“Laaaaaaadies, gentlemen, and everything in between, I’m looking at you, ya purple slime,” Jarold the caster shouted as a row of purple glob creatures bobbed up and down with what I could only guess to be laughter. “We have a very special treat for everyone today. And we have very special guests as well.” He quieted his voice in mock seriousness. “The royal family is here today with one of only three Church of Light Cardinals. They are here today to see… WHO?”
“The saintess!” The shout went up around the arena in an awkward scattering accompanied by some booing and the occasional heathen calls. Personally, I figured I was probably closer to a heathen than a Saintess for the Church of Light. It was the irony that put a small smile on my face as beams of gold light fell upon two overhangs at the opposite ends of the arena’s upper seating area. The show of theatrics was too rich for my taste.
“Today,” Jarold continued, “we see whether the young lady of the Silverwater Barony, Lady Lilliana Silverwater, is a true Saintess of Light, blessed by the Goddess Dhalia. Whether she has the faith necessary to be a Saintess. The first Saintess trial in what seems like forever, here! In our city of Sealrite!”
The crowd roared its approval. Jarold’s words echoed around the arena. I still hadn’t managed to figure out where he actually was. Thousands, if not tens of thousands of people, filled the stadium seats and bellowed their bets or hopes and predictions to anyone within earshot. I’d originally wondered whether Jarold cast from one of the two overhanging seating sections, but one was filled by the royal family and the other by some sort of religious group. Unless Jarold was one of those, which I sincerely doubted, the caster was hiding somewhere else.
“Before we start, one of our special guests of honor has something to say. Then, he’ll kick off the trial and I’ll be back!” Jarold said. Then there was a soft click and even the static of his volume enhancement skill died away. No one spoke other than the occasional hushed whisper, as everyone waited for the guest to speak. Or at least identify himself.
I cast a questioning look toward Marisar. He just shrugged.
“Can’t we just get on with the fight,” Gronch growled, slipping on a pair of gauntlets and smashing his fists together. The gauntlets the half-orc had taken from his last death battle in the arena looked fairly low quality and a few sizes too small for his massive hands. Still, the half-orc, by all appearances, quite liked them. The sound of one metal gauntlet smacking into the other one, which was usually drowned by surrounding sounds, now bounced off the silent arena walls with a resounding crack. “Oops.”
I groaned and Marisar shook his head in defeat.
“Good morning,” said a woman’s voice over the sound enhancement, wherever that was. There was a gentle lilt to her voice that seemed to float elegantly across the arena’s great distance, containing an undertone of subtly fake sweetness. It was a tone common in aristocratic families back in Ordite. While the words would sound nice, each would be carefully chosen, delivered with such a delicate touch that the smooth voice often belied the calculating mind behind it. Without being of nobility I wasn’t sure if the others sensed or even heard the small, almost imperceptible hint of malice dripping from those two simple words, like shadows squirming just out of sight. The woman continued, her words hypnotic and seductive, drawing the eyes of all the arena to the sky where her voice seemed to descend from, “I am Mirabelle of the Red Cardinal, serving at the behest of Goddess Dhalia and her servant, Pope Betrant.” No one cheered or applauded, though some gawked. I had no idea what was so impressive, but I kept that to myself. “It is upon this day during the 205th year since our great Kingdom’s birth that I am pleased to announce the 19th trial for a Saintess of Dhalia, Goddess of Life and Light. It has been nearly five decades since the previous challenge where the Saintess Candidate Delarose met her untimely fate. She had not been blessed by the Goddess as I and my sisters were. I pray Lady Silverwater has truly been blessed lest her soul feel the brunt of the Goddess’ anger.”
As the Queen of a nation who believed wholeheartedly that the God of War, Ashwash, was the most powerful and righteous God, I was absolutely certain this Goddess of Life would not grant me any blessing. Not that I had ever been granted any type of blessing, nor had I wanted one. Even with the entire Nation praying to Ashwash, I never did. Whatever I would have prayed for, I instead fought for.
“Well, jeez,” Julius said, the broadsword he’d picked out before entering the arena stuck into the sand at his feet. He moved a strand of chin-length orange hair out of his eyes, nearly tucking it behind an ear before stopping and simply dropping it. “What a pep talk. Are all religious leaders in Cael like this?” His eyes turned toward me, of course, as the only noble in our group who might have any knowledge of religious leaders.
I didn’t respond, frowning in consideration of what I’d learned about religion so far. The orange haired man laughed, clearly not having actually expected a response and finding it funny that I’d given it serious thought.
“Focus, Julius,” Romeo said, having long since palmed both his daggers and was casting furtive glances to the three arena doors surrounding our group of five, which had been herded into the middle of the arena. I had asked for all the slaves to be included. The response I’d gotten from the slaver, the Dragon born, Dralos, had been equitable to being spit in the face. Actually, he had spit in my face. There hadn’t been an opportunity to kill him yet, but for that offense, there would be. Soon. Part of me had hoped with the Lunari aspect of my energy merging into whatever a Soul Weaver was, that the Dragon-born hate Dralos instinctually harbored would have waned at the very least.
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But no. The forming of the core had only exponentially increased the hate and fear.
