The moment the bald man's head exploded, something shifted in Soren's consciousness
It was not clarity exactly. Not a return to full awareness. It was more like a door opening in a dark room, allowing a single shaft of light to penetrate the fog. The sight of it, the sudden violence, the absolute finality of it, broke through the layers of pain and delirium that had been insulating him
His body was still screaming
Every nerve ending was on fire. His face was a map of agony, each movement sending fresh waves of pain through his skull. But underneath that, Soren's mind was functioning again. Calculating. Assessing. The survival instinct that had kept him alive through the forest, through the jungle, through everything was reasserting itself
His magic had returned
He could feel it the moment the collar loosened, mana flooding back into his body like water breaking through a dam. The sensation was almost painful in its intensity, his channels suddenly flooded with power they had been denied. He did not waste time on gratitude or relief. He immediately reached inward, grasping for the regeneration spell
The magic flowed through him, responding to his intent even in his fractured state. The tissue around his eyes began to knit. The swelling did not disappear entirely but it receded enough that he could see properly again. His cheekbones remained damaged, he could feel the asymmetry underneath the healing flesh, but they were stable. His lips were still torn but the bleeding had stopped. His nose would never look right again but it was functional. He felt that his regeneration blood magic had somehow grown stronger, but he had no time to dwell on this, during the casting of his magic he made sure not to heal his face anymore than necessary, causing his face to be a large mess of scars. After all he couldn't heal his face too well unless he wanted to rip it apart again and Soren couldn't bare doing something like that again, the pain from the aftermath of what he had done kept assaulting his mind forcing him to cast regeneration to ease the pain. Another experience like that might fully break him
He looked like a monster that had survived something terrible
The nun had stopped stomping on the corpse
She stood motionless now, her chest heaving, her hands still clenched into fists. Her white and gold armour was splattered with blood, dark droplets staining the elegant design of her breastplate. Her crimson hair was matted against her shoulders, hanging down her back in strands that seemed almost black in the arena light. Her green eyes were blazing, still alight with divine fury, though the immediate violence had passed. Her face was striking, sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, features that would have been beautiful if they were not currently twisted into an expression of righteous rage
She looked directly at Soren and the intensity of her gaze made him flinch
Then she returned to her prayers, her voice picking up where it had left off as though she had never paused
"...and may the goddess guide my hand in righteous judgment..."
The announcer snapped his fingers
The gesture was casual. Almost lazy. But the effect was immediate and absolute. The Umbrax's entire body convulsed. The massive beast threw back its head and released a sound that was not a roar but something deeper, a howl of primal rage. Its purple eyes blazed with an intensity that seemed almost supernatural. And around its neck, where Soren had not noticed anything before, a collar began to glow with a yellow light
The Umbrax's muscles rippled as the magic surged through it. The creature's entire body seemed to grow heavier, more solid, more real. Its claws gouged deeper grooves into the sand as it took a step forward. Then another. Its tail lashed behind it, the barbed tip leaving trails in the sand like an artist's brush
The crowd's roar intensified until the sound seemed to become a physical thing
The VIP box overlooked the arena from a position that allowed complete visibility of the pit below
It was elevated, separated from the general stands, furnished with cushioned seats and small tables bearing food and wine. A private space for important people. Lyra sat in one of these chairs, her metallic armour catching the light as she leaned forward slightly, her eyes tracking every movement in the arena below
Cane Stormguard sat beside her, his yellow eyes, inherited from his father, fixed on the pit with an intensity that suggested financial stakes riding on the outcome
"So young master," Lyra said, her voice carrying the upbeat tone of someone genuinely enjoying themselves, "who did you bet on for this one?"
