Cayus raises his fist high into the air. I clamber on the floor and then reach a seat, paying even closer attention to the debacle.
Here Cayus is, praised as a hero for killing a poor girl.
Yet the consensus on me seems to be I am a monster, a brute, something inhuman.
I mean, technically I am.
But what could that thing inside of me be?
Even yet, I feel the sheer frigidness of the void that filled the crevices of my inner mind and body. It was not that of anything that should ever exist.
I'm terrified. I don't want this... thing.
The proctors also seem to think the same, they would rather see me perish rather than find a way to reel this damned thing in.
Cayus exits the arena, he was met with wails and cheers, the Golden Boy.
I didn't like it, but I couldn't bring myself to hate Cayus either, it's unfair. As he strides out there's a moment of respite, I recline on the chair I'm currently on and out of the gates comes out a familiar sight. Hair flowing so beautifully, grace and elegance all wrapped up into one person. Her white hair continued to follow her, her ears were flared; the tips were sharp. It was Elisandre, the Elf Princess.
"The Princess of Lasandrel! One to definitely watch, here is Elisandre!"
She wafts her hair, the screen pans to the crowd who are in hysterics, the men are completely enamoured with her, jumping out of their chairs and pumping their fists in the air. The women are visibly envious, their stares are stone-cold. Oh, how I could see their minds twisting in vain prayers to see Elisandre die here.
Elisandre wields a long wooden stick, is that what they call a staff? It was encrusted with golden vines, adorned among the top is an orb of blue.
Her opponent marches out, it was a large man. His frame was wide, his hair was slicked back and his eyes were constantly squinting. This was as one would say -- a brute. He stood two times the size of Elisandre, it was evident when they met in the middle.
"The Butcher of the East. Leader of the mercenary group 'Roein.' Rokash!"
Boos erupted in the lower frequency, whilst cheers were heard in a higher frequency. It was the polar opposite of what had transpired when Elisandre walked out.
The fight began quickly, Elisandre began to float in the air and the orb on her staff began to emit a large amount of Resan, it formulated and flowed, the elegance was of course in contrast to her element. It was water.
The orb conjures a ball of water that shoots past the pillars and shorns the sand of the floor, Rokash lifts his blade and the water is deflected off, as it slams into his blade to be deflected it begins to sear. The sizzling sound was followed by a large amount of steam. His element was that of fire.
It seems like this match is a testament to how much Resan each of these fighters have, if the fire is strong enough it would singe the very water away from existence. If the water was plentiful it would douse any rebellion from Rokash.
The screen zooms into Rokash's face to see a deathly glare, along with a smirk. He pushes off the ground and appears right next to Elisandre who was still in the sky. Elisandre was caught off guard, it could prove to be a fatal error.
Rokash swings his blade down to her neck, as he swings a tendril of water envelopes Elisandre and ebbs over to the blade, grasping the blade and throwing Rokash down to the floor. As a follow up Elisandre mutters something to herself, the meaning of which was completely lost to me. Perhaps it was in Elvish. Whatever it was, it was disgustingly powerful, as when she finished chanting a large sprout of water would inverse and fall from the sky, a gout of pure pressure and debris. The sand swirls within this sprout and Rokash was caught within, he was attempting to channel his Resan around his body, summoning on the power of his element to burn away this water. Though, when he attempted it kept being doused, he was caught.
Rokash is pinned onto the floor by this torrent of unending water from the sky, Elisandre continues to chant to continue the spell. It seemed to require a tremendous amount of concentration.
Rokash suddenly lets go of his blade, he was sprawled on the floor, his neck tenses as he tries to gasp for air but is only met with the gushing of water. Would I ever survive this attack? How could Rokash?
Rokash grits his teeth and the blade moves on its own, it slithers around the arena and flies up towards Elisandre by itself. The blade shoots over to Elisandre's leg and it connects, the cut procures a large amount of blood as Elisandre shouts in pure pain.
I lean in further, Rokash used Resan to move his blade, perhaps a specialist ability that he honed? What a ridiculous power...
He caught Elisandre well, she was far too preoccupied concentrating on her spell to even think about a flying blade. Elisandre is falling to the floor slowly, the blood already touching the sand below her. The spell wavers and Rokash is free, he weaves his hands around and the blade continues to fly, turning back to cut Elisandre again. The cut this time was to her abdomen, Elisandre's use of Resan here saved her intestines from being sprayed across the floor. She pumped her Resan to her stomach to lessen the blow, although it still draws blood.
Elisandre falls to the floor with a thud, her stomach, her leg, both painting the sand in a crimson hue. Rokash runs over to her aided by his Resan, jumping into the air and pushing both of his feet together to stomp on Elisandre.
Elisandre's eyes widen, I think she's going to die...