Dearest Elizabeth,

It’s hard to tell whether it's day or night around here. Darkness is all around us. That mage bloke from the 8th, Gerry, I think, said the dark clouds overhead prevent teleportation and magical transmission. He did not tell us what other effects it has but it’s probably more dangerous than what they let on since they kept us under some sort of shield.

This darkness is some wicked craft of the void mages living on what the people here call “The Drum”. Atop this circular plateau, the fortress of Void House Al’Rhazr stands. Sheer cliffs surround the fortress. The engynares are having trouble pulling into position their siege constructs because the psybatteries from the fortress won’t stop pounding them. I hope they find some way to reach the fortress soon.

It’s been two weeks since we besieged this place. Don’t worry, dear. Fortunately, my unit is placed quite far back. All the battery from the fortress is directed to the siege constructs. I assure you that I am quite safe. I will return home after I have done my part in serving the Paximillon and his servant the Dragon Emperor. Keep safe and lock the doors at night. Tell the kids I’m fighting to keep the empire safe. I want to make them proud of their father. I love you.

Letter recovered from the belongings of Roylin Powell

(Imperial Records on the Extermination of Void Mages)

This was simply routine.

A man sat in a corner of the fighters’ waiting area. His brown hair was cropped quite close to his scalp. His brown eyes were focused on the knife he held in front of his face. His face was youthful and pure, looking like a lost choirboy seating with muscular gladiators.

Just another boring fight. Best to get it quickly done.

His armor chinked together as he shifted the knife from one hand to the other, his eyes following its movement through the air. His upper arms were covered with pointed layered metal rerebraces sitting snuggly below his horned shoulderplates. Vambraces covered with several rows of barb-like spikes protected his lower arms. A cuirass with several inscriptions etched by a very sharp blade shielded his chest.

Get this done quickly, but enjoy it as well.

He hoped that this time the target would present some challenge. It has been quite a while since his prey entertained him. He always found the despair in the eyes of his victims amusing. Just the eyes. Always the eyes. No need for flailing limbs and incessant screams. No, he does not like those. He found begging and shrieking annoying.

He preferred his target to cower in fear. Curling up into a ball. Trying to make themselves look small, having the insane hope that he won’t notice them. He wanted to stare into their eyes. Looking for the exact moment when they realize that they were going to die. That they cannot do anything about it.

Lowering his knife, he stared at the door leading to the arena. Slowly, a wide grin formed on his face. Just wait for a little while, he told himself. His prey would present himself. No escape for him. No one does. They all die in the end anyway. In the end, they look at him in the same way. Eyes that cannot accept fate.

He slowly stood up and sheathed his knife. He heard that his opponent is quite fast and nimble. Let us see if this one can escape death. Perhaps this one can last longer than the others can. There were goosebumps forming on his skin beneath his armor. A giddy feeling swept over him.

The doors leading to the arena opened. He knew it was time.

He walked out to meet his match. The eyes. Always the eyes.

“The next fight will be between Sicarius and the BasketSlayer!”

At last, a chance to see despairing eyes once again. Routine. Just routine.

An odd parade trooped into the special box above the arena. Two Fahllyrs in their leather armor, and three apprentice sealcrafters in their green robes.

“Yehey! We get to see a fight!”

“Felixia, calm down,” her brother scolded her.

“Stop trying to act cool and all. I know you’re excited to see a fight as well.”

“I must admit, a change of scenery every now and then is good. Making magical formations all day are becoming a bore,” Harvey said.

“Ugh, why did you have to drag them along, Jel?” Aileen said. She folded her arms across her chest and placed her feet on the backrest of the seat in front of her.

“I didn’t drag them along. They just sort of dragged themselves along with us. Anyway, why did you choose this match to watch? Worried about your boyfriend?”

Felixia stuck her head between Jel and Aileen. “Aileen has a boyfriend? Did she threaten him into a relationship?”

Aileen pushed Felixia’s face away. “He’s not my boyfriend. And I don’t have to threaten anyone to like me.”

“Yeah, you’re such a likable person,” Harvey said sarcastically under his breath. He noticed Aileen staring at and promptly kept his mouth shut.

Felixia hugged Aileen’s head from behind. “I’m so proud of you! You have a boyfriend! Aw, I want one too.”

“No!” her brother exclaimed. “You’re still too young to have a boyfriend!”

