I didn’t call Nasq or Dralos immediately after the skirmish started. For the plan to succeed, all of the Colosseum’s forces, or at least most of them, needed to be in the foyer connecting the stairway and all three sections. Unlike the pathways, the foyer itself was a large circular space, able to fit what I estimated to be no more than forty people at a time. Over half of the armed guards had yet to finish descending. A good, technical strategy here would have been to retreat, allowing for increased space in the foyer for the rest of the soldiers to descend into.

Technically. And I might have chosen that path at any other moment.

Not today.

My adrenaline spiked to capacity as I barreled through golem after golem, crushing the creatures with a tornado of sword strikes fueled by the strength of a high-tier bronze core. In the wake of my ferocity, golems disintegrated and humans bled as golem cores shattered and human appendages were sliced clean off. Within moments, it was an absolute clusterfuck of gore and dirt-like ash, polluted with the screams of the dying and the piercing screech of steel clashing against steel. Magic and heart energy flew across the foyer in a wild mess, striking ally and enemy almost indiscriminately in the enclosed space. Some stray bolts of power struck the rocky foundation of the slave dungeon, causing large and small boulders to cascade into the battle, crushing unsuspecting men and women.

Freed slaves and Paragons climbed over their dead foes and friends alike to engage, as the bodies littering the space continued to fill and there was nowhere else to go. No matter where I went, my feet squished disgustingly into pools of deep red that trailed from guards and freed slaves alike. I stepped over a body, swinging my sword in elation at another soldier, my lunar energy-empowered sword slicing through his blade like melted butter and disemboweling him with a sickening squelch of flesh and organs.

Over the shouts and screams of battle, I yelled at the High Pandorian, who had yet to move from his spot high on the stairway, “I don’t think you brought enough men.”

His gaze scanned over me for a brief moment but otherwise stayed focused on the battlefield, causing a deep frown to etch itself on my face. Had I not shown enough battle prowess to attract his attention? Sure, I was still in the body of a twelve-year-old girl, but with the amount of blood staining me and gore covering me, I doubted my appearance still maintained the inherent innocence of a child.

Or perhaps he was simply fearful of engaging me. The thought made me growl at the disrespect and cowardice. My blade swung once more, cleaving the arm of a golem before I spun and embedded the steel deep into the creature’s upper leg where I’d sensed its core vibrating. In the distance behind me, I could still hear Romeo and Julius shouting at each other and the subsequent clashing of their blades against whatever foes they faced. I didn’t turn to look, nor did I intend to help. If they survived or died, that would be their own fate.

Though I did not want them to perish, I was not their protector or guardian. A Queen did not look back. A Queen pushed forward, conquering and destroying any obstacles in her path.

And that is exactly what I would do—what I always did.

“Now!” I shouted when most of the Pandorian’s forces had finally descended into the foyer. The majority of the freed slaves I’d taken with me were dead, as were a handful of Paragons. But still, we held, refusing to be pushed back into the thin pathway leading to the first slave area I had stayed in for the past weeks.

Dralos and Nasq’s groups surged forward from either side, crashing into the mercenaries like a wave of metal and flesh. I momentarily lost sight of the Pandorian when he leaped into the fray and the three forces clashed, but I could still sense his Heart Core as it pulsed rhythmically, a beacon of dark energy amidst the chaotic storm of combat.

From there everything descended into utter chaos. The Dungeon filled with sounds to match that chaos and the cries of death and pain increased in multitude—it was nearly deafening to me as I was in the throes of it all. I heard the primal roar of Ethan as he surged into the throng of mercenaries with seemingly no fear of death and the crackling of Nasq’s shadow magic as parts of the foyer blinked into darkness before being stained red with the blood of Ethan’s prey.

I moved through the fray with lethal precision, decades of military and war experience dictating my every move with expertise. I was a blur of death despite being half the size of the mercenaries and guards, and a third the size of the golems I brought down one after the other. Each life I snuffed out filled the reserves of my heart energy and I could feel my Core growing stronger with each kill. I wasn’t gaining power in the same way I had while being boosted by the Main System. Not exactly. It was as if I had somehow opened a passage inside my Core by absorbing the woman and the guard, a pathway that was now allowing me to absorb homeless heart energy from the recently deceased while I fought and the more I did it, the easier it became until it was second nature.

I was reminded that there was no training, no practice, no form of cultivation or meditation that could force someone to learn like when their life was on the line.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

All at once, a giant battle axe cleaved a path toward me through the center of a golem, splitting it in two. For a moment I thought it might have been Gronch, but I knew it wasn’t when I saw the dark blue skin and completely black eyes that glared at me with a bone-chilling coldness. To him, this was at most a job from his Master. Maybe it was just a hobby of his, even. I didn’t know. The Pandorian took off his helmet and tossed it to the ground with a look somewhere between boredom and expectation.

