The village square of the Loctrum clan was an expansive arena encircled by tall, weathered stone walls, remnants of an ancient battleground. The ground was hard-packed dirt, marred by countless clashes and soaked with the memories of past combats. In the center stood an enormous, ornate hourglass, its sands dark and foreboding, signaling the ancient timer that would dictate the captives' fates. To the side, an array of primitive yet lethal weapons lay on a wooden rack: swords, spears, axes, and daggers, each glinting ominously under the fading light of the crimson sky.
Almost all the villagers were present, apart from the slaves and the Reapers who were assigned duties. The chief was present, and even Lord Arctic had not been left behind. Seated next to him was Rose, whose heart was in her mouth. The fear for her people put her in despair.
Everyone's focus suddenly turned to the clanging of the gate, and soon enough, the Reapers began leading the captives out of the dungeons.
Most of the villagers, especially the females who were anticipating seeing them unclad, were disappointed because the captives were wearing short skirts that barely covered their nakedness.
They were all forced to kneel right before Lord Arctic, whose face was hidden beneath a hood.
It was hard to decipher what Lord Arctic's face looked like. Not even the Reapers had seen his face, and he didn't come outside often except for special occasions like this.
Eleven was feeling much healthier than yesterday, as were the others. They had all drunk a mixture given to them by one of the Reapers, preparing them for what was yet to come.
"Who's he and why is it so silent?" Eleven couldn't help but ponder as he tried to steal a glance at Lord Arctic. Then he noticed his gaze was fixed on him.
"Why is he gazing at me? Does he know me from somewhere before?" Questions toiled around Eleven's mind as he watched Urgath step forward. He was one of the four chiefs and the one addressing the crowd.
"Vatics Dunstrem Loctrum Varin," Urgath began, and silence reigned in the entire arena. He continued chanting loudly, and the crimson sky started getting darker.
"It's just a simple game," he said after a long silence, and the crowd started murmuring. They wondered what the game might be.
Rose's heart was pounding fast, anticipating what Lord Arctic had in store for her people. The captives were also restless, their ears alert as they kneeled under the scorching sun.
"The Elves are to fight for their freedom. They're to go one-on-one against each other until…"
He paused, watching as everyone's attention was on him, including Lady Rose, who was playing with her fingers. Everyone knew what he was about to say. Even the captives were aware that they were doomed.
He inhaled deeply and was about to complete his speech when he got a message from Lord Arctic through a mind-linking technique.
"Our Lord is so merciful. He doesn't want you Elves to turn against each other, so instead, he has chosen another path for you. You're all going to face a common opponent at the same time."
"The rule is quite simple: Only one being will remain standing. Kill or be killed." He clarified and retreated after finishing his speech.
Eleven's heart pounded in his chest as the reality of the situation settled over him. Around him, the other captives—his friends, his fellow Elves—were beginning to rise, determination and fear etched into their faces. He could see the resolve in their eyes, a reflection of his own. They were in this together, yet in the next moments, they would become each other's greatest threat.
"Form a circle!" shouted a Reaper, his voice echoing across the village square. The captives obeyed, forming a rough ring in the center of the square. The villagers pressed closer, their eyes glinting with excitement and bloodlust.
A Reaper stepped forward, turning the hourglass. The crowd held its breath as the first grains of sand began to fall.
The captives hesitated for a moment, then surged towards the weapon rack, each selecting a weapon with grim determination. Eleven chose a slender, sharp dagger, its hilt fitting comfortably in his hand. Others grabbed what they could, their choices reflecting their personal fighting styles and instincts for survival.
A loud clang resonated through the square, alerting the captives to the presence of their opponent.
It was a masculine figure who wore a hood over his head. He wielded a massive battle-axe in both hands as he approached the captives, who started trembling at the mere sight of him.
"Let the fight commence."
In a split second, the masculine being charged at the captives. The first captive clenched his fists around his sword, positioning himself for defense.
But with a single swing of the axe, his head was severed from his neck, causing crimson blood to spurt out.
It was so fast and swift. Rose never saw it coming, and neither did the other Elves. Even the villagers were surprised.
It was dead silent, but not for long, as cheers spread out among the villagers. The captives then realized what was in store for them. They had to kill this opponent, or they would all be killed by him.
Eleven took a good look at his dagger. He didn't even know if he had wielded one in his past life.
He surged forward, charging at the masculine being with all his effort. He leapt high, aiming to stab the being in the chest, but the latter evaded, causing him to hit the ground.
The figure stepped on his head causing his skull to crack then raised his battle-axe and tried to bring it down on Eleven's back when another captive dived at him, bringing him to the ground.
The captive's hands burst out of his back before the opponent pushed him away. He crashed into another captive, blood oozing from his body.
The tenth captive noticed dark energies emanating from their opponent as he got up with ease.
His cloak had fallen, revealing his face. His eyes were dark and deep, and his head was bald. He had long ears, just like the Elves.
Rose jumped up instantly. "Vagnar!" she called, recognizing him immediately. She was shocked to the core. Right in her presence, Vagnar was stabbed by the Reaper.
"What's he doing here? How is he alive, and why is he rebelling against the Elves?" she couldn't help but wonder.
"You seem worried, Lady Rose." She heard the voice of Lord Arctic and looked up at him, but he wasn't saying anything. His gaze was fixed on the ongoing fight.
"Don't worry. This is just the tip of the iceberg." She heard his voice again, with more tears streaming down her face. He was speaking to her through the mind.
"Vagnar, you don't have to do this," said the tenth Elf, trying to negotiate with his opponent after discovering his identity.