“But Aileen already has one. Well then, I’ll just wait a couple of years then get a boyfriend.”

Aileen sighed. “Could all of you just stop? He is not my boyfriend. Just some guy I gave food to.”

“Looks like I don’t even need to exert an effort teasing you. Felixia is doing such a fine job,” Jel said. "You gave him food. I haven't seen you give anything to anyone. Obviously, he's your boyfriend."

“As I have said before, he’s not my-”

“Oh really? Then explain why we are watching this match? When we watched his first match, it was apparent that he knows how to take care of himself. You’re worried about him?”

“No!” Aileen protested. “I’m not worried about him. It’s just that I heard that his opponent is going to be an A-ranked adventurer. Sicarius I think?”

“Sicarius? Hmm. He has a nasty bit of reputation.”

Felixia stuck her head between the Fahlyyrs again and raised her hand. “I know who that guy is! He’s with the team of Logan and Lucas Baccarat.”

“My sister is a fan of the Baccarat adventurer team,” Felix explained.

“They are very strong! And the Baccarat brothers are twins! They’re handsome too.” Felixia giggled.

Jel looked down at the arena. The entrance to the stage opened and the combatants were entering. “This Sicarius guy is rumored to have a knife with a sealed demon spirit inside it.”

“Woah! Where did he get that?” Felix asked.

“Probably from one of the people he killed? He’s a bounty hunter of sorts in the adventurer’s guild. That’s the kind of line of work he does.”

Aileen frowned. “The adventurer’s guild allowed him to hold on to that knife?”

“That’s why I just said ‘rumored’,” Jel said. “He’s a secretive person apparently and it’s not like the adventurer’s guild can perform checks on the weapons of their members.”

“He’s still holding on to that stupid basket,” Aileen mumbled as a black robed man stepped on the stage.

“The next fight will be between Sicarius and the BasketSlayer!”

Felixia jumped up and waved her hands. “GOOO BASKETSLAYER!”

“That’s his name?” Harvey asked.

“I don’t know his real name, okay? Stop asking.”

“Aileen you should cheer for him too!” Felixia’s arm only got sore from trying to pull Aileen to stand up and cheer with her. Instead, Aileen pulled her down to her seat.

“Hey Ai, is your boyfriend going to be fine?” Felixia said. “The members of the Baccarat team always finish their missions. They are skilled in team fighting and even doing solo missions. They aren’t A-ranked just for show.”

“I have a feeling he’s going to be fine,” Aileen said. “And for the last time, he’s not my boyfriend!”

“We finally meet,” Sicarius said. He looked at his opponent from head to toe. Nothing extraordinary. He was disappointed for he knew that this was going to be a quick fight. “Look at the size of this crowd. A lot of people for a preliminary fight. Let’s give them something to enjoy, um, Mr. BasketSlayer. My name is Sicarius. Perhaps you should tell me your real name.”

His opponent just raised an eyebrow as an answer to his question. Wrong response, he thought. He would let him suffer for such insolence. He initially planned to finish his job quickly but this ‘BasketSlayer’ has it coming. It was only common courtesy to introduce oneself.

“Tell me, BasketSlayer, what do you think is going to happen in this match?”

“I’m going to win,” his opponent replied nonchalantly.

Sicarius couldn't help but chuckle. Such optimism from someone who was going to die. Why did Lucas order him to kill this person anyway? Sicarius shook his head. He doesn’t really need a reason to kill. All it matters was that his prey despairs before death.

“That is not possible, Mr. BasketSlayer, not possible at all,” Sicarius said while slowly unsheathing his knife. “You see, there are people that don’t want you to continue winning in this arena.”

“I’m flattered that someone actually noticed me.” BasketSlayer started picking his nose.

“Yes, although I can’t see why they consider you a threat,” Sicarius traced the blade of his knife while keeping his eyes on his opponent. “I can’t see why my special talents are needed here. Perhaps, my master just wants me to amuse myself. The eyes of someone who is sure of winning turning into the eyes of someone reveling in hopelessness. The though itself sends shivers down my spine.”

BasketSlayer was examining the material that his finger has excavated deep within his nose. “Special talents? And what sorts of talents are these?” He flicked the object at the tip of his finger towards Sicarius.

