The fiery coliseum roared with life, screams and cheers echoing like thunder under an azure sky. Men and women, bundled in heavy cloaks against the biting cold, clutched their tickets with trembling hands, their excitement radiating in clouds of frosted breath.
At the stage below stood a man, a colossus clad in a metal skirt and a gleaming helm. His bare chest rippled with muscle, glistening with sweat despite the frigid air. He exhaled a plume of frost, shaking snow from his battered shield as his blade caught the light.
Across the arena, a monstrous lion dwarfing the warrior in size prowled. Its coat shimmered like polished pearl, its mane swirling like a living flame. Its crystalline eyes burned with primal intensity, locked onto the warrior with unrelenting focus.
The coliseum fell into a tense silence as the lion leapt, jaws gaping. The warrior moved with impossible speed, flipping backwards with an elegance that defied his hulking frame. Using the wind beneath his feet, he launched forward, a blur of motion and precision. In a single, blinding arc, his blade sang through the air, severing the beast’s head clean from its body.
A geyser of blood erupted, painting him in crimson as he raised his sword triumphantly, his roar of victory matching the crowd’s unbridled fervour.
“My fellow Fourth Dwellers!” he roared, his voice booming over the thunderous crowd, silencing them like a crack of lightning. “You did not brave the cold for timid boys flailing in the dirt! You did not come to see men stumble like drunks at a feast!” He raised the lion’s severed head high, its blood dripping onto the snow as its fiery mane smouldered. “You came for blood! For glory! To witness monsters unleashed! To see beasts clash in battles that shake the earth! Tell me, are you ready to witness carnage?!”
The crowd exploded in deafening cheer, electrified by the raw, fiery spirit of the arena.
Above the spectacle, in the lavish confines of the VIP section, Shinari sat languidly on a velvet seat. Her crimson gown spilt like blood over the cushions, her gloved fingers cradling a long, elegant pipe. The scent of a delicate blend of jasmine and vanilla wafted in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of smoke curling from her lips. Her colourless eyes betrayed no emotion, her fox-like ears and tail concealed.
Beside her sat Andrew, the Court Master of Cadenza, dressed impeccably in a dark suit that mirrored the somberness of the falling snow beyond the coliseum.
“This sort of barbarism doesn’t strike me as your taste, Andrew,” Shinari mused, her voice smooth as silk. She exhaled another plume of smoke, her red lips curling into a faint smirk. “What brings the legendary Court Master to this den of savagery?”
He accepted a cup of hot tea and took a deliberate slow sip, before placing down his cup, his eyes on the spectacle below. “A new child. I assume you’re familiar with her.”
Shinari chuckled, setting her pipe aside. “Ah, so you could tell," she followed his eyes to the stage. "Even I rarely indulge in this madness, but a friend insisted I stop ‘lazing about,’ as he so kindly put it”
“He wasn’t wrong,” Andrew replied, twirling his teacup with an almost dismissive air.
Shinari leaned closer, her voice lowering. “If you think you can protect her, darling, you’re gravely mistaken.”
Andrew met her gaze, unfazed. His smirk deepened as he took another deliberate sip of tea. “I didn’t come here to discuss protection. I came to remind you of the risks of your... operations,” he whispered taking another sip. "I may not know the girl’s origins, but yours is no mystery—it’s leverage, and you, a festering wound."
Her smile faltered a subtle flicker of red igniting in her eyes. A single cherry petal materialised and fluttered around as Andrew's guards stood sharp, with spears in hand while the other VIPs paid no mind.
“Careful, Shinari,” Andrew whispered, leaning back in his seat. “I’d hate for your little enterprise to make national headlines.”
For a moment, the air between them grew tense, the unspoken threat lingering like a storm cloud. Then Shinari reclined, forcing her lips into a tight smile.
“Let’s enjoy the show, sweetheart,” Andrew said, his tone as calm as ever, his eyes fixed on the blood-soaked arena below.
Shinari retrieved her pipe, taking another slow puff as her gaze followed his to the chaos unfolding. Her smile returned, though the edge of her glare remained. The show went on.
*
The warden lumbered through the corridor, clipboard in hand, his sheer bulk dwarfing even the blood-soaked star gladiator walking beside him. They approached a wide chamber where the gates to the coliseum stage loomed ahead. The room teemed with enormous men sharpening blades, testing shields, and boasting loudly.
“Will you all shut up!” the warden bellowed, his voice cutting through the din. He adjusted his glasses, scanning the room as he counted. “Twelve of you,” he grumbled. Then his gaze fell on two unfamiliar figures. “And who are you?”
