The roaring from the stands had long since died out, but the air continued to vibrate. The screams of the audience had gradually faded because of the heat, getting more and more intense. The sun was burning so hard on the heads of the spectators that even the protective curtains could not give relief from the heat. Some of them even began to see mirages, as if they were in the hottest desert. Only the Goblins in the higher Phases were able to resist the heat.

What was worse was that the Goblin warriors were affected by the heat.

The exact day of the clash seemed cursed by an unexpected heat wave.

Thump!

A Goblin slumped onto the ground with a dull thud. Dust rose from under his bottom and covered his companions next to him. One after the other, many warriors followed the example of the first and collapsed on sand of the arena, dripping with sweat.

Ironically, the fear they felt at the time was stronger than any heat.

Shivers shook the warriors, and cold drops of sweat ran down their contracted temples and jaws.

The first slumped Goblin kept his eyes down and tried to take deep breaths. His heart was literally exploding in his chest, surpassing any human speed.

A Goblin heart was slightly smaller than a Human heart, so the small mass of bleeding muscles had to beat faster to pump all the blood into their bodies. This meant that, at that time, the warrior's heart rate was so high that it compromised not only his performance in battle, but his life too.

The Goblin couldn't see well and felt a worrying pressure behind his eyes. His hands, which held a long sharp spear, were sweaty.

His system was releasing adrenaline into every fibre of his body.

His saliva had thickened and he could no longer swallow easily, leaving him with a constant feeling of suffocation.

At that moment, it was really difficult to understand if they were symptoms due to the heat or fear. All the Goblin knew was that if those cursed monsters didn't arrive within minutes, he would die even before the battle started.

"Hey," said a Goblin who had remained standing, also sweating from head to toe, holding out his hand to his companion.

The Goblin sitting on the sand grabbed his hand and stood up. "Thanks."

Both were members of the Royal Academy.

"It seems that these monsters are more afraid than us," commented the second Goblin, trying to ease the tension, while the other put his armour back in place and removed the dust that had covered it. He nodded, without having the courage to utter a single word.

The Undead and the Trolls should have arrived two hours earlier.

The Goblin deployment had been perfectly on time, it had positioned itself in its half of the arena and had waited there for their opponents to arrive. Helial had persisted in doing so even when they told him that the enemy side showed no sign of coming.

And so their wait had begun, which seemed infinite.

The young and brave warriors of Orma had followed their leader, but not all of them fully agreed. As much as they loved their homeland and wanted to protect it, most of them knew they were strong, but not strong enough to live up to Helial or Pseudonym, and they began to fear death.

Their lives would have been wasted, their names forgotten, their modest dreams of tranquillity erased on a sultry battle day. Their fate was not greatness or heroism.

Among them there were no future Cesar, Aure and Crispio. At most, they could have aspired to positions of medium importance. But only if they won that fight.

They were shaking with fear and cold sweat, they were not as daring as those heroes in front of them, lined up in the front row and eager to fight and show their talent.

Something in the air changed and the Goblins began to exchange signs of encouragement with each other. A handshake or a pat on the shoulder, a look, a word were all that was needed to be less afraid. The awareness of not being alone in a time of crisis made everyone feel safer, gave an extra boost, and reminded everyone that they were fighting for a single ideal in which they had believed since they came into the world.

Of course, not all of their fears had died out. Despite all this, there remained a certain prejudice towards Helial: as much as he was revered within the walls of Orma, his fame couldn't even compare with Pseudonym's.

But now Pseudonym had evaporated into thin air and no trace of him remained. The Goblins would have to rely only on Helial's strategic ability, which had proved to be very useful, but not on what had been the driving force of all previous clashes.

The Human was strong, but Pseudonym had been invincible.

Pseudonym would have been able to fight, to destroy the enemy warriors one by one. Instead, now, Pseudonym had vanished, thanks to Helial, who had made him run away from Orma.

Nobody knew exactly what had happened between the two, but the rumour said that Helial had given the legend of Orma something of sufficient value to make him go away.

And now, the Human wanted to become Orma's new legend?

Almost all the Goblins, even those less hostile to Humans, were really disappointed by the behaviour of that fake commander who had decided to keep them waiting for their massacre.

Their hypothetical victory would undoubtedly have been very difficult, aggravated by two hours of waiting under the suffocating heat.

