Fudge Esq
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V2 Chapter 63: A Sound Beating
🕑 Added 2024-12-31 00:37:36 +0000 UTCJarold’s voice disappeared again, coming back half a minute later. His voice had a new, uneasy edge to it that crept into his previous enthusiasm. Despite his best efforts to sound upbeat, the strain only grew as the matches dragged on.
"Ohhhh and Nida the Paragon has taken a brutal blow to her ribs! Ouch—there's probably a few broken ones!”
The barrier separating my stadium from Nida’s vanished the moment Arthur and I stepped down, granting me an unimpeded view of my Paragon getting her ass handed to her. Her struggle wasn’t exactly a surprise. Nida’s fights in the lower tier had worn her out and, judging by her sluggish movements and heaving chest, the move into the silver realm of power had not refreshed her as a natural core would have.
Her opponent, the Hidden Sage, was true to his name. A ragged black cloak hung from his frame like shadowed wings, fraying at the arms to reveal gray-wrapped limbs. Around his neck dangled a bone pendant carved into a miniature skull. A thick, white beard partially obscured his gaunt, hollow-cheeked visage and his worn leathery olive skin, but it was his eyes—pale, unseeing gray—that was truly unsettling. His gaze never seemed to move no matter how his body shifted or turned, yet it felt as though he always knew where she was. Tracking her every movement without glancing at her even once.
Those eyes should have warned her. Yet here she was, misjudging his movements and walking into mistake after mistake. The Hidden Sage moved with a deceptive calm, his every counterstrike imbued with purpose. When Nida lunged forward with her spear and overextended, his rusted gauntlet found her ribs with fluid ease. The mark of hard-earned battle experience.
The crack of her ribs was sharp and unmistakable.
Nida struggled to maintain her footing as a stream of blood exploded from her mouth. Her breathing had become little more than a painful-sounding rasp. She tried to heal with some of her limited healing magic, but there was no chance. In her state, she was likely barely holding on to consciousness. There was no way she’d be able to avoid the Hidden Sage long enough for her healing to have any useful effect.
The Hidden Sage approached her with an air of finality, pity etched across his weathered face. "You fought well, girl," his voice boomed, magnified by colloseum's unseen magic. "But you are new to this realm. I hope you've learned something today. I look forward to your rise."
Without waiting for a response, he drove his gauntlet into the already fractured ribs. Nida’s scream tore through the colosseum—a mixture of pain, terror, and blood. The force of the blow hurled her into the arena wall, stone cracking on impact. Her body slumped to the ground, sliding off the stone wall like a broken puppet.
Nasq, who’d remained in the arena grounds to receive healing, gently pushed the woman healer who’d been fretting over him away from him and dragged her over to Nida in a hurry. They were joined soon by another three healers before a massive amalgamation of green and white lights enveloped Nida.
I kept my gaze on the Hidden Sage, quelling the rising fury that raged within me. Rage was a tool, not a master—something my father had drilled into me long ago. It had its uses, but only ever under my complete control.
“Rage without direction—without reason or logic—is nothing but the tantrum of a child,” my father had warned us, his voice sharp as a blade. He stood behind me, his cold breath prickling the back of my neck. His hand reached around, forcing me to raise the sword I’d let fall. I couldn’t look away from my sister’s blood pooling at my feet, her body twitching in its final moments.
“You stabbed her because she stabbed your other sister,” he said, his tone cutting deeper than the steel in my hands. “What has that gained you? What has changed? Nothing. You’re still bleeding, and when she dies, your vengeance dies with her. Tell me, how does that benefit you?”
“I… It will make them fear me,” I muttered, my voice trembling as I stared at what I’d done. My hands felt numb. “Fear is good.”
“No, Lilith,” he snapped, his voice low and lethal. “Controlled fear is good. It is necessary. What you’ve created is chaotic fear—undisciplined, wild. Chaotic fear is the mark of a ruler destined for ruin.”
He wrenched the sword from my hands and spun me to face him. His dark scarlet eyes bore into mine, searing me with their intensity. “Do you fear me, child?”
