Ren and Tsukihime was gasping for air when they finally arrived at the entrance of the Coliseum, covering over eight blocks of buildings. Ren’s almost lifeless running made it hard for the girl to drag him all the way there, the boy himself had lost all hope. The constant cheering of the crowd further reinforced the thought of him not seeing his parents again, driving Ren deeper into despair.

All of a sudden, the Coliseum fell silent following a mild earthquake, causing the both of them to trip over.

“Come on, Ren!! We’re almost there! Come on, GET UP!!!”

The boy could not, or rather, did not want to hear Tsukihime’s voice. He covered his ears and laid down on the ground like a baby, not wanting to go further inside.

“No… I can’t… Stop, please… I can’t go on… can’t… do…this… just leave me be,” he mumbled, still not moving from his position.

At this point, Tsukihime lost her bearings and grabbed him by the collar. Her eyes were filled with both sadness and anger; the girl was trying her hardest to stop the tears from leaking out of her already reddened sclera.

“Don’t mess with me, idiot brother!!! Do NOT lose hope! Isn’t that what Dad has always taught us, huh!? Have you forgotten that?”

Ren lifted his head and had a good look at his stepsister, and as soon as he did, his sense of self slowly returned. Mustering back his courage, he slowly got up on one knee and wiped the tears off Tsukihime’s cheek.

“Thank you. I needed that,” he said to her, taking the girl’s hand and stood up. After a while, they resumed their way inside the mazy hallways of the amphitheater.

The Coliseum was made of stone bricks, an oddity among its contemporaries. Its narrow walkways were dimly lit with torches, giving it a somewhat eerie atmosphere. Because it was so dim, they had a hard time navigating through the entire structure, and they occasionally hid themselves whenever they sense someone walking in their path. They followed the sound of the wind that blows from outside, as they hypothesized that the captured were held somewhere near the entrance of the central stage.

After a right turn, they finally made it to the exit of the corridors, the sounds from the outside resonating through the walls of the Coliseum. They went a right turn, and arrived at the holding cells just as more soldiers got out of the other end seemingly in a hurry. The two hid at the archway which held the gates, just to be sure, but it was obvious that the soldiers were given an immediate order, much so that they did not even pay attention to the surroundings.

Seeing them leave, the two took the chance and proceeded to enter the holding cells corridor, searching through every room for their mother. The volume of people inside made it harder for them to find her, so they called her name, their voices echoing throughout the cells until reaching Hailey’s ears, which instantly recognized the voice of her son.

“I---I’m here!” she said as loud as she could, her voice dried up because of her crying a while ago.

Immediately, Ren hurriedly walked towards the cell where he heard Hailey’s voice until he could confirm visually that his mother was still alive. In an instant he fell on his knees, tears started flowing again from his eyes as Hailey weaved her way through the crowd to get in touch with him. As soon as she arrived at the cell bars she reached through them and held Ren’s shoulders as she gently pulled him towards her, giving him a big hug. Hailey could not stop her tears as well, but she tried not to cry loudly as she feared that her wailing would alert the guards.

“My son! I’m so happy you two are safe! What happened out there?” she said, taking a good look at her son with watery eyes.

“Many things, Mom. Many things.”

Then, Ren realized that Arthur was nowhere to be found.

“Mom, where’s Dad?” he asked Hailey, who turned a bit white as she heard that question.

“Mom? Answer me, Mom, where is Dad!?”

Hailey could not give him a discernable answer, she could only mumble in grief as she was reminded of her husband’s fate once again.

“He---he’s out there...there…I don’t---I don’t know…they…they took Arthur!!!” she finally broke, her hands shaking in fear.

“Wha—“ Ren could not even speak comprehensively, his psyche which had already been filled with fear was replaced with utter sorrow and madness.

Hearing those words, Tsukihime began to weep quietly, clenching her fist in grief as her thoughts were flooded with negativity.