Who knew if he too felt that burning heat on his fair skin, or the bitter cold of fear in his veins? But Helial did not seem to be shaken by either. The young man continued to look around, his eyebrows tightened together in a troubled expression.

The cat, the one who kept stealing from their Academy canteen, came up to him to say something. But the Human raised a hand to silence him and seemed to sharpen his ears and eyes even more.

How could it be possible that the heat increased every minute? The temperature must have reached unimaginable peaks for the city of Orma, and this was certainly not a natural factor.

Everybody in the stands was dripping with sweat.

Turning, Helial saw that his men were also sweating profusely. This would certainly have affected the outcome of the battle, since they had been waiting for two hours.

Could the Undead amplify the natural temperature so that the Goblins dehydrated before fighting? Exhausted as they were, Helial began to fear that it was all a tactic of their enemies and that the warriors would be too tired to fight at their full strength.

This time, perhaps, he had made a big mistake.

Master, he called within his Soul.

No reply.

Iblis had given him no answer.

Master, he insisted.

Silence.

Why didn't Iblis answer?

Helial was used to not receiving exhaustive answers from the Devil, but Iblis used to liquidate him at least with a "shithead".

Something was different that day. It was as if the Devil had disappeared from his Soul.

A strange feeling of cold and adrenaline made its way into Helial's body.

He too had started have cold sweat.

He was beginning to realize something, illogical and rambunctious thoughts had begun to crowd in his mind and to place themselves clearly and linearly.

What frightened him most was Iblis's silence.

Helial was seized by a twinge of terror.

Master? Master?

An unnatural sense of fear ran over his stomach, leaving him breathless. His bowels began to twist and knot, while his skin became wet with cold sweat.

Just then, the words that the Devil had said to him two years before, when the boy had scolded him for not saving Vidio, came to Helial's mind: “I am not your wet nurse, but your master. I will not intervene in your problems and I will ask you nothing but what has already been granted."

These had been his exact words and this was what Iblis had always done.

And Iblis had the bad habit of ignoring Helial in the most critical moments of his life.

Helial deduced that this was one of those critical moments and he couldn't do much more to change the situation. If only he had been more careful! If he had asked Iblis for help even a few minutes before! He would certainly have had more time to think of a solution.

In a split second, Helial began to shout his new orders before he even realized it: "Ranks! Ranks! Formation! Circe and Snowflake on the left. Frankenstein, Lumia, Lulu and Vlad on the right! "

His friends and the Goblins were taken aback and gave each other confused looks.

"Come on, don't stand there! Get in position!" A terrible feeling of terror now ran through Helial's entire body. Only then did the fighters carry out his orders, still sceptical.

Helial could not have known, but the intuitions he had just had were the result of a dark and unknown power, much darker and more unknown than that of Life and Destruction.

That was a premonition given to him by Time. The Time that Alexander had given him was responsible for the looming feeling of danger and terror that now enveloped him in a steel vice.

Someone was still stunned by the heat and not completely sure about what to do. A Goblin approached Helial hesitantly to ask him what was happening, but the boy immediately kicked his sternum, throwing him into the middle of the rear guard.

"NOW! GET IN POSITION NOW!" he yelled, amplifying his voice with his Mana.

He gritted his teeth and felt a sudden urge to vomit. It was as if terror had taken hold of him and was trying to corrupt him in every way it could. It was tangible, as real as a piece of marble striking a fragile human body.

Finally, a cold feeling coming from the corridor from which his enemies were to arrive warned them that the opponents were coming.

They couldn't have chosen a worse time.

A frosty, deadly Aura took possession of the Colosseum.

Something terrible was about to happen.

Aure and Cesar looked up and saw the barrier set up for the fight to begin to descend on the arena. This meant that the hundred enemy warriors were coming.

Helial looked up at the barrier, its lock worsening the ominous premonition that was dominating his mind. His eyes were bloodshot.

He no longer had the hilt of Curse of the Demon to tighten up to give himself courage.

No more flames, no more demonic Meridians, no more indestructible constitution.

Helial had only his own hands, only Life and Destruction.

Snowflake screamed from the right flank: "What the hell is this cold now?!"

Helial did not answer. They'd find out soon.

His eyes were fixed on the corridor from which the enemies would arrive.

He breathed nervously.

If death had approached him, he was ready to take it by the throat with both hands and slowly suffocate it.