Chapter 22: Threefold
The crowd, loud and insufferable, continues their relentless shouts and screams. Their energy grates on me, a sea of noise celebrating the depravity of it all.
I scan my surroundings. The four of us stand motionless for a moment, each assessing the others. An elf, a dwarf, and an inuman. Three potential threats. Who do I take on first?
The inuman makes that decision for me. Dropping to all fours, his claws extend, fangs bared, and he charges.
Instinctively, I channel wind magic into my eyes, enhancing my perception. Time slows just enough for me to track his movements. I sidestep his first swipe, but his claws still graze my arm, leaving a shallow wound. My chest tightens. Just because I can see the attack doesn't mean I'm fast—or skilled—enough to counter it.
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In my old life, I was shy, nervous, and often alone. No family. No friends. Sam was the exception. Sam was everything.
That's why he stepped in every time I was bullied. "You're hopeless without me," he'd tease, his grin both infuriating and reassuring.
But on the rare days Sam wasn't around, I had to fend for myself. He hated seeing me bruised and broken after those encounters.
"You're going to learn how to fight, man," he declared one day, dragging me to an empty field.
"You've got to look in their eyes. People telegraph their moves—watch their eyes, and you'll know what's coming," he explained, his voice firm but patient. "And one more thing: you can't be afraid to take a hit."
Smack.
His fist connected lightly with my jaw to prove his point. I hated him for it. And I loved him for it.
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The inuman's gaze flicks to my left leg. Gotcha. His right claw swings toward my calf, just as I anticipated.
I leap into the air, spinning as I go. My boot connects squarely with his jaw—crack. The force of the blow sends him tumbling across the arena.
I let out a breath, relaxing my vision slightly. I don't want to kill him. None of these fighters deserve this—they're all here for the same reason: survival. Maybe if I knock them out, they'll be taken back to their cells. It's the best I can hope for.
The inuman struggles to his feet, his jaw hanging awkwardly. But now he's not alone. The elf has moved to his side, placing a hand on the injured jaw. A green glow emanates from his palm. He's healing him.
My eyes dart past them and land on the dwarf. He's crumpled on the ground, motionless, an icy rod impaling him through the chest.
The elf knows both earth and water magic. Dangerous. But why is he healing the inuman?
"Mr. Dog," the elf sneers, his tone dripping with condescension. "While I have no intention of letting you leave this arena alive, what say we deal with this so-called 'Dark Deity' first?"
The crowd erupts, their cheers deafening.
The inuman straightens, his wounds fully mended. "Sure thing, tree lover. But after that, you're next."
My chest tightens.
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I enhance my eyes again. I have to keep this up. I need to see everything.
The ground rumbles beneath me. My focus drops to my feet just in time to see the earth shift unnaturally. A jagged rock juts up, catching my leg and pinning it in place. I'm stuck.
The inuman sees the opportunity and charges, his claws glinting. I grit my teeth, gripping my blade tightly. If I can't move, I'll have to stand my ground.
Cling! Cling! Sparks fly as I block his relentless swipes, deflecting each with my short blade. His strength is monstrous, each blow rattling my bones.
Then I see it—a flash of movement from the corner of my vision. The elf, his slender sword poised like a fencer's, closes the distance with precision.
Blades from both sides. I can't keep up.
My timer ticks faster as I draw more magic to my limbs, forcing my reactions to match their speed. I'm barely hanging on, dodging, deflecting, parrying.
And then it clicks—magic isn't just about brute force. I've seen Tsuki manipulate fire. I've seen how wind can cut.
Blades. Invisible blades.
I focus the wind around me, summoning tiny, razor-sharp currents. I extend my arms toward my attackers and push.
Shnk! Both the elf and the inuman flinch, backing away as fine cuts appear on their arms and faces.
I've done it. I can cut with wind.
But I'm not out of danger yet. My leg is still trapped. With a brief moment of reprieve, I focus wind magic into my blade, aiming to shatter the rock holding me in place. I raise the hilt high and swing with all my strength.
Pain explodes in my stomach. I gasp, the air forced from my lungs as a rock pillar slams into my gut. The elf smirks, having summoned the pillar right as I swung down, using my momentum against me.
Time slows. My vision tinges green. I'm thrown backward, tumbling across the dirt. Blood drips from my mouth as I lay flat, the earth cool against my trembling hands.
The crowd quiets, their jeers fading into whispers. They think I'm finished.
I feel it. Earth magic. The connection is immediate—the roughness, the weight, the sturdiness of the ground beneath me. I cough, blood splattering onto the dirt. My hands press into the earth.
I understand it now.
Drawing on the energy of the ground itself, my aura shifts to a vibrant green. A pillar of stone rises beneath me, lifting me to my feet. It cradles me, steadying my battered body.
The elf and inuman stare, their expressions frozen in shock. I'm stunned too, but there's no time to dwell on it.
The crowd is silent.
I look my opponents in the eye, the quiet fury burning within me. My lips curl into a smile—a twisted, defiant grin I didn't know I could make.
With a snap of my fingers, ash erupts around them, clouding their vision. They recoil, blinded and disoriented.
I lunge forward, armed with three affinities now—wind, fire, and earth.
I will win.
The crowd erupts, louder than ever. Their boos and jeers mix with shouts of fear and anger. They spit venom, their disgust and panic palpable.
The affinityless Dark Deity just showcased three types of magic.
If they didn't believe I was the harbinger of their world's end, they do now.