I met his glare with a grin fueled by the chaos of the battlefield and we engaged, steel sword to battle axe. Instead of meeting his battle axe head-on, I parried it to the side and used the momentum of the recoil to twist my blade into an upward arc, aiming to free the Pandorian of his arm. The move didn’t take as the Pandorian launched a front kick at my gut with a speed I barely registered before my sword strike had neared him enough to be any real threat.

I stumbled backward but stayed on my feet and kept my guard up, dodging a wild sword strike from some peasant mercenary who I didn’t have the time to kill. The Pandorian was, by far, the strongest fighter I’d faced since arriving in Graedon. Likely, he was well beyond the level of even the Silverwater’s Knight Captain considering the low-tier silver-level core he possessed.

We engaged again, both of us drawing on our heart energy and turning it into pure Authority, an invisible, spherical force around its user that applied pressure to all living beings around the user into submission. An ultimate demonstration of dominance. My Authority had been weak previously. But now, at peak bronze core, it had some use. Even if it was minuscule compared to the force of my old Authority.

The surprise on the Pandorian’s face was clear as our Authorities flexed into each other, struggling for dominance over the other force. My grin widened at the male’s expression and I pressed even harder.

His face twisted into a look of utter shock at the force of my Authority and he switched tactics. Heart energy wrapped around his armor, hardening into the brown color of a golem, and he returned to a physical engagement as he aimed to crack into the side of my skull. I dodged to the side, weaving around the strike to launch a lunar-empowered punch of my own.

Unlike his, mine struck home but the innate rigidity of the golem armor covering his underlying armor sent a shockwave of pain up my arm and I could feel my fingers fracture from the impact. The Pandorian laughed when I winced but it was quickly cut off when I jammed the hilt of my blade, still held in my other arm, into the side of his head. A helmet would have stopped the blow, but he’d already taken his off, the arrogant ass.

The Pandorian recoiled slightly and staggered backward, swinging his large battle axe with a one-handed cleave. I redirected the axe with a physical manifestation of my heart energy forming a shield to sweep the Pandorian’s weapon away at an odd angle just enough that I could dash into his guard once again and thrust up at his chest with my sword.

He growled and raised a knee to deter my advance lest I take the blow to the face. I twirled out of the way at the last second, dropping my sword so it spun around his ankle as I dodged. The sound my blade made upon contact was akin to sharpening a steel edge upon whetstone. When I looked, no blood had been drawn. The only indication I’d nearly cut his Achilles was a thin black line trailing around his heel.

The odd energy of “magic” swirled around the warrior for a split second before the bundle of that energy in his stomach spiked with power. The Pandorian muttered something under his breath and a twister of fire sprang into existence, blasting from the Pandorian’s palms toward me.

I raised an invisible shield of heart energy which took the brunt of the magic's force. But I was still caught off guard by the use of magic and the resulting blow sent me tumbling backward. With some effort, I ceased the tumble and landed smoothly back on my feet, sword still in hand. My shoulder was scorched, flesh bubbling with the heat of what I realized was actual fire. Not heart energy with a fire attribute, but actual fire. Just like Gideon’s had been actual ice.

I was beginning to get a better picture of what exactly magic was. It seemed that, unlike heart energy which could have many different types of attributes, raw magic wasn’t used to cause damage. It was used as a catalyst to create or summon other forces to inflict harm. Perhaps magic could also be used outside of combat if it truly created something from nothing. Considering the time it took to prepare the magic, perhaps it was best suited for non-combat situations.

However, the ability to create something from nothing was the realm of gods. I didn’t… couldn't believe such power could be as common as “magic” seemed to be.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.

Heart energy isn't the only thing that exists here, I chastised myself. I needed to keep "magic" in mind going forward.

“What in the world are you?” The Pandorian growled, hefting his axe into both hands, all mirth gone from his expression. His large chest heaved with the struggle to keep his breath stable, much as I was.

Sweat drenched me, plastering my hair to my dirt-covered face. As I squared off with the Pandorian, the hair was proving to be quite the annoying distraction since I couldn’t just brush it aside in my current situation.

I wanted to return his cold stare with an equally cold glare of my own, but I couldn’t wipe the wicked grin that seemed to be permanently etched on my features. I was just enjoying the fight so Ashwash damned much.

“How do you have a Core,” he hissed. The Pandorian took a heavy step forward and narrowed his eyes as if attempting to see through to my very soul. “That is not something a lowly Pularean like you should be able to accomplish.” The blue warrior scowled, “Is someone teaching you? Who dares to share the Pandorian cultivation with an outsider?”

“Aren’t you Pularean as well?” I asked, genuinely confused by the Pandorian’s taunt. Pandora was the largest nation and only Empire in the Pularean continent. What was the point of an insult that dishonored his own home continent?

The Pandorian smirked, looking down his long nose at me in superiority. “You don’t even know where Pandorians are from, do you, child?” It was my turn to scowl and I had to remind myself for the millionth time that by all appearances, I was, in fact, a child.