Rieren ‘s victory had buoyed up the rest of her new kind. After she had convincingly defeated Zhalen, the remaining monsters who still had fights left were now looking forward to their own battles.

Strange what kind of an effect she had on them. They were, she realized rather belatedly, becoming a proper team in all but name. It was an epiphany she had no idea what to do with. But it wouldn’t leave her mind either. Instead, it just sat there in the middle of her consciousness, like the monsters themselves so often did in her little glen.

At least she could rest assured that Zhalen had indeed survived his fight with Rieren. Batcat had confirmed it.

She had sent out the winged kitten to gather some more intelligence. It had been able to infiltrate deep enough into the imperial clan’s contingent to discover that Zhalen was conscious. One brief memory had even revealed him looking mightily sullen. Better than dead, that was for certain.

There were other little bits and pieces from all over the area that Batcat scrounged up. People were talking about Rieren. About her victory. About how a monster had knocked out a member of the imperial clan from the Trials of Ascendance while keeping him alive to boot.

Her renown was rising. Rieren knew that was going to invite greater scrutiny, but she was long past the point where she had been cowering away out of paranoia. It was actually interesting in an academic way to note how much things had changed in that regard. Where Rieren from the past might have tried to shy away from all the attention, this Rieren couldn’t care less.

Well, maybe that was in part due to how her current form dealt with feelings in general. It took a great deal to actually register emotionally on her mind.

She scowled a little, recalling the moment she had last experienced something significant as an Arisen. It hadn’t been that long ago. Just over a week past, when she had discovered the Aetherian who had caused her current state, the one with the golden threads and ashen body, had been Demargo. Had been a monster she might have claimed as a friend.

A monster who had gone on to betray her.

Rieren tried to focus on her training and the remaining matches. The next bout was going to be interesting. Serace was facing off against the woman Rieren had been wary off since the last timeline.

“Something tells me you already know today’s victor, Destroyer,” the Darkstalker said as she came to stand next to him at the railings.

Rieren grunted noncommittally. It couldn’t be right for her to be betting against Serace, even if he had also “betrayed” her in a sense. She shook her head. The cursed sect mate of hers could have asked if she could spare a token for qualification.

“The woman,” Rieren eventually said as the battle began. The Darkstalker had been staring at her until she finally gave him an answer. Maybe monsters didn’t feel discomfort or awkwardness in a social capacity. Rieren certainly hadn’t so far. “She will win.”

“You know her, I presume.”

“I know them both.”

“Ah.”

The fight went just as Rieren had expected it to. Ceraline of the Selvier clan always began things defensively, awaiting her opponent’s first move.

Serace saw this as an invitation to end the bout quickly. He attacked.

First came strikes of wind from his sword. His skill carved the air into sharp arcs that flew at his opponent. A dangerous ability, by most counts. If the Grade was high enough, which Rieren suspected it was, it could most likely shear through even solid rock.

But against Ceraline’s defences, it didn’t stand a chance.

All she did was raise a single sheet of paper. Rieren was too distant to tell what exactly it was from her position, but she knew it well enough—had seen it in action enough—to know what Ceraline was doing.

As soon as Serace’s blast of wind struck the paper, it disappeared.

He wasn’t dismayed. More blasts came out, one after the other. He was starting to get desperate. Rieren wryly shook her head. He was starting to act like Zhalen, and that was rather pathetic.

Nothing Serace did ever reached Ceraline. The woman hadn’t looked concerned once in the entire match, had barely done anything besides holding up that page of hers.

“Are you done?” she asked, voice loud enough to reach the audience.

Serace growled. Then he showed why the announcer had proclaimed him as Anachron-eater.

The powers he had cultivated via swallowing an Anachron’s Beast Core—a B-Grade core too, at that—manifested around him. Earthen roots burst out of the ground, lashing at Ceraline.

Serace’s own body was transforming too, turning more monstrous. The Anachron’s form was making itself present upon Serace’s body. His skin turned hard like packed dirt, his hair became filaments of dust, and his whole body expanded to turn more sinuous.

