“Zeran,” Someone uttered. Hushed, hardly audible, but awed.

“This is going to be interesting.” Someone gleefully said. “Top players are out to kill each other?”

“Shh…” Someone hushed.

Amaryllis looked at the man. He was massive — a mass of muscle and, well, more muscle. Perhaps a little steel bars were injected into them.

His shirt hid his exceptional body, but barely so, and his folded sleeves displayed the muscle that had no right to be so defined, but they were. And scary. His frown only added to his menacing presence. Bald head. Barely opened eyes, no brows. And even sitting on a chair, he was taller than Amaryllis would be if she were standing.

“Hello, Lord Zeran," said Violet, least bit not tense by his presence.

"Hello," Amaryllis said softly. After, the Huan incident, where she had severely underestimated his strength and could've died, she had no intention of jibbing anyone else again. He couldn't even be underestimated. His face might as well have ‘take me seriously’ written on it.

Zeran grunted at Violet, ignoring Amaryllis, even though he was the one to come first. Amaryllis realized Violet was rank one, but this was not the time to talk about that.

The tense atmosphere only attracted the eyes at their table. A sharkman trotted to the table with a bucket and scrub.

Amaryllis said nothing as he cleaned. Violet didn’t either. But Zeran spat. Amaryllis almost laughed at his childish attempt at being evil. He was in dire need of a better guide to evil. Still, she did not comment. She had no hope for this situation to resolve; it would go south, or, better yet, she would revisit the medical wing. Was there any rule that prevented assessees from harming each other? Seeing how scared everyone was of everyone, she concluded not.

Sharkman still cleaned without a word and trotted back.

Amaryllis observed the man. Waiting for him to move, she hoped she could dodge his strike and flee the scene; as shameful and depreciative as it may be, she couldn’t risk herself.

She didn’t move yet, as he'd have the time to lunge if she moved first.

Her heart hammered. Arms twitching in anticipation. Zeran reclined on his chair, grinning. Hideous and menacing. Orc. He reminded her of.

He understood what effect he had on Amaryllis. She shifted her attention to Violet, who was as impassive as a dead fish. Amaryllis had the urge to ask her what they were going to do about this situation, but she guessed Violet was unconcerned. After all, she was ranked first.

Then, the sharkman from the counter brought their orders.

"Thank you," Amaryllis said as he placed the bowl on her table. It was not a plate, and she might’ve commented on that if the situation was different.

"What can I get for you, Lord Zeran?" He asked.

"Leave."

Sharkman nodded and turned his tail, leaving quietly. Amaryllis wondered if he was mocking Zeran. Or was it how he walked? She rarely ever saw any other species except humans. And she had no idea what these shark people were called.

She turned her attention to the food. Red on blue, it was alien, a piece of art, yet far from something her mind considered edible. Steam danced in the air; the aroma was inviting. Despite her mind's refusal, she dared pick up the spoon.

She sideeyed the giant man once more, but he seemed relaxed. Perhaps he was here just to intimidate them. In which case, he was becoming less effective by the minute. Amaryllis was more annoyed than anything.

Amaryllis stirred the bowl, mixing the rice and the soup. The rice melted into the soup, that was the first time she had seen that, and now, this had an even more alien color. A bowl of purple soup with red-colored meat and vegetables floating in it. It was thick like paint. The urge to order something else almost got her, but she considered why Violet ordered this. Her eyes met Violet's, who was mixing thick water with corn and leaves.

"Is it not to your liking?"

"I don't know, it looks purple?" Amaryllis said, confused. How could someone consider this edible, but then again, the person ordering couldn't show emotions and was drinking water in the name of the soup? Was this how people in those expensive hotels were served? Of course, service was far from that standard, but the food and weirdness matched those she had seen on TV. That was a long time ago, and people might be eating even more mystifying things.

"It truly does," Violet affirmed, "I chose that because it has the most nutritional value out of everything on the menu. If you can, I'd advise you to eat it."

