But it isn’t over until it’s over.
A big ax rested on the bug-armored adventurer’s back. He held its handle tight, ready for action at a moment’s notice. In a swift motion, he brought it out and pointed it toward the elf. Without further delay, Mitchell lunged at the elf, closing their gap in the blink of an eye. His superhuman speed shook X to his core, impossible things had been happening since he arrived in this bizarre world. He could swear Mitchell’s ugly face flashed inches from his own before the adventurer swung the two-handed ax in his direction, twisting it at the last moment to hit the elf with its flat surface. X managed to turn his body sideways just in time, sacrificing his left arm to avoid a direct hit to his upper torso. Mitchell struck him hard enough to send him flying several feet back, wiping dirt and rocks with his body. A growing pain on his left arm let him know he wouldn’t withstand this kind of abuse for much longer. Bruised and bloodied, X stayed down, recovering his sanity.
Mitchell laughed loudly while looking at the clamoring crowd, spinning his gaze clockwise until it fell on the elf again. The adventurer had decided, since he pushed to duel the elf, to take his time disciplining the putrarajado before him.
“Ah! My arm stings!” It hurt every time X tried to move his swollen limb. He sat, waiting for a second wind, looking shook and disoriented.
Mitchell placed his ax on his back, approached the elf, and, with his left hand, grabbed the elf’s neck, lifting him while his right hand hit his face. The redheaded elf’s body scraped the floor, and his mouth ate dirt once more. Blood flowed out from several bruises on his head and body.
That last hit rocked his whole body, his dizzied mind fighting to focus on his present reality. Lying face down on the muddied ground, he tried to get up several times but ended up spitting out blood instead.
How nostalgic... this iron taste...
[Are you wondering this now?]
The mirage, the voice attempting to reign over him, walked behind Mitchell.
Screams and chants roared throughout the arena.
“Guts!”
“Blood!”
“Off with his head!”
Ruianne couldn’t keep watching anymore. She wished the elf a quick death, an end to his torment, and every slave watching this wretched disciplining lesson shared her wish. They knew X’s fate could be their own, any small mistake or inconvenience, and they’d be the next on the chopping block. The spectacle before them renewed their will to escape.
“The Lord... is taking... his freaking time,” X mused to himself between pants and growls.
[You didn’t sound convincing.]
“Nah... he believes it alright... Problem is... he thinks he doesn't need me.”
[He doesn’t need you.]
“I know... It seems he needs... further encouragement.”
The redheaded elf steeled his nerves, overcame the pain, stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Stop!”
The spectator’s uproar didn’t show signs of abating. Mitchell stopped laughing and with a smile calmed the crowd. “The slave claims mercy! Won’t we hear it?”
A muted audience awaited the slave’s words, clamoring for clemency.
X pointed his middle finger at the bug-armored adventurer and shouted, “This man here... broke... You had to go and do it...”
“What?” asked Mitchell.
“Break the gentleman's agreement.”
“What? How?!”
“By being an ugly piece of shit!” The elf’s face contorted as the cursed stomach pain surged, bringing him to his knees. An addition to all other pains. He soldiered on.
A twist of events, rage grew inside Mitchell. His left foot took one step forward, ready to strike.
“Wait! I’ve not told you about your beautiful Ruianne, have I?” teased X.
Mitchell froze in place.
“The female elf of House Liame didn't want you. Oh, but her curves, those melons she calls breasts, soft and... Did you know she has a mole on her right butt cheek?” Those words finished riling Mitchell up. “Oops, you didn't know? How could you? You never stood a chance.”
Oh, the rumors! The spice of life! What a performance, what showmanship, such talent, to incite the masses further into a frenzy.
“Ruianne did you?!” Lady Emelda whipped her head towards her female elf slave and asked in disbelief.
“Of course not! I don't have one there! And... no! I— We didn’t!” Ruianne swiftly replied.
While everyone laughed and screamed with joy, the redheaded elf took out a locket from his left pocket. Adorned with complex, golden ornaments and encrusted emeralds, it was masterfully crafted and included House Liame’s crest right in the middle, with a name in golden letters under it: Ariana.
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“Lord Derreick!” shouted the elf.
X flashed the locket, reflecting the morning’s light, to Lord Derreick who initially regarded it as a basic accessory. Upon closer examination, recognition dawned on him. The Lord’s eyes grew wide.
*
Moments before, the rest of the servants and slaves from House Liame had arrived at the arena. They discovered the main entrance shut and approached a guard, mentioning their House name. The guard informed them that Lord Derreick had stayed behind, at the combatants’ west gate. They walked inside a tunnel leading them out into the fighting grounds, a tumultuous ruckus increasing with each step. At the tunnel's end, they caught a glimpse of Lord Derreick's back. Upon getting his attention, he rushed towards Lumis.
“Where’s my daughter!?” the Lord questioned the kinkat.
“Miaow...?”
“Where?!”
“Meowwsn’t anywhere prrn the mansion, mew thought she prrould be here meowdy...”
“What have you done to my daughter!?” the Lord screamed, holding Lumis by her shoulders while shaking her.
“Mewwwaeon’t know! Prr, grrall meowear! Miaowelf muwest prrow, grrerday miaaght meaw prreard grrosies miaaming grrunmeeawon!”
Under duress, Lumis’ fluency in the human language declined dramatically. However, the Lord, used to the putrajado’s verbal diarrhea, understood most of it. Her words cleared his thoughts, and he no longer hesitated.
