Descent of a God

The Victoriad

|Jude|

Seris had arranged for me to become a temporary professor at Central Academy so that I could participate in the Victoriad and face a Sovereign. My mission was clear, but as I led my students into the stadium, I couldn't help feeling a cold fury building up inside me at the sight of unarmed and manaless people being torn apart by mana beasts.

I knew I had to restrain my emotions for the greater good. But as I sat there, forced to watch the slaughter, I couldn't help but hate the onlookers who cheered as if they were watching a show.

For a moment, I envisioned unleashing my destructive powers and burning the entire stadium and its inhabitants to ashes. But the silence of my students in our staging area reminded me of the weight of my responsibility as a teacher and a protector. I couldn't let my emotions get the best of me.

Still, the sounds of my students' laboured breathing, their knuckles cracking as they gripped the rails, and their quiet whimpers of disgust at the wolves' feasting only added to my frustration and anger.

I reminded myself of my duty, to face the Sovereign and avenge my people. 

As my students finished their bouts, my mind was already consumed by the upcoming main event. I tried to pay attention to my students as they fought, but my thoughts kept drifting towards the Scythes and retainers that remained. Only Viessa, Nico, Seris, and Cordelia were left, which meant that few retainers remained as well.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the sound of marching footsteps. A man in dark plated armor, with short-cropped grey hair and horns jutting out of his head, strode purposefully towards the center of the combat field. A blue cape trailed behind him, and his serious face seemed to command attention wherever his orange eyes focused.

No introduction was needed for this man. The crowd already knew who he was: Haydraught, retainer of Sehz-Clar. 

Haydraught strode purposefully to the center of the field, his dark plated armour clanking with each step, and his blue cape trailing behind him. Horns jutted out of his short-cropped grey hair, and his orange eyes seemed to radiate an intense aura that made the crowd tremble.

When he reached the middle of the field, he turned towards the high box and bowed deeply to Scythe Seris Vritra, whose hair glowed like liquid pearl in the sunlight. Her battlerobes shone like black diamonds, and I couldn't help but be struck by her beauty.

As Seris stepped back into the shadows, a second figure appeared, marching towards Haydraught. She seemed indistinct, almost ethereal, as if made of shadow itself. Her plain black robes hung from her thin frame, drifting and moving as if collapsing back into darkness around her ankles.

Her white hair was short and spiked, practically glowing in contrast with her midnight black skin and robes. I couldn't help but think it was a nice trick, the way she seemed to float over the ground, carried on a wind of black mist.

Mawar, the Black Rose of Etril.

Stopping beside Haydraught, Mawar also bowed to the high box.

Another woman stepped out onto the balcony, raising her hand toward her retainer. She was a lot like Scythe Seris Vritra, and, at the same time, almost her opposite. The woman's silvery-gray skin wasn't painted, and she wore no ornamentation in her bright white hair. Unlike Seris's delicate horns, this woman had two pairs of thick black horns that curved away from her scalp, dark and heavy.

She wasn't wearing a dress or battlerobes, but was clad in armor made of white scales: larger, slightly darker plates at her shoulders, neck, and hips had an organic look to them, almost like bone, while smaller, arrow-shaped scales meshed together over the rest of her body.