Crimson & Light

An echo resonated across the training field.

"First match: Thorne and Aria versus Rowan and Lisia!"

The voice, amplified as if through an intercom, was unmistakably Berethia's.

So that's where she went, Changra thought, feeling a mix of surprise and reassurance at her presence.

The announcement heightened the anticipation among the participants, signaling the commencement of the trials.

Thorne and Aria proceeded through a tunnel leading to the battle area, while the remaining contestants followed, diverting up a set of stairs to a spectator section.

"It's like a Colosseum," Changra remarked in awe.

Jane sat beside him, pressing slightly against his side. Noticing her trembling, Changra chose not to pull away, offering silent support.

The arena's design, reminiscent of ancient amphitheaters, featured tiered seating encircling a central stage, allowing spectators an unobstructed view of the action below. The architecture facilitated efficient crowd movement and provided excellent sightlines for all attendees.

As the first match prepared to commence, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Changra and Jane watched intently, aware that their own trial would soon follow.

Thorne and Aria emerged from one side of the arena, while Rowan and Lisia entered from the opposite side. Rowan, a tall and lanky man, towered over Lisia, who was notably shorter beside him.

Positioned on either side of the arena were two judges, each holding a clipboard, ready to assess the upcoming match.

At the center stood Seth, his demeanor transformed. While his blonde hair remained the same, his expression was now serious, exuding an aura of strength and authority.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's begin!" he shouted, before swiftly moving to the side to signal the start of the match.

The atmosphere in the arena grew tense as the combatants prepared to engage, each team strategizing for the challenge ahead.

As the combatants took their positions, the arena buzzed with anticipation. Thorne, a towering figure wielding a massive greatsword, stood beside Aria, her eyes gleaming with determination. Opposite them, Rowan's lanky frame contrasted with Lisia's petite stature, both exuding confidence.

At Seth's signal, the battle commenced. Rowan lunged forward, his spear aimed directly at Thorne. With impressive agility, Thorne parried the attack, his greatsword deflecting the spear's thrust. He countered with a swift horizontal slash, forcing Rowan to retreat.

Simultaneously, Lisia began chanting, her hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. Aria responded by summoning a gust of wind, disrupting Lisia's concentration and causing her spell to fizzle. Aria's mastery over wind magic became evident as she directed sharp blades of air toward Lisia, who struggled to maintain her footing against the relentless assault.

Thorne and Rowan continued their duel, the clash of metal ringing throughout the arena. Thorne's greatsword, despite its size, moved with remarkable speed and precision. He executed a series of powerful strikes, each one pushing Rowan further back. Rowan attempted a sweeping attack, but Thorne anticipated the move, sidestepping and delivering a decisive blow that sent Rowan sprawling to the ground.

Meanwhile, Aria's battle with Lisia intensified. Lisia, regaining her composure, conjured fiery projectiles and hurled them toward Aria. With graceful movements, Aria summoned a protective barrier of wind, extinguishing the flames before they could reach her. She then retaliated by creating a vortex that lifted Lisia off her feet, tossing her across the arena.

Observing from the stands, Changra was in awe of the display. The seamless coordination between Thorne's formidable swordsmanship and Aria's adept magic was mesmerizing. He couldn't help but feel a pang of inadequacy, wondering if he could ever reach such a level of skill.

Back in the arena, Thorne advanced toward the recovering Rowan. With a determined expression, he raised his greatsword and brought it down with immense force. Rowan, unable to react in time, was struck and rendered unconscious. Simultaneously, Aria's relentless wind attacks overwhelmed Lisia, leaving her too exhausted to continue.

With both opponents incapacitated, Seth stepped forward, raising his hand to signal the end of the match. "Victory goes to Thorne and Aria!" he declared.

The spectators erupted in applause, acknowledging the duo's prowess. Thorne extended a hand to Aria, who accepted it with a smile. Their teamwork had secured their advancement in the tournament.

As Changra watched them exit the arena, he felt a renewed sense of determination. He turned to Jane, who had been equally captivated by the battle. "We can do this," he said, more to himself than to her.

Jane nodded, her earlier fear replaced by a spark of hope. "Yes, we can."

The next match was about to begin, and Changra knew that their turn would come soon. He resolved to give it his all, drawing inspiration from the remarkable display he had just witnessed.

Thorne and Aria exited through the opposite side of the Colosseum, disappearing from view.

Turning to Jane, Changra asked, "Jane, what's your magic rank?"

"I'm a rank B," she replied, a note of pride in her voice.