Rieren peered closer. Had Serace actually learned to control the power of a B-Grade Anachron to that degree? If so, then whether he won or lost, that in itself was a big triumph.

The Darkstalker beside Rieren tutted. “And here they call us monsters. How hypocritical, when they themselves turn into creatures like that.”

She had to admit, there was some truth to that. If Rieren could be called a monster in her current form, what did that make Serace? He had certainly held nothing back from turning over half of his body into the Anachron whose Beast Core he had swallowed.

But Serace’s transformation into a partial Anachron did nothing to improve his chances against Ceraline. He had hoped to launch himself physically at his opponent. Ceraline saw it coming from leagues away. Before he could take a single step forward, Ceraline had reversed the page she had been holding.

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All the power her paper had absorbed from all of Serace’s blows now turned back upon their original wielder. The crowd went wild as a storm of windy scythes burst out of the page and shot at Serace all at once.

He had no defences for his own skill used against him like that. Especially not when he had devoted himself to a rushing charge. Serace was struck hard by his own power. All that saved him from being ripped apart was the Anachron’s body he had summoned over himself.

Even then, he was flattened to the ground, blood and bits of him lying all over the place.

“Well, that takes care of that,” the Darkstalker said.

Rieren frowned. “Perhaps not just yet.” The match official was already hurrying over, but Serace was rising, forcing himself back to his feet despite the numerus wounds. “Although, I agree with you implicitly.”

Ceraline couldn’t use the paper with Serace’s power anymore. She had exhausted it. In fact, the page she had held had ripped apart as it had run out of the power that had kept it fuelled. That was one of the limits Rieren recalled from her previous life. Ceraline could only use the exact amount an opponent had inflicted upon her unless she was able to make a copy of the page.

There was certainly no opportunity for her to write up a duplicate in the middle of an ongoing battle.

Serace wasn’t taking any chances either way. Bleeding and wounded though he was, he still retained the presence of his mind. Instead of charging at her head-on like before, he shot at her in a zigzagging motion that would have made evading any of Ceraline’s attacks easier.

She never attacked him, however. Ceraline recognized that she wasn’t going to hit him easily now that he was warier of her.

So, she let him almost reach her before jumping straight upwards. Serace swivelled upwards, but Ceraline had leaped well out of his reach. She didn’t come down either. Another page had fluttered out of the sleeve of her robe, and when she placed one foot on the paper, it froze and supported her weight mid-air.

The crowd gasped in pleasant surprise. Rieren couldn’t blame them. Ceraline was grace personified, capable of putting even Kalvia to shame.

“Come down,” Serace shouted. “And face me.”

She didn’t comply. Instead, she bent down and tapped her page. Its bottom surface, facing her opponent, glowed a bright blue.

Serace’s eyes widened. He made to dodge out of the way, but his limbs were stuck. Rieren tutted. He should have noticed that Ceraline had left a page on the ground as she had jumped. A piece of paper from which earth-coloured shackles had slithered out to wrap themselves around Serace’s feet without him noticing.

The page above his head activated the ability that Ceraline had stored within it. A blue fireball the size of a small boulder burned out and crashed straight upon Serace. He didn’t even get to scream. Serace went down, unconscious.

The match official and the commentator wasted no time proclaiming Ceraline as the victor of the match. The crowd cheered, as much at being able to see a gorgeous display as in anticipation of bearing witness to what Ceraline truly had in store for them.

“It would seem you were right again, Destroyer,” the Darkstalker said. Its toothy skull grinned down at her. “Your predictions are accurate.”

“Helps when you have lived as long as I have,” Rieren said. She turned back to watch the field where the healers were carrying away Serace. Hopefully he was alright. Ceraline had never struck her as someone who would be unnecessarily cruel. Though, anything could happen in fights such as theirs.

“Well, then. Do you care to predict the outcome of tomorrow’s battle?”

It took Rieren a second to recall which fight came next. Her eyes widened a little. “You will lose, Darkstalker.”

