Fifty thousand spectators screamed, rasped, stomped in rhythm so hard that the ground beneath the arena trembled.
— The great warrior! The LEGEND OF THE SOUTH! HAAAARAS!!!
The crowd roared.
Haras stepped out like a mountain in human form.
Scars crossed his body like a lattice—each line a story, each story a slaughter.
And then…
Silence.
— AND AGAINST HIM…
THE MONSTER WHO SLEW DEMON ARMIES…
ZENHALD HELVARD!!!
The crowd choked on its own breath.
And I felt it.
A gaze.
Heavy.
Alien.
Through the crowd. Through distance.
The deputy general stood in the stands.
His eyes were empty… but someone else was looking through them.
So that’s where you are, I thought.
Haras smiled:
— Well, Zen? Don’t disappoint.
— Never.
I played along.
Haras attacked as if the ground itself became a weapon every three seconds.
I answered beautifully, spectacularly—fast movements, hurricanes, ice, fire—everything to make the crowd scream.
Seconds.
Minutes.
Fifteen minutes of pure show.
But the whole time, out of the corner of my eye, I watched the deputy general.
And when Haras hesitated for just a moment—I struck with my elbow, laying him down gently but fast.
— Winner — ZENHALD HELVARD!
The crowd exploded.
But I heard nothing.
The deputy general was already leaving.
Sharp. Fast. As if hurrying to a secret meeting.
The golem in his shadow worked perfectly.
I vanished.
And followed the carriage.
It left the capital’s borders when the conversation finally began.
The deputy general removed his glove and touched the mirror—it flared crimson.
The voice from the mirror was not a voice.
It was a spine raked across the soul.
— Report.
— Lord… — the general fell to his knees in the carriage. — The boy. And… his sister. They are the primary threat.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The voice grew colder than emptiness:
— You lost half an army. Because of a child.
— Yes, my lord… but we will recover. We have already begun gathering a new wave.
— Destroy them.
Both.
No exceptions.
The general swallowed.
— We have an executor. He is watching, gathering information… He will reach the boy and the girl.
— Good.
What about the kingdom?
— We… are raising taxes. The border villages are already on our side—it’s profitable for them. Soon we’ll begin creating chaos in the capital. The people will undermine their own state. When the moment comes—we strike.
A pause.
— You know your task.
— Yes, my lord. I understand.
The mirror went dark.
The general exhaled like a beast allowed to live one more day.
And then—
A stream of air sliced through the carriage.
I burst inside like a shadow.
The general didn’t even have time to inhale.
My fist—and the crunch of his nose scattered through the cabin.
I blindfolded him.
Pinned his hands.
Broke two ribs so he couldn’t call mana.
He howled:
— WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHO ARE YOU?!
— The one you’d see in your worst nightmare, — I whispered.
And carried him away.
High.
In the distance, a dark forest was already visible.
A forest where I had allies who knew how to… interrogate.
Elves.
The general screamed as I carried him through the treetops:
— NO! NO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! THEY SEE EVERYTHING!
— We’ll test that right now.
I descended among the roots of the Great Tree.
From the shadows emerged the Gray Shadow and the White Wolf.
Both faces were… calm.
— Zenhald, — said the Gray Shadow. — What is this?
— Our key.
He’s connected to the demons.
Leads straight to the core of the web.
The Gray Shadow smiled the way only elven killers can.
— Then let’s pull everything he knows out of him.
We shoved him inside the tree.
Roots closed, forming a dense, dark cage. The Gray Shadow lit faint runes of light—they jolted the captive, preventing him from using even scraps of mana.
But then…
He spoke.
Only it wasn’t his voice.
— HAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!
— So… you caught him, little humans?
The voice was hoarse, layered, as if dozens of throats spoke at once.
The White Wolf’s fur bristled.
Even the Gray Shadow took a step back—for the first time.
— We are already EVERYWHERE.
— You are NOTHING.
— The web has long covered your kingdom.
— Fools.
— Even killing a pawn… you will not kill—
Crunch.
The captive’s neck bent at an impossible angle.
I didn’t even have time to blink.
The body hung lifeless, tongue fallen from its mouth, eyes glazing over—and a faint smell of sulfur rolled across the skin.
I exhaled:
— …Uh. Well. Okay.
The Gray Shadow hissed:
— Demonic forced self-destruction.
— Someone didn’t want him to talk.
The White Wolf lifted a vial of dark liquid:
— This is what he drank?
— Yes, — I said. — Study it. It’s more important than it looks.
— Understood. We’ll dissect every molecule, — the White Wolf growled. — If needed, we’ll bring in the Owl. He’ll read the structure.
— And one more thing… — added the Gray Shadow. — We’ll find the trace of the darkness that snapped his neck. Such a connection leaves an imprint.
I nodded.
The information was enough.
Not everything. But enough to understand:
The web runs deeper than we thought.
And demons have been inside the kingdom for a long time.
When I returned to the capital, night had already settled on the white walls, but around the coliseum the crowds still roared—the arena was never allowed to sleep during Nurino.
Servants ran about.
The arena was cleaned after previous fights.
Mages restored damaged sections.
Singers shouted songs of heroes.
And I heard:
— ADVANCING TO THE SEMIFINALS:
FINN RAINWORD!
ELINIA LAUREL!
MIRA HELVARD!
AND… ZENHALD HELVARD!!!
The crowd exploded.
I looked at the massive betting boards:
I snorted.
— Betting on me and Mira isn’t even profitable…
Whispers spread through the air:
— “Finn’s done for… he’s up against MIRA…”
— “Zen versus Elinia?! That’s terrifying to even watch!”
— “Two monsters in one tournament… what kind of year is this?!”
I stared at the semifinal list.
My match:
Zenhald Helvard vs. Elinia Laurel
Second match:
Mira Helvard vs. Finn Rainword
— Yeah, Finn… — I muttered. — Bad luck.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt… interested.
Tomorrow, the arena won’t just host a tournament.
Tomorrow, the hunt begins.
For traitors.
For demons.
For the entire web.