In a corner, a cloaked man stood, his wide-brimmed hat shadowing his face, hands concealed within the folds of his garb. Beside him was a pink-haired girl, her delicate fingers clutching a steaming kebab as she took a bite. Their presence was almost ghostly—life forces so faint it was as if they’d materialised out of thin air.
“Almost done,” Tori said between bites. She leaned toward Pasta and whispered, “I’ll find Emilia and Astria with the others. Don’t take too long.”
Before anyone could respond, she tossed the skewer aside and headed for the exit, her movements unhurried. The gathered warriors exchanged puzzled glances, unable to fathom how the duo had slipped past their notice.
“Who’s the kid, warden?” one of the warriors said. “Don’t tell me he’s a new recruit!”
The laughter swelled, hearty and derisive, as the warden raised his hand to calm the uproar. He stepped closer to Pasta, his face tightening in disapproval. “This isn’t some playground, boy. Go home. You don’t belong here.”
Pasta lifted his head, his sharp gaze meeting the warden’s. “I want to participate.”
The room erupted again, the fighters howling with laughter.
“Boss, did you hire a comedian for us? Best morale boost we’ve had all week!” one of the men said.
The warden silenced them with a glare and turned back to Pasta. “Listen, kid. This is a ten-man battle. Not eleven. I’m not bending the rules for you. And even if I could, I can’t trust a child to handle this kind of fight. Now leave before you get hurt.”
“I understand,” Pasta whispered, lowering his head.
A towering warrior strode over and clapped a hand on Pasta’s shoulder, his grin mocking. “All right, fun’s over, little guy. Time to head out—”
With a flick of Pasta’s wrist, the man’s fingers were severed, blood spraying into the air as the warrior dropped to his knees, screaming in agony. The room fell deathly silent as the other fighters watched their comrade suffer, their faces stoic. The injured man’s veins bulged grotesquely, and his eyes bright red.
Pasta retrieved a small vial of blue liquid from his pocket and tossed it to the writhing man. “Drink it,” he said flatly.
The man fumbled with the vial, gulped it down, and collapsed unconscious. His veins receded, his body finally still.
The silence lingered, heavy and tense, until Pasta turned to face the warden again. “That’s one man down. Have I earned your trust?”
The warriors glared at him, gripping their weapons. Only the star gladiator stepped forward, arms crossed, his gaze steady.
“This is a place for monsters,” the gladiator said, his voice low but commanding. “You’re accepted. Make it a performance worthy of the arena.” He walked over to a rack of weapons and picked up a sword, handing it to Pasta. “Use this instead. Poisons are allowed, but if you’re truly seeking a challenge, fight without them.”
Pasta accepted the blade, his lips curling into a faint smile. “I’m here for a challenge, after all.” He cast a glance at the glaring warriors before turning toward the gate. “Let’s do it.”
The warden rubbed his temples with a sigh and shrugged. “Fine. Get out there, everyone.”
The gates creaked open, the roar of the coliseum flooding in as the fighters prepared to step onto the crimson snow.
*
The ten warriors stepped onto the grand stage, their weapons glinting under the searing light as the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Each man basked in the adulation, flexing muscles, spinning blades, and pounding their shields to flaunt their prowess.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Pasta stood apart, his eyes scanning the sea of faces. His expression was unreadable as he unhooked the wide-brimmed hat from his head, tossing it behind him. One hand gripped a chain coiled like a serpent, while the other held a plain blade. Beneath his cloak, the Naga Blade rested.
The bell tolled.
Pasta closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to concentrate.
The nine warriors moved as one, their stares sharp and unforgiving, closing the distance with deadly intent. Their life forces were like hot flames, yet unstable and not contained like a wild beast.
Suddenly, Pasta’s heart pounded in his chest, his knees trembling for a fleeting moment. This power… he thought, feeling its oppressive weight. Then his lips curved into a grin. Fear gave way to exhilaration. He opened his eyes.
The audience murmured in confusion. High above, Shinari and Andrew leaned closer to the edge of their seats, eyes narrowing.
Across the stage, a lone figure stood, cloaked in shadow. The hem of his dark garment fluttered in the faint breeze. A straw hat obscured his face, and a sinister black blade rested in his hand. His presence swept through the arena like a chilling gust, a silent promise of death.
Pasta’s breath hitched. He clutched his chest, his smile faltering as he dashed forward, leaving the nine warriors behind like statues frozen in snow.
As he approached Hades, he lit a match with practised ease, striking it against the chains in his hand. They ignited in a blaze of fiery red, the burning metal snaking toward the swordsman with a roar.
Hades deflected the fiery chains before blocking Pasta’s frontal assault with ease, their blades pushing each other.
“So you came,” Pasta murmured, his voice tinged with tension. “Taking it easy, huh? Hades!”
Hades said nothing, his straw hat obscuring his expression as the weights on his feet and arms clattered to the ground.
