Chris groaned as he sat up, rolling his sore shoulders. The crater he had made upon landing stretched several feet in diameter, cracked stone and dirt outlining his impact.
"Damn girl…" he muttered, rubbing his aching back. "If I were normal, that throw would've killed me."
He staggered to his feet, taking in his surroundings. The ruins stretched before him, moss-covered walls whispering of a history long forgotten. Vines curled around shattered pillars, and the air carried the damp, musky scent of time itself.
"What is this place?" he murmured, eyes tracing the ancient carvings etched into stone.
A narrow staircase twisted downward into the dark, the faint roar of rushing water calling to him. He took cautious steps, his breath steady. Then, from below, a flash of blue pulsed through the chamber like a heartbeat.
Chris entered the shrine. Shallow seawater, glowing an ethereal blue, pooled at his feet. It shimmered like liquid light, illuminating the cavern in ghostly radiance.
"Whoa…" he exhaled, marveling at the luminescent water.
Then—
"You there…"
Chris tensed, scanning the chamber. The voice echoed without a source, an eerie whisper against the still air.
"I am not of physical form, dear child."
The whisper came from beneath his feet.
From the glowing water rose a hooded figure, its body a violent storm of blue light. The chamber trembled with its presence. Chris shielded his eyes from the blinding radiance.
"I am Virgil," the specter intoned, its voice both distant and commanding. "The story-weaver of this shrine, where a mighty king rests. No warrior greater than Beowulf, son of Scyld. No beast nor monster bested him. Even in death, he remains grand."
Chris swallowed, still adjusting to the sheer power emanating from the being before him.
"I can share but a taste of Beowulf's tale—if you have the patience to listen."
Chris hesitated. "I… I don't think I have time for that."
Virgil clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Young fools with no love for history."
"Hey now," Chris scoffed. "I thought ghosts were supposed to be wise, not petty." He sighed, his gaze sweeping across the chamber. "What is this place, really?"
Virgil exhaled—a long, withering sigh. "This is where Beowulf was buried." His glowing form flickered slightly. "If that is all, then begone. You have disturbed my slumber for nothing."
Chris caught sight of inscriptions on the wall. He stepped closer, fingers brushing the weathered stone. But time and salt had worn the writing down to near gibberish.
"What's this?"
Virgil floated forward. "A prophecy. Given by Beowulf himself."
The blue light pulsed again. "On the day my descendants bear twins, beware the one marked by the Gray Wolf's Carving. That child will not bring prosperity—only the fall of our great Brigaden."
Chris frowned. "Wolf's Carving?"
"She is blinded in one of the eyes" Virgil explained. "Across the blue hue of her iris lies the distinct mark of three claws, such a child will bring the end of Brigaden."
Then, as suddenly as he had come, Virgil's form dissipated into the glowing water. "Now begone. I need my rest."
Chris stared after him, then clenched his fists. "That didn't help at all." He turned toward the staircase. "I need to get back to Aria. Fast."
Aria gritted her teeth, pressing a hand to her shoulder, while using one of the many trees as a support. No blood spilled, but she could feel the disconnection between her right arm and shoulder.
"I was a little careless…" she muttered, sinking to one knee.
Through the darkness between the trees came the familiar eyes, they glowed as if touched by Midas.
The wolves circled closer, burning with hunger. Their black fur bristled, their heavy paws crunching against the broken ground. Aria had taken down too many of their packmates. Now, they were ready to rip her apart.
Then—
A shadow fell from the sky.
The ground shook with the force of the impact. Dust erupted around the figure that had landed, obscuring them from view. The wolves tensed, their growls deepening into a wary silence.
As the dust settled, a young figure stood tall, draped in a dark brown robe with golden sashes.
"The Sin Jayeon in this area is perfect," I mused, brushing off my sleeves. "I haven't tested its combat potential yet."
A lycan lunged, claws slicing through the air.
I caught its wrist mid-strike my hands coated in a red pulsing light. With just a touch of the cleansing energy going through my hand a shockwave of pure energy coursed through the beast's body, its monstrous frame convulsing violently. Black goo bubbled from its mouth as it crumpled, lifeless.
Too much impurity flowed through them. A single touch of the Nature of the Gods was enough to kill.
"Making this a little too easy, guys," I muttered, tightening my fists.
The pack attacked all at once.
I moved faster.
Slipping between their ranks, I delivered fatal blows—each strike a death sentence. Their monstrous howls were cut short as one by one, they collapsed into twitching heaps of darkness.
"Damn, kid." A voice crackled in my earpiece. Cleondra. "What the hell did they have you doing out there?"
I adjusted the mic. "Just enough to help everyone." I glanced at Aria's weakened form. "Where's Chris?"
"Aria's last report said she threw him up north. I'll retrieve him. You protect Aria until I return."
"Got it."
I lifted Aria into my arms. The remaining wolves circled, drool dripping from their fangs. Their hunger had turned to desperation.
Taking a deep breath, I channeled the Sin Jayeon into my legs.
"This is gonna be a long night…"
---
Seven hours had passed since the tournament began. Blood had been spilled. Warriors had fallen. Some forfeited out of sheer terror.
The final fight of the night
Japheth vs. the King of Fist, Gilgamesh.
The Queen of Brigaden, Maryann, leaned toward her butler. "Who is that young man?"
Many fighters were men and women whose age and background were appropriate. Japheth was the youngest fighter here.
"Japheth Dean," Creighton replied. "A participant from Rusi. No reputation. No accomplishments."
"No fear, either," Maryann noted. "Do you think he stands a chance?"
