The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 40: The Price of Victory

Chapter 40: The Price of Victory

I stumbled back, staring at the bloody puddle beneath the space where Soltair fell. I could still see him gasping for breath, clutching at the bloody spear and looking at me with those eyes dulled by defeat. How could he have survived something like that? I frantically scanned the colosseum, but was unable to see anything but the shocked faces of the audience. Where did it teleport him to? Was he healed in time? Would I be next, or would they conveniently forget to teleport me out?

As questions cluttered my mind, I was dimly aware of Ronin moving forward. He walked casually, embracing the scattered cheers with relaxed waves. He didn’t seem to care as I scrambled away, only laughing at the futility of my cause.

Where had we gone wrong? I had tried so hard to support him, bled and suffered more than I thought possible, but now my own failure was walking toward me, grinning and relishing my defeat. Still mindlessly retreating, I ran against the wall of the colosseum with enough force to knock the wind out of me, and fell to my knees. I gasped for air, looking up as a gleaming pair of boots stopped in front of me.

"Nowhere to run," Ronin said. He twirled his spear around a bit, and then the point was at my throat. Unconsciously, I gulped, wincing as the point drew out a bead of blood. "To think a pathetic slut like you was summoned with the same high calling of a hero, even as a Slave Hero. Honestly, I was looking for more women to add to my harem, but you just aren’t my type. A little young, flatter than a farm, and scarred with those hideous horns. The tail might be nice, as it at least gives me something to grab when you start bucking."

He spat, the warm gob of spittle landing on my cheek, and continued with n a tirade of insults. I barely noticed, staring blankly at the pools of blood where Soltair had vanished. The cold, gleeful light in Ronin’s eyes when he struck him down seemed far more vicious than any of the disparaging mockery he gave now.

Ronin grabbed and sheathed his sword and grabbed me by one horn. He raised my head and grinned, continually spewing abuse. Beyond his shoulder, I could see the Pope. He watched calmly, a small smile on his lips, which grew even wider as we made eye contact.

"Hey, are you even listening?" Ronin asked, frowning. "If you were my slave, I’d beat some obedience into you. You know what? No one’s here to tell me not to, so I think I’ll do just that."

He grunted and tossed me over his shoulder. As I hit the ground, something broke. I felt like screaming, but it wasn’t my first time losing a rib. What scheme had the Pope set in motion? What were those spells Ronin entered the Colosseum with?

"He said you were a fairly talented mage, and I respect that. How about I give you a chance? I’m a warrior, with barely a lick of magic in me, but I feel bad bullying you like this. Why don’t we exchange spells?"

Why was he so talkative all a sudden? When Soltair was here, he barely spoke a word aside from the occasional taunt. Was it because he didn’t feel a threat from me, so he was much more relaxed? But, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who could come up with this on his own. How much of this fight was premeditated?

Filled with thoughts, I unconsciously cast an Aegis, blocking some random second-circle spell thrown at me. Opening the Eyes of Fate, I looked at the War Hero. I could live in ignorance no longer. A blinding glow emanated from his body, forcing my eyes shut. In the brief glimpse I’d gotten, I counted at least five individual spells on him. But even that wasn’t the source of the magic. I could only attribute that to the overwhelming mana density of the seventh-circle spell drawing power from the Sun itself. Not even Selena could cast magic of that intensity, much less a mere War Hero!

I clenched my fists, but any anger was quickly swept away by a dismal acceptance. No wonder he never quite ran out of mana, launching one powerful technique after the next. A spell like that made my mana recycling technique look like a child’s trick.

"So that’s how it was," I whispered, overcome by the hopelessness of my blight. They wanted me gone badly enough to risk exposure before tens of thousands.

Ronin cast a few more spells, eventually breaking the Aegis, but I couldn’t find the will to renew it. He stood a few feet away, shooting spell after spell but never quite running out of mana. He couldn’t, at least until the sun went down.

The War Hero paused, growing bored with my lack of response. "Do you admit defeat so easily? Then, as your senior, I take it upon me to teach you a lesson. A naughty slave must be punished, no? Blood razor!"

The three magic circles gathered magic, condensing it into a ball. After a second, the sphere ruptured into hundreds of crimson shards. They swept over me like shattered glass, ripping through my skin and mangling what little remained of my clothes. There, lying in a pool of my own blood, I looked up at the sky. The face of the Sun God overlapped with the sun and shone directly into my eyes, mocking me.

The hateful light vanished as the shadow of the War Hero fell over me. "Still alive? Honestly, I’m curious why they haven’t summoned you out of the arena yet. This match was over when the Sun Hero died. If they hadn’t asked so nicely, I would have gutted you forever ago."

I stared duly as another Blood Razor formed in his hand. Looks like they wouldn’t be summoning me away after all.

"Xiviyah!" Soltair’s voice broke the muddled fog in my mind. I tilted my head, and found him standing in the bottom row of the colosseum. He was covered in blood and bandages, and several priests desperately tugged at him, but he shook them off and met my eyes.

His lips parted, repeating the same words he tried to say before the Colosseum teleported him away.

"I leave this to you."

His silent words echoed in my mind, building to a deafening crescendo. His eyes, filled with confidence and trust, sparked something deep within me. It pushed against the loneliness and despair I’d cultivated all my life, and something within me broke.

The last vestiges of my mana weren’t enough, but I willed the spell out anyway. A raw animalistic cry of anguish filled the air as my soul burned, a searing pain even the slave Crest paled against. Amid the pain, I barely registered the screams as my own, concentrating only on casting one spell.

"Reflection!"

The world seemed to stop as a magic circle manifested on my hand, spreading out to form a crystalline shield. It hummed as the Blood Razors crashed into it like knives into water, absorbing and negating their force. Ronin’s eyes widened and he stumbled back, but it was too late.

With a roar, the Reflection triggered, sending magical power surging forth. This time, it wasn’t my scream that filled the colosseum, but the effect was far greater. The jeers of the audience were silenced as the War Hero’s voice grew ragged, and the tide of magic came to an end. When the crimson light faded, he staggered back, falling silent as he collapsed to the ground. I managed to raise my head and look at his body, and immediately choked as bile rose in my throat. His body was twisted and mangled, with thousands of deep cuts upon his armor. As gruesome as it seemed, his exposed head had suffered the worst. The Blood Razors had stripped the skin and muscle from his face, leaving a hideous mess of ruined flesh and bone. His eyes bulged from their sockets, the whites filling with blood, and stared blankly at the sky.

Immediately, a light descended, wrapping him up and teleporting him away. I fell limply to the ground, unable to even raise my hands. My soul still burned with fire, far stronger than anything the Slave Crest had ever put forth. With my last strength, I looked to where Soltair stood, but found him gone. Movement flickered in the corner of my eye and loud footsteps drew near, but I closed my eyes, drifting away. By the time strong, loving hands lifted me up, I was gone.