31.

Maylia Arena’s most famous finale

From underneath his feet, there was a deep, ominous rumble. The sound was like thunder—rolling, shivering, making the seats of the stadium shake. It grew louder with every passing second, closing in on the arena. The crowd began to panic. When the first of the freed, stampeding slaves emerged from the holding tunnels, the spectators screamed and ran.

From seemingly every pathway and underground hall, combat slaves burst out, their combined footsteps resounding through the stadium like a storm. They were free. They were healthy. They were done bowing down to this place.

They rioted through the stands, latching onto those who hadn’t run quickly enough. Thelo had mentioned not wanting too many civilian casualties, but Dominic honestly had never cared how many there were. The spectators had come here with the specific purpose of celebrating blood and beatings. They lorded over the lives and deaths of these slaves. They were no longer worth saving in his eyes.

The rampaging slaves gave him a wide berth, instinctively understanding that he was to be avoided. They couldn’t touch him if they tried. Dominic approached the front row seats that the remaining nobles had retreated to, terrified.

The countess was still seated, legs crossed, calm but not bothering to hide her enraged expression.

“So you were one of the king’s dogs,” she snarled, unperturbed by the chaos surrounding her.

“You’re wrong,” Dominic replied, stepping closer.

Kilan stood in front of her as if to shield her from anything he might try to pull. He respected the noble’s bravery, but it was useless. He was too weak to stop Dominic from doing anything, and the countess didn’t need his protection in the first place.

“Then, you’re trying to tell me you’re doing all of this for no reason at all?” she asked.

“I’m just doing something I’ve always wanted to do,” Dominic replied.

She clicked her tongue, then stood from her seat. She snapped her fingers, and in an instant the slaves who had been encroaching on the nobles and reaching out to grab them were struck by powerful bolts of lightning. They were burned grotesquely black, falling to the ground, limbs twitching.

“I don’t believe that,” the countess said, walking forward. “What is your reason for doing this? I’m sure you must have one.”

“Just think of it as a whim,” Dominic replied.

“I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Perhaps, in her mind, everyone fought for a reason. That was how she had always liked to set things up. With passion, with desperation, with terror in their eyes, they’d confront violence with conviction and the strength of their will. But Dominic only stared on calmly, while havoc raged on around him. This wasn’t her show anymore. She didn’t have the right to put such meaning into it.

The countess clicked her tongue again.

“It’s a shame we’ve come to this, Lio,” she said.

She raised her hand, lightning sparking across her palm. Healers were naturally defenseless when healing others. She snapped, and a bolt instantly crashed into his face, sending his head jolting backwards, charring his skin ashen black.

But he didn’t fall. Dominic righted himself, looking back at the countess, his visage still terribly burned. It hurt beyond words, but the expression on her face eased it a bit. Her brows were furrowed and she was frowning deeply. Dominic stared, and his wounds began to heal.

Slowly, almost like vines, the healthy skin below his neck began creeping over the charred remnants, then spreading. Black flakes of burned, dead flesh fell from his face and disintegrated before they could hit the ground. The nobles paled as his ear and the side of his lips grew back. They visited this place for the purpose of seeing gore, and yet they still looked like trapped rats while witnessing his skin stretch back into place. Dominic smiled, and they paled more.

“This…” the countess mumbled.

She clenched her hand into a fist, the sparks in her palm fizzling out.

“Guards!” she shouted, her voice carrying across the entire stadium. “Forget about the slaves! Get this man!”

The guards focused their attention on Dominic, charging down the stands and from across the arena. It was a logical decision. Even if her magic didn’t work, there was nothing that wouldn’t die by being stabbed in the right places.

A spear sailed towards him from above, and he deflected it with his hand. He could feel the force of the impact through his glove, but the halinium prevented him from being cut. It impaled itself into the dirt of the arena floor beside him.

A fist flew towards his face. He leaned away and returned it, smashing the man who had come at him in the nose. He flew backwards, skidded to a rest, and remained there, unmoving.

