Volume 5, Chapter 12 – The Tournament. Death.
The Yellow adjusted his stance and continued watching the motionless Elara. I sat rubbing my palms against my pants, trying not to miss the moment of attack or a mistake. The crowd held its breath.
Dash.
The Yellow moved toward Elara with dust, kicking up cloth that swirled into vortices with sand. The rapier blade flashed in the sun, casting light across the arena.
Clap.
Elara momentarily drew the katana from its sheath, releasing a thick pink fog onto the arena that easily settled on the ground, complicating the opponent's movement across the terrain.
The Yellow stopped, analyzing the situation.
[Norn: The situation's heating up! Elara actually used that ability.]
[Khlorun: Yes, that's interesting — because she loses her advantage. Maybe this year she decided to play a new tactic?!]
[Norn: Not excluded, but right now we can only analyze this phenomenon in the first minutes of the fight.]
Elara, without waiting for the opponent to finish his analysis, jumped several meters into the air, lifting the fog with her, forming a hill on the arena.
The Yellow, having finished his analysis — or rather, having listened to CUB's recommendations through his earpiece — went on the attack. With quick movements he ran the rapier through the fog in front of him, making it disappear. And as soon as he got a clear patch, he took a low stance.
Jump.
The Yellow jumped toward the hill, extending his blade in front of him. Elara jumped upward, drawing the katana — and pink phantoms with katanas appeared on both sides of the Yellow in flight.
They swung their blades sharply, bringing the Yellow down to the ground. The Yellow rolled on landing, swinging the rapier under his feet, freeing them from the fog — and with a quick movement counterattacked one phantom, which evaporated on contact with the rapier.
Elara landed carefully on a pillar of fog on the opposite side from the opponent. A moment later, a phantom stood on the pillar instead of her — and she stood in its place, across from the Yellow. A wave of fog flew toward the opponent, and Elara made a long lunge, trying to strike the Yellow's heart.
The Yellow, under the fog wave, threw the rapier toward Elara, dodging her lunge by completely going under the wave.
Elara saw the blade — and instantly a phantom took her place, receiving the fatal strike and vanishing. She stood on a pillar with her face slightly wet with sweat, watching as the Yellow couldn't escape the fog without the anti-magic rapier, which lay on the sand, casting reflections in all directions.
Elara slowly jumped off the pillar, wiping sweat from her forehead and tucking strands of hair behind her ears. She walked slowly toward the Yellow, who was completely covered in a cocoon of fog. She tiredly ran the blade across the ground — from which little spiders slowly ran out and quickly headed toward the opponent, running through the fog.
BOOM.
A fog mushroom in the shape of a heart appeared on the arena, extending beyond its bounds. In the Yellow's place remained a red heart-shaped stain — and his heart, lying neatly in the center of the blood.
Elara took the heart in her hand and raised it above her head, turning to the stands.
"This is the heart of someone who perhaps loved, and was loved..." — she took a breath. "— And from today on, he can no longer love or feel. I'd like to remind you," — inhale — "any of you could die tomorrow. So love and feel emotions."
Bow.
"Love you! Mwah" — Elara blew a kiss, and many little hearts flew to the stands toward the spectators.
The stands were silent. Everyone exchanged glances — and Seraphim started clapping. The spectators looked at him and stood up one by one, clapping. From all sides came claps, whistles, and compliments toward Elara. The commentators congratulated her on opening S rank this year. Elara stood in the center of the arena, bowing and posing for the spectators. She looked wonderful today: long white knee-high boots with hearts, white lace stockings, shorts and a long pink shirt over a blouse. She glowed and quickly blushed from the nonstop applause.
After five minutes of waiting, a Yellow entered the arena again and stood across from Elara.
"ELARA! ELARA! ELARA!" — the stands exploded, stomping their feet on the ground.
[Khlorun: What are we waiting for?! FIGHT!!!]
Elara adjusted her sheath. The Yellow glanced at her and, with a sharp movement, drew a pistol from behind his back, pointing it at her. She didn't react at all, continuing to stand motionless, not knowing what a pistol could do. A deadly cold enveloped the Yellow's motionless hand.
"Stop!" — I shouted, jumping off the stands.
Elara looked at me and smiled, waving her little hand.
I ran, jumping over the fences toward the arena. My heart pounded, and the worst thoughts flashed through my head.