A subtle eye twitch disturbed the calm façade of Sicarius. “I am a specialist in dealing with, let’s say, not so common magic. I have seen warriors and mages fighting in ways that you cannot imagine even in your wildest dreams. I put down people dabbling in forbidden arts, necromancers, mutants, chimaeras made from monsters you haven’t even heard of, even void mages!”

BasketSlayer stopped picking his nose and stared at him straight in the eye. “I thought all void mages died,” he said levelly.

“That’s where you’re wrong. A common misconception, really,” Sicarius said while wagging his finger. “The Void Houses were destroyed, but that does not mean that a void user can’t be born randomly as a child of normal parents.”

His opponent just continued staring at him. It seems he finally has his attention. A small bout of bragging here and there would add drama to a kill.

“You are, perhaps, like the multitude of the masses that wrongly believe that there are no more void mages around. However, that is not true. Sometimes, a baby is born with an affinity for void magic; they grow up to become a void mage. We cannot have that now, can we? So I step in.”

Sicarius started circling his opponent, never breaking eye contact. “The people around me seem to regard me as a dangerous, cruel, psychopath. That is not true. I am merely doing my part as an outstanding citizen of this empire. I just take great joy in doing my job.”

“These void mages you speak of, where did they learn how to use their talents?”

“Talents? That’s a bizarre way to refer to their abominable craft. Are you perhaps a void mage?” Sicarius laughed at his own joke. “A void mage sneaking into Krysperium would be detected in a heartbeat. That void mage would be very stupid indeed.”

“Who teaches these children with void magic affinity?” BasketSlayer pressed.

“Void mages of course! Who else? Full-fledged void mages. They hide away in the dark. Rescuing kids with void magic affinity.” Sicarius started juggling his knife. Throwing it into the air and catching it by its blade. “More often than not they are too late. Sometimes, I am able to kill them.”

Sicarius suddenly grabbed the knife by its blade and squeezed it with his bare palms. “Of all my prey, I am most excited hunting void mages. They cling to life, to hope, to faith that somehow they will survive. They have defiant eyes, courageous eyes. I love turning those eyes into full of despair. Full of anguish! At death’s door, they finally realize that no one will help them.”

He kept on squeezing the knife until blood started to run down his hand. It dripped slowly on the floor, forming a small red puddle. “They still try to survive even when everyone is against them. Even when everyone wants them dead. Very, very laudable. It makes killing them a more enjoyable job.”

Sicarius looked at the puddle of blood by his feet. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself. I have this intense emotion, urge even, to show people their helplessness. I can barely hold back my excitement.”

He took a deep breath. He transferred his knife from his blooded hand to the other and flicked the blood towards the direction of BasketSlayer. “I digress. Should we move on to the part where I kill you? I still can’t see why my master thinks you’re somebody that needs to be removed.”

BasketSlayer tilted his head and smiled. “I’m glad they are still trying to survive.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking out loud,” BasketSlayer replied. “I am also glad that I did not defeat you right away. Otherwise, we would not have this enlightening conversation.”

Sicarius sneered. “Defeat me? Me? You still don’t see how out of your depth you are, Mr. BasketSlayer.”

The bloodstains covering his knife seeped into the blade. A low eerie howl echoed through the arena, a cold gush of wind washed over the spectators. The blade of Sicarius’ knife began pulsating, as if alive. Veins and tendrils would momentarily appear, then absorbed back into the blade.

“See this? My knife have fed on many souls, and yours is next,” Sicarius said while brandishing his knife.

A dark miasma rose out of the knife, keeping in rhythm with its pulses. The black haze became more and more solid as it started creeping all over the stage. It also claimed the arm of Sicarius, slowly sneaking up his limb, encasing his arm in a black substance.

The BasketsSlayer cracked his neck. “I initially wanted to rip out all your limbs. The arena staff assured me that they could heal something like that. You were such an annoying character you see. Then you started talking about void mages. I am very thankful for that information."

“Blabbering nonsense! Did fear drive you insane?” Sicarius snarled. His voice had changed, lower, more guttural. The black substance was taking over his body.

Although the shields contained the black miasma, its effects were seeping through the audience. Nauseating pressure and a hint of coldness, as if a dead man’s hand gripped their heart, swept through the spectators. Arena mages were scrambling around outside the stage, rushing to change the configuration of the shield to stop the spread of the petrifying aura. The people could only imagine what Sicarius’ opponent was undergoing, facing the full blast of the effects of the dark miasma.

