In the King's private lodging

"Has age made you senile?!" Nelia barked, looking at her husband with furious eyes.

Cesar sighed and dodged the umpteenth vase that was flying towards him.

CRASH!

BANG!

Vases, tables and antique furniture flew towards Cesar one after the other. Not even the statues depicting their ancestors had been spared by Nelia's fury.

"Do you realize what you did!?" Nelia shouted again loudly.

Raising his hand and grabbing a picture he was particularly fond of, the King of Orma replied: “I know what I'm doing. Only that kid can discover the secrets of the Octagonal Room. "

The Octagonal Room was one of Orma's greatest taboos. Anyone who had entered had barely survived or did not come out again. Cesar hadn't mentioned this detail to Helial so as not to frighten him, but something told him that this would not be a problem: the King was sure that Helial could face the evil presence that haunted that place. He and Aure had also tried to cultivate in a forced manner in the Room, but they had almost died, even though they were already Immortals. Provoking the spirit had cost them dearly and they had barely managed to escape.

"Go and take him back immediately," Nelia screamed.

"No." Cesar snapped his fingers and teleported Nelia and himself into the woods, to avoid any external interference, but above all not to see their rooms burned to the ground by the queen's fury. "Listen to me." The King created a barrier around them in order to stop anyone from eavesdropping and said: "I saw Aure give Helial an object, after the match at the Colosseum. I don't know why he decided to make such a choice, but he wants to get rid of that object and return it to the Human race.

"Nelia, even if the Goblins are different from the Humans, the Karma that binds us is unbreakable. Some aspects of this bond can only be investigated by those who have the right blood, and I believe that Helial has it. That boy is Human, he is strong and shrewd, and he has so much good will: only he can survive in the Octagonal Room to receive the right benefits. No Goblin can survive in that room and you know that because Aure and I risked losing our lives, too. The Leader of the Sect of the Worthy has decided to pay off the debt of Karma that we Goblins have with the Human race: so it's time to pay off my share, too. When we split the remains, the ring went to him, and to me the room and its contents ...”

Nelia saw a strange light in Cesar's eyes, as she had not seen in years. The flame of youth and courage burned in the eyes of the King. This time Cesar had made a big bet on Helial's life.

Nelia could not imagine what the consequences would have been if Helial lose his life in the Octagonal Room: the Sect would not believe them if they had said that Cesar's disciple was dead. They would have taken it as an insult.

Cesar knew that, but he had done it all the same.

Although the Queen was not aware of what treasures could be kept inside the Octagonal Room, she was sure that if Helial managed to survive, he would have no problem winning the battle in the Colosseum.

A scene from the past appeared before Cesar's eyes, and for a moment he seemed to relive it.

A young Goblin, standing in front of a majestic body resting on a bed of stone, sighed and spoke with regret: "At my age, he had already conquered half the universe."

The King was awakened from his daydream by a message. One of the guards was trying to get in touch with him.

With another snap of his fingers, Cesar and Nelia were transported back to their rooms, just as one of the Royal guards opened the door and took a sure step inside the room.

"Someone wants to meet you."

"Who?" Cesar asked, amazed. He was not expecting any visits that day.

"Pseudonym is here to talk with you," the guard reported.

Cesar looked at Nelia furrowing and left.

The Queen shook her head and sighed helplessly. "I just have to trust you, as I always did."

The guard, who had been waiting for an order to leave, looked at the messy room. It seemed that a hurricane had hit the sovereigns' rooms, destroying everything it had found on his way.

***

In the Throne Room

"Boy, are you so arrogant to ask for a meeting with the King himself?" Cesar snorted, looking at the metal mass that stood out in front of him.

The enormous black armour covered Pseudonym's from head to toe, making it impossible to see his features or even to understand the proportions of his body under all that metal.

"I need your help."

His Aura, at that moment, contained nothing intimidating, nor Pseudonym dared to have strange thoughts before the King of Orma. If he wanted his help, he had to be as sincere as possible.