“The test today will be one of faith,” Mirabelle of the Red Cardinal said, a knife through the silence unlike our small voices. “As faith should be, the test is simple. Lady Silverwater has been allowed to recruit as many followers of the faith as her persuasion allowed.” Gronch snorted at the lie. “The Lady will be required to wear a Mask Without Senses for the entirety of this trial. The Mask will block her sight and her hearing. Heathen creatures will be released into the arena for the Saintess Candidate to slay in the name of the Goddess. If she succeeds, it means the Goddess has given her the gift of grace and mercy. If she does not succeed, she will be returned to the Goddess’ embrace and returned to the cycle of life.” Without any further fanfare, Mirabelle announced the start of the trial. “Place the mask upon Young Lady Silverwater and release the beasts.”
“That’s it?” I asked, louder than I had intended. In fact, I hadn’t intended to say that out loud at all. The arena, static without sound as it listened to Mirabelle’s announcement, stirred at my accidental words.
“What do you mean ‘that’s it?’” Romeo asked, a questioning look sketched in his raven eyes. “You must fight blind and deaf against beasts of Heathens. You will die in seconds, even with our help.”
I snorted at the lack of, ironically, faith. “You have a surprising lack of faith, young warrior,” I said, beginning to stretch my legs as an arena official wearing a too-long blue cloak with the image of an arena came stumbling over to me with a gold-red mask in his hands. The mask was fairly normal, aside from the remnants of strong heart energy I could see flowing from it whenever the guard moved. And whisps of something else that I was beginning to recognize as strands of magic.
“Young… young warrior?” Romeo spluttered and I laughed. The boy’s surprise was as evident as it was understandable. It was hard to remember that this body was only twelve, almost thirteen. Especially now that my core was formed and Lilliana’s body was undergoing physical changes every day in preparation for the reformation it would undergo when I reached a silver-level core.
And, while I didn’t trust this system or the Progenitors, the system was undeniably beneficial in furthering my strength at a quicker speed than otherwise. That being said, nothing was free. Life was not fair and it was not kind. Quick power would always come with a cost, even if I didn’t yet know what that would be.
The Mask Without Senses was placed before my eyes where it sat heavily on the bridge of my nose. A strap wrapped around the back of my head from one side of the mask to the other and, with a word from the arena official in a language I did not understand, the strap tightened until it was just slightly too tight. A magic or energy based lock, I deduced.
The instant the straps finished tightening my heart jumped and the world disappeared. It wasn’t so much that I was thrown into a darkness - that happened every night. The world was gone. Color was gone. I wasn’t surrounded by black. I was surrounded by nothing. A void.
I could feel myself stumble as sound also winked from existence around me and I was pitched into a soundless, sightless nothingness. Large hands caught me and helped balance my unsteady posture, discombobulated as I was.
The laugh that escaped from my lips, though I couldn’t hear it, I knew to be cold and, yet, full of mirth. I had existed and lived in a much greater nothingness for an endless period of time. They thought a momentary glimpse of such Nothingness would bring hardship to me? Perhaps once, but no longer.
Although I was temporarily without sight, hearing, or balance, as the deafness would also void my vestibular sense, I could still rely on the other senses and, despite what was taught by most lower academies in my Kingdom of Aedronir, I knew from higher learnings that there were actually seven senses rather than five. Most schools of thought left out vestibular and proprioception, choosing to combine them with the other five.
I was left with taste, smell, touch, and proprioception. While the former, taste, was clearly useless in this situation, the other three would keep me alive.
The floor rumbled under my feet in one long tremor. The gates were releasing the beasts. The rumbles originated from three different directions, so probably at least three ‘heathen’ creatures, whatever those were.
A thick scent of blood filled the air like a thick sludge making it hard to breathe. I slowed my breathing and made sure to keep it steady despite the smog in the air.
I didn’t move, feeling around me. I felt the sand below my feet again thump, this time in a patterned rhythm. Almost like a horse, but not quite. The legs were longer. Body heavier. Either it had more legs than a horse or it was much faster.
The thumping became heavier. Where it had started faint, the sand now jumped with each step. It was getting closer. Then I smelled it, the distinct, putrid smell of an undead.
No, that wasn’t exactly it, I realized somewhat belatedly. It had an undead smell to it, but there was something more. Three other somethings. A chimera?
I tightened an unsteady hand around the hilt of my single, worthless blade and readied myself for the charge. The charge never came and the thumping stopped.
Then a large thud somewhere next to where I’d tracked the creature. A bunch of smaller pounding was coming from that location. Someone had intercepted the raging beast. Gronch, probably. Or Romeo. I couldn’t imagine Marisar being able to or Julius bothering to.
I was about to head toward the area to join the fray when something pierced my left shoulder and I could feel something warm and sticky tracing down my arm. As I screamed with pain, I felt a soft fluttering of air by my ear before quickly fading.
“Shit,” I swore. Or, I think that’s what I swore. “Something’s flying!” Again, not entirely sure that what I wanted to say came out like it should have due to my current deafness. I tried anyway.
I turned to face the direction the feeling of fluttering wind had disappeared in but didn’t feel anything more. No vibrations in the air or trembling of the ground. That was only two of the three. Where was the third? Then, in front of my vision, inside the nothingness, I heard a vile laugh. A cold, merciless sound that reverberated in my ears like nails to a chalkboard.
“Eeeet has beeeen soooo looong seeeeence I have had huuuuman flesh,” the telepathic voice whispered in my mind. “Fiiiinally, another saaaaintess to devoooour.”
“What in Ashwash’s name is that,” I thought to myself. Privately.
Turned out thoughts weren’t so private to the monster and it chuckled, a grating steel voice sending a shiver through me.
“Yooour peeopple, the huuuumans caaaall mmeee a Miiindscriiibe. I aaaam Vullor. Aaaand you arreee myyyy preeeeeey.”