"I can't stop, Brakor. I've been ordered to kill you all," Vagnar replied and launched at Brakor. He had successfully eliminated six of the Elves. He swayed his gaze, which Brakor dodged by moving backward, but the step he took was uncalculated, causing him to lose balance and fall hard to the ground.
"Elven magic: Sigitta Firannea!" one of the Elves chanted, and a fiery arrow appeared in the air. He directed it towards Vagnar almost immediately.
Vagnar noticed this impending attack and quickly turned away from Brakor, catching the fiery arrow with one hand. He sent it back to the caster, and it sank directly into his chest.
This was the time Brakor needed to get on his feet. He clasped his hands together, and the force pushed Vagnar backward, causing him to crash on his butt.
Brakor charged at Vagnar, mustering all his strength with a blade in his hand. The latter noticed the dangerous intent his opponent was coming with, so he quickly fixed his gaze on the ground.
The ground softened, trapping Brakor midway while the blade flew from his hand and beheaded another Elf.
Brakor's eyes widened. He had just killed one of his allies by mistake. Not just an ally but an Elf. He was indeed a dead man walking.
Eleven was watching everything from where he lay on the floor. He struggled to get on his feet, but the ground started shaking, causing him to fall back.
Right before his eyes, Vagnar levitated. His dark eyes fixed on the crimson clouds, and his hands stretched out.
Whatever he was planning must be something disastrous. Brakor was trying hard to get out of the ground. It was difficult since all the soil around him had been softened. Whatever Vagnar was planning, he had to stop him before it was too late, but how?
He was stuck with no one to help him. While he was thinking of what to do, he saw a hand—a dark-skinned hand. He looked up to see Eleven.
"You're not dead," Brakor said with a smile after Eleven successfully struggled to pull him out.
"I think we're about to be," Eleven replied, watching the fiery ball that Vagnar was creating.
Vagnar sent down the ball without hesitation, aiming to burn down all the captives.
"Elven magic: Lux Scutum!" Brakor chanted, creating a light shield that protected them from the fireball.
Vagnar growled angrily and launched himself against them, pushing through the shield, causing them all to scatter.
"This is no time to be weak," Eleven said to himself and quickly rolled up to face Vagnar.
"Hey, dark elf. Look at me," he called, and Vagnar turned to him.
"You're so weak and useless. You can't even cast a decent magic spell," he taunted, getting Vagnar even angrier.
Eleven didn't wait for Vagnar to charge at him before launching himself at Vagnar, without any plan of striking an attack.
Vagnar concentrated all his energy into his hand, aiming to deliver a death punch to Eleven.
Growing impatient, Vagnar opened his mouth to cast a spell that would extend his arm when an axe drove into his back, and the edge protruded from his chest.
Brakor withdrew his hand from the battle-axe instantly as green liquid streamed down Vagnar's chest instead of blood. Eleven screamed loudly, his fists clenched, as he delivered a hefty blow to Vagnar's face, destroying his head almost immediately.
Vagnar's headless body crashed hard to the ground, causing the axe to come out of his chest.
Eleven was shocked to his core. He looked at his fist, unable to believe he had delivered such a fatal blow.
He looked at Brakor, who flashed him a smile.
When they were in the light shield, Eleven had explained to Brakor that he had encountered Vagnar before he was captured by the Reapers. Brakor then knew exactly what was going on: dark magic had been used to bring Vagnar back. The only way to kill him was to stab him where he was first killed.
Eleven had come up with a plan to serve as bait, giving Brakor the chance to strike.
Immediately after Brakor struck, he cast a spell that led to Eleven's fatal blow.
There was jubilation in the crowd. The villagers cheered for them, and Eleven couldn't help but smile happily.
"Seems it's cool to have magic," he thought and looked up at Rose, whose face was all gloomy.
The only captives remaining were him and Brakor. The rest had been killed by Vagnar. They both stood beside each other, waiting for the proclamation of their freedom when suddenly a Reaper stepped forward and handed over his blade to Eleven.
"What for?" he asked, directing his gaze from the Reaper to Lord Arctic.
Brakor was already on his knees. He understood the message. Everyone present understood what was about to happen, apart from Eleven, who was confused.
"You seem surprised, boy. Where are you from?" Urgath asked.
"I don't know. I just found…"
"He doesn't remember,," Rose cut in. "But I believe he's from the East. They're blacks there." She added.
"What about his ears?" asked Urgath, and that was when Eleven noticed that everyone present had long ears, including the villagers. They were all Elves, which confused him even more.
Rose couldn't come up with a better reply to Urgath's question, so she remained silent instead. History has never recorded a black boy with an ear just like that of the Aetherians.
"Black boy, I'm amazed by your courage, and I'll grant you your freedom instantly, but you just have to complete your task," said Urgath.
"But we completed the task already?" Eleven replied, still looking confused.
"Yes and no. You killed your opponent, yes, but you see that man kneeling over there? He beheaded an Elf, and his punishment is a death sentence. Kill him and gain your freedom."
Eleven turned to Brakor, who was kneeling behind him with his arms stretched out, not ready to defend himself. He was an important figure in the Elvarin Kingdom, and he understood the rule.
"Kill me and gain your freedom," Brakor urged as Eleven scanned the sword. He looked around his eyes traveling every corner of the village square.. From Rose to Lord Arctic, the chiefs, the Reapers and finally the villagers.
Everyone was silent, anticipating the next action. He raised the sword in the air and shut his eyes as he propelled it towards Brakor's neck.