More edged closer, cautious. They surrounded him on all sides, weapons pointed, and charged. Dominic loosened his threads and let them fly.

They were caught like fish in a net. Their spears and swords became tangled clumsily, unable to cut the halinium metal. Their armor was slashed and sliced, their clothes and skin bulging before breaking open under the force of the fine strings.

“Agh!”

“Fuck!”

“What the hell?!”

Dominic withdrew his threads, the speed of their return cutting even deeper, severing tendons and forcing the guards to the ground. They groaned and cursed, helpless. Blood splashed across the sand of the arena as the threads flicked themselves clean before coming back to him.

He looked up. Many of the nobles had fallen out of their seats, or lost the strength in their legs. The only reason they hadn’t yet been mauled or dragged off by the rampaging slaves was because Dominic was there, and the slaves were wary of his presence. They had a lot better survival instincts than the coddled nobles did, and kept their distance.

He took another step forward.

“Don’t come!” Kilan shouted.

A ball of fire shot out from his palm, beelining for Dominic. He calmly swiped it away with the back of his hand, the flames smashing into the ground and fizzling out. Magic would always make way for more powerful magic. And Dominic’s mana was covering the entire stadium.

He glanced over them, uninterested in their expressions of disbelief. He pointed upwards, towards the exits the audience had fled through.

“Run,” he said.

It was an impossible order. Between them and the way out, there were throngs of enraged slaves waiting.

“Don’t you dare run,” the countess snarled. “Count Haema’s army will be here soon. There is no reason to believe this man’s words.”

Dominic laughed dryly.

“Indeed, Count Haema’s army will be here soon,” he agreed, “and what do you think an army of slaves will do when they arrive?”

“Don’t listen to him,” the countess retorted. “The seals on Count Haema’s soldiers are the strongest in Hesia. You can’t break them with just a little healing magic.”

“Is that so? It wasn’t hard at all when I tried it.”

“Stop joking.”

“What makes you think I’m joking?”

A sound like a blade being swung echoed from behind him. He saw the sharp, smug grin that overtook the countess’s face in an instant, the one that she had been suppressing the entire time, but didn’t move despite knowing one of the guards he’d taken down was now aiming at his back.

There was no need to. The sound of metal clashing rang sharply through the arena, followed by the slick sound of flesh being pierced.

The guard groaned and fell to the ground. Dominic turned.

“You’re early,” he said, “Sung.”

Sung flicked the blood off of his sword, wiping the splatters on his cheek with the back of his hand.

“I was the only one freed,” he replied calmly. “The others are still waiting on you.”

“Where are they?”

“They’re being forced to head outside to stop the royal mages.”

Dominic focused, feeling for their presence. It wasn’t hard to find hundreds of soldiers streaming towards the exits from below.

He slowly raised his hand in that direction.

“Tell them to stay outside when they get there,” he said. “Help the royal mages.”

“What about you?”

“I alone am enough.”

The golden mana beneath their feet flared violently, some of the nobles exclaiming in surprise. Dust and sand from the arena floor was picked up by the wind that blew through, swirling around them almost like a storm. It whipped up suddenly, so violent that some chairs skidded away from their owners.

Slowly, it settled again, and Dominic let his hand fall back down to his side.

“You were right, countess,” he remarked, glancing back at her. “The soldiers’ seals were a little harder to break than the others.”

The countess ground her teeth. He could almost feel the blood in the nobles’ veins running cold. Dominic looked over at Sung.

“Go,” he ordered.

Sung nodded and shot off.

He turned back to the panicking and enraged nobles.

“For anyone who wants to listen,” he said, “this is your last chance.”

He once again pointed up at the exits above them.

“Run. At least the king’s mages will spare you.”

That comment brought a few of them to reality. This wasn’t the end. The king still needed them alive.

“Ah, fuck it!” one, an elderly man, shouted.

He turned and scrambled away from the front row, holding out his hand and casting a spell. The section in front of him, carved out of the earth and rock, split and curved upwards as if paving a makeshift tunnel up towards the nearest exit. It blew the slaves on top away, sending them tumbling across the stands.