"That's amazing," Changra said, genuinely impressed. "How are you with long-distance attacks?"

"That's about all I can do," she admitted.

Changra studied her thoughtfully, causing Jane to shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I have an idea," Changra said, his tone brightening. "I'll engage them in close combat, and you can strike whenever you see an opening."

Jane's eyes widened with concern. "You think you can handle both of them up close?"

"Not really," Changra admitted with a chuckle. "But I figure I can be a decent distraction while you do the real damage."

Jane managed a small smile. "That's a risky plan, but it might just work."

"Great," Changra said, feeling a surge of determination. "Let's give it our best shot."

As they continued to strategize, the atmosphere in the Colosseum grew more intense, the anticipation of the upcoming battles palpable among the contestants.

The next match unfolded in a flash. Two pairs of girls faced off: Astria and Aethera, identical twin sisters, against their opponents. The battle began and concluded almost simultaneously, as the twins executed a synchronized hand gesture, prompting their adversaries to concede instantly.

From his seat, Changra was bewildered. He hadn't noticed any incantations or elaborate spells—just a simple, unified motion from the sisters, leading to their swift victory.

"What just happened?" he muttered to himself, trying to comprehend the scene.

Jane, seated beside him, offered some insight. "I've heard of techniques like that," she began. "Some mages can cast spells using only hand gestures, without verbal components. It's a skill that requires intense training and synchronization, especially for twins."

Changra nodded slowly, still processing the information. "So, they didn't need to say anything? Just moved their hands, and... bam?"

"Essentially, yes," Jane confirmed. "It's a form of non-verbal magic, often more efficient in battle since it doesn't give opponents time to react to spoken spells."

"Impressive," Changra remarked, glancing back at the arena where the twins were exiting. "And a bit terrifying."

As the next match was announced, Changra's heart raced upon hearing his and Jane's names. He glanced across the arena and locked eyes with Rock, who flashed a menacing smile that seemed to say, "You're dead meat, little boy."

Changra felt a shiver run down his spine. He had read about the psychological tactics fighters use to unnerve their opponents, but experiencing it firsthand was entirely different. Rock's intimidating demeanor was a classic example of psychological warfare, aiming to instill fear and doubt before the physical battle even began.

Taking a deep breath, Changra turned to Jane, who looked equally apprehensive. "Remember our plan," he said, trying to inject confidence into his voice. "I'll engage them up close, and you provide support from a distance. Stay focused, and don't let them intimidate you."

Jane nodded, her expression steeling with determination. "Got it. Let's show them what we're made of."

As they made their way to the center of the arena, Changra couldn't help but feel the weight of Rock's earlier intimidation attempt. But he knew that succumbing to fear would only play into their opponents' hands. He recalled advice he'd once heard: Intimidation only works if you let it. With that thought, he squared his shoulders and prepared for the fight ahead.

The two stood on one side of the arena, as Rock and Roll appeared out of the entrance. As they approached, Seth stood in the middle.

Changra and Jane stood resolutely on one side of the arena as Rock and Roll emerged from the opposite entrance, their imposing figures casting long shadows. Seth positioned himself at the center, his expression a mix of concern and authority.

"I understand this battle may seem unfair," Seth began, his gaze shifting between the two teams. "We can cancel it, declaring Rock and Roll the winners by default."

A surge of indignation coursed through Changra at the thought of conceding without a fight. In his pocket, the Crimson Dagger, silent until now, began to emit a faint, eager hum.

So, you're excited? Changra mused, his fingers brushing the dagger's hilt.

Drawing the weapon with newfound determination, he declared, "No, we'll take our chances. And we will win."

Seth raised an eyebrow, impressed by Changra's resolve. "Very well. Suit yourself. But remember," he added, casting a stern glance at Rock and Roll, who responded with unsettling smiles, "no killing."

The arena fell into a tense silence, the air thick with anticipation as both teams readied themselves for the impending clash.

As the battle commenced, Jane positioned herself at the rear, preparing her spells, while Changra unveiled his dagger. Observing from the sidelines, Seth's eyes widened in recognition. He muttered under his breath, "So that's him, huh, Berethia?"

Rock and Roll advanced confidently, their imposing figures casting long shadows across the arena. Changra tightened his grip on the Crimson Dagger, feeling its subtle hum resonate through his hand.

With a deep breath, Changra steeled himself for the confrontation, determined to prove Seth's doubts unfounded. The weight of the dagger in his hand served as a reminder of the challenges ahead and the mysterious path he had embarked upon.