"Fine," Amaryllis sighed, raising the spoon to her face. She blew the steam and sipped the soup.

Her eyes blew wide open. They might've popped out, if not for her human anatomy prohibiting such absurd expressions.

The soup slid down her throat, cooling her chest, and into her stomach. She could feel the coolness in her stomach. She sat, spoon hanging between her fingers. Eyes blank.

It took her an entire minute to process the heavenly taste. It was anything but mild. Powerful and soothing to her soul. She felt the wound in her hand heal. The pricking pain from her body vanished. They were still there, but her mind only focused on the taste. How tasty it was. If she had been alone, she might've cried in delight.

How long had it been since she ate a food that was this tasty? Perhaps never. She picked up another spoon and drank again. The meat was soft, squishy, in a good way, and melted on her tongue. She sniffed as she drank the third spoon.

This soup was her reward. She thought. For all the shit she went through since the first assessment. She was delighted beyond reasoning. "Thanks, Violet." She said, her voice thick with emotions. A part of her brain cringed at how happy she was for just food. She should have more control over her emotions, but that was becoming harder and harder with each passing minute. She wished she’d get her shit together fast.

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"I'm glad you liked it," Violet said. She didn’t sound glad. Amaryllis accepted that as who Violet was.

Amaryllis completely forgot about Zeran sitting on the table — growling for attention. He had been offended by this transgression.

Just as Amaryllis raised the spoon, the table in front of her flew up in the air and flipped, dropping both their soup on the table in front of them, ruining the food on the adjacent table along with their clothes. They scrambled back, dropping on their butts.

The table dropped before the counter, destroying one more person's food. Some people raised their voices in protest, but quickly quieted or shoved down by their friend.

Amaryllis turned mechanically, wearing a horrified expression. The heavenly food was gone. Her jaw clenched. Fire lit in her chest. Fervent hot desire that burned from the tip of her toe to the root of her hair. Something snapped inside her. The white-hot rage consumed her vision. She wanted to hurt him. Hurt him so bad that he would cry right in front of this crowd. Make him beg for his life.

The darkness rose from her hand, formless thick liquid. She knew how to control it. The instructions were engraved in her brain like she had done it a hundred times before — practiced day in and day out. The liquid turned into a blade, with blood red sharp.

Zeran moved at the same time. His massive hand clenched into a fist, massive like a truck, coming at her face. Amaryllis gritted her teeth as she swung the blade. His hand was coated in this layer of mana, earthly scales covered it. The blade met the front of his fist and dug in like a hot knife in butter.

Zeran froze, but before even blood could spurt, Amaryllis had divided his hand in half below the elbow. A chunk of it dangled like a gruit about to fall on the ground. The split was not perfect after all.

"Argh!" He screamed.

Her anger vanished, replaced by the dread. She let go of the blade and raised her arm to close her ears. She didn't want to hear his scream. She felt cold. Her ears rang with an all-consuming siren. He didn't scream. He regained himself in seconds and swung his other fist, now covered in a gauntlet with a spike. It was too late for her to do anything. She clenched her jaw, channeling mana in preparation for the impact.

Metal shrieked. Making every hair on her body stand painfully.

The punch stopped an inch before her face. Violet's katana had stopped it dead in its tracks. "That's enough. Doctor Henneth asked me to bring Amaryllis."

"You can take her corpse after I'm done with her."

“You don’t want to try that, Lord Zeran,” Violet said respectfully. She sounded even more composed than usual.

Something about his voice rekindled the dwindling flame of rage. "For an orc, who cannot even guard against a basic attack, you grovel very poorly." Her emotionless voice rang in the quiet hall. Few people whistled at the exchange, few let out gasp in awe or horror. Amaryllis couldn’t bring herself to care.

