Lieren grimaced as a gruesome scene sprawled before his very eyes. Blood, sweat, and tears stained the very walls and floor of the descending platform.
The two were located at floor length, with seats descending into a wide, cylindrical holes — the forsaken arenas of Eavesdrop, the forbidden fight club located at the underground of New Mireton, where deep-pocketed nobles and merchants bet their fortunes for a slice of all the others' to increases their own in one fell swoop.
It was shoddy, gloomy, and disgusting. Far from the usual and commonplace business practices all over the world. And at the same tine, closest to the true nature of man.
Eavesdrop was a place of avarice and pride. One fought for what they want: money and underground prestige. The other fought for riches and renown. Each had their goals, other had their own.
One thing was for sure, though.
All of them here are no more than a part of the masses, obliviously distracting themselves from the outside world by keeping themselves preoccupied with bloody entertainment.
"…Huh? Oh, sorry."
As his thoughts were interrupted by a scantily-clad lady with a tray of drinks in one hand and a salacious smile, Lieren curtly moved to the side and let the lady pass without another word.
"I can't believe people can drink in this kind of place. How… odious."
Glancing at him indifferently, Mysta muttered under her breath, not desiring for the inquisitive boy to hear her:
"You'd be surprised what people can stomach, given their upbringing."
In the center of the submerged arena were two men. Both of whom wore nothing other than the barest essentials. One had a blunted great sword in both hand while the other had a short sword and wooden buckler in the other. Both combatant held empty eyes, as if all life had been sucked out of them.
Lieren's face contorted in apparent disgust.
'An Accomplice… that means they're being manipulated. Pretty skillfully, at that.'
Since Manipulation becomes more difficult and require a plethora of conditions and restrictions to be activated the more constricting and hijacking it is of other's mind, body, and soul — it was a miracle that they were even able to use such a high-level spell. That is, unless…
Peering into the arena, Lieren ignited Manavision and looked at the two combatants with renewed insight.
What he saw could only be called as pitiful.
'Insigs, both of them.'
The combatants were Insigs, non-magic-born, meaning they never had the ability to use or harness mana to defend themselves from the usurping attack.
…And he doubted that they had his Resistance, too. Which was somewhat of an exclusive to him and him alone. And he was thankful for that…
It made him feel special. Unique. As if he was a specialist of some sacred art or ancient technique.
Still, even if others didn't have the same Resistance as him, the mind was still a very powerful thing to muster. There have been cases where Manipulation has been thwarted by pure will alone, even with Insigs. No matter how rare it is, the chance still exists.
And yet, here he was, watching as two unfamiliar men readied their rusted and crude weapons with empty eyes and moved with motion beyond their own control, surpassing regular human limits and into the realm of horror. They convulsed, spun, and dislodged bones and body parts akin to a doll.
Just like a marionette.
Feeling a deep and overpowering sense of darkness envelop him all of a sudden, Lieren clenched his fist with revulsion, as if he had just tasted something vile. His eyes slowly clouded over, becoming cold and lifeless, its regular sheen disappearing.
Suddenly, he found himself in that same scene. Cold and powerless. Without anything to his incomplete name whatsoever. Everything was a blur: the people, the walls, the floor, the bodies… Her body.
There she was again, that bright girl he admired. She was a shining beacon, despite the dim glow she kept hidden at all times. Her excellence can only be matched by the Vritra themselves…
The same way her form can only be matched by the daemons themselves. There was blood, so much blood, all of it leading up to her like a trail of some odious menace. She was in a horrific state, with her appendages and fair skin riddled with bloody wounds and ill-colored bruises.
And yet, still somehow intact. She looked like a bedraggled puppet, its strings cut in twain and lost all possible motions.
It was a uniquely sorrowful sight, the likes of which he had never seen before. Nor has he thought or read about. It was, in its own way, a horrible abomination.
That sight has been etched to his very soul.
And then, it was all gone.
"Minasaki…"
He was back at Eavesdrop, with the odious stench and bloody walls in full view once again. Even this disgusting place was much more preferable than that horrid scene, for what it's worth.
"Who?" A question appeared at his side. It came from the uptight attendant.
Shaking his head in derision, Lieren looked at Mysta, then past her, and to a simple wooden door marked as "VIP Only".
"…It's nothing. Just somebody I used to know."
She lingered for a while, her sharp eyes trained on him like a hawk. A silent question hung at her lips, and she was all but ready to release it. Until she didn't, suddenly noticing something, and looked down thoughtfully, ruminating on something.
Lieren decided to keep mum and not ask her anything. If she wasn't going to ask him anything, then he isn't going to, either.
Turning on her heel, Mysta faced the door and fixed her tight suit, then walked toward the door. Lieren silently followed, suddenly serious.
Past this door is one of the most dangerous contestants there is — below Leo, of course.
Scorpio, the Warcaster. Known for his excellent manipulation of the earth element and versatility, whilst keeping sharp accuracy and astounding power. All the while keeping his weaknesses hidden, at least until revealing them became beneficial for him. Only after then will he strike, keeping a warm façade as he hid his true intents behind a calm and collected mind.
Gripping his brilliant dagger tightly, Lieren opened the door and felt cold shivers running down his spine.
As he dreaded, the time to face his fate had come.