*
Mitchell closed in on the elf. After X’s last taunt, the fun of the chase had ended. This elf didn’t try to fight back but still managed to irate him. He wanted him gone already. With the elf’s death, his honor would be restored. The crowd roared. Mitchell encouraged them further with drawn-out theatrics. The elf’s countdown began ticking as he laid on all fours, his executioner before him raised his ax, measured his neck with it, and readied the decapitating blow.
People looked on ecstatic. Mitchell held his ax up high, pointed towards clear skies, its sharp edge shined bright enough to blind X.
At least the freaks here sharpen their blades.
X’s last thoughts welcomed a quick death.
The adventurer obliged by bringing down his ax in a swift swing. Sparks flew after a loud thud, and then, silence. Mitchell’s swing recoiled after hitting solid metal. At the last moment, Lord Derreick’s sword shielded X’s neck from a fatal blow. For a brief moment, time stopped.
“What’s the meaning of this!?” shouted Mitchell. People who had been previously stuck to their seats’ edge, stood up and focused their sights to the high drama being acted out center stage. From the lowest common slave to the wealthiest citizen, including the House elites and even the mayor, his wife, and entourage, all awaited, petrified in place.
“Where’s my daughter!?” Lord Derreick pierced the redheaded elf with his gaze. “Where is Ariana?!”
The elf answered the Lord’s question with a bloodied smile.
Entranced by the performers, narrative, and story, the human and slaves in House Liame’s suite had their eyes fixed on the hypnotic action below. Lady Emelda couldn’t believe her husband interrupted such an important duel. Ruianne used all her might to free herself from that trance-like state. She remembered what X had told her about his signal, to act on weirdness, and word for word, as weird as X behaved, so were the consequences of his actions. Ruianne tapped High Mountain’s shoulder and brought him back to reality. Soon after, the whole VIP suite erupted in a bright white light, shining towards the clear skies. She had cast a powerful fourth-tier spell—her own signal.
Several explosions rocked Saint Jaulea. People at the arena stood paralyzed with uncertainty. A temporary calm reigned, soon shattered by explosions at the venue’s north gate, where various seats blew up, sky-high, along with their human users. All hell broke loose. Amid dense smoke and screams, confusion prevailed. Everyone ran, crushing each other. The mayor and his wife retreated, escorted by knights, as did every House worth their salt. Everyone raced towards the exits, trampling over fallen citizens and slaves, trying their best to escape the deteriorating situation.
Collapsed structures, alongside human flesh, burned in a raging inferno. An acrid and haunting smell spread throughout the arena, carried by strong winds. Ghastly sights formed under thick black smoke from which battle-clad figures appeared; feralis, elves, gnomes, and orcs amongst several other races.
“What the hell? Why are these putrajados here?!” Mitchell exclaimed in horror, confusion, and a dark realization: they had been played. People ran past him, aiming to get out as fast as possible. He looked around, numb to his reality, his mind trying to process what his eyes could not.
Lord Derreick turned towards X as people sprinted past him, but he didn’t find him anywhere. “Damned putrajados!” While not taken by surprise, he hadn’t expected half his city to blow up. All his preparations had been for this precise moment. He knew the invading army had hit Saint Jaulea’s north gatekeepers, or more precisely, the fake gatekeepers he had put in place. Among the burning chaos, he had a couple aces yet to play, everything and everyone stood within his grasp. Containing the ongoing rebellion and reducing any further damage remained a top priority. Jetual Corps moved on to previously established positions: two shock squads battled against their enemy’s vanguard while another one helped raise the city’s barrier. The invading forces counted on the barrier staying down, but if Lord Derreick’s plan succeeded, their risky operation would become a suicidal escape.
Lord Derreick shifted his sights towards his House’s suite, its roof had been blown off by Ruianne’s blast. He couldn’t see any signs of life coming from it, only pale smoke rising up. Fearing the worst, Lord Derrick rushed towards his family, then on to join the Jetual Corps in battle and glory. “And find that fucking elf! He’s going to suffer!”
At House Liame’s suite, the Jetual knights stationed there were ordered to apprehend Ruianne and High Mountain soon after the redheaded elf had lost his head. However, the bizarre succession of events left them unprepared and short of time when Ruianne cast her lightning spell, frying one Jetual Corp, injuring Lady Emelda, and blinding everyone else while they escaped.
Burnt flesh and screams filled the arena. Survivors looked shocked, with no sense of time or place. Ruianne and High Mountain ran, as all other slaves did, towards their designated meeting points. At those places, collar suppressors worked around the clock to free high-value slaves that could help tip the balance in their favor and make their mission a big success. The rest of the slaves gathered around the suppressors, where they would be safe from their collars exploding or incapacitating them. Ruianne smiled, everything proceeded as planned. The slaves proceeded to form four groups and began evacuating the premises.
Slowly advancing, the two biggest groups of slaves found themselves cut off by the Jetual Corps.
“Putrajados! If you don’t want to be gutted, on the floor, all of you! Now!” shouted a Jetual lieutenant.
“Everyone behind me! Our vanguard team will be here soon!” exclaimed a young male elf from one of the infiltrated units.
He and two suppressors put themselves between the slaves and the human squad. Too few to face the elite force before them. The kinn’haya’s vanguard team was composed of the heavy hitters that’d protect them, but they had encountered hostilities and ran behind schedule. The suppressors’ elf captain wondered how a human elite squad had cut them off so fast. They should’ve had more free rein before human forces retaliated. However, the worst was yet to come. Before their eyes, a nightmare materialized: the barrier began going up.