Chapter 295: One Minute

 

  “You guys still here?” Freya asked with a tone of surprise.

  Callum awoke to the loud sound of a wooden door creaking on old rusty hinges. The screeching sound was harsh and it pierced the silence of his peaceful slumber. He groaned with a grimace and opened his bleary eyes.

  “He’s awake!” Sylvie yelled excitedly.

  “...S-Sylvie…?” Callum mumbled sleepily.

  Sylvie sat next to his bedside, her large hazel hand clasped around his pale fingers. Freya stood at the open doorway, her golden curls impeccable as always. Gale stood right outside the room, hand on the pommel of her sheathed blade.

  If Gale is here, then that means… Callum turned his stiff neck and slowly looked around the small infirmary room. 

  Stryg sat on the windowsill, one of his usual dark cloaks wrapped over him, his hood partially slipping from atop his silver hair. He stared out at the coliseum in the distance, though his droopy pointed ears twitched at the sound of their voices.

  “W-what happened…?” Callum tried to sit up but fell back down with a painful grimace.

  His whole body ached in pain and his lungs burned with each breath.

  “Try not to move,” Sylvie said softly. “The white mages did their best, which isn’t saying much, but the main problem was that they weren’t sure what poison you used.”

  Callum closed his eyes and sighed, Oh… right, I poisoned myself.

  “...You’re lucky to be alive,” Stryg muttered, though he kept his eyes on the window.

  “W-what…” Callum swallowed, “What about Kalliste?”

  “She’s doing fine, that bitch,” Freya clicked her tongue. “Turns out House Lilith brought their own personal healers to the tournament. She had like ten white mages hovering over her all afternoon. I bet they were there all night too.” 

  Callum furrowed his brow, “All night? Wait, what time is it?”

  “Morning. You’ve been unconscious for almost an entire day,” Sylvie smiled sadly.

  Callum wrinkled his brow, “Are you saying you’ve been here all night?”

  “I haven’t, I just got here this morning,” Freya raised her hands proudly. “But these two have. Surprising, I know, right?”

  “It’s the least we could do,” Sylvie said abashedly.

  “I couldn’t sleep… I needed some time to think. I might as well have done it here,” Stryg shrugged and looked away.

  Freya rolled her eyes, “Oh please, Lysaila and Gale were forced to take guard shifts to make sure no one gets in here. They much rather you be safe at the Katag mansion, but nooo you insisted on staying here.”

  “Shut up, gold-eyes,” Stryg hissed.

  “Fine, whatever,” Freya smirked.

  Callum smiled, “...Thanks, guys.”

  “You’re alive, that’s what matters most,” Stryg said. He finally turned and looked at Callum, “Your opponent was much more powerful, but you somehow managed to take her down, even if it cost you almost everything.” He nodded in approval, “You were brave, well done.”

  They were only five words. Five simple words. And yet, Callum felt something within him break. That night so many moons ago echoed in his mind, a familiar recurring memory. The sight of his two friends, standing straight against an insurmountable enemy with no chance of victory. He remembered looking at their backs as he ran away…

  ‘Coward’ That was what Clypeus had always called him. The insult that cut deeper than Callum had ever let on. 

  ‘Unworthy. Weak. Disgrace.’ His family’s words haunted his childhood.

  Callum had always pretended that they didn’t matter, that they did not define him. But every night he found himself staring at the ceiling, wondering how close they were to the truth.

  ‘You were brave, well done.’

  Five simple words. Just five measly damn words. So why…? Why did they…

  Callum placed the crook of his arm over his face and heaved quietly. Warm tears slipped down his cheeks. Sylvie did not understand, but she clenched his other hand tight, and hummed a soft tune.

  The room fell into a comfortable silence, save for the melodic humming of the scarlet-haired beauty.

  The sight of the hybrid vampire’s tears sparked an old memory in Stryg’s heart, the words that his friends had told him when he cried in the Merry Crescent at the end of his 1st year.

  “We’re here for you and we’re not going anywhere,” Stryg recited quietly.

  “What he said,” Freya nodded.

  Tauri walked up to the doorway and knocked on the wall, “Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

  “You are, but go on,” Sylvie said dryly.

  Callum wiped his tears away, “Sorry, about her professor. Please, continue.”

  Tauri glanced around the room, confused, but nodded reluctantly, “I just came back from the coliseum. Lady Thorn has drawn the names for the morning’s duel.”

  “Welp, I might be going somewhere after all,” Freya grinned.

  “Don’t worry, you’re not fighting, just yet,” Tauri said. “The names drawn were Hallus of Murkton and Calex of Undergrowth.”

  “Calex Thorn?” Stryg looked up with interest.

  “Which means I’m going to be in the last of the preliminary matches.” Freya shrugged, “It makes sense, save the best for last, am I right?”

  “If Calex is fighting Hallus, then the only other opponent left is…” Callum muttered in thought, “Cordelia Rotrusk of Frost Rim.”