How horrible… why did this have to happen… and to Dad… this… This is injustice!!

Everyone in the area bowed their heads, silently praying for a miracle from the heavens above. Even after five hundred years since the apocalypse, the teachings of several religions, Christianity in particular, had survived the Catastrophe itself. The world of the past died a long time ago, yet the moral knowledge that it left gave them motivation and perseverance to go on with life.

And then, as if an answer was sent from above…

An object violently entered the corridor, bringing about dust with it. They could hear metal scraping and clanging to each other and to the stone steps as it went down the staircase. Everyone’s eyes were shifted to it, and as the dust settled, they were astounded at what they caught sight of.

It was a Paladinus soldier, all battered up with splats of blood all over his silver armor. The dents on the armor itself were deep, even though their armor were widely known for their incredible durability. But what stood out the most was its left leg, which was contorted beyond recognition. The man barely drew breath, his eyes wide open and his hand shook hard, as if he saw horror out there.

Tsukihime suddenly fell on her knees, alerting Ren.

“Tsuki, what’s wrong? Tsuki… Tsukihime!”

He received no reply, instead the girl stood up and ran towards the entrance of the centreal arena.

“Tsuki!! Mom, wait for me here, ok?” Ren said to his mom, giving her one last touch before he stood up and left to follow Tsukihime.

As she took the steps towards the stage, the feeling that she once felt got stronger and stronger. It reminded her of that one snowy evening, the night Noire got out of his slumber, but the murderous intent was scaled up to five times. With shivers continuously running down her spine she completed the steps, and took witness of a horrid scene that almost made her puke.

Lots of soldiers surrounded Noire, swords drawn and guns all pointed towards the boy. Near him lied the bodies of more soldiers, beaten up and bloodied. There were some on the bottom podium as well, serving as long-range supports for the main infantry below, but even they did not escape Noire’s onslaught, their rifles sliced almost perfectly in half by the swords which the boy threw towards them, some even had the unfortunate injury of impalement on their shoulders.

Adding to the bizarreness of the fight was the fact that Noire was wielding what could only be called to be the most unthinkable weapon one can use, a dismembered arm. Still fresh from its former owner, the Executioner just laid down on the side and held the shoulder which it came from, some blood still trickling from its exposed veins. Just like the others, he was severely weakened due to blood loss.

Using it like a flail, Noire used the arm to hit the soldiers’ heads to knock them off balance, then use either a punch or a kick to finish them off. He could read their every move, something that both Plio and Julius had observed keenly. By predicting every swing and aim, the boy sieved through the file of soldiers and allowed him to land a critical blow to each and every single one of them. His movements were smooth and calculated, every step and hit was so precise, it looked like he already predetermined the outcome of the skirmish itself.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

After dispatching a good number of soldiers, Noire did something that finally pushed the patience of the higher-ups to the limit. Using a greatshield that one unfortunate soldier has brought to the field, he took a quick glance at the Primary Podium in which the Emissary was watching him, and then kicked its edge as hard as he could, so hard a small shockwave could be seen as a result, and sent it flying towards them. Anticipating the move, both the Emissary and Magistrate quickly got out of the way, barely dodging the massive metal that instead stopped at the Paladinus insignia behind Julius.

Seeing this as an insult and a challenge against the Empire as a whole, Plio took his greatsword and small shield, ready for retaliation.

“Let me take care of this mess, your Excellency. There’s no need for you to be involved.”

Margaret tried to stop the magistrate from doing so, knowing that Plio was not fit to battle, but Julius stopped her from her tracks.

“Let him be, my dear. I want to see something.”

Deep inside him, Julius could not contain his curiosity and excitement, for he had an idea about the identity of the intruder. But for him to confirm such theory, he needed something from the boy first.

And he already had a plan prepared to extract that information out of the boy.

But before he could say anything, though, Noire took the liberty of talking first, raising his voice as loud as he could without shouting. Seeing that the boy was about to speak, he grabbed Plio’s shoulder to stop him.