Pasta’s chains flared hotter, glowing molten red.
“I’ll kill you!” Pasta snarled, leaping back and swinging his chains. The flaming links coiled through the air, forming a searing web around Hades, trapping him.
The swordsman smirked. In a blink, he vanished from the chains’ grasp, reappearing behind Pasta in mid-air, his blade hovering inches from the boy’s neck.
“Long time no see, Pasta,” Hades said, at last. He landed softly, turning his back to Pasta. “You accuse me of underestimating you. But where’s Naga?”
Pasta spun around, his grin returning. “Reckless, aren’t you?” He tilted his head. “Or just overconfident?”
“Both,” Hades replied, lunging forward with a deadly arc aimed at Pasta’s eyes.
Pasta drew Naga. The blades clashed, sparks flying as Pasta lunged back. He threw the chains again, wrapping around Hades’ arm.
The dark swordsman didn’t flinch. Instead, he tightened his grip, yanking Pasta forward. With a powerful swing, he hurled the boy across the arena. Pasta crashed into the other warriors before slamming into the arena wall with a thunderous impact.
The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and whispers, unsure if this brutal exchange was part of the spectacle.
Hades planted his foot firmly on the ground, his piercing gaze locked on the nine warriors charging. He appeared behind them, turning his wrist as each warrior fell to the floor.
"We don’t need interruptions here," Hades whispered, as he turned toward the swirling cloud of dust on the wall.
When the dust settled, only rubble remained—Pasta was nowhere to be seen.
Hades lazily turned, just in time to block an incoming strike from Pasta’s blade.
“I won’t ask for an apology, Hades,” Pasta said through gritted teeth. “It was my fault too, back then. I realise that now. But as you can see, I’m stronger now. If you’re here because you feel guilty, don’t bother.”
Hades’ expression didn’t waver. His eyes slid shut briefly, and when they reopened, his tone was distant. “You’ve grown, that’s true. But you’re still weak.” He opened his eyes, seeing a world void of colour leaving Pasta frozen in the air.
“Prove me wrong, Pasta,” Hades whispered, driving his blade into the boy's shoulder.
“Oh, you moved,” Hades said with a faint smirk. “Impressive. A clever counter to the second power—shifting your position with immense speed before the parallel space can fully form, introducing distortions.”
He turned, his eyes narrowing as dozens—no, hundreds—of Pastas appeared around him.
“An effective method, I’ll admit,” Hades said, his voice as calm as ever. “But mere tricks won’t suffice against me.”
With deliberate ease, he drew a small knife from his waist and hurled it toward one of the copies. The illusion shattered as the real Pasta fell to the ground, groaning.
Clutching his shoulder, Pasta inspected the wound—it was shallow but burned with the sting of paralysis. His vision blurred slightly as he stared at the knife, wondering how he’d missed such a weapon in Hades’ arsenal.
Hades approached him, extending a hand. “You did well, Pasta.”
Breathing heavily, Pasta forced a smile. “Did well? Sure, I’ll take that.” He tossed a small bottle of blue liquid at Hades.
He caught it, glancing at his shoulder where a thin line of blood stained his cloak. “That was reckless of me,” he whispered, a faint grin curling his lips. He turned back to Pasta, only to be met with a sudden, powerful kick. Hades continued to stare at his scratch while holding Pasta's leg and pushing him aside.
Pasta doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Not surprised you didn't fall for such a simple trick”
Hades steadied himself, tossing the bottle aside. He raised his blade, the light catching its ominous edge. “How about a proper lesson, boy?”
Planting his feet firmly like a sumo wrestler, Pasta grinned. “Bring it on! Sure you’re okay though?”
“I’ll survive,” Hades replied, his voice unwavering.
Pasta chuckled, loosening his stance slightly. “Alright then, what’s on your mind?”
The crowd stared in stunned silence, their confusion palpable. What had just happened? Why had the fight stopped? And who were these two?
In the VIP section, Shinari sipped her wine, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Now this is getting interesting.”
A guard leaned close to Andrew, whispering something.
Andrew turned to Shinari and sighed before rising from his seat. “You’re playing with fire,” he said, looking down at her.
Shinari raised her glass in a mock toast, her smile never faltering. “We’re not afraid of your pathetic court, sweetheart.”
Without another word, Andrew turned and strode away, leaving Shinari to her amusement.
She smiled to herself, playing an imaginary chess piece. “Check,” she whispered.
*
“You’re wary of disrupting your lifeforce, aren’t you?” Hades countered the strike with ease. “I'm surprised your recklessness has it's limits.”
With a swift push, Hades forced Pasta back, then dashed forward, driving a fist into his gut and sending him sprawling. Grabbing his blazing chains, Hades yanked him back only to deliver another brutal punch, this time to his face.