  “Professor Cornelius’ niece?” Sylvie asked. “Wasn’t she like ‘super cocky’ when we met at the welcome party?”

  “Two cocky dwarves fighting each other, hm, I guess you are right, Freya,” Stryg smirked. “They saved the best fight for last.”

  “Just you wait until it’s our turn to fight, then we’ll see who’s talking,” Freya grinned proudly.

  “That’s not all that happened at the coliseum…” Tauri muttered.

  “What do you mean?” Stryg asked.

  “...The Heralds announced this morning that Kalliste won yesterday’s match,” Tauri said reluctantly.

  “What!? How!?” Sylvie yelled.

  “Something about Callum falling down first. Kalliste was still technically on her knees when the match ended,” Tauri said.

  “That’s bullshit, if anything Callum should be the winner, he took both Kalliste and himself down!” Sylvie roared angrily.

  “Yes, well, it seems Lady Thorn had something to do with the match’s outcome,” Tauri whispered.

  “It wouldn’t have made much of a difference. I don’t think I’d be able to fight the next round in my condition anyway,” Callum sighed.

  “But it’s still not fair! We can’t just let the Thorns get away with this!” Sylvie stood to her feet.

  “We aren’t. Trust me,” Tauri raised her hands in a calming gesture. “Lady Ismene is already in talks with the other cities’ lords for suspicion of Lady Thorn’s tampering with the tournament. It’s only a matter of time until they act.”

  Sylvie crossed her arms, “And when exactly will that be?”

  “When they get enough evidence I guess,” Tauri glanced sideways.

  “I trust Ismene,” Stryg said. “If Lady Thorn really is messing with the tournament, Ismene will put an end to it, one way or another.”

  “...Ugh, fine,” Sylvie groaned and sat back down.

  “So what do we know about Calex and Hallus?” Stryg asked.

  “Besides Calex being a fucking Thorn? Beats me,” Sylvie grumbled.

  Callum smiled half-heartedly, “Calex is a hecta-manifold mage and a prodigy one at that. He’s rumored to be a master mage. After he struck me with a bright spell during the 2nd Challenge I’m very much inclined to believe it.”

  “So he’s got some magic skill, so what, I’d still whoop his ass,” Sylvie said.

  “What about this Hallus? Does he stand any chance?” Stryg asked.

  “He’s a dual-manifold brown and yellow mage. Now how good he is? Who knows,” Callum said. 

  “The dude’s got more muscle than even Lord Katag,” Sylvie said.

  “And he’s just as big,” Stryg recalled.

  “My parents told me Hallus is an orphan who was dragged into Murkton’s fighting pits at a very young age,” Tauri said.

  “Oh shit,” Freya’s eyes widened in shock.

  “Fighting pits? What are those?” Stryg asked with interest.

  “They’re battles without honor,” Tauri said frustratedly. “The helpless and vulnerable are taken by warlords and trained as pit-fighters for sport and money. Once people like Hallus are trained they’re sent out to fight in small enclosures while other people watch for entertainment.”

  “So, it’s basically like the coliseum and this whole tournament,” Stryg surmised.

  “No, not exactly,” Tauri shook her head. “Here, people fight for glory and the chance to rise above their station. In the pits there is no such chance, people fight just for the right to live another day. Every single pit fight is to the death.”

  “So if someone is still alive after all those years of fighting in the pits…” Sylvie muttered.

  “It means they are some of the deadliest and tenacious fighters out there,” Freya said grimly. 

  Tauri nodded, “And Hallus was the cream of the crop. My father said his cousin, Lord Morrigan himself, picked Hallus out of the fighting pits and had him trained by his royal guard.”

  “That sounds lovely,” Callum said wryly.

