''Fight!''
''Fight!!''
The roars in the arena had reached a crescendo as the spectators shouted from the top of their lungs, their gazes split between Cyrus and 298.
At this point, it was clear that whoever of the two recovered first and managed to get back on their feet would be able to win the fight!
And yet, Cyrus couldn't hear any of it. Not the animated shouts of the crowd yelling for him to get up, nor the painful wails of the bony youth whose ribs had almost surely fractured if not outright broken after his last punch.
No, the only thing Cyrus could focus on at this moment was his breathing, and even there, he wasn't doing a very good job.
With every second breath he took, he couldn't help but cough loudly, his desperate wheezing unable to mask the blood he was still vomiting.
As for the sharp pain coming from his neck, he didn't know if his neck bone had been broken, but even if it hadn't its condition was anything but good.
And yet, as the crowd watched with bated breaths, eager to witness the conclusion of the fight, a sudden, feminine voice took the entire coliseum by surprise, drowning the Red Arena under its cold, authoritative tone
''Zoren Solkar! Come out! The Order of Zephyr is here! There's nowhere left to hide!''
The feminine voice had barely echoed when an armored guard rushed past the iron doors and up in the stands, heading straight for the old steward who had yet to fully regain his bearings.
Zoren Solkar was still engrossed in the fight of the two slaves below him, when the guard's voice entered his ears in a trembling whisper
''Manager, we are in trouble! An Exemplar of Zephyr is here!''
The old steward seemed to snap out of his reverie the moment he heard those words, his gaze turning sharp and inquisitive as he stared down the guard
''An Exemplar of Zephyr? In Morwyn?''
The guard nodded and took a deep breath, ignoring the prying eyes of the crowd around him as he forced himself to answer, his tone still laced with lingering hints of disbelief
''It's Sylarei Vorrin. She's come with more than a dozen Bloodsworn of her church.''
The old steward's gaze finally widened, his expression falling for the very first time tonight. If an Exemplar of Zephyr was here, things were indeed going to get messy. This wasn't something he or the Zyvarros had planned for, after all.
At the same time, the crowd in the arena had already started to whisper among themselves, the name 'Sylarei Vorrin' having clearly been overheard.
To his credit however, the old steward barely lingered for a couple of seconds before his gaze fell back on the Bloodpit -on the two children who were still struggling to stand up- as he gave out his orders
''Take the slaves and get in the underground tunnel. It'll lead you right out of the city, close to the entrance of the Amethyst Forest. Don't let the city guard notice you and wait there until I send reinforcements.''
Turning around, Zoren Solkar continued to bark orders at the guards around him, assigning one of them to clean up the Slaves' Pen and completely wipe all traces of the slaves after they were gone, while the rest of them were supposed to follow him and meet Zephyr's Exemplar.
Cyrus had no idea what was going on in the stands right now but he could feel the atmosphere in the arena that had suddenly changed. He didn't know if it was the crowd that had stopped chanting or if it was 298's wails that had caused this shift… and frankly, he couldn't care about it either. His wheezing had just subsided and his blood coughing had just stopped when he felt a massive arm wrap around his stomach and pick him up effortlessly before it started to run.
His vision was still blurry, not having recovered after the unending retching he had just gone through, but even instinctively, Cyrus didn't allow himself to lose consciousness. He couldn't.
Thus, as the massive figure carrying him like a piece of log sprinted towards the entrance, the last thing Cyrus saw was that hateful, slimy old steward addressing the crowd around him as the bloody arena vanished behind him.
..
Despite carrying both him and 298 in each hand, Cyrus could see the walls around him turn into a blur as the armored guard sprinted through the empty halls at breakneck speed.
Cyrus had no idea how strong an Ironbound warrior really was, but judging purely from the man's speed, he could tell that even if he and 298 teamed up, they had no chance if they tried to fight him.
It only took a minute for the armored giant to return to the Slaves' Pen and order the second guard to wake all the slaves and get going.
Some of the prisoners began to protest, unwilling to be dragged around like this, but the guards made it clear that they weren't going to waste any time with them.
Those who refused were quickly reminded their place, and in the blink of an eye, everyone had already arrived at the entrance of the underground tunnels.
Cyrus was barely holding on to his consciousness, the pain from his neck flaring even more frequently as he was carried around like a piece of wood, but the guard seemed to think little of it as he led everyone into the tunnels.
The last thing Cyrus heard before the other guard locked the tunnel's entrance was a loud, feminine voice reaching his ears from afar as it ordered coldly
''Search everything!''