“Get out of my way!”

He started running. This spurred the others into action, realizing their magic still worked—yes, they were still nobles, and the slaves were only slaves, weak commoners with bad bloodlines, humans who were below them in strength. They could make it out alive.

The nobles hurried after the old man, following his avenue to escape. The only one who didn’t leave was Countess Maylia.

“They’ve abandoned you,” Dominic said, glancing over at her.

“They were only ever accessories to begin with,” she replied.

Dominic jumped, landing softly on the edge of the front row seating area.

“What will you do?” she asked.

“I wonder,” he replied.

Lightning suddenly shot out from her palms, but in the same second, threads tightened around the countess’s wrists and cut deeply into them. She yelled out in pain, the surprise attack fizzling out before it could even reach him.

“Ah…” she groaned, hands completely limp, barely even still hanging on. “Fuck, you monster.”

She bit the inside of her lip, bearing with the burning pain.

“What makes you think the king won’t get rid of a variable like you?” she snapped. “As if that old son of a bitch won’t erase you to keep his plans safe. I know him better than you do. I’ve always been watching.”

She groaned again, trying to push herself further back into her chair by her elbows.

“Ah, fuck. You monster. Fuck, why? Why are you doing this? I never hurt you. I only ever treated you well.”

“Why…” he said, thinking it over. “Ah, right.”

He had almost forgotten to tell her. He put a finger to the edge of his mouth and drew his lips back.

“Because of this.”

Her eyes widened in recognition.

Dominic had two sets of canines. She stared as if unable to believe her own sight. There really was one sharp, triangular tooth, and then another one behind it.

He was a human. The person in front of her who had upended her entire arena and freed every slave in the pens, whose mana was still glowing gold as it coated the floor, was a human. The person she had kept by her side for weeks and rattled off her grand ideals to had never been a demon to begin with.

“No,” she murmured. “No!”

Lightning sparked in her palms, her hands dangling limply from her wrists. Tears gathered in her eyes at the pain of forcing magic through her body when it was in no condition to receive it.

Before she could do anything, Dominic retracted his strings from around her wrists. She screamed in pain as the bones were cut completely, her severed hands thudding to the ground.

“Fuck!” she shouted, anger painting her face. “Just send me to the king already!”

Dominic glanced above her, then down again.

“No.”

He took a step back, then another. Her eyes widened at his movement.

“What are you doing? What now?” she asked, frantic.

Dominic smiled.

“I told you,” he said. “I don’t like doing work myself.”

He turned around, and leapt away from the stands.

“Wait, where—!”

Before she could say anything more, the slaves that had been waiting for their chance plunged down from the upper seats, engulfing her in a flurry of nails and teeth.

Dominic looked back, barely managing to catch her eye through the tangle of limbs that had descended onto her.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll never die.”

The gold mana under him glowed. The countess lost his gaze as she was pulled away, and disappeared between the numerous vengeful bodies. Her shrieks echoed through the stadium.

Dominic turned and headed for the center of the arena.

It was empty now, the slaves having chased the nobles and fleeing spectators up towards the exits. The sounds of their rampage fell away as he stood there, the furthest from anyone, looking up towards the havoc still happening in the stands.

A small breeze floated past his head as a crow landed softly on his shoulder.

“I told you not to come,” he said.

“I said I’d follow you anywhere, brother,” Aster responded.

He held up his hand, but the crow didn’t walk out onto it like usual.

“…Brother,” he said, staring, “you’re bleeding.”

Dominic glanced over. His fingers had been shredded by his threads, numerous cuts littering his skin all the way up through his wrists. Rivulets of blood were running down to his elbow and dripping onto the sand. His other hand was just as torn up.

“It’s fine,” he said.

He focused, and the skin immediately began to heal over.

“…I don’t think it’s fine,” Aster replied, despite the magic.

Dominic lowered his hand, his entire arm still caked in blood.