“Is this really the justice system of your Empire? Seems kind of barbaric to me.”

Smirking, the Emissary answered, “Says someone who uses a limb to fight.”

The retort made Noire laugh a bit as he looked at the now mutilated arm, and then threw it away on the dirt like nothing.

“Alright, you got me on that one. You know what, I’m going to make a proposition to you.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” Julius said as he stepped nearer the edge of the podium to hear the boy more clearly.

“What is it, then?”

Calling upon his Astral Gear, which both amazed and surprised the audience, Noire pointed his finger towards Julius, the Gawain in full display to all of them.

“Let me fight with the best warrior that you have, and if I defeat him, you’ll let them go.”

Julius expected that proposal, as it was a part of his plan.

“And just who do you think you are to demand such request?” he asked.

Standing as straight as he could, he looked at them with a glaring stare as he goaded them with a hand sign.

“I told you already, I’m just a traveler passing by.”

***

Plio had jumped from an incredible height and still managed to land perfectly on the dusty arena. He wore no armor, as he had not anticipated the possibility that he would have to fight again. Despite that sentiment, though, he still carried the remnants of his horrible experiences in the frontlines, that is the greatsword that was almost his size and the small shield for protection. His hands were shaking of wrath, his madness towards the boy escalated through the roof after the latest stunt that Noire made.

“Ho ho, I presume that you’re the strongest of the bunch, at least around here. I can definitely see some potential in your appearance,” Noire said, observing the magistrate from head to toe in almost an instant.

He was creeped out at the boy’s staring at him, but Plio tried not to be seen as intimidated.

“I have fought many wars, and I doubt you even took one step out of your miserable home,” he said in response, countering the boy’s words.

Instead of retorting back, though, Noire took one step towards Plio, with the boy’s eyes still focused on him.

“I doubt that, old timer. Maybe you should have just stayed back at your retirement home, you coward!”

If there was one thing that Plio hated the most, it was being called a coward. Wasting no time, the magistrate charged in towards the boy, marking the start of the fight. His first attack was a simple downward slash, with the full intent to kill. Noire evaded it with ease, and the sword landed on the ground, but instead of a cut, the blade had made a small crater.

“Interesting. That was a pretty straightforward move if I say so myself,” the boy applauded Plio.

“Is that it, though? I’m pretty sure you’re capable of even more than that petty move.”

His composure already broken, Plio once again unleashed an attack, this time a massive swing coming from the right. Although Noire again managed to dodge it, he observed that it left a cut mark to a wall meters away from them.

This could mean two things, but I got to make sure.

Noire then made his first move, which was to punch the greatsword with his right hand. As it and the Gawain clashed metal, he noticed the energy blasted out of the sword.

“So you’re using an Enhancement type. To use that technique in such a big weapon is a feat in on itself. Amazing!”

Standing down, Plio struck the sword on the ground.

“Come here and fight me seriously!”

Noire chuckled. It seemed that his opponent has seen through his moves.

“Oh, you noticed? Sorry, but I just can’t take you seriously,” he said, showing Plio a mocking smirk.

Julius immediately noticed the change in the flow of misteria. It felt that it was all converging on Plio, building up on his whole system. On the other hand, Noire also felt the rise in volume of misteria in Plio’s body, but that did not bother him a bit.

“So, you decided to end it once and for all. And I thought I can have just a little bit more fun.”

Plio looked at him in disgust, then answered him as he picked up his sword again.

“Yes, and I suggest you do too,” he said, pointing his blade towards Noire.

“Okay, I think I will now,” Noire answered as he repositioned himself to a fighting stance.

Without any wasted time, Plio once again went in for the offensive, surprising Noire with a flurry of slashes and thrusts. The magistrate swung the sword around as if it had no weight at all, and with the addition of the waves of misteria energy that it emitted in every attack, Noire had to take his steps more carefully, because he knew that one big misstep was all that Plio needed for a critical hit.