The liquid manifested around her arm. This time, she replicated a longer blade, much like Violet's, and shoved it against his throat. The irresistible urge to just push it in and rid the world of this miserable, worthless scum was very tempting. But she was unwilling to have the blood of someone in her hand.

His lips twisted, "Do you dare!" He snarled. Pushed himself up.

Amaryllis didn't. But she was prepared to if he moved again.

"You'll pay," Amaryllis said. She couldn't believe her ears. His hand was barely attached to his body, dangling like an extra. What more could she make him pay? How could she even say that? She suppressed those thoughts and let the anger set her ablaze.

"Hey! Put that on my name." He smirked. He was unfazed after the initial shock. Somehow, he was less shaken than her. “I paid.”

Healing magic. Amaryllis realized. Her cogent thought finally returned as she let out the hot air from her lungs. Still vigilant, in case the orc wanted a second round.

He stood over her. Violet raised her sword, prepared to strike if he moved. But he showed no intention of attacking. They locked eyes.

"Tomorrow morning, you and me. The winner takes the loser's points. Do you dare, bitch?" He smirked, grinning even wider. He had planned it. His eyes told her that. The outcome. It was irrational to think he would seek trouble without any deeper meaning.

Points. Amaryllis cursed herself. Of course, it was all to get her points. But she couldn't just say no. Never. Not with this many people watching her. She would expose how weak and scared she was. They would scoff behind her back. Call her name. Makes rumors about her. Someone would bump into her table, flipping her food. Bump into her while she walked. She would become the object for these miserable creatures to take out their frustration.

No. She couldn't appear weak. She'd think of a way. She must. But she had to accept it. Or sooner or later, someone would take her point, if not alone, then with a bunch of equally miserable scums at their side. She had to accept it. And he knew that, too. But why target her? How did he know she was weak? Clownman. Amaryllis couldn’t imagine anyone else.

"If you lose. You'll say I'm an orc raised by an uncivilized bunch who are less able than monkeys. Scratch that. you will write that a hundred times." Amaryllis said, her voice was quivering with rage. "Do you dare, Orc?"

"Heh, we will see. It's a match." He extended his better hand.

"Tomorrow night. I have more important things to deal with in the morning." She needed as much time as necessary without appearing like she was buying time.

"Fine." Still holding out his hand.

“Scram." Amaryllis hissed.

He bellowed loudly. Turned and left, waving his cut hand proudly. The sight was painful. She looked at Violet to hide her disgust.

Amaryllis let out a suffering sigh. She was drained. By both mana and stamina. Her chest heaved.

"That cut was smooth."

"But, he was completely unfazed."

"They are in completely different leagues..."

“Monsters.”

Amaryllis turned her head toward the crowd. No one was eating, and they didn't look hungry either. The crowd went quiet under her gaze. She could see fear in their eyes. She felt the stifling uncomfortableness permeating from their being. Power. She had it now. She just made the monster retreat. While she had Violet's help, she could've done it by herself. She just needed to prepare herself.

"Out," Amaryllis said, pointing at the door. Her cold voice echoed in the deathly silent hall. No one moved for a long stretch. Even dared to breathe. "Did you not hear?" Amaryllis said, staring at the young man.

All scrambled out of the door. Monster. Bitch. They whispered under their breath. Someone even wished she'd slip on a banana peel and break her neck. Amaryllis chuckled at that.

"Heh," Amaryllis forced herself to smile. Her mind reminded her of the cleaved hand, strangling the little appetite she had.

"Are you alright?" Violet asked. "You shouldn't have agreed. You caught him by surprise this time, but a real battle would be much different."

"There was no option, Violet. Everyone was looking at me, if I said no... well, it wouldn't have been a pleasant experience. And I was the one caught by surprise.”

"Is this a pleasant experience, Amaryllis?" Violet asked, turning her head at the empty hall.

She looked at the empty hall. It was. But it shouldn't be. What she just did was as scummy as Zeran. She felt revolted at herself. Yet, she had strength.