaking off the sand, her wings unfurled once more. The wound on her wing bled faintly, but it did not stop her. Her gaze locked onto her challenger, her growl turning into a roar that should have sent him soaring. But Rhyssand stood his ground, gripping his Spear tightly with a twitch of his wing as they unfurled in stance.
From the balcony, the king's signature smirk returned. "Atta girl," he murmured.
Alexander kept his cheers hidden.
Artizea lunged at Rhyssand, her jaws snapping inches from his form, but he dodged, "You cannot hold this form, can you?" he said.
She roared in defiance, swinging her tail. He was right. She could feel it, the strain on her body, the power threatening to consume her. She had minutes, maybe seconds, before the transformation would take its toll. But not before her last stand.
Elaine cheered, but was cut off by Eugene's hand, shielding her eyes from the coming sunrise. "Hey!"
The air around Artizea crackled with heat and unleashed a devastating blast of fire that illuminated the entire area.
Rhyssand raised his hands just in time to summon a barrier of light. It shimmered as it absorbed the brunt of her attack. It was relentless, so much so that it transformed his shield into a growing spiderweb, golden fractures spreading across its surface. The pressure of her attack forced the Prince of heaven to one knee, his jaw clenched while struggling to hold his shield together.
Ishtar watched from the royal balcony, hissing in frustration, her golden eyes narrowing as Gilgamesh. But the king had his turn to smile. He gave her a look that said, You brought this upon yourself.
Smoke and debris hung in the air as the flames finally began to die down, carrying the acrid scent of fire and sweat. The audience, who had cheered with unrestrained fervor at the battle's start, had grown quiet, entranced by the spectacle before them.
Artizea growled; her energy was long but gone, for she had reached her limit. Her wings drooped slightly and began to shift. The scales that once armored her shimmered and dissolved, leaving her human once again. She gasped for air, staggering back.
As the smoke finally cleared the battlefield, Rhyssand finally let out a breath of exhaustion, his dark wings trailing behind him, his feathers' sizing at the edges from the inferno of her dragon fire. His eyes rose to find her retrieving her lance from where it had ended up; her eyes finally met his.
For a moment, the two simply stared at each other, neither making the first move. Their breaths came in ragged heaves, the toll of their battle evident in every strained muscle and weary gaze.
Artizea slowly straightened. "I could do this all day."
Rhyssand's lips twitched. A Lie. he then raised himself. "You certainly have made your point, Princess."
"And what point would that be?"
"For all your power," he said, wincing as his wings folded behind him. "You are still willing to push yourself to the limit. But there is a limit."
Artizea took a slow step forward. "And yet with all your promises, you still could not kill me."
"Neither could you."
Their eyes spoke what they could not say, yet there was no malice, only an understanding. Rhyssand materialized his spear for the last time, then slowly, as though choreographed, they each raised their weapon, driving them into the ground simultaneously. Onlookers murmured in confusion. For it was not surrender, they had not yielded, had not admitted defeat. Instead, the gesture was a declaration of balance.
"No winner," the announcer finally declared, his voice echoing. For a moment, everything seemed to hang in suspense.
Artizea stood in the center of the scorched battlefield, her chest rising and falling with exhaustion. Her eyes searched the royal balcony, expecting more than disappointment on her father's face. But she had not won; she clenched her lance tighter, her knuckles turning white.
At that instant, the entire Audience began to chant. "Crown Princess! Crown Princess!" The voices grew louder. The sight of the Prince of Heaven faltering had done something no royal decree could ever achieve. It gave the people faith. Faith that their Crown Princess could stand against even the divine. From the royal balcony, Elaine screamed at the top of her lungs, jumping up and down with excitement.
Arthur finally managed to climb up onto the railing of the balcony, giving a dramatic bow while grinning.
Artizea rolled his eyes and curtsied back to him.
"Atta girl!" Alexander yelled.
"Yeah!" Elaine shouted, waved wildly to Artizea, who could not help but smile despite herself.
Eugene, who had been quietly observing, let out a reluctant sigh. "Fine," he muttered, "I guess brute force wins some battles."
Gilgamesh finally stood tall and made his way to the balcony, imposing at the center of the balcony. His daughter was standing tall despite her exhaustion, yet she raised her head high as the people called her name, her eyes burning brighter than ever. He smiled faintly, his heart swelling with pride. He then turned to Ishtar, who was visibly seething. Her golden eyes burned with fury as she gripped the railing tightly. Before she could leave, he spoke, his tone infuriatingly calm. "He's welcome to try again next year."
Ishtar scoffed, coldly, before waltzing away, tousling her hair over her shoulder.
Gilgamesh chuckled to himself, clearly enjoying her frustration, but before he could fully revel in the moment, a sharp smack echoed through the air. His head snapped to the side as the queen's hand connected with the King's cheek.
"Oh fuck…" Alexander murmured, instinctively ducking behind Arthur while grabbing Eugene and Elaine by the sleeves to widen his human shield.
No one dared breathe too loudly. Except the king, who slowly turned his head back, a red mark blooming on his cheek, and an almost impressed smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Arthuria," he started, his voice low. She cut him off with a glare so fierce it could have rivaled his own.
"She could have died!" Arthuria 's voice trembled with anger, her hands clenched at her sides. "And you are already planning to let her do this again?"
He straightened, rubbing his cheek, "She's stronger than you think," he shot back.
"And with that, strength does not mean she has to pay the price of continuing to prove herself." She snapped. Her voice softened slightly, though her fury did not wane. "Our daughter Is Not a weapon." She turned on her heel and stormed off toward the palace, leaving the king standing alone on the balcony.
"Zephaniah Shay, my love!" Alexander cried out, gripping the balcony railing. "Take me in place of the curse thou hast placeth upon thy sovereign… And spare thy little ones… for they need their father…" His shoulders shook as he sobbed.
Gilgamesh sighed in exasperation, but against his better judgment, a small smile played on his lips. She came…
A beat of silence passed before Elaine leaned in, whispering, "Is now the right time to mention I have a list of presents…?" Everyone turned to stare at her. She shrank under their gazes. "No? Okay…"
Artizea watched as Rhyssand straightened and freed his Spear from the ground, his golden eyes still locked on her one last time. "It seems we are evenly matched," Rhyssand said, his voice firm despite her exhaustion.
Artizea inclined her head, the faintest trace of a smirk lingering on his lips. "For now."
"For now," he echoed, a slight smile breaking free. "You fight well, Artizea Pendragon," he said, his voice sincere for the first time.
Artizea looked at him; her thoughts faded away when the healers rushed forward to her. She gave him a wry smile. "You are not so bad yourself… Rhyssand Rimat. But just so you know, I am still champion."
"Oh?" His brow arched.
"You are the challenger. And the challenge still stands."
Rhyssand let out a short laugh. "Whatever helps you sleep at night… Princess."
"Perhaps sometime in the future, we will see who truly has the edge," Artizea sang.
"Perhaps," he said, his smirk returning. "And should that day come, I will be sure to take this seriously and not hold back," catching her brows knitting, "For now, this will do," he added with a smirk.
They both turned in opposite directions, walking away from each other with newfound respect. Like two others before them.
THE END OF VOLUME 1