As the battle commenced, Rock charged at Changra with astonishing speed, delivering a powerful blow to his chest. The impact sent Changra hurtling into the arena wall, leaving him dazed and bleeding from a head wound, his arm immobile.

Reacting swiftly, Jane cast a freezing spell that immobilized Rock in his tracks. She then rushed to Changra's side, her face etched with concern.

"Changra, are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Changra winced, attempting to move his arm. "I've been better," he replied, managing a weak smile despite the pain.

From the sidelines, Seth observed the scene intently, his earlier skepticism giving way to a grudging respect for Changra's resilience.

"Perhaps I underestimated him," Seth muttered to himself, noting the determination in Changra's eyes.

Meanwhile, Roll, seeing his partner incapacitated, began to advance toward Jane and Changra, a menacing grin spreading across his face.

"Stay back," Jane warned, her hands glowing with magical energy as she prepared to defend them both.

Changra, summoning his remaining strength, tightened his grip on the Crimson Dagger, its hum resonating with his resolve.

"We can still do this," he said to Jane, determination overriding his pain.

Changra's right arm hung uselessly at his side, pain radiating from the injury. Undeterred, he shifted the Crimson Dagger to his left hand and advanced toward Roll, who loomed with a confident smirk.

"Think you can take me on with your off-hand?" Roll taunted, cracking his knuckles.

Changra tightened his grip on the dagger, recalling the limited training he'd had. He knew he was at a disadvantage, but retreat wasn't an option.

Roll lunged forward, throwing a powerful right hook. Changra sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow, and countered with a swift slash aimed at Roll's midsection. The larger man twisted away just in time, the dagger's blade grazing his shirt but not drawing blood.

"Not bad," Roll conceded, his eyes narrowing. "But you'll have to do better than that."

He pressed the attack, launching a series of rapid punches. Changra parried with the dagger, each impact sending jolts through his injured arm. He managed to deflect most of the blows, but a glancing strike caught his shoulder, causing him to stagger.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Changra focused on his footwork, trying to stay light and agile. He remembered a piece of advice he'd once heard: Use your opponent's size against them. With that in mind, he aimed low, feinting a strike to Roll's knee. As Roll instinctively lowered his guard, Changra pivoted and slashed upward, the dagger's blade slicing a shallow cut across Roll's forearm.

Roll hissed in pain, but his expression quickly morphed into one of rage. "You're going to regret that," he growled, advancing with renewed aggression.

Changra's breaths came in ragged gasps, his vision blurring at the edges. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jane, her face pale with concentration as she struggled to maintain the spell restraining Rock.

I have to end this, he thought, summoning the last reserves of his strength. As Roll charged, Changra dropped to one knee, dodging the incoming blow, and thrust the dagger upward. The blade found its mark, embedding shallowly in Roll's side.

Roll roared in pain, stumbling back and clutching his wound. Changra used the moment to scramble to his feet, positioning himself between Roll and Jane.

"Stay down," Changra warned, his voice wavering but resolute.

Roll glared at him, but the fight seemed to drain from his eyes. He took a step back, then another, before collapsing to one knee, breathing heavily.

Changra didn't dare lower his guard, but a flicker of hope ignited within him. The battle wasn't over, but for the first time, victory seemed within reach.

As Changra grappled with Roll, Jane stood a short distance away, her brow furrowed in concentration as she maintained the freezing spell encasing Rock. Beads of sweat trickled down her temples, her energy waning with each passing second. Despite her efforts, she could feel the spell's grip weakening.

Rock's muscles tensed and flexed against the icy restraints, his sheer strength causing cracks to spiderweb through the frozen bindings. With a guttural roar, he shattered the remaining ice, shards scattering around him. His eyes, burning with fury, locked onto Jane.

Before she could react, Rock closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. His massive fist collided with her abdomen, the force lifting her off her feet and propelling her backward. She crashed onto the hard ground, the impact driving the air from her lungs. Pain radiated through her body, and darkness encroached on her vision.

Gasping for breath, Jane tried to push herself up, but her limbs refused to cooperate. The world around her blurred and dimmed, the sounds of the arena fading into a distant echo. With a final, shuddering breath, she succumbed to unconsciousness, her body lying motionless on the cold arena floor.

From his vantage point, Seth's expression tightened, concern flickering in his eyes as he observed the unfolding events.

Meanwhile, Changra, still engaged with Roll, caught sight of Jane's collapse from the corner of his eye. A surge of panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced himself to focus, knowing that any distraction could prove fatal in the midst of combat.