Cane's jaw tightened slightly. There was a edge of anxiety beneath his carefully constructed composure, though pride kept his voice steady. "The Umbrax. Had to. Look at it. The three fighters are already falling apart and the fight hasn't even really started." He said now grinning
"The bald guy's head just exploded," Lyra pointed out
Cane turned to look at her, his expression shifting into something more confident, ''Which means my bet is gonna cash through.'' He said happily, ''Unless some bullshit happens and I lose''
"Look at that one," she said, gesturing toward Soren. "The scarred one. He looks like an actual monster"
Cane followed her gaze and his expression shifted. For a moment he said nothing, simply watching as the damaged fighter began to move, his body responding to the Umbrax's presence with something that resembled coordination despite his condition
"Let's hope he doesn't fight like one," Cane said quietly. There was something desperate in his voice now. "I can't lose another bet. I really can't, my dad would really kill me this time"
Lyra laughed, a bright, genuine sound that seemed out of place in the context of what they were watching. "Maybe you shouldn't be betting at all, you know? Just a thought."
"No." Cane's voice hardened slightly, that stubborn pride reasserting itself. "You're only a loser until you win''
Lyra watched him for a moment, then returned her attention to the pit below. Something about the scarred fighter nagged at her, but she pushed the feeling aside. It was probably nothing. Just one damaged fighter among thousands in this place
She settled back into her chair, her metallic armour shifting with the movement, catching the arena light. Her noir hair was braided neatly down her back, pulled tight in a way that emphasized the sharp angles of her face. But it was her eyes that drew attention, one was a cool grey, sharp and analytical as always. The other was marked by a grotesque scar that ran from her eyebrow down to her cheekbone, but despite her battle hardened appearance she watched the fight in front of her like a kid watching their favourite play, her eyes gleaming from excitement, very unbefitting from one of the strongest people in the world
The announcer's voice boomed across the colosseum, cutting through the roar of the crowd like a blade
"We CAN'T let our fighters face the Umbrax empty-handed, can we?"
The announcer moved with theatrical precision, his black suit immaculate, his top hat perfectly positioned. He walked along the edge of his elevated platform with exaggerated steps, each movement deliberate and designed for maximum visibility. The gold rings on his fingers caught the arena light, creating small flashes that drew the eye
He extended his right hand
His palm opened, turning slowly upside down. The middle finger bore the most ornate ring of all, a band of black metal inset with a small gemstone that suddenly blazed with light. The glow intensified, becoming almost blinding, and then objects began to fall
Weapons
They cascaded down into the arena pit like rain, scattering across the sand in a chaotic spray. Swords with curved blades and straight ones. Axes with heads that looked capable of cleaving through bone. Spears with sharpened tips. Daggers. Clubs wrapped in iron. A bow with a quiver of arrows. Hammers. Whips embedded with metal barbs
The weapons spread across the sand in no particular pattern, some landing point-first and sticking, others clattering as they fell, creating a arsenal of violence for the fighters to access
The crowd's reaction was immediate
They screamed with excitement, their voices reaching a fever pitch. The display of weapons meant extended combat. Meant more blood. Meant a spectacle rather than a quick massacre
Soren's one functional eye tracked the weapons as they fell, his mind already calculating distances and access points. There were at least twenty different implements scattered across the pit. Some were closer to him than others. The nearest sword was perhaps ten meters away, lying point-down in the sand
The Umbrax paid the weapons no attention
The beast advanced with methodical certainty, its massive claws dragging through the sand, leaving deep gouges. The yellow glow around its collar intensified, and Soren could see the magic coursing through the creature's form, enhancing its already formidable physicality
The nun knelt and picked up a spear without breaking her prayer
"...and may my arm be guided by divine purpose..."
She held the weapon with the ease of someone who had trained extensively with it, the wooden shaft balanced in her hand as naturally as breathing. Her green eyes remained fixed on the advancing Umbrax, her expression serene despite the blood still coating her white and gold armour
Soren moved toward the nearest sword
The crowd watched him with interest now, the scarred fighter dragging himself toward a weapon while a divine warrior knelt in prayer and a magical beast advanced with predatory grace
The announcer raised his cane
"LET THE HUNT BEGIN!"
The Umbrax charged