But just as life itself has its moments of imperfection, the boy had an accident that made him fall on one knee. Seeing that as an opportunity to finish the fight, Plio unleashed a side swing, one that he knew the boy could not evade into. Everyone was certain that Noire would be defeated right there and then, and Tsukihime, which watched from the side with Ren, covered her eyes for her to not see the resulting carnage.

Julius, though, thought otherwise.

And he was right.

Instead of metal cutting through flesh, they heard clashing of metal, Noire catching the incoming blade with his own two hands.

Immediately, Plio felt something strange. For unknown reasons, he began to lose the misteria which he absorbed, making him feel weakened. He tried to pull the sword away from Noire to no avail, the boy already had a good latch on the blade. Again he tried to retrieve his weapon, but seconds later he was so weakened that he could not even lift the blade anymore. Sensing something wrong with the boy, Plio decided to let go of his weapon for now.

“Oh no. I won’t let you escape now,” Noire suddenly spoke as he pulled the blade towards him before Plio could even let go of it. The force of the pull was more than enough to move the magistrate towards Noire, and when he was at a grab’s range, the boy immediately apprehended Plio’s hands to the point of almost crushing the bones in his palm.

“Now it’s my turn!”

After pulling his head a bit, he gave Plio a massive head-butt, the boy’s skull crashing with the magistrate’s, that resulted in the former being stunned. His vision beginning to blur, Plio tried to restore the focus of his eyes, but Noire was relentless. Giving him no time to breathe, he unleashed one punch after another, the boy’s fists landed to any unguarded part of his body. The magistrate tried his hardest to defend himself from the onslaught, and he was partly successful. The exchange favored Noire though, with every one defended two more would take the hit instead. Pain soon began to build on Plio’s whole system, he could even barely stand on two feet.

Observing the one-sided fight from afar, Margaret was more than eager to stop it before it ends up on a bad note, but still Julius prevented her from doing so. She had no choice but to continue watching her superior being beaten up in front of a large crowd.

“Look at you. You can’t even defend yourself now. What happened to your pride as a warrior of your Empire? Seems that you’ve gotten too soft already, what a shame,” Noire said to the now wounded Plio, delivering one last good hit on the magistrate’s stomach. That last hit made Plio puke fluids from his mouth as he was flung a good distance across the arena.

“Wh—what? I’ve---” Plio mumbled, holding his stomach in great pain as he tried to stand up to at least preserve his pride. Never in his life has he experienced so much suffering, not even on the frontlines which he desperately ran away from. But at that moment, as he took a long look at the boy, he had seen a being way outside of his level.

And yet…

He smiled... something which both Margaret and Julius had not seen him doing ever since he was assigned to Axria.

The pain, it was unbearable…

He could barely see, his eyes were constantly blinded with sweat and blood flowing from his forehead…

His torso was done for, that last blow took more to him than he ever expected…

And yet… he smiled. He realized something.

He held himself back. He tried to hide from what he really wanted to be, tried to suppress the warrior that was already growing inside of him out there on the battlefield.

Plio… tried to run away.

With all his remaining strength, he got up, picking up a sword that he found lying down on the ground. He stared at Noire, smiling, quietly vowing to himself that he would not back down any longer. Breathing as deeply as he could, he issued Noire a last challenge.

“Come on. Hit me with your best shot! Come on, COME OOOOON!!!”

Witnessing a return of a fallen warrior had Noire lower his head, secretly admiring the spirit that the magistrate was showing him at that moment. Not wanting to disappoint the magistrate, Noire picked up the greatsword and held it up high in the air.

“As you wish.”

Noticing the chain of events that was happening when the boy held the sword in the air, the Emissary had realized something that immediately shifted his course of action from passive watching to active participation, making him rush towards the two of them, just as flames of unknown origins began to rise up on the entirety of the arena.