"Ah… I forgot to say."
A calm, almost courteous voice slipped into Jael's ears.
"…I'm Lucas."
The world lurched.
Jael didn't see the attack.
There was no warning. No flash of movement. No time to react.
One moment he was standing in the center of the colosseum, knees shaking, rusted sword trembling in his grip—
the next, his vision collapsed inward.
Pain detonated.
His body slammed violently into something solid.
CRACK.
Jael's breath was ripped from his lungs as his right arm punched deep into stone. Not hit—embedded. The wall of the colosseum spider-webbed outward from the point of impact, chunks of rock crumbling to the sand below.
For half a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then sensation returned.
Agony tore through his arm like wildfire.
"GAAHH—!"
Jael screamed, his voice raw and unrecognizable. Blood spilled freely from his forearm, soaking into the cracked stone, dripping down in thick crimson lines. His fingers spasmed uselessly, numb and burning at the same time.
His sword clattered to the sand far below.
"I— I can't feel my hand…"
His chest heaved violently as he struggled to breathe. Each inhale scraped his lungs. Each exhale came out broken.
The sun overhead felt distant. Unreal.
A shadow fell across him.
Lucas stood several paces away, spear resting loosely against his shoulder, his posture relaxed—almost bored. His dark red eyes examined Jael the way one might study a broken weapon.
"So you survived that," Lucas said mildly. "Interesting."
The crowd erupted.
"HAHAHA!" "He stuck him to the wall!" "Did you see that throw?!" "Rip his arm off!"
Noise crashed down from every direction, but Jael barely heard it. His world had narrowed to pain and panic and the unbearable pressure pinning his arm in place.
I'm going to die.
The realization settled cold and absolute.
He tried to pull free.
The moment he moved, white-hot agony surged through his shoulder and down his spine. Jael screamed again, his vision blurring as tears streamed freely.
"Don't," Lucas said casually.
Jael froze, panting.
Lucas tilted his head. "If you force it, you'll tear the muscles clean. You might bleed out before I even finish."
Jael let out a weak, hysterical laugh.
"You're… giving me advice?"
Lucas smiled faintly. "Habit."
He began walking forward.
Each step was slow. Measured. The crunch of sand beneath his boots sounded unnaturally loud to Jael's ears.
His heart pounded so violently it hurt.
Move. Think. Do something.
Jael's eyes darted desperately around the arena. The rusted sword lay far away, useless. The guards stood motionless at the edges, watching with detached amusement.
No help.
No escape.
Lucas stopped just outside arm's reach.
Up close, Jael felt it—the pressure. Not mana, not exactly. Something heavier. Something that pressed against his instincts and told him, very clearly:
You do not belong here.
Lucas studied him silently.
Then his gaze sharpened.
"When I threw you," Lucas said slowly, "something reacted."
Jael's breath hitched.
"A sound," Lucas continued. "Not audible. But real."
Jael's head throbbed.
"I don't know what you are," Lucas said, his tone calm but intent. "But whatever's inside you… it doesn't like seeing its vessel damaged."
The crowd's chanting grew louder.
"FIGHT!" "FIGHT!" "FIGHT!"
Jael's vision wavered.
A pressure built behind his eyes—deep, familiar, terrifying. His skull felt too small for what stirred inside it. His thoughts blurred at the edges, slipping away like sand through fingers.
No… not now.
A flicker of light appeared at the edge of his vision.
Gone.
His heart slammed harder.
Lucas raised his spear.
"Let's test it," he said quietly.
The tip of the spear lowered—aimed directly at Jael's chest.
"If you survive this," Lucas said, "then you're worth keeping alive."
Fear unlike anything Jael had ever known gripped him.
Not the fear of pain.
Not the fear of death.
The fear of losing control.
His arm burned. His vision darkened. The chanting became distant, warped, as though heard through water.
Damn it…
His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached.
I don't care anymore.
Something inside him answered.
Not loudly.
Not yet.
But enough.
Enough for the air around him to tremble.
Enough for Lucas's eyes to widen—just slightly.
"Ah," Lucas murmured. "There you are."
Jael's pupils flickered, violet bleeding into lemon green.
And then—
The world went dark