54 What is Death? (1)

The tempest of energy spiraling around Goleil began to calm as the decapitated warrior dissipated into a fog of blue mana.

Goleil panted as he looked at the two shattered pieces of rapidly disappearing poleaxe.

'I wonder why it broke if he was circulating mana. He definitely would've figured that out if he was a manaforger, and I could do it in the heat of battle. Perhaps he forgot?'

"He didn't forget, you fool. He was circulating his mana, but you forget that your mana is that of a mage, not a knight. Unlike mages, knights have no way of naturally increasing their mana capacity. They just get better at using it. Your mana is just that much stronger, I would imagine," Ty'Bral said.

Goleil nodded as he pondered Ty'Brals response. It made sense, but perhaps that was just because it was his own mind providing the answer for him.

Goleil began to ponder the next fight and looked over at Khalid. 'This is the last enemy he could defeat, and he would've been able to defeat me without mana circulation. I wonder how much farther I can go than him.'

It struck Goleil that this fight might give him a good sense of how powerful the current Khalid was. He had grown quite a lot since their last fight, and Goleil placed the old Khalid bin Walid as on par with the first Mid-Level Manaforger, maybe.

'I wonder how much he has improved. Each fight gets exponentially harder, so I expect quite a lot from that Adalian now. I wonder if I'll have to use my Command magic.' He thought.

Ty'Bral shook his head as he scratched four places on his body at once. "I would discourage you from doing that. You have less than zero control over your mana, and it would affect everyone in the area. We don't need the nobles calling for your head if they aren't already."

Goleil thought back to when he forced even the Lords and Ladies to kneel before him. He shivered as he thought about all the Young Masters he might have to deal with if he did it twice and how lucky he hadn't had to deal with one already.

"You have other weapons besides your voice, although many find it to be concerning, even without mana."

Goleil nodded as he thought of his eyes. His golden iris had made many heads turn so far, and even he wasn't oblivious enough not to notice it. He closed his eyes as he began to concentrate.

The warrior had dissipated, the arena waiting for the next ripple.

"What's taking so long?" Guyan asked as he looked at his two companions.

Erikson shrugged, but Khalid said, "The next opponent only shows themself when the challenger is ready. He must still be preparing for his battle, for this was the last opponent I was able to defeat. He was almost defeated by me the last time, and even I'm still not sure why he waited so long to begin circulating his mana."

Guyan nodded and looked at the weaponsmith. "Why'd you come here?"

The large man cocked an eyebrow. "It was my idea for him to come here in the first place, you think I'd miss this? I heard about it from a customer, and I was running here in naught but my apron a second later. Why are you here, Cap?"

The Captain chuckled. "I brought him here. Mord uses this arena frequently, though he's never gotten this far."

Suddenly, the air grew cold, and a ripple went through the crowd. A shiver crept up their backs like an arachnid as the light seemed to dim.

A bloodthirsty aura exploded from Goleil's body and pressed down on all those around him. His eyes were closed, but Sir Khalid bin Walid could feel danger.

Ty'Bral fell to his knees as his vision began to tunnel. All he could see were those eyes that were invisible to everyone else.

Two bright golden eyes stared at him as an Emporer looked upon his lands. Two red pupils bored into him, seemingly cutting his legs at the knees.

Those golden-red eyes seemed to see his every thought, his memories, everything that made him who he was.

It was excruciating.

Goleil opened his eyes and stared at Khalid, and the Adalian felt his limbs go numb. There was nothing else but the Vreans gaze. He could smell smoke and blood. He could hear the screams. The clashing of steel and iron. He clenched his teeth so hard that he began to taste iron. Hot liquid seemed to pour from his eyes. Blood? Tears? He couldn't tell.

Then it was gone, and he remembered to breathe.

He gasped for breath as he felt his eyes. It hadn't been blood or tears. There was nothing. No screams, no smoke, and no blood. He looked at Goleil's golden eyes, the fading aura.

Goleil turned around, and another ripple went through the Colosseo, this time stronger. It almost sent those closest stumbling away if it hadn't been for the rest of the crowd.

A portal began forming, but it was different from all the rest. This one wasn't shades of blue and purple. It swirled and crashed with shades of indigo and black, reds and blues.

Khalid tried to shake off his fear with speech. "This opponent is unlike the rest he hath faced, and only the next can compare. Let us pray that the Vreans god is still with him." He glanced at his two companions and saw they were pale as a sheet.

He looked at Erikson and sighed. The poor man had suffered enough.

As the portal finished, a bloody, mangled hand shakily emerged, grasping the portal's edge.

A monstrosity emerged from the portal as if pulling itself from the abyss. If it hadn't been as massive as it was, perhaps it wouldn't have been as terrifying. But that was not so.

Affixed to its head was a beaten and destroyed helm, rust eating away at the metal, and blood stained the dark holes in the helm.

'Perhaps it is for the best that I can't see within the helmet,' Goleil thought.

Its ruined chainmail scraped as its awful mangled legs slowly stepped into the arena. Arrows stuck out of its back and arms, and both hands rested on the decaying leather handle of a massive sword impaled hilt-deep into the knight's chest.

Its skin was pale and knarled, black knots of rot curling up the limbs uncovered by the blood-stained chainmail.

"What kind of godless monstrosity are you?" Goleil whispered as he tried not to breathe too deeply, for the stink of decay tried to penetrate his nostrils with each inhale.

To Goleil's astonishment, a ruined hand lifted from the sword's hilt in its chest, pointing at him. He heard a noise from the creature, like a drowned victim attempting to clear its lungs of water.

Goleil flinched when he heard a voice like gravel echo in his mind.

[You dare to mock me, young undead? What, pray tell, makes you believe you have any chance to defeat me?]

Goleil's eyes were as wide as saucers. "What? I'm not dead, heathen."

The strained noises again emerged from the monster, and Goleil realized it was its true voice.

[You don't need to deceive me, undead. I can smell the stench of death from you, even if life also clings to you. One need not be living to live, see? We are the same.]

Its head made a strange clicking sound as it gestured to its body.

Goleil's eyes narrowed as he recalled his death in the Battle of Three Kingdoms and his resurrection.

"You are an abomination, unnatural. I will purge you from this world, even if you are merely a mana construct."

The creature shook as it gargled strangely. Goleil realized it was laughing as a deep chuckle echoed within his head.

[Foolish undead. I am no mere construct. None of us are. Nor will you purge me, for I roam even while I converse with you. You are but a hatchling compared to me.]

"Hatchling?! I will send this body and the other to the Netherworld!" Goleil roared as he realized he didn't know how old he was.

It laughed once again as it rested both hands on the sword's hilt.

[A mere hatching dares to challenge me? I have seen beginnings and endings, the rising and falling of man's greatest monuments. The conquering and crumbling of kingdoms. The quietest deaths and the greatest regrets. I've seen everything there is to see, and it shall be a cold day in the Netherworld before I see a hatchling defeat me at my full glory.]