There was no movement in the Mana around Pseudonym, but this did not prevent him from looking like a Titan among mortals. Even in front of Orma's most powerful Goblin, his figure did not seem any weaker. For the second time in a few minutes, Cesar started thinking of his youth: when he was Pseudonym's age, he was not as heroic as the Colosseum Champion; he could barely compare his talent with Circe's.

The black-armoured monster was in a completely different league than everybody else.

"Speak," said Cesar. Actually, he was wondering what Pseudonym would have said. That young man had never been very talkative nor had he ever wanted to meddle in Orma's power games. Seeing him in the presence of Orma's highest authority, asking for his help, was a rather remarkable event.

The Guild of Life and Death had tried to recruit him several times, but Pseudonym had always refused. The Sect of the Worthy and the Clan of the Sacred Eagle had always remained watching, curious to know if sooner or later he would choose a side. In case it happened, he would have been killed immediately. They could not allow someone as powerful as Pseudonym to join one of Orma's parties.

The future balance of the city would have been destroyed.

Pseudonym was an anomaly within Orma, a loose cannon. The Elders who owned the Colosseum had always done everything to protect him from Orma's powers, but they knew that if he ever showed too many pretensions, his life would end.

In fact, although Pseudonym had such a talent as to make Circe and Medusa's pale in comparison, the young man had never dared to intervene in political matters. All his fame came only from the matches inside the Colosseum. Pseudonym rarely risked his life outside the arena.

Cesar did not know that, had it not been for Helial, Pseudonym would be now chased all over the world by the Sect of the Worthy. During the fight between Helial and Medusa, the former had created a huge mess and had almost caused Pseudonym to set foot in a forbidden territory.

Nobody knew why Pseudonym had not yet joined any party. Only Aure and Cesar knew its origins and its true appearance. However, for some strange reason, both Orma's sacred monsters seemed to have a natural respect for that silent warrior.

With one word, Pseudonym could have his name engraved among Orma's greatest, but he had never done anything but fight in the Colosseum.

Medusa was one of the future candidates as Leader of the Sect of the Worthy

Circe would become the next Chief of the Guild of Life and Death.

And what would Pseudonym be?

No one knew.

But everyone knew who he was.

His name shone so bright that even Circe, the greatest talent of the last millennium, paled in comparison.

Correct.

Because, if Circe were the greatest talent of the last millennium, Pseudonym would have been the greatest talent ever existed.

"I need the support of the Clan of the Sacred Eagle," said Pseudonym, weighing every word.

Cesar's immediately frowned. His expression tightened and his voice deepened: "What are you going to do?"

The Aura of the greatest Immortal of Orma became suffocating and enveloped Pseudonym, but this did not seem to upset the champion at all.

"I want to challenge Medusa's team to a death match. If the Team of the Keepers of the Firmament wins against Helial, I request to be the ambassador of the Clan of the Sacred Eagle. You can challenge them a duel to the death that cannot be refused, if the motivation is serious enough. The condition is that the challenged warrior has to be at the same Phase as the challenger. Am I wrong?

If a warrior from one of the two great powers, Clan and Sect, ever had a reason serious enough to hold a grudge, his challenge could not be refused.

However, as in the case of Medusa, who had challenged Helial despite being two Phases and more than a hundred levels above him, the counterpart had to accept.

If Helial had been at the Third Phase, however, considering that he had killed Medea, Medusa could have requested a duel to the death within a week of his sister's death.

It was an ancient law in Orma.

The Goblin capital city respected the teachings of its ancestors, and had a custom that imposed honesty. There could be no grudges, otherwise the risk would have been too great, and the resentment would have turned into hatred and finally into revenge, civil wars or revolts.

"What?" Cesar looked at Pseudonym, perplexed. "I don't think I understood correctly."

"Old man, you understood very well. Don't play games with me. You and Aure wanted to get rid of me for a very long time, because of this.” With a quick movement, Pseudonym slipped off a glove, showing the pearly skin of his hand. There was no greenish tinge.