Fate stabbed a bus-length snake in the forehead as Joka held it in place by the neck with his remaining arm, the beast striking and struggling in a mad frenzy as Fate worked the blade deeper into its flesh.
Joka grunted as the beast whacked him with its tail several times, but refused to relinquish his hold. Even as Lightning sparked and shocked the beefy man with enough power to kill an elephant, he only tightened his death grip.
The erratic movements died to slight twitches before stopping altogether, Joka dropping the beast as Fate pulled his sword out. The two let out a shared sigh of exhaustion and grim satisfaction at completing the job.
The empress stood from her throne and raised her hands to the sky, framing the sun on the horizon with her cupped hands as if it were a tender newborn. In the stands, the women present let loose an earth-shaking cheer as they stomped their feet, the sound traveling throughout their entire city.
The honey-colored eyes of the empress fell on the two men below, a flash of respect appearing for a brief instant before it was replaced by her typical stony indifference.
"Men of the Auburn Wastes, today you have proven yourselves to be warriors worthy of our respect. The two of you have earned a place in our society, and are welcome to enjoy our culture and services whenever you wish.
"However… Should we find you breaking our most severe of laws again, the sentence will be death.
"Follow me. I shall take you to our nation's greatest healers, and then you shall be free to return to your lands."
She lowered her hands and vanished, appearing at one of the open portcullises set into the side of the arena. Joka and Fate trudged over to her, struggling to stand atop the corpses they walked upon, and hopped down to join her.
The trio entered the dark corridor to the roaring screams of the crowd above, which soon faded to a distant buzz as they went deeper into the complex. Soon, only the soft pitter-patter of their blood hitting the floor could be heard.
In the dark, Joka threw his hand around Fate, breathing deeply.
"Help me, would you? My leg's about to give out."
"Of course," Fate replied, shouldering the man's meaty arm and hefty weight.
While only an inch or two taller than Fate, Joka easily weighed as much as a horse. Fate grunted under the added weight, feeling his right leg from the strain.
"If I'm going to help you, you gotta give me some of your Divine Energy," Fate groaned. "Otherwise both of our legs will be done."
"Divine Energy? What do you need that for?" Joka asked.
As the trembling increased, Fate hissed, "Just hurry, unless you want us to greet the floor with our faces."
Joka silently complied, feeding Fate a healthy stream of Divine Energy. As they walked down the dark corridor, Fate's shoulders relaxed and his back straightened as he directed all of the energy to his legs.
Exhaling, he told Joka to stop and helped the limping man along as they followed the empress.
A light appeared at the end of the tunnel, the trio entering a room of wood that smelled of exotic herbs and medicine. The walls were lined with shelves holding row upon row of exactly that, all manner of plant and animal parts found here.
At the back was a fireplace with a gentle, crackling fire. In front of this fixture was a rocking chair, holding a sweet old woman clothed in a brown toga who mashed various ingredients in a mortar and pestle.
Her old age didn't seem to slow her down, the pestle moving so fast that Fate could only see a blur. The dim light of the fire revealed that while her bronzed hands were gnarled and wrinkled, her arm was as full of vitality as the strongest of men.
She greatly resembled the empress who stood patiently with the two men, waiting for the elderly woman to acknowledge the three.
As Fate scanned the woman with his aura, he could find no clue as to her Level, which unsettled him.
The empress was somewhere deep in the Incarnation Level. A threat, but a measurable one. This woman, meanwhile, seemed like a harmless old lady.
But the vigor with which she ground the poultice within the mortar and the way such intense actions didn't even stir the chair she sat on made each of Fate's honed instincts scream out in danger.
Not even the lengthy, healthy head of brown hair on her head stirred as she continued with whatever concoction she was making.
"Madam Jockla," the empress called out respectfully after several minutes had passed, confirming Fate's suspicions that this woman was not to be trifled with. "I have two victors of the Seven Cycles who need treatment."
The woman looked up, honey-colored eyes only sparing the two men a glance before she frowned angrily at the empress.
"I remember when you were only up to my knee, running around with those other brats and swinging sticks like they were swords. You had no qualms about calling me 'mother' back then, so why do you refuse to do so now?"
The empress' expression remained as placid as a lake. "Because your station is now more important than that of my mother," she replied calmly. "I am merely showing the proper respect."
"Bah!" Slapping the pestle against the bowl in her hands, she chucked the poultice into the fire behind her.
Just as it was about to hit the flames, an invisible force smooshed it into the shape of a ball and kept it just above the fire. The green mixture began browning as Madam Jockla jabbed the pestle toward the empress.
"It may be a more important station to your citizens, but raising you was much more of a headache than anything I do here. Call me 'mother,' or leave."
"Mother, these two men need treatment," the empress reiterated, giving in surprisingly quickly for a monarch.
The old woman's honey-hued eyes finally gave the men more than a cursory inspection.
"You'll live for a while longer," she said to Fate, before her head turned to Joka. "But you… We better start right away."