Sicaruis locked eyes with his enemy and took an involuntary step back. Indifferent eyes stared back at him, not eyes of someone who has resigned himself to defeat. It was not even eyes of determination, eyes of someone ready to take a last stand- he has seen plenty of those. He saw eyes that seem to look past him; they did not even seem to acknowledge his existence.

“At last, I have a starting point in my inquiries. Many questions presented themselves to me these last few days. I really didn’t know where to start. And for that I am grateful for your assistance.” The BasketSlayer did a mocking curtsy, taking the edges of his robe in each hand and giving a slight bow.

False bravado? Was he bluffing? Sicarius squinted his eyes and examined his surroundings. Was the BasketSlayer hiding something? A trap? A hidden weapon? He controlled the stage, he assured himself. So why was this BasketSlayer acting like this? Putting up a brave front to face inevitable death?

“Consider yourself lucky to see this,” Sicarius said. The armor he wore started bubbling and melting. The different plates melded into each other. Black tendrils growing from the knife crept along the armor, drilling holes in it, connecting them, like blood veins beneath the skin. Cracking sounds were heard as his body rearranged itself, flesh, bones and armor became one. His arms lengthened and his fingers grew into dagger-like claws while his hand holding the knife merged with it and became a curved blade attached to his elbow.

The people gasped at the horrid transformation. Any traces of humanity seemed to disappear leaving behind a demon of spikes and blades. There was screaming when two curved horns erupted from his skull and curved forward. Spikes also jutted out from his back, running down his spine.

Wearing the essence of pain and suffering of the countless souls that the knife claimed as armor, Sicarius still couldn't erase the sense of unease in his heart. He cannot detectany hidden strength from his opponent. Every bit of experience that he has through his years of fighting tell him that he can crush his enemy without even using the power of his blade. So why did he use its final skill? Merging one’s body with the soul devouring existence that was sealed in his knife. Why did he use it? Is he…afraid?

“You’re done with that transformation thingy? That’s something nasty,” BasketSlayer wrinkled his nose. “So this is it? I think waiting for you to finish tapping into that knife’s power is payment enough for the information you gave me.”

Voices, there were voices. Someone was speaking. Was it this person in front of me? Sicarius struggled against the invading consciousness of the sealed entity in the knife. There was someone speaking. He was in a fight. He can remember he was assigned to kill someone. Should he kill the person speaking? He was the one speaking. Sicarius can’t make out the words anymore. He threw his head back and roared at the heavens.

“Huh, must be the first time you let the knife take control of you to such an extent.”

Sicarius grabbed his head with his clawed hand, he brandished his bladed arm at the air. What is this? What am I? I need to kill something. The eyes. Always the eyes. What eyes? He turned his head and looked around. The person who spoke earlier was still there. Should I kill him?

“This arena is not the place for an interrogation. I should put you down for a while then come back later,” the black-robed man said, scratching his chin. “The problem is that the healers are just too good at their jobs. What to do?”

The eyes. He should look into the eyes of the man in front of him. He should kill the man. He should kill the man while looking into his eyes. Yes, that was what he should do. Sicarius roared at his prey. The deafening bellow echoed ominously throughout the arena.

“I will render you temporarily incapacitated for a while since I have other business to attend to. But, rest assured, I will come back for you to ask you some questions.”

Sicarius finally was able to gather enough pieces of his sanity to be able to speak, “You will not defeat me! Everyone is my prey! Everyone will despair!”

“Me? Your prey?” The BasketSlayer chortled. The runes on his body glowed red and snaked around his body once again. “In my eyes, you, my dear insane possessed opponent, are as insignificant as the dust beneath the feet of a bug. Oh, wait. You gave me some useful information, so you are actually significant. Sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

With a thunderous roar, Sicarius launched himself into the air towards the man he considered his quarry.

“You wanted to know my real name, right?” The black robed man gave him a wide grin, opening his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. More runes wrapped around his body, glowing more and more brightly. “I was once called Krystfallen.”

The match began with a slow start. They were just talking to each other. Aileen was bored out of her mind. Felixia was talking nonstop about the Baccarat team. Aileen considered that it was probably better if she went to the main arena to watch the beast-taming competition. The crowds were also restless. Many people came to watch the match since an A-ranked adventurer was one of the fighters.