I shook my head. “No, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Because you are my father, and you’re helping me become stronger.”
“Do you fear what I am capable of?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my throat dry.
“Then tell me, what will your sisters think of this?” He gestured sharply at the dying girl. “Will they see you as their leader?”
“It will make them fear touching what’s mine,” I growled, more to myself than to him.
“No, Lilith. It will make them kill you for it,” he said, his voice as heavy with disappointment. “If they fail, they lose only their lives. But a ruler commands necessary fear—fear that binds, fear that controls. True power is not in making them fear you, but in making them fear what betraying you will cost them. What you have shown today is not mastery. It is weakness. You are a puppet, dancing to the strings of your own emotions.”
His gaze burned like fire, stealing the air from my lungs. “Do you want to be a puppet, Lilith?”
“No,” I choked out.
“Then stop acting like one.”
“What should I have done, Father?” My voice wavered, frustration clawing at me. “I didn’t want my sisters to kill each other over nothing. We’re not even in a trial!”
His lips curled into a predatory smile, yellowed teeth glinting like fangs. “Then show them that even the worst among them will bow. Death is easy, Lilith. Control is hard.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Make it a show.”
The memories surged unbidden, a torrent of unwelcome images. I clenched my fists, shutting my eyes tightly as I drew in slow, deliberate breaths. After a long exhale, I forced the memory aside and moved toward my defeated paragon.
Jarold’s voice rang out across the arena, his commentary continuing unabated as the first round of matches progressed. Alaric claimed victory shortly after the Hidden Sage’s triumph. The final bout stretched longer than the others, but ultimately Edith of the White North claimed the match over the broken body of Matthias Brown, who’d struggled until his body had utterly given up.
As Edith left the arena, the second group of first-round fighters prepared to take the stage. I had already scouted the competitors in this group and was not particularly concerned. Aside from Alaric, the Hidden Sage, and a woman in the third group, none of the fighters here had advanced beyond the lower stages of the silver realm. There was a second-mage-realm sorcerer in group three, but until I saw him fight, I wouldn’t waste energy worrying. Sorcerers often specialized in a single attribute, which made them vulnerable to adaptable opponents.
After Nida regained consciousness, the healers offered to escort her to the infirmary for further treatment, but I waved them off. They scattered quickly, save for one who lingered near Nasq. She looked at the mage longingly until he scowled at her and shooed her away. She hiked up her white skirt embroidered with red stars and melted into the throng of other healer running to their charges.
Did I win…?” Nida groaned, propping herself up against the outer arena wall.
“No,” I replied bluntly.
“Not even close,” Nasq added, his laugh tinged with both relief and petulant. “That old man wiped the floor with you.”
“Ugh,” she moaned, closing her eyes. “I don’t remember what happened after the first rib hit.”
“He hit you again,” I said, tapping my ribs to indicate the area. “Hard.”
“You got tossed off the stage and into the wall,” Nasq added, gesturing toward the pile of shattered stones a few feet away. “We dragged you over here to keep more rubble from burying you.”
“Thanks… I guess,” she muttered, glancing up at me with shimmering, tear-filled eyes. “Sorry, my lady.”
I raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“For losing.”
I laughed. “Even at full strength, you had no chance. You were up against a seasoned warrior with three heart rings in the silver realm. He not only had more raw power than you, but also had decades more of experience."
Her eyes widened. “He was that strong? I couldn’t tell.”
I clicked my tongue. “That’s something we need to fix. I should have taught you both energy sensing long ago.”
“I already can, my lady,” Nasq said, scratching the back of his head as he slid down the wall to sit beside Nida.
I wasn’t surprised to hear there was a way to sense energy and mana levels by way of magic, though it did spark an interest in me to learn it.
I’ll need to figure out how to create a mana core first, I thought bitterly, remembering my encounter with Orpheus the other day. Should I try to create another paragon with the angellic race? Just to test the progenitor's word?
The idea lingered as I mulled it over, but my attention was abruptly pulled away by a sharp resonance with the House Coin.