"RUN!" — I shouted, unable to catch my breath.
Elara didn't hear me, standing motionless, looking toward the Yellow who was aiming the pistol at her.
(I'll make it... I have to... Have to! She doesn't know! I should have told her!)
I jumped onto the arena.
BOOM.
A shot rang out across the entire arena. My vision blurred — I watched the Yellow calmly putting the pistol back behind his belt, while Elara stood motionless — and her hand limply slid off the hilt of the sheathed sword.
I ran, stumbling, toward Elara — but it was too late. Before my eyes, Elara collapsed to the ground, and blood slowly spread around her, soaking into the earth.
"ELARA! Wake up! Are you there?" — I grabbed her convulsively and lifted her above the ground.
Elara weakly raised her eyelids and looked at me. Her blood-soaked hair stuck to her face, and her unfocused eyes looked at me like at a stranger.
"Elara! They'll help you!" — I believed — but noticing the bubbling stream at her neck, my eyes glistened, and a huge lump appeared in my throat that wouldn't let a single word out.
[Norn: What was that?]
[Khlorun: Magic? But this ability could kill Death-Defying Love.]
(Killed?) (Well, I only saw her today, so whatever) (That was quick — I paid for an S-rank ticket, not for this) (What's the Butcher doing there? Acquaintances?) (Oh, they're all just squeezing out tears for the public)
[Khlorun: Now that's a thing. The Butcher knows Elara?]
[Norn: But apparently his fighting spirit will be shaken. Maybe he'll surprise us in the next fights.]
[Khlorun: Most likely. But it's a pity about Death-Defying — no one is safe.]
I stared into the stone eyes, my tears slowly dripping onto her face, mixing with blood. She grew heavier by the second, and my attempts to reach her consciousness broke against the fading fountain of blood. Two security officers ran up to me and, grabbing my arms, tried to lead me off the arena. Elara's head slipped from my hands, falling onto the sand.
All the guards' words didn't reach me — my gaze darted over the blood stain.
"Let go, you bastard!" — I shouted, knocking out one of the guards holding my arm. My gaze nailed itself to the Yellow, who stood calmly, communicating with CUB through his earpiece.
"YOU!" — I shouted, elbowing the second guard away and pointing a finger at the Yellow.
[Khlorun: Whoa-whoa. What's he doing at all?]
[Norn: No idea. Apparently he wants... Revenge?]
[Khlorun: Yeah, does he know the tournament rules?]
The Yellow turned his head to me and indifferently sized me up from bottom to top. He pressed a finger to his earpiece for a second and, straightening up, said: "Yes, sir."
"And he even obeys!" — I muttered under my breath and, drawing the rapier, headed toward him.
(You'll answer for this! I'll punish you, Yellows — you'll leave these bodies and return to the Silent Silence!!)
"DIE!" — I jumped, extending the rapier in front of me.
The stands held their breath, awaiting the outcome. The Yellow watched me motionless, not looking away.
Silence.
My heart pounded, and there was only one thought — "revenge."
Clang.
My rapier flew off — and a second later I felt a rough shove to the chest that sent me flying sideways, gathering a pile of sand with my body.
I focused my vision: in front of the Yellow stood Aviana in a white jacket and pants, who glanced at me without interest, then quickly put away her rapier.
(Her? Aviana? Why?)
"By tournament rules," — she announced loudly, "— that was a violation. Please leave the arena and return during your division," — she finished coldly, and with a sharp movement two Yellows grabbed me, leading me off the arena.
"Let go!" — I shouted, watching the one who killed Elara move away from me, discussing something on his earpiece again.
"I created all of you! Let me go!" — I kept trying to break free from the Yellows' grip, but no one reacted.
(I'm losing again, because of my helplessness. If I'd made it in time... If I could have warned Elara about the pistol...)
I was dragged off the arena and kicked to the ground under the stands. I flew a couple of meters and stopped at someone's feet.
"I should have warned her..." — I whispered. "— I need to become the one who protects..."
"Greetings, Seraphim 'The Butcher'?" — a familiar voice sounded.
(That voice...)
I slowly raised my head — but before I could make out the face, a sack was thrown over my head, and a sharp, stinging pain appeared in my hand. I tried to throw off the sack — but weakness instantly enveloped me. My arms went first, and then, amid quiet whispering, my brain switched off.