The battle raged on, the stakes higher than ever, as Changra faced the daunting challenge of overcoming their formidable opponents without Jane's support.

Rock lunged forward, closing the gap between himself and Changra in an instant. His fist slammed into Changra's stomach with a sickening thud, the force of the blow nearly knocking the wind out of him. Changra staggered back, catching himself just before he fell. He grit his teeth, the sharp pain in his side telling him that two ribs had cracked under the impact.

Gasping for breath, Changra's gaze fell on Jane's crumpled body lying motionless on the ground. A wave of emotion surged through him—an overwhelming tide of rage. His hands trembled as the Crimson Dagger, strapped to his side, began to hum. The sound grew louder, resonating with a deep, otherworldly energy. A faint crimson glow pulsed from the blade, flickering like a heartbeat in rhythm with Changra's rising fury.

He clenched his fists, his mind spiraling into chaos. Rage. Hot, consuming rage. He could feel it clawing at his sanity, demanding to be unleashed. His vision blurred, the edges of the world around him fading into a crimson haze. Rock's face twisted into a cruel smirk, a mockery of the suffering he'd inflicted. The sight only fueled the inferno inside Changra.

He punched her. That young girl. Without a second thought. Without any remorse.

Changra's teeth ground together, his entire body shaking with the effort to suppress the storm within. Memories flashed through his mind—another fight, another time. The memory of the large man he'd killed not long ago. The blood. The lifeless body. The guilt that had haunted him since. He had sworn not to lose control again.

Not again. I can't let it happen again.

But the Crimson Dagger burned against his side, its heat searing through his skin and into his soul. It was as though the weapon itself had a mind, a will of its own, urging him forward. He could feel it—an insidious, whispering presence creeping into his thoughts, pushing him to let go, to embrace the rage and let it consume him. The glow of the dagger intensified, bathing him in its eerie light.

Changra tried to hold back, tried to ground himself, but the dagger's pull was too strong. It was more than a weapon; it was a part of him, and it wanted blood. His vision grew darker, the crimson haze thickening as if the world itself was being painted in the color of his fury.

He took a step forward, his breath ragged, the line between his will and the dagger's influence blurring.

As Changra struggled to maintain control over the Crimson Dagger's malevolent influence, Seth observed the unsettling transformation in the boy's demeanor. Changra's eyes, once a calm blue, now glowed with a sinister crimson hue, mirroring the dagger's ominous light. Recognizing the potential danger, Seth felt a pressing need to intervene and halt the match. However, his curiosity about the unfolding events compelled him to let the confrontation continue, eager to see how Changra would navigate the internal and external battles he faced.

Changra's body convulsed as Rock's massive fist drove into his abdomen, the force lifting him off his feet before he crashed back to the ground. A torrent of blood erupted from his mouth, painting the arena floor in crimson. Agony radiated from the point of impact, but beneath the physical torment, a darker force stirred within him.

The Crimson Dagger, clutched tightly in his left hand, pulsed with a sinister energy, its glow intensifying as if feeding off his suffering. Changra's vision blurred, the edges tinged with red, and a primal rage began to eclipse his consciousness. The weapon's malevolent influence seeped into his mind, amplifying his fury and dulling his sense of restraint.

As Rock attempted to withdraw his arm, Changra's hand shot out with unnatural speed, gripping his attacker's wrist with a vice-like hold. The crowd's gasps echoed faintly in his ears, drowned out by the roaring tempest of anger within him. With a guttural snarl, he raised the dagger, its blade gleaming with an unholy light, and brought it down in a swift, brutal arc.

The blade sliced through flesh and bone with a sickening ease, severing Rock's arm just below the elbow. A fountain of blood sprayed from the stump, and Rock's scream of agony reverberated through the arena. He stumbled back, clutching the gushing wound, his face contorted in shock and terror. Without a second glance, he turned and fled toward the tunnel, his severed limb lying forgotten on the blood-streaked ground.

Changra's lips curled into a feral smile, the sight of his opponent's retreat fueling the dark satisfaction coursing through him. The dagger's hum resonated with his heartbeat, each pulse urging him toward further violence. His eyes, now glowing a deep crimson, locked onto Roll, who stood frozen, his earlier bravado shattered by the gruesome display.

Desperation propelled Roll into action. With a roar tinged with fear, he launched himself at Changra, his fist arcing toward the boy's head. But Changra moved with preternatural agility, sidestepping the blow with ease. As Roll's momentum carried him past, Changra leaned in close, his voice a chilling whisper.

"Is that the best you can do?"

