“How strong is Sloth? To put it shortly, he can be described as the strongest coward,” replied Gladius, cleaning his sword.

  “Why’s that?” wondered Laudis.

  “From all the Upper Hands, he alone has killed the fewest people. It’s hard to tell whether his kill count exceeds one hundred. There are several encounters with him. He randomly swings with his Whip of Sands and freezes those who are too close to him. Most of the grunt work is passed to his subordinates. Still, he’s ninth in command. If we were to put aside his cowardness, then he’s very skilled in combat and in controlling magic.”

  “Have any of you met him?” the youth asked, looking at the Crusaders.

  “Once, I’ve been travelling through a town, which was conquered by him one day before. More than half of the houses were burned. Corpses were lying on the streets. Their stench mixed with charcoal gave me a headache. I was leaving when I noticed a vampire in a leather jacket and a hat. I grabbed my sword, and I was ready to decapitate the creature. Then, I noticed they were cleaning the streets. At first, I was confused. Why would a vampire clean a town by himself? He removed blood stains and covered broken windows with planks. A child came to him. I started running to them, but halted on the way. The undead gave them a loaf of bread. Honestly, I don’t recall any corpses of children or excessive brutality. Vampires are different from us. Almost, like their empathy and morality are suppressed by their hunger. Most of them like to play around with us. I’ve seen corpses that are hung, impaled, or chopped down into small pieces. Sloth and his band reduce their brutality to the least,” stated Dante, recalling his previous encounter.

  “I see…”

  “Aaaand, that ends our break. Go back to work,” the knight declared, standing up.

  The Crusaders had been training for five more hours with a few breaks. It was almost sunset. The clouds stretched all across the bloody sky. They were heading to the hotel.

  “Gladius,” muttered Solisia.

  “Hm?”

  “Can I go to the market? I know it’s getting late, but I didn’t have time to buy it yet.”

  “Buy what, to be precise?”

  “Eh…”

  “Forget. Take Laudis with you.”

  “When did I agree on this?”

  “Now,” he replied, raising his right hand. The three of them left them.

  ‘Great… I wonder what she’s planning on buying. Probably some jewellery,’ the youth thought, following her.

  The girl was consciously observing the stands. They were heading to buy jewellery, as he had anticipated.

  “Wait,” she said, halting him.

  “Yes?”

  “Let me see those.”

  “Right.”

  ‘Rings, necklaces, and bracelets… I’ll never understand people who spend most of their money on those things. Huh? They’ve got earrings too? That’s odd… Why’s my hand shaking? I don’t recall any accidents with them.’

  A memory pierced through him like an arrow. It was five years ago…

  The streets were lively, filled with various men. It was a festival. Many troubadours were singing, dancing, and playing on instruments. Local people were selling handmade products and food. Amongst the crowd, there he was, twelve-year-old Laudis. The kid went to a dark alley and took out a sack of money.

  “Fifty golds… That’ll last for a week. Festivals are indeed quite nice,” he whispered, playing with coins.

  “There you are!” a man shouted, rushing at him.

  The boy quickly stood up and started running away, yet he was too slow. After a short chase, the man caught him red-handed.

  “Fifty golds? I’ve got a jackpot! Now, I’ll leave you unharmed, since you gave me some extra money.”

  He threw Laudis to the side. The kid took out a dagger and rushed at him. His blade cut the man’s right leg.

  “Argh! That hurts, you son of a bitch! You know, I’ve wanted to let it slide. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll teach you a lesson.”

  The man took the weapon from him. Then, he dragged the kid to a tattoo and piercing salon.

  “What do you want?”

  “He wants to pierce his ears.”

  “No, I don’t—”

  He slapped the kid’s head.

  “I don’t do kids.”

  “I’ll pay you extra.”

  “How much?”

  “Twenty-five golds.”

  “Get out, both of you,” the tattooist stated, pushing them out.

  “Fifty! Fifty golds.”

  “You never saw anything.”

  He took out a long needle and heated it over a flame. Then, he pierced one of his ears.

  “Argh!” wept Laudis.

  “Shut the hell up, or I’m going to mess this up!”

  After a while, both of them left the place. The man returned the dagger.

  “From now on, think twice before doing something.”

  The kid stood still for a second, wiping his tears.

  “Why? Why have you done this to me?”

  “Because that’ll teach you something,” he muttered, raising his right hand. He blended into the crowd…

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Laudis.”

  ‘Huh? What’s that?'

  “Laudis, are you okay?” asked Solisia, shaking his arm. His vision came back. He hadn’t even realised it, but he lost sight of everything else. The youth had been standing still for fifteen minutes.

  “Yeah. I’ve spaced out for a while. Are you done?”