“Your grace,” Field Marshal Aargorn Delgov reported. There was an effort to remain calm and professional in his tone, but I could hear the undercurrent of near terror and panic radiating from it nonetheless. “What in the worlds is that creature by the city’s border?”
“That is Vespera,” I replied evenly. “My… dragon.” Or something akin to one. Even if her biology had shifted to match a dragon’s, her intelligence remained a question mark. “She won’t bother you. Probably. Continue your tasks."
"A... dragon?!" Although it was telepathic, the message reached me as a scream. "My apologies, duchess. As you will it, you grace.” His voice still wavered with hints of uncertainty and fear, but he managed to stifle it as the line of communication disconnected.
“Is it ready?” Nasq asked, no doubt noticing my expression go distant during my conversation with Aargorn.
"Yes." I glanced at Nida, then back at Nasq. "Focus on healing her. You have..." I looked up at the sun, now past its apex and beginning its descent, though there was still time before it reached the halfway point between zenith and horizon. "A few hours, at least. But be ready."
After that, it was just a matter of waiting. The second group went through their motions, none of them standing out. They were all competent but unremarkable fighters from the lower end of the silver realm. In their backwater cities, they'd probably be heroes, but here, they failed to claim my interest. Morgana Silverwater handily trumped her opponent in the group, a short rotund sorcerer with an earth affinity. She had a dual core, both energy and mana. And it seemed that both were fire-attributed. Although my interest was somewhat peaked by the double-core nature of her fighting style, and how both cores were near in power, her overall skills were subpar at best. Similar to Arthur, the girl's cores seemed to have been forcefully and unnaturally evolved.
Despite the disappointing power of Morgana Silverwater, the part of my soul where what remained of Lilliana still resided raged at the sight. It screamed at me to end the woman now before she became stronger in the most gruesome and painful way possible.
What has this girl done to you that angers you so? I wondered though, unsurprisingly, Lilliana did not answer. You will have your vengeance, child. Patience.
When the third group finally entered the arena, things unfolded as I’d expected. Only one fighter drew my full attention: a woman fighting under the name "Justicia." The rest were just as middling as the second group and unworthy of my note.
Justicia was the proxy for Lady Eliza, the temporary matriarch of House Alistar. Like her master, she had bright blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and sharp, birdlike features. Her eyes were slightly too close together, her nose just a little too long to be considered conventionally beautiful—but the combination created an unfortunate appearance of her seeming to constantly look down at anyone she glared at.
And she glared a lot.
After watching her easily dominate her fight and then strut about in military fashion, I was fairly certain she glared at everyone—except Eliza Alistar, of course.
"Round Two!" Jarold shouted, his voice crackling with an odd edge. It wasn’t overt, but I could hear it beneath his words, a subtle shift that grew more noticeable with each passing moment. It didn’t feel forced, but there was something about him that was... different. Dralos' team had been tasked with keeping him restrained and ensuring he kept commentating, but Jarold didn’t sound forced. Just... changed. "First match! Lady Lilliana 'Queen' Silverwater against the Hidden Sage! And Sir Alaric of the Storm facing Edith of the White North."
As he spoke, the ground under the four stadiums cracked and shifted. Five earth mages rotated around the area, merging the north and east stadiums into one, and the south and west into another. When there were only two stadiums remaining, the mages stepped away and the crowd let out an uproarious cheer.
"Fighters! Make your way to your stage!"
Comments
Fudge Esq
Happy new year!
Jah Army
Thanks for the chapter. Happy New year.
Fudge Esq
Working on it! Happy new year! XD
Fudge Esq
Ah yes! Got it. Nice catch once again haha
EsZeus
Well, now we need more chapters :) Haha But first, have a happy new year soon!
EsZeus
Always looking forward to your new chapters :)
Jeremy
Thanks for the chapter! I think there might be an error in : " Nasq, who’d remained in the arena grounds to receive healing, gently pushed the woman healer who’d been fretting over him away from him and dragged her over the Nida in a hurry." Instead it should probably be: "Nasq, who’d remained in the arena grounds to receive healing, gently pushed the woman healer who’d been fretting over him away from him and dragged her over to Nida in a hurry."