“It’s gone, isn’t it?” he said.

“You shouldn’t get hurt in the first place.”

He reached up and lightly flicked the crow on the beak.

“Says the person who followed me here when I told him not to.”

Aster ruffled his feathers and pouted. He tried to turn away from Dominic, but there was nothing to see but the carnage in the stands. He stared, watching it unfold for a moment, before tearing his gaze away.

“What are you going to do now, brother?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“But there are so many freed people. What if they have no place to go?”

“That will be the king’s task then,” Dominic replied. “Most of them will probably be arrested anyway.”

“Arrested?! Why? They—”

“Aster.”

His expression was calm as he stared out at the remains of Maylia Arena.

“Look.”

There were people lobbing magic at each other. There were people throwing chairs and tearing lampposts from their bases. There were people biting into others with their teeth. There were people goring through arteries with their nails. There were people dragging bodies across the stands, corpses already lifeless, and mangling them further, their grudges undying. Aster could only glance up for a moment before turning away.

“The sane ones have already run,” Dominic said. “The ones left here…”

He looked over at Aster.

“They can’t be set free on the street.”

The crow shuffled his feet.

“They didn’t mean to be that way,” he mumbled. “The arena did that to them.”

“I know.”

Perhaps Aster felt a bit sympathetic with their stories. After all, he had lived most of his life in the slums. But who he was and who they were could not be more different.

“That doesn’t change how they’re acting now,” he said. “They need to learn to be people again before anything else.”

Dominic turned around, facing the small figure that had been standing behind him for quite a while now.

“And that includes you.”

Ian looked up at him, one hand holding tightly onto Dominic’s cloak. He was drenched in blood, as if he’d just recently showered in it. Aster’s grip on his shoulder tightened at the sight.

“I’m going with you,” Ian said, voice still calm and unperturbed despite the obvious havoc he had to have wreaked after running up from the holding pens.

“No,” Dominic replied.

“You told me to do whatever I want.”

“That didn’t include this.”

It was harsh, but even in the face of how much the boy wanted to come with him, he had no intention of keeping someone who only knew how to destroy things by his side.

“Brother,” Aster called quietly, leaning down, “how about we recommend him to Thelo, at least?”

He seemed wary to suggest it because of Dominic’s obvious reluctance, but continued anyway.

“You know, like how he got me a place to live before. And Thelo can keep an eye on him if we know where he is.”

“Aster,” Dominic said, “Thelo won’t do that.”

“…He won’t?”

“Definitely not.”

Thelo was kind to Aster, but in the end he was a coldly logical person. Someone with the transformation affinity was extremely useful to the lord, especially since he brought along his three siblings, all of which could do the same. Someone who tore apart people with their bare hands simply was not. Thelo wasn’t a brute. If he needed assassins, there were far better options.

Ian was still holding onto his clothes, refusing to let go. Outside the arena, he could feel Yana and the soldiers closing in, cleaning up stragglers at the exits and moving inwards to capture the rest. Dominic sighed and unclipped the clasp on his cloak. Aster fluttered up from his shoulder as he removed it, landing on his feet in demon form.

“You’re not coming with us,” he said.

He draped it around Ian’s shoulders, covering up that thin slave uniform, soaked through with blood.

“But maybe the king can find something to do with you.”

The boy clenched the cloth he was wrapped in, still warm from Dominic’s body heat, and stared up at him wordlessly for a moment. He looked down, then nodded quietly.

“Okay.”

“Let’s get out of here quickly,” Dominic said, turning away. He couldn’t wait to leave behind the stench of the stadium for good.

Aster awkwardly offered Ian a hand, and Ian stared at it for a moment as if he had forgotten what the gesture even meant. He warily raised his own hand, then took it.

Aster’s fingers, too, were warm. Was this how it was supposed to be? The boy hugged the cloak he had been given closer to himself, burying his face in it, feeling that clean mana wash over him and envelop his senses. Maybe it was.

Maybe tonight, he’d see the moon.

They followed Dominic out of Maylia Arena.