  “Yes, I’ve bought a necklace. Do you want something?”

  “I don’t have money on me.”

  “I’ve asked if you want something, not if you’ve got money,” she replied with a subtle smile.

  “If you don’t mind…”

  They left the market and headed to the hotel. The lamps lit the hardened streets made of sand.

  “I never knew you had piercings. Why didn’t you wear anything before?”

  “I didn’t feel like doing it.”

  “Right…”

  The two of them entered the room.

  “Ha! Look at this fu— I mean thug. He thinks he’s slick or what?” said Dantenium, mocking him.

  “I don’t think they’re that bad. Honestly, they suit him,” stated Udania, looking at the youth.

  “Bullshit. But I guess it’s better than that foolish tattoo of yours.”

  “Hey. That isn’t a tattoo, you know that,” the water sorceress replied.

  The crimson-haired glanced at her with disappointment. Then, he left the room.

  “Just remember to take them off before the fight,” declared Gladius, joining in.

  “Of course.”

  “Wake up,” a deep voice entered Denir’s mind.

  ‘Huh?’ the man thought, sitting on the chair.

  “Wake up!”

  The butcher woke up from his deep sleep. He literally dreamt about reality — observing the pot. It was quite uncommon, even for him. Despite that, Moodeen thought he had time.

  “What? It’s nine p.m. already?! Fights start in fifteen minutes. I have to change my clothes. Damn, I have around two days, and I’m wasting precious time on sleep.”

  Vampire Butcher changed into different clothes. He put on a grey jacket, black trousers, a black hat, and a pair of white glasses. He rushed to the gathering place, bumping into bystanders. After a while, he was at the right spot.

  “Password?” a muscular man asked.

  “I don’t have time for that. Just let me get in,” the slightly annoyed confectioner replied, trying to enter.

  “Wait! Tell me the password or go away.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then, go the hell away!”

  Denir was pushed over to the ground.

  “The Darkest Cloak activare,” the Shadow sorcerer whispered.

  The building was pretty beat up and old. It was a miracle that it still stood. In the centre, there was the arena. It was empty. Denir deactivated his spell and sat in the audience. Most of the present people were men, mostly poorer ones. They were trying to win some money via betting. The whispers stopped in a moment. The lights were turned off, and the two torches over each gate were lit. A strong smell of sulfur filled the space. A weird, familiar sensation pierced through Moodeen, giving him shivers.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the privilege to initiate our annual, one hundred and fourth Bloody Night! I’ll remind you once again of the rules of the fights. A warrior wins when the opponent is unable to fight or when they surrender beforehand. There are no limits to weapons or magic. Killing is permissible.”

  Denir leaned forward, interested in the announcement. A small smirk appeared on his tired face.

  “Now, let me introduce the first fight. In the first gate, a newbie with an impressive nickname, Marcus ‘the Rough Glass’ Tingel!”

  The man entered the stage with a steady walk. He had a black armour, a grey mask with a frown, and had no weapons. There were no sounds besides a few whispers.

  “Why didn’t he bring a weapon?”

  “Does he want to lose or what?”

  The announcer cleared his throat and continued the speech.

  “In the second gate, the favourite of the audience, with the streak of seven wins, Mitcher ‘Dragoncry’ Flaw!”

  A tall, muscular man walked out of the corridor. He had a white, shiny armour and a battle axe. As soon as he entered, the audience started cheering him up.

  “As soon as both men let go of the handshake, the fight will start.”

  Mitcher came closer to his foe. He extended his right hand, waiting for the handshake.

  “I’ll end this quickly. You probably lost a bet. I feel sorry for you. Be aware that you’ll get some cuts and bruises.”

  “...”

  The other man accepted the gesture and let go of it as soon as their hands touched. Marcus jumped backwards and awaited the first strike. Tsh! Flaw swung his weapon centimetres to him.

  “Glass Hammer invocare,” whispered Tingel, underneath his mask, a smirk drew on his face.

  There it was, the Glass Hammer. It was no tool, but battle equipment. The weapon was two-handed, one and a half metres tall, and weighing no more than ten kilograms. The people observed the odd object, intrigued by his intentions.

  “Is that supposed to be scary? Ha! You’re a fool! Glass is the weakest synthetised element! I’ll crush you with pleasure.”

  “...”

  “Argh!”

  Dragoncry rushed into him with full speed, preparing himself for a devastating strike. His opponent stood still, awaiting the blow. Fwoosh! The steel flew behind his back to the Rough Glass in an instant. The men in the arena gasped. Thuck! Tthe hammer neutralised the impact from the strike. Glass shards spread all across the surroundings. Disoriented Flaw watched as the particles reflected the light of the torