The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
The Arena
The arena stretched before us, a grand stage where the fate and honor of mages clashed. Its resemblance to the Divine Throne was striking, but there were subtle differences that set it apart. Unlike the Divine Throne, where exhibitions took precedence and seats stretched infinitely, this arena at Western University was a battleground used every day. Thousands of seats still encircled the arena, but the observation room had been sacrificed for a broader battlefield. Illusory screens projected matches before the seats, with significant battles like ours broadcast throughout the campus.
"Getting cold feet?" Fyren's voice cut through my nerves, his teasing tone attempting to dispel my unease.
I absently curled a strand of hair around my finger, a nervous habit second only to stroking my horns. "It's just… I didn't expect so many people."