A new day brought with it a new portion of pain, hardship, and despair.
Sunny and Elyas were dragged into the arena, the same Ascended warmonger guiding them by the chains attached to the collars. Sunny stumbled forward, his gaze locked on the man’s broad back.
The jailer was incredibly tall for a human, his height more than even that of the shadow demon Sunny was currently inhabiting. His figure was solemn and powerful, a sense of terrifying strength radiating from it in almost physical waves. The apostle of War wore the same ragged leather armor and a tattered red robe, his features hidden behind a deep hood.
In all these weeks, Sunny had never seen his face, or heard him speak.
The great blade on the Ascended warrior’s back looked special, too. It was definitely enchanted with very powerful magic… now that Sunny turned his thoughts to the nature of sorcery, he was silently studying the line of runes inscribed along the edge of the heavy weapon.
‘Runic magic again…’
That made sense… how else were these ancient people supposed to enchant their weapons? It was not like they could rely on Memories and spellweave. That said, magical weapons seemed to be much rarer in the Kingdom of Hope than in the waking world. Most of the Awakened Sunny had fought in the arena wielded either mundane ones or those possessing weak, primitive enchantments.
It was the far cry from the powerful Memories he was used to, although Sunny did not know if that was the nature of this era, or just another sign of the ubiquitous regression that seemed to reign in what remained of the Kingdom of Hope. Everything here seemed devolved, worn out, and on the verge of falling apart.
The whole region was obviously in decline, and had been for some time now.
…While studying the runes on the great blade, he also noticed that it had a few new nicks. The leather armor of the silent giant had more scratches than before, as well…
It seemed that the Ascended was participating in the battles in the arena himself.
‘I guess I’ll have to fight that monster too, eventually…’
Finally, a rusty iron gate appeared in front of them, blinding sunlight streaming through its bars. The rumbling voices of the crowd echoed from the stone walls, washing over him like a cursed tide.
The gate swung open, and the chains came off of their collars. Sunny and Elyas entered the first killing box and watched as their opponents crawled out of a similar tunnel.
The young Awakened brandished his weapon — a short spear fashioned out of a long twisting horn — and forced out a weak smile.
“Luck… luck is on our side today, Demon! These creatures are called Burrowers. On solid stone, their main advantage is gone! Just don’t let them swallow you…”
Sunny snarled, then dashed forward with a roar.
…Hard. Today was going to be hard.
He was forced to use Shadow Dance to peer into the souls of the Nightmare Creatures, despite suspecting that doing so too much threatened to destroy his already unsteady mind. He also had to both concentrate on the fight and thoroughly study the ancient theater, in hopes of discovering signs of Hope’s sorcery.
It was almost like his first training sessions with Saint, when he had to resist the taciturn monster while simultaneously keeping an eye on his shadow to decipher the secret of its dance. The problem was that, back then, he had ended up beaten black and blue by Saint most of the time.
Now, he couldn’t allow himself to lose.
Sunny descended upon the repulsive Burrowers, which looked like sacks of bulbous flesh with giant circular maws gaping in them, and tried to slaughter the abominations without being eaten alive.
…The first fight came and went, and then, it was time for the second one, and then the third one, and then the fourth.
Sunny had slain the vicious Burrowers, and then a creature that resembled a giant walking skeleton, its bones green and as tough as granite, and then a swarm of monstrous ants that covered the floor of the arena like a carpet, and then a being that was like an oozing mountain of mire sludge that had long, razor-sharp steel sickles protruding from it.
His body was torn, and sliced, and crushed, and gnawed on. Elyas had healed the most terrible wounds, but the rest remained, not worthy of having precious soul essence wasted on them, yet.
Sunny was once again overwhelmed by pain, rage, and the desperate need to fight for his survival. Everything else disappeared… the only thing that remained was battle, blood, and murder.
And fear.
…However, today, that wasn’t enough.
He fought through the battle fog that encompassed his mind and kept searching, studying every corner of the Red Colosseum — the floor of the arena, the walls surrounding it, the rows of seats rising above — in search of intricately engraved runes.
But all he saw were the statues of War God, the jubilant faces of the spectators, and the weathered surface of ancient stones. There was no hint of any engravings anywhere.
‘Where are you… where…’
The fifth battle almost cost him his life. While fighting against a familiar foe — a giant worm-like creature that possessed a seemingly endless reserve of vitality — Sunny had tripped on the uneven surface of the floor of the arena, lost his balance, and tumbled down.
If not for Elyas, who fearlessly jumped forward and pulled the attention of the terrible abomination to himself, he would have been viciously mauled, or even lost his life.
Back when Sunny had fought a worm like that the first time, the creature eventually succumbed to the soul damage continuously dealt to it by the Cruel Sight. Today, however, he had no deadly Memory to help him… only his claws, his fangs, and his horns.
In the end, Sunny had to literally rip the giant abomination to shreds. Only when its body was torn apart completely did the worm stop regenerating new flesh and recovering from all the wounds, and finally died.
Exhausted, Sunny fell to his knees and breathed hoarsely, then threw a hateful glance at the crowd chanting his name. Finally, he lowered his head and glared at the wide groove in the red stone of the arena that had almost cost him his life.
There were several grooves like that in some of the killing boxes, cutting through the floor of the colosseum like broad channels meant for the rivers of blood to flow through them. Usually, he took note of their placement in advance to avoid losing his footing at a dire moment, but today, with his attention split between the battles and the need to study the arena, Sunny had failed in that regard.
‘Damn thing… why couldn’t they just make the arena flat?!’
Well, the answer was obvious. All that blood had to go somewhere, and if not for these grooves, the whole colosseum would have slowly turned into one giant crimson pool.
He frowned.
‘Wait… that doesn’t make sense, though…’
Sunny lingered, noticing that the gate to the sixth box was already opening.
The grooves were as ancient as the Red Colosseum itself… which meant that they had been here long before the Warmongers started holding their demented Trials here. Long before the name Red Colosseum was even given to it.
Which meant that these grooves had been cut through the stone back when it had still been pristine white, and had no blood spilled on it.
So… serving as channels that took away blood could not have been their purpose.
Sunny’s lightless eyes narrowed. Suddenly, he realized his mistake.
All this time, he had been looking for the sorcerous runes while expecting them to look like they had the previous times he encountered them — intricate, small, and numerous, arranged into shapes and patterns. And yet, he had found nothing.
But, in fact, the runes were right in front of him the whole time… or rather, beneath his feet.
He was just too small and insignificant to notice them, like an ant crawling across a vast painting and failing to see the whole image for what it was.
There were no circles of intricate runes carved anywhere in the colosseum… instead, the whole vastness of the ancient arena was a runic circle, a canvas Hope had used to create her sorcery.
…He was standing on it.