  “I don’t know how powerful a mage Hallus may be, but I promise you, he’s the most fearsome warrior in this whole tournament,” Tauri said in a grave tone.

~~~

  “WELCOME LORDS AND LADIES, MAGES AND MERCHANTS, COMMONERS AND ALL YOU SCOUNDRELS WHO MANAGED TO SNEAK IN!” Jane Stemme yelled through the Herald’s giant enchanted horn.

  “TODAY IS THE DAY YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! OUR BELOVED CITY’S PRINCE HAS STEPPED ONTO THE ARENA’S SANDS!” Mark Stemme shouted happily.

 

  The crowds roared in cheers. Thousands of drows jumped to their feet and echoed the name every child in Undergrowth old enough to walk knew.

THORN, THORN, THORN!

 

  Calex looked around the coliseum’s stands and waved at the thousands of fans cheering him on. He couldn’t help but smile shyly. He had never been under the eye of so many people as they chanted his name. The whole thing seemed so surreal.

  Hallus walked out of the northern gate with far less fanfare. As soon as he stepped onto the sands, thousands of cheering voices transformed into shrill screeches of hate and ridicule. The voices of the orcs supporting were entirely drowned out by angry drows.

  Yet Hallus did not respond, his gait did not change, his focus always on the enemy on the other side of the arena. Once he was thirty paces away he stopped and lifted the war hammer hanging from his back.

  “I’m sorry about them,” Calex bowed his head sheepishly.

  “The voices of the crowds lost all meaning to me long ago,” Hallus said coldly.

  “...I see. I do envy such calm control of one’s emotions,” Calex smiled. “I can hardly stop my hands from shaking.”

  “...Have you not fought in an arena before?”

  “Excluding the previous challenge? This is my first time,” he admitted weakly. “Though, if I’m being honest, I don’t think it’d make much of a difference if this was my 10th or 20th duel. I’d still be terribly nervous.”

  Hallus narrowed his eyes, “...You’re not what I expected.”

  “You wouldn’t believe how often I get that,” he laughed, a light, gentle sound.

  “You will find no pity with me. I devote my will and body to the glory of House Morrigan. I promise you I will not hold back.”

  Calex swallowed, “D-Duly noted… But I really was just being honest…” his glum voice trailed off.

 

  “SISTER, OUR CONTESTANTS SEEM READY TO SHOW US WHAT THEY’VE GOT!” Mark yelled.

  “I COULDN’T AGREE MORE!” Jane shouted eagerly.

 

  “G-good luck, may the goddess of war bless this match,” Calex recited the common warrior phrase awkwardly.

  Hallus stared at him for a moment, then nodded begrudgingly, “May the goddess of war bless this match.”

 

  “THEN LET THE 7TH MATCH OF THE CHALLENGE OF SPELL & STEEL… BEGIN!!!”

 

  “HAH!” Hallus yelled a war cry and charged forward, a bronze sheen of vigor magic swirling over his muscles. He suddenly stumbled and fell to his knees. “W-What!?”

  Hallus looked down, bewildered. His legs had sunk a meter into the ground as if it was water.

  How did he manage to cast a stone spell from all the way over there!? Hallus thought in shock.

  Calex’s warm blue eyes abruptly turned frigid. He flicked his palm upwards and blue light crackled at his fingertips. A bolt of lightning arched out and streaked across the arena at his opponent.

  Hallus dropped his hammer and threw his arms over his face. He instantly released his vigor spell and channeled yellow mana into his veins. Patterns of bright yellow durability scales illuminated his crimson skin just as the lightning bolt exploded over him.

  The yellow scales sizzled, but did not crack. Hallus shouted in anger and mild pain. He thrusted his hands into the sand and began to dig himself out. A mere second later a bright beam of white light splashed over his face. He cried out in pain, his eyes burned from the blinding light.

  Hallus clenched his teeth and poured more mana into the durability spell. An orange torrent of searing flames abruptly fell on him. The heat felt suffocating, he couldn’t breathe under the roaring flames. Another bolt of lightning slammed into his chest. His muscles seized up in spasms as the electricity overflowed over the yellow scales.

  Calex’s hands flickered with small, rapid movements. Spell after spell flew out from his hands and traveled across the long distance with perfect accuracy and without an iota of lost potency.

  The crowd watched in stunned silence. Hallus was bathed in flames, lightning, and beams of light, his large silhouette barely visible under the relentless magic. His screams of frustration and pain echoed across the arena. 

  Calex abruptly stopped casting. The flames died away and revealed a half-burnt man. The orc's legs were buried in the blackened sand. His clothes had burned away along with most of his skin. The last remnants of his yellow scales crumbled apart and fell into dust.

  Hallus groaned painfully and looked at Calex with his one remaining eye. Calex met his gaze without pity nor emotion; with one swift motion, he hurled a screeching arrow of lightning. The azure bolt tore through the air and drove into Hallus’ face. His neck snapped back in a painful crunch. The flesh evaporated in a fray of blue and blood, and the front portion of the skull shattered in chunks of bone and ash. 

  The crowds just stared, not a word slipping from their mouths.

 

  Jane swallowed her spit and licked her lips, “T-THAT’S MATCH…”

  Mark nodded anxiously, “CALEX THORN WINS… IN JUST UNDER A MINUTE… C-CONGRATULATIONS…”

  “THE 7TH VICTORY GOES TO UNDERGROWTH,” Jane said weakly.

 

  Slowly the crowds began to clap and cheer, building up with every second, until once more the coliseum was filled with deafening chants of the name everyone knew and would never forget.

  THORN, THORN, THORN!

  Ophelia Thorn looked on with a pleased smile from her high seat, a small tower erected above the coliseum’s stands. But her daughter, Lerdea held no smile nor cheer, only a silent look of worry. 

  Lerdea stared down at the coliseum, at her older brother who hadn’t moved a step since the duel had begun.

 

  The crowd’s chants fell silent on Calex’s ears. Gone was the cold countenance he had so easily displayed. His blue eyes were filled with sadness and he struggled to keep his composure.

  “...I’m sorry, you were not the only one fighting for the glory of their House,” Calex whispered under his breath. He turned his heel and left the arena at a quick, steady pace.