Chapter 39
My hand scrapes against the marble as I push myself upright, but he’s too close now, his movements faster than before.
Another strike comes at me. It’s clumsy but relentless.
I barely manage to bring my arm up in time to fend off a direct blow to my head.
The impact jars through me, sending a shock of pain up to my shoulder.
My footing shifts again as I force myself back, the uneven ground working against me at every step. My mind is still catching up—still trying to process what’s happening—while my body lags behind it.
Hesitation. It’s still there.
Still slowing me down. Still getting me killed.
He lunges again, and this time there’s no pause in him, no uncertainty. Just blind, desperate force.
Something in me snaps. The realization that this is kill or be killed finally sinks in. No matter how bad I feel for my opponent, or how much I pity him, it’s all the same.
The outcome is clear-cut: victor or victim.
And I cannot allow myself to be the victim. Not when I bear the responsibility of another life on my shoulders.
For Moe, I cannot lose. I must not lose.
I twist just enough to let his next strike pass me instead of through me, my hand coming up in a motion that feels more instinct than intention. I grab his arm and use the momentum of his own movement against him.
He stumbles forward. Finally, his balance breaks.
And for the first time, I act before thinking.
I grab his weapon and turn it against him.
The blade meets him at close range, the motion abrupt.
There’s resistance. First, his shabby armor. Then skin.
I feel every layer as it gives way, and a sick emotion emerges within me.
Kill!
The male freezes. His eyes widen in shock.
In just a few seconds the battle’s outcome has shifted: whereas before he had the upper hand, now he’s at the mercy of his own weapon.
Confusion flickers across his face, like he doesn’t quite understand what just happened. His body sways.
“I—” he starts. Blood starts dripping from under his armor, pooling at his feet.
“I—” he attempts to speak again but it’s too late. The color has drained from his face. The sound of him hitting the marble echoes through the silent battlefield.
I stand there, frozen.
My breath is uneven, my pulse loud in my ears. My gaze stays fixed on him, on the stillness of his body, on the blood splattered across the marble…
“Nyk, focus!” Moe cries out.
Adrenaline buzzes in my ears, but I try to control my breathing.
The plan. Remember the plan, Nykander!
His body begins to gradually break apart. The edges blur, then dissolve, turning to ash that lifts into the air. His clothing and armor are left behind in a messy pile.
But this is just the visible.
I concentrate on the unseen. Through the myriad flecks of ash, I see bright white particles of energy.
Soul energy.
My mouth drops open. This is the first time I’m seeing this type of energy and it’s quite possibly the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. There’s a purity to it that settles even my most disquiet thoughts.
I zone in on a few particles and will them to come to me. At first, they resist. They vibrate and roll in the air, as if I’m battling an invisible force that’s vacuuming them away.
But out of that convoy of light, two tiny particles break apart and drift toward me.
One settles on my shoulder, the other on my chest.
My body vibrates in concert with them, synchronizing to be at the same frequency. In less than a second, they’re no longer foreign, but part of me.
I let out a big sigh of relief. My body wobbles backward as the adrenaline wears off and the enormity of what happened dawns on me.
Pain radiates from the injury sites, but it becomes increasingly dull, almost non-existent.
I glance at my arm and note the gash is half-way closed.
The energy from the soul. Such an infinitely small amount increased my healing abilities more than what I gained from the Raffia embryo.
So this is why soul energy is so prized. There’s nothing like it in the universe.
“Nyk.”
Moe’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
I turn.
She’s at the barrier, her hand pressed against it. It gives way just as a disembodied voice echoes in the arena.
Nykander v’Kyro wins. You are awarded two points.
It barely registers that it knows my full name. All that matters at this point is reaching Moe.
I run toward her just as she dashes toward me and we meet in the middle.
“Are you hurt?” she asks. “Are you in pain?”
She looks me up and down, going in circles around me and inspecting every inch of my flesh. She pays special attention to my now-minor injuries, nodding to herself.
“I’m fine. We are fine,” I tell her, smiling in spite of myself.
Her gaze softens. “We are. I’m proud of you,” she whispers as she presses her cheek against my chest.
Around us, the arena begins to fade.
The cracked marble dissolves beneath my feet, the red sky collapsing inward once again as the world pulls itself apart and then snaps back into place.