He punctuated the taunt with a wink, the gesture dripping with contempt. Roll's eyes widened, his confidence crumbling under the weight of Changra's unearthly demeanor. Panic seized him, and without another attempt, he turned and bolted, following his partner into the shadows of the tunnel.

As the echoes of their retreat faded, Changra stood alone in the center of the arena, his chest heaving with labored breaths. The crimson glow in his eyes began to wane, the dagger's hum subsiding to a low thrum. The fog of rage lifted, leaving him acutely aware of the searing pain in his abdomen and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

He glanced down at the Crimson Dagger, its surface now dull and unremarkable, belying the dark power it had unleashed. A shiver ran through him, not from the lingering pain, but from the realization of how close he had come to losing himself to the weapon's influence.

The crowd's stunned silence hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. Changra's gaze drifted to where Jane lay, still unconscious but breathing steadily. Relief washed over him, tempered by the haunting knowledge of the darkness that lurked within him, waiting for the slightest provocation to break free.

Changra hurried to Jane's side, his movements frantic yet careful as he cradled her head in his arms. "Jane?" he called softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face and giving her forehead a light flick.

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his with a dazed expression. "Did we win?" she murmured weakly.

Relief crashed over Changra like a wave, his shoulders sagging as tears welled in his eyes. He nodded, his voice trembling. "Yeah, we won."

Jane slowly pushed herself up, grimacing as she took in her surroundings. Her gaze shifted to Changra, and her expression turned to one of alarm as she noticed his injuries—his right arm hung limp at his side, and blood poured freely from a deep wound in his abdomen, staining his shirt a dark crimson.

"Changra," she said urgently, gripping his left arm tightly. "Don't panic, but... I think you're in shock."

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. "Shock? What are you talking about?"

"Are you feeling any pain?" she asked, her voice steady despite the panic in her eyes. She gestured toward the wound in his stomach, the blood pooling around them.

Changra followed her gaze, his face paling as the severity of the injury registered. The world seemed to tilt, his vision darkening at the edges. A cold sweat broke out across his brow as the reality hit him. Before he could process it further, his strength gave out, and he collapsed beside Jane.

"Changra!" Jane screamed, her own pain forgotten as she tried to catch him. Her voice echoed through the arena, piercing the tense silence.

Seth appeared from the shadows, his steps measured and deliberate. His face carried an expression of calm concern, though there was something in his eyes—something fleeting and unreadable, like a spark of hidden interest. He signaled sharply, and the medical team rushed forward, their movements precise and efficient as they lifted Changra onto a stretcher.

"Take him to the medical wing immediately," Seth instructed, his voice commanding yet smooth. "See to it that his wounds are stabilized." His words were deliberate, his gaze lingering on Changra for a fraction too long.

Jane, trembling with effort, forced herself to stand despite her own injuries. Her eyes stayed locked on the stretcher as it disappeared into the tunnel. She staggered after it, determination overriding her pain. Seth's gaze followed her briefly before returning to the arena floor.

The Crimson Dagger lay forgotten, its glow now dimmed, a sinister remnant of the chaos it had unleashed. Seth approached it, his expression momentarily tightening. He hesitated before crouching to pick it up, wrapping it carefully in a cloth. His hand lingered over the weapon as a faint chill ran through him, his lips pressing into a thin line.

The medical team's frantic shouts echoed faintly from the tunnel. Seth straightened, the dagger in hand, and turned to address the remaining contestants. "The matches are postponed until further notice," he announced, his voice even but laced with an undertone that demanded obedience. "Return to your quarters."

The crowd stirred uneasily, whispers rippling through the group, but no one dared to challenge him. They filed out, their faces pale and strained, the weight of the day's events heavy on their shoulders.

Once the arena was empty, Seth allowed his calm demeanor to falter. He stood there for a moment, staring at the wrapped dagger in his hands. The weight of it seemed heavier than it should have been, as though the weapon itself bore a presence. A shadow crossed his face, his thoughts a storm of intrigue and calculation.

With a sigh, he turned and began walking toward the medical wing, his steps slow and deliberate. His expression betrayed no emotion, but his mind churned. The Crimson Dagger wasn't just a weapon—it was a key, though to what, he wasn't yet sure. And the power he'd sensed in Changra during the fight... that wasn't ordinary, either.

As he walked, the weight of the dagger in his hand felt almost alive, as though it pulsed faintly, reacting to his touch. Seth's lips curled into a subtle smile, though whether it was amusement or something darker, even he couldn't quite tell. One thing was certain: this was far from over.