Inside the prison, the notice board in the middle of the cafeteria had changed
A thin layer of light now covered its surface, and it was projecting the current match of Soren versus Mirelle. The board had transformed from a static display of fight schedules into something more dynamic, more alive. Images flickered across its surface, showing the arena battle in real time as it unfolded above
Not every match was shown like this. Only the higher end matches, the ones that drew significant attention and entertainment value, were projected for the prison population to witness. The notice board now acted like a television, a window into the spectacle happening in the colosseum above
Most of the prisoners in the cafeteria had gathered to watch
They stood in loose clusters throughout the space, their eyes fixed on the projection. Conversations had quieted to whispers or ceased entirely. Even the blacksmithing area had slowed its constant work as prisoners paused to observe the match. The atmosphere had shifted from the ordinary rhythm of prison life to something more charged, more anticipatory
Noelle sat among them, her white and gold armour still pristine despite the casual way she reclined against one of the benches. Her green eyes were fixed on the projection, watching as Soren fought against Mirelle Kingsblade
There was no change in her expression throughout the entire match. Not when Soren dodged Mirelle's opening strike. Not when the water projectiles filled the arena. Not during the chaotic moments of close combat. And certainly not during the final moments when Soren threw his sword, when the explosions sent Mirelle flying backward, when the fight came to its devastating conclusion
All she thought was: Good. Reed won
But she said it with no emotion in her mind, as if she had already known the outcome or at least believed in it absolutely. Her faith in Soren had never wavered, even when the odds seemed impossible. Even when Mirelle's lightning storm filled the mist with thousands of threads of electrical death
She then looked closer at the projection, her eyes focusing on something beyond the immediate fight
In the background of the arena, visible only if one knew where to look, was King Cassian. The rank 4 announcer stood on thin air, his black suit immaculate, his cane tapping against nothing
Noelle's eyes narrowed slightly as she made the observation
So the Lightbearer has been permitted to use his magic under Cassian's domain, she thought. That was interesting. One of the four apostles, one of the highest authorities beneath Archbishop Lucedor Valmont himself, conducting operations within this prison colosseum under another's rule
It spoke to either a remarkable level of trust between them, or a purely business arrangement. Either way, it was noteworthy. The Lightbearer's presence, his influence, his magical authority flowing through this place, it suggested this was no ordinary prison entertainment venue
But there was no time to contemplate the implications
Noelle stood up abruptly, her attention now focused on something else entirely. She had seen Soren's final moments in the fight. She had seen what it cost him to win. His arm. His flesh burned and charred from the lightning and so she went to procure medicinal items that would help Soren once he came back from his fight
The entire crowd in the arena was now watching in rapt anticipation and cheering wildly. Some were betting, their voices raised in excitement as they called out odds and wagers. All waited to see the final outcome of the fight. Would Soren kill Mirelle or would he let her live?
Soren, still clenching Mirelle's sword with his only remaining arm, felt his regeneration magic now in full effect. The wound where his arm had been severed was healing at remarkable speed. His rank 2 regeneration magic worked much faster now that the fight was over and the magical restrictions were removed, just as it had when his life was in danger after the stabbing in his chest following his fight with Draven
The bleeding had already begun to stop. Fresh flesh was forming where the stump ended, bone beginning to knit itself back together. The pain was immense, a constant burning sensation that threatened to overwhelm his consciousness, but he pushed through it
Soren stood over Mirelle, a figure of absolute horror. His left arm ended in a half-healed stump, the flesh still raw and red, blood dripping steadily onto the arena floor. His entire body was covered in burn marks from the lightning, his skin charred in patches, revealing raw flesh beneath. His remaining eye was sharp and alert despite the devastation surrounding it. His scarred face was twisted with effort and pain, the muscles straining beneath the damaged tissue. He was barely human, barely recognizable as anything other than a creature of violence and suffering
He loomed over Mirelle and knelt down beside her with the sword in hand
"What a pretty sword," he said to himself, but said it aloud so she could hear. "I'll have fun using something like this"
Mirelle still lay motionless and hurt on the ground, but she mustered up the strength to say something. Her usually calm demeanour was gone, replaced by something rawer, more desperate as she looked towards her sword
"You don't deserve that sword," she said, her voice strained. "Only a Kingsblade has the right to-"
Before she could finish what she was saying, Soren stabbed the sword into the ground near the side of her head, the blade missing her by mere inches. The tip of the katana punctured the stone arena floor, leaving a visible mark
His disgusting face came closer to hers, his breath hot against her skin
"I don't give a shit," Soren said flatly
He paused, his one remaining functional eye staring down at her with an intensity that was almost suffocating
"I wonder if I should kill you," he said quietly. "Hm. I wonder"
His mouth contorted into what should have been a smile, but because of his hideous scarred appearance and messed up face, he just looked like a disgusting monster. His smile looked nothing like a normal human expression. It was the expression of something inhuman, something twisted and broken
Mirelle beneath him couldn't hide her disgust, but she forced herself to speak anyway
"If you are to kill me, just kill me while I wield my sword," she said, her voice steady despite her fear
"I want to hold it while I die"
Soren didn't say anything. He just looked at her with no outward emotion in his remaining eye, his expression completely unreadable. He was a statue carved from flesh and scars, a monument to suffering and violence
He grabbed the sword with his remaining hand, pulled it out of the ground, and raised it above his head
Mirelle closed her eyes
In her head, she said to herself 'Sorry, mother. I wasn't strong enough in the end'
She waited for the blow to fall. Waited for the pain that would end her. Waited for death
But nothing arrived
Instead, she felt him stand up. The shadow that had loomed over her moved away. The sword was lowered
"Come find me in the cafeteria after," Soren said simply
Mirelle's eyes snapped open in shock
Soren looked at the sword he had taken from Mirelle, turning it over in his hand, examining its weight and balance. A slight curve of what might have been humour crossed his twisted features
"I might even give your sword back if it means so much to you," he said
Cassian's voice boomed through the arena, his theatrical tone carrying perfectly across the space
"The monster has let her live! He is victorious!" the announcer declared, his words creating a moment of stunned silence before the crowd processed what had happened
Then the chanting began
Slowly at first, hesitant, but growing in volume and intensity
"Monster. Monster. Monster"
The crowd began chanting the word, over and over, their voices rising in a crescendo. The entire arena filled with the sound of thousands of voices calling out that single word, referring to Soren, branding him with a name that was both condemnation and acknowledgment of his power
"Monster. Monster. Monster"
Soren's reaction to this was unexpected. Instead of continuing to walk back toward the exit gate, he stopped momentarily. A sharp pain formed in his head, a stabbing sensation that threatened to split his skull apart. His hand was occupied, holding Mirelle's katana, unable to reach up. He could only stand there, his remaining arm gripping the sword as the pain lanced through his consciousness
He seemed to snap out of some kind of daze
The noise from the crowd, the constant chanting, the roar of thousands of voices calling him monster, he drowned it all out. Unconsciously but purposefully, he filtered it away, blocking it from his awareness. His mind simply refused to process it anymore
The fight ended as guards moved to collect the injured Mirelle, carefully lifting her from the ground and preparing to carry her to medical treatment. Soren, still holding Mirelle's katana, was escorted back through the gate by guards waiting to receive him
They led him away from the arena, back toward the prison proper
Cassian, standing on thin air above it all, finally snapped his fingers
The yellow light from the collars returned. The magical restrictions that had been lifted were reimposed. Full power became dulled once more. The enchantment on the arena was released, the space no longer a place of unleashed magic but a contained battlefield once again
The fight was over