“Disrupting your lifeforce to a high frequency is dangerous,” Hades whispered as Pasta struggled to stand. “Can you truly handle it? I’m willing to help, but it’s your choice.”
Pasta wiped his mouth, his grin undeterred. “Can’t believe we’re doing this now.”
Without warning, the chains surged again, this time crackling with sparks before erupting into a massive explosion that engulfed a portion of the stage in a tornado of fire.
The crowd gasped in awe. Even the ten warriors who had been unconscious stirred, their eyes widening at the blazing inferno.
At the centre of the chaos, Hades stood unscathed, his expression unreadable as he watched Pasta groaning in pain. A glass-like material coating Pasta’s body shattered as he released more energy, feeding the raging flames. Clutching his head, Pasta let out a scream, only for Hades to respond with a burst, causing the flames to burn even hotter and slowing down the shattering of Pasta's coating.
Hades raised his blade and dashed toward the boy, ready to strike him down.
The world around them lost its colour, freezing in an eerie grey as Hades stopped mere inches from Pasta and he drew his blade back with a sigh. “Took you long enough.”
Pasta glanced around the still, lifeless arena. “So this is the parallel space. Looks... ugly.”
Hades eyed him, “Congratulations but you're nothing but a beginner,” he whispered. "You won't last long here"
“Huh? Why?”
“This.”
In an instant, Pasta returned to the real world, collapsing as he vomited onto the floor. Hades placed a blade to his head but instead, he extended a hand to help him up.
The crowd erupted in cheers, showering the stage with flowers. Even the ten warriors behind them were at a loss for words.
Tori leapt into the scene, her scythe in hand, and rushed to Pasta. Her eyes met Hades. “You’re doing well.”
“Good to see you again, Tori.”
She turned back to Pasta. “We’ve found Emilia. The Court of Cadenza just added some new musicians—a girl and an elf.”
“Musicians?” Pasta asked, frowning. “What’s she thinking, exposing herself like that?”
Hades stared at the clouds. “Go, Pasta,” he whispered. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Tori crossed her arms, a sceptical look on her face. “Yeah, we’ve got unfinished business, you and I. You really are the worst doing that to them, and you’re really the Weeping Swordsman, aren’t you?”
Hades glanced over his shoulder. “Back then, I wasn’t myself. Still, I apologise for the trouble.” His expression darkened. “But there’s no time. Thousands of hunters are approaching.”
“What?!” both Pasta and Tori yelled.
“Go be with Emilia. You should be able to handle those weaklings.”
“A thousand of them?” Pasta asked incredulously.
Hades patted his head. “Just a small task, right? Go to your sister.”
Pasta shoved his hand away, hesitating. “What about you?”
Hades focus shifted to the VIP section, where a familiar lifeforce radiated. It was the same he’d felt in the mountains years ago and again at Pyrovile. He drew his blade, locking eyes with Shinari, who smirked back at him.
“Go. Now!”
With a powerful stomp, Hades commanded a blast of wind that expelled everyone from the coliseum. Their screams echoed as they landed safely outside.
Inside, cherry blossoms swirled across the stage. The VIP guests watched in terror as doppelgängers of themselves appeared, striking their necks and rendering them unconscious. The same fate befell those deep within the coliseum; no one was spared from the fox's gift: 'The Gift of Transparency.'
Shinari’s ears and tail materialised as she floated in midair, then reappeared behind Hades, her fingers grazing his face.
Before she could act further, her arms were severed, crashing to the floor.
Standing behind her was Lily, her eyes concealed beneath the brim of her hat.
Hades turned swiftly, grabbing Shinari by the neck. “Now, sly fox,” he said, “you’re going to tell us everything you know.”
*
At the hospital, disorder erupted as doctors scrambled to lock the wooden doors and usher patients to safety. A man swathed in bandages stepped forward, his imposing presence cutting through the tension.
“The hunters are here, aren’t they?” his raspy voice carried an edge.
One of the doctors froze, his hands trembling. “Y-yeah, they’re not attacking anyone, but this… this is still strange. Please, just head back to your bed.”
“Where’s my rifle?” the man whispered, his bloodshot eyes locking onto the doctor. “Bring it to me.”
The doctor hesitated for a moment, then hurried away, returning with the weapon in hand.
Shot took the rifle with a firm grip, his gaze falling on a straw hat nearby. He picked it up and set it atop his head, tilting it slightly. “First, I need answers,” he whispered, flexing his fingers until the joints cracked. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Figures the first face I’d see would be that little brat.”
Without another word, Shot swung the door open and stepped outside. Hunters tore past him in a chaotic rush, their shouts echoing in the streets as they made their way toward the Court of Cadenza.