We’re standing in front of the obelisk again.
The surface of the obelisk ripples, and the shifting light settles just long enough for a single line to form.
Nykander v’Kyro. Level Unassigned. +2 Ascension Points. Total points: 2
I stare at it. Two points. Only two points for all that effort. And it’s just the beginning.
Moe’s hand finds mine and she squeezes it in comfort.
Neither of us speaks.
I killed someone with my own hands, with my own abilities. That in itself is worthy of praise. But I know the truth. If it hadn’t been for Moe… If it had been only my life on the line, I doubt I would have reacted with the same urgency.
I doubt I would have survived.
My gaze lifts from the obelisk, drifting back toward the ruins, toward the distant shapes moving through the red haze.
Two ascension points are one day’s worth of food for the two of us. If we’re to make any progress I can’t afford to keep choosing the weakest opponents.
The obelisk’s glow fades back into its restless shifting, my new status dissolving into a stream of unknown names and their points.
“Today is a win, Nyk. Take it. We can think about tomorrow later,” Moe says, interrupting my thoughts.
I nod, though I’m unable to shake this fear I have inside—that this was just luck; that tomorrow I might switch fortune for misfortune.
“Let’s explore the area and get some food.”
We turn around and start walking.
Hand in hand, we move through crowds of people going in all directions. Some stare at us until they notice the marks on our wrist and look away.
“I wonder how many people are here,” I voice aloud.
“Thousands if not more,” Moe replies. “And given how this system operates, I’d wager a guess that the moment an individual is terminated, another one enters the realm.”
“I think you’re right. With the way it operates, it needs fresh fighters constantly.”
“Do you think the entrance at Horan Forest is the only one?” She asks, and I shake my head.
“No. There must be more hidden portals to account for this number of people.”
Moe nods, her eyes landing now and then on my injured arm.
“Are you in any pain? Do you think we might need some medicine?” She eventually asks.
“No. My healing is already much faster than before. At this rate, by tomorrow the wound should be completely closed.”
“That’s much faster than before,” she murmurs, her brows raised in an unspoken question. Did it work? Did you consume the soul.
She’s right to be worried about secrecy since we don’t know who might be listening in. “I am still a beginner. I only got two…blows in,” I enunciate clearly. “With time I should get better.”
She smiles. “At least you got those two.”
“Yes, but I’m still a bit worried.”
“How so?” She frowns.
“Isn’t it…too easy? This place is clearly designed to limit growth.”
She bites her lip as she thinks. “There’s one way of finding out.”
I raise a brow at her, already looking forward to what her beautiful brain will come up with.
“Remember our orientation. That wraith said your level is unassigned. For some reason it couldn’t read you. On the other hand, all of the other names on the obelisk had a level attached to them.” She smiles. “We just need to follow a few names and see if their level changes over a period of time.”
“My smart partner,” I murmur and pull her toward me, laying a kiss on the crown of her head.
She doesn’t object. In fact, she nestles closer to me. Mentally, I consider this another win. Perhaps soon she will realize how well suited we are. Especially now that her mortality is not such an issue anymore. She can live for thousands of years, with me of course.
I keep giving her small hints, and hopefully she will catch on soon enough.
I don’t want to come on too forcefully, especially since in Aimaxion she’s considered my property.
There is too much of a power dynamic discrepancy for me to feel comfortable to come onto her too strongly.
What if she feels as though she needs to please me so I don’t harm her?
No! Just thinking about that makes me sick.
I’ll keep dropping hints here and there, but until she comes to me of her own volition, I’ll just have to be satisfied with her friendship.
As we keep walking, we make small talk but we try to avoid any sensitive information in case someone eavesdrops.
The farther we move from the obelisk, the more the ruins appear occupied. Even the grander structures seem to have owners.
High level individuals’ lodgings, I wonder?
The stone underfoot is smoother in places, worn down by repeated steps. Openings in the rock form rough passageways and shallow corridors carved.
A myriad of different sounds congregate around the buildings.
A murmur here. The scrape of something being dragged there. The faint clink of metal against stone.
It’s a low, constant hum of activity, completely different than the area where our room is.
“This is like a large city. It’s certainly bigger and more populated than the Mortal District,” she notes, and I agree.