I stepped out onto the arena floor, my leather boots sinking a tiny bit into the sand. As I advanced toward the center, I spun once to take in row upon row of spectators. It was only a standard fight day, so a few seats were empty, but the arena was still decently packed. Finishing my spin, I ended up facing the same direction I'd started in.
A roar of cheers and jeers thundered through the stands, the crowd reacting to my every step. I swallowed hard, trying not to let their clamor rattle me. Suddenly, a voice boomed from above, commanding everyone's attention:
"Ladies and gentlemen! Today, we present a special event on this glorious day—and an unexpected one at that. Look at that young lad down there! He's the one who met our glorious princess! Not only did she choose him—yes, him—to be a candidate for her royal guard, but she has traveled all the way from the capital just to see him fight again!
So, in honor of Her Majesty, we've transformed this match into something worthy of a royal! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you—the MANTICORE!"
At that, the heavy wooden gate ahead of me burst open—wood and iron banding splintering into the sand—as a massive shape bounded out. Each of its four paws was about the size of my chest, slamming into the ground hard enough to make the sand quiver. Its face was eerily human yet warped, as if fashioned by a demented sculptor referencing some aged, twisted painting. A long, barbed tail flicked behind it, and the rest of its body resembled a savage feline, far beyond any normal cat.
Immediately, the crowd's roaring cheers rose even higher, along with the echo of heels stomping on wooden planks—like they thought slamming their feet might burn off some pent-up energy. Then, across the arena, I caught a flicker of gold, Princess Aliynn herself moving forward on her balcony. A hush spread outward from her section to encompass the whole arena, as if everyone was straining to see her reaction. The abrupt shift from raucous cheers to silence rattled me more than I liked to admit.
The Manticore snorted a plume of black smoke, letting out a guttural bellow that filled that hush with dread. My grip on the hammer tightened. Something about its aura—akin to the contractors' presence—tugged at my Deva side, urging me to eradicate this abomination. The force of that instinct nearly overwhelmed me, but I gritted my teeth and steadied myself.
I began circling the beast in a wide semi-circle, scanning for weaknesses. A few scattered shouts rose from the stands, but I barely noticed, forcing them out of my mind as Instructor Kushim had taught me. My eyes kept flicking to the Manticore's barbed tail, which swayed lazily in the air as though it couldn't care less about me. Then, abruptly, it lashed out like a whip across a slave's back. I ducked, and a sharp spine whizzed past, thunking into the dirt behind me. Another spine clanged off my helmet, leaving my head ringing. That twisted, almost-human face contorted into a mocking grin.
"You'll have to try harder than that, you overgrown cat. I've shat out nastier things than your thorns," I spat, hoping to rile it. The beast let out a rasping chuckle—a disturbingly human sound.
A swirl of black smoke curled from its maw again, drifting near a brazier mounted high on the arena wall. For an instant, the smoke caught in the flame, creating a burst of heat before dispersing. My heart pounded—if I could lure it near that fire, maybe I could tap into the flicker of power I'd felt before. But using that ability would require focus and precious time I probably didn't have.
The Manticore half-charged, feinted, then launched another spine at me. I jerked aside, lifting my buckler in time for a dull clang that left a deep dent in the metal. My hammer swung almost by reflex, striking the creature's thick tail near its spines. The blow caused more annoyance than actual injury, but it reassured me that my reflexes were holding up.
Moving left, I scooped a fistful of sand into my off-hand and stepped closer. Faking a wide hammer swing, I abruptly threw the sand at its face. The grains hit both of its eyes, making it rear back, snarling and shaking its massive head. I seized the moment and slammed the hammer onto its skull. A jarring shock rippled up my arm as steel met bone.
A paw the size of my torso crashed into the ground where I'd just stood. The Manticore's eyes cracked open, red and swollen with sand. Its previous mocking smirk vanished, replaced by a malice-filled sneer, more black smoke roiling from its maw. I spat on the ground and backpedaled. It followed, gradually gaining speed.
I risked a quick look at the brazier again. If I could distract it one more time, maybe I could harness that flame. But I needed the right opening. The princess's gaze seemed to burn into me from her box—Focus, I reminded myself.
Exhaling, I locked eyes with the Manticore, my knuckles whitening around the hammer's handle. Then I turned and sprinted for the wall with the brazier. The beast thundered after me, every heavy footfall slamming sand in all directions.
The closer I got, the more I felt it—like a single word, Cleanse, echoing in my head. It dawned on me that perhaps the fire wanted the same thing I did: to burn away this impurity. I sensed the Manticore's massive bulk not even a full pace behind me, its maw gaping wide, black smoke bellowing out. Diving right, I collided with the wall, but it crashed into the stone far harder, knocking the brazier loose.
I forced my will onto that flame, willing it not just to flicker or drift but to obey me. And in fairness, it did—though not in any grand way. It dripped downward like liquid, mingling with the roiling smoke below. That alone was enough: fire droplets struck the inky haze, igniting it in a sudden conflagration.