“Is that so?” The monster wasn’t surprised or shocked at her prediction, though several of the ones nearby now glared at Rieren for her answer. At least the Darkstalker had some inkling of its opponent. “What will you grant me if I can secure a victory?”

Rieren found herself snorting a little. “If you can secure a victory against Essalina Arteroth, I will cede my eventual position in the imperial court to you.”

***

Before the fight began the following day, the Darkstalker did all in its power to prepare. This included a strange method of training where it exercised the speed and with which it pulled off its abilities. It also included pestering Rieren for details.

She said all she knew from two lives’ worth of knowledge about Essalina. There were her various techniques, her Domain that could create flames in any consistency and shape she wished, her main Aspect that was a combination of Divine and Abyss Aspects much like what Rieren and other Arisen used.

Rieren also related the skills she had seen Essalina use in their most recent battle. Those had certainly given her some significant trouble.

In the end, there was quite a lot that Darkstalker had to be wary of when fighting against Essalina Arteroth. Rieren refused to judge whether the preparations the Abyssal performed would be enough. It was still a B-Grade monster, after all. Meanwhile, Essalina was a cultivator who had rapidly progressed all the way to Early-Ascendant.

Winning would need a miracle.

A certain thread of tension ripped through the air in the stands, at least in the monstrous section. It was partly Rieren’s fault. She should never have had that conversation with the Darkstalker out in the public like that.

Now, all the monsters were hanging on whether their compatriot could pull off a victory. They were waiting to see if one of their own could pull off the impossible.

They were waiting for the monstrous version of hope.

“Please welcome our first competitor of the day,” the commentator said with irrepressible fervour. “The scion of the great Arteroth clan, the First Fury of the North, the name on many lips to win the entire Trials of Ascendance—Essalina Arteroth!”

The crowd went wild. Essalina raised one arm to soak in the applause and cheers. A champion of the people, was Essalina. It wasn’t just her charismatic presence and the way she carried herself.

Her reputation spoke for itself too. She was famous for freeing much of the north from the monsters’ occupation, for beating back the apocalypse and reconquering the majority of the Northern Ranges for people to reclaim to build their homes and lives. She was a living embodiment of humanity’s strength, prowess, and ability to succeed.

Of course, everyone loved her.

“And our other challenger,” the commentator said. “A monster from the depths of the Abyss, a B-Grade force of bone-chilling nature, the Darkstalker!”

The boos against the Darkstalker were almost as loud as the cheers for Essalina. They didn’t faze the monster, of course. It was well prepared. All the monsters had been jeered by the human audience.

But unlike previous monster versus human battles, there was one key difference.

The stand that held all the Abyssals, Aetherians, and Arisen had erupted in their own cheers too.

Rieren stared around at the uproarious contingent around her. It appeared almost every single monster had raised their voices in guttural roars, attempting to drown out the human audience who outnumbered them over a hundred to one. The air around her shivered at the intensity of their support.

With both sides now buoyed up by their respective sides, it was time for the battle to finally begin. The match official quickly retreated as the commentator yelled out at anyone who wasn’t paying attention that the clash was about to start.

The combatants wasted not a second. Essalina’s Domain rose in fiery crackles running all over the ground. She imbued her sword with the signature combination of Aspects, black-and-gold flames running along its entire length. After taking one step towards her opponent, she leaped at him with the fury of a thunderbolt.

Meanwhile, the Darkstalker had gotten ready too. The exoskeleton covering its ropy muscles now expanded and thickened, turning gleaming white.

It met Essalina’s attack head-on. As her flame-wreathed blade struck its crossed arms, a furious explosion rocked the arena, making everything tremble. Essalina’s flames blasted outwards in a wide tornado, ripping the very air to shreds.

For just a second, Rieren wondered if that had been it. If that singular blow had been enough to end the Darkstalker.

But just as the dust cleared, the Darkstalker proved that it was still standing. Essalina wasn’t defeating it that easily.