There were a few gasps when Sicarius wounded himself with his own knife. Freaking insane, Aileen thought. The adventurers’ guild should have some tests done on the people joining them. Filter out the loonies. She examined the spectators one by one, too bored to watch two guys talking to each other.

Suddenly, Aileen felt a chilling sensation, as if a bucket of ice-cold water was dumped on top of her. Turning her gaze back to the stage, she noticed a black fog was beginning to form. Its tendrils traced the stage floor and reached the shields quickly, straining against it, pressing to escape. The arena mages rushed to strengthen the shields and stop the baleful effects from leaking out.

People looked at each other, wondering if they were still safe. Some started to stand. Arena attendants tried to calm them down, assuring them that the shields would hold. Aileen felt a sense of foreboding. She did not doubt that the shields would protect them, but she was unnerved that the effects of some dark magic were able to seep through the shields. Perhaps there really was a demon spirit in the knife?

Then Sicarius started to transform into something demonic and vile.

The people screamed and rushed to the exits. Soldiers trooped in, trying to restore order and organize the evacuation. Aileen and Jel stood up and looked at each other and then surveyed the scene below them. More mages arrived, a few mages from the city guard flew into the open arena. Several magic formations were set up, drawing power from the mana node. The shield glowed bright blue, beating back the darkness inside it.

“There was a demon spirit after all,” Aileen said. She turned to the novice sealcrafters at her back. “You guys should go.”

Felix hustled his sister and Harvey towards the exit.

Jel began stretching her arms. “Yeah, we really should believe in rumors. Too bad we’re not wearing our enchanted full plate armor.”

“The mages are just containing the demon spirit.”

“That demon will not be able to go out. There are tons of mages here, plus they’re getting power from the mana node.”

“I think we should do something.”

“What do you want them to do? Go in there? That thing will probably devour anyone who gets inside. They’re waiting for the imperial knights to arrive.”

“We can take down that guy,” Aileen said.

Jel looked at her. “You’re worried about you-”

“He’s not my boyfriend. And yes, I’m worried. We can’t just leave him there with that thing.”

The demon was thrashing about on the stage, waving its bladed arm.

“Look, old man Gregory is down there. We could take that demon down if we fight together with him!”

“Aileen stop!” But Aileen already jumped down the special box. Jel had no choice but to follow her.

“Captain Gregory! Take down the shield! There’s someone inside there!” Aileen shouted at the captain of the city guards. She was to far away to be heard.

Jel stole a glance at the demon while she jumped down the levels of the arena. “Damn, it managed to gain control of its body.”

The two Fahllyrs watched helplessly as the demon hurled its abominable spike covered body towards the black robed man, who was still carrying his basket.

The ground shook as if a giant had stomped on the stage. A sickening crunch was heard over the din of the city guards getting into position. It was as if metal was being ground to dust by a tornado of blades. It was followed by the sound of flesh smashing against a hard surface.

Everyone in the arena looked to see where the sound came from. The mages flying around above the shield, mages on the ground constructing seals, the city guards encircling the stage - all the people that remained in the arena looked up.

A mangled mass of flesh was plastered on the top part of the shield dome. It was as if a gigantic swatter smashed the body into a bloody pulp against the reinforced shields. Cracks on the shield appeared where the body collided with it. The shield quickly repaired itself from the mana being supplied to it. The demon form has been peeled away like the shell of an egg. Bits and pieces of the black armor punctured deep into skin or stuck to the blood covering the body. Limbs were stuck out in contorted positions. Bones ripped the skin and protruded in several places. It was barely recognizable as a human body.

The body slowly slid down the inner side of the shield dome, leaving bloody skid marks tracing its path, like a stroke of an erratic paintbrush.

The soldiers gaped in shock at the gruesome sight. Nobody moved, even the flying mages stopped in midair. The shield became more solid, bathing the whole arena with a blue hue, as the mages absentmindedly continued feeding energy to it. It made the body more noticeable, as the deep red blood contrasted with the blue shade of the shield.

Captain Gregory shouted orders to his men. “Take down the shield and quickly recover that body! Secure it with all possible means. Do not touch it. Lockdown this whole arena annex and purge that black miasma. Eliminate every trace of it!”

The city guards quickly moved into action.