"He stood up to Duke in Odin's Stowaway."
Maryann raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Then let's see what he can do."
Yuri watched from the stands unsure if this young man was fit to be within the role of Rusi's fighters. Compared to the other's, Japheth was the smallest here. All of the other warriors towered over the him. He recalled the words of Rusi's emperor, how he should trust the Greek Institute.
"It's up to us to put a stop to the prophecy." His emperor spoke. "Brigaden is ours to save from the accused child. I've heard that your son has also went missing during the invasion. All I can tell you is this Yuri... Do not expect to see him again, there are mountains of corpses littering the country side."
"He may be among them." Yuri's mustache twitched in anger. "The least I can do is put a stop to those beast."
He opened his eyes to see the fighter that was given to them.
"Young man... Please don't die foolishly."
In the arena, Japheth's fists clenched. He locked eyes with his opponent—a towering old man, his muscles knotted like twisted steel beneath his robes.
Gilgamesh chuckled, his deep voice rumbling across the colosseum.
"Even after thousands of years, youth remains arrogant." He stroked his long beard. "Usually you'd greet an elder like myself."
He removed his robe. The crowd gasped at the sheer grotesque power of his ancient, inhuman physique. A lone loincloth was his only piece of clothing left.
"Ew…" Japheth winced seeing such structure of the human anatomy.
"You'd best retake that statement." Gilgamesh flexed his bronze coloured skin.
Before he could react, Gilgamesh was upon him.
A fist blurred toward his face.
Japheth dodged by instinct alone.
The force of the missed punch cut the air like a blade.
He couldn't blink. Not once.
Because if he did—he would die.
Gilgamesh grinned. "You dodge well… but can you survive?"
With that, the King of Fist continued his onslaught. Dust flew once more obscuring the view of the people, it was thanks to the quick foot work of both fighters that sent blows, and dodged so said blows.
Japheth sent a kick that was caught by Gilgamesh, he held the young man over his head like a doll readying to slam him into the ground and a spine shattering speed. While pulling him overhead, Japheth's elbow smashed into Gilgamesh's jaw. He spun in a cartoonish fashion before stopping himself.
Silence came over the audience once the smoke cleared.
"Gilgamesh is bleeding!" Someone shouted. "He made Gilgamesh bleed."
Japheth got up from the ground and dusted himself off. The smirk was automatic, he couldn't help showing up another person successfully.
Intrigue and pain was clear on Gilgamesh dark brown, decrepit face.
"Your truly outstanding boy." He spat blood into the mustard coloured sand by his feet.
"You too old man." Japheth panted.
"I apologize for not taking this battle seriously young warrior." Gilgamesh bowed. "From now on, I will do my utmost best to either have you forfeit this match..." His stance lowered. Gilgamesh stretched his right leg forward while keeping left leg bent at an awkward angle. His two hands stretched forward into a pushing position. "Or your life."
The crowd quieted once more taking in the sight of the of Gilgamesh's strange stance.
"What are you doing?" Japheth asked wearily.
"Why not come and find out." A sinister smile grew on Gilgamesh.
"Maybe I will!" He fell for the taunt and attacked.
At first he saw Gilgamesh, but then his vision went blurry and he had crashed into the stadium wall creating a body sized dent. Japheth felt his back screaming in agony, yet his mind was louder.
"What the hell was that?!" He thought.
"You survived." Gilgamesh was a little astonished from the boy's defense. "This technique will surely end you. It's something I created in my fight against the gods. 'The Road of the Annunaki is usually to defend oneself from attackers. Be proud boy, I only use such a move to defend myself from those I deem a threat."
"Your one talkative old man..." Japheth growled.
At first small pieces of dirt began to attach to Japheth, half of his body slowly harden.
"An earth user?" Gilgamesh lost his composure.
An opening!
Japheth launched himself sending a fist the length of his body. The stones had shifted to his hand, increasing its size and attack power. He repaid Gilgamesh by sending him I to the stone walls, the hole left was a little larger.
Gilgamesh fell to the ground and wheezed a laugh out.
"Who would have thought?" He mused, the pain leaving his expression slowly. "I didn't expect an earth shifter to still be around these days. The world is full of surprises."
"Your in for a surprise alright!" Japheth detached the boulder sized rock from his hand and threw it.
Gilgamesh dodged and was about to take his stance, but Japheth was before him once more. Waving his two arms like mallets, on each hand was a body sized stoned fist. Evasion wasn't possible so Gilgamesh tried to block it.
Even with the strength in his legs it felt like he would be crushed by this abnormal fist.
The two struggled, but Gilgamesh won in the bout of strength he pushed back the eager boy and got back into the Road of Annunaki stance. Japheth tried to attack, but was thrown at painful speed into the walls of the colosseum.
"Everytime something gets near him it gets sent back fast." Japheth removed some blood from his lips.
The crowd was in an uproar from the battle before them.
Above the cheers and shouts, perched on the ledge overlooking all that was below sat an entertained Mary Ann. She turned to Creighton and praised Rusi's fighters.
"He's lasting quite a while against the King of the fist." She chuckled.
"Forgive me my lady." Creighton straightened his black tie. "But I can already see the outcome of the fight. Unlike that boy who looks tired, Gilgamesh still hasn't broken a sweat yet."
"The boy has drawn blood." She pointed out. "He may act fine but I'm sure Japheth left some kind of damage."
"That's a pretty useful move." Japheth remarked. "So all you do is throw things all day with that stupid stance?"
"This stance is the reason you were thrown at such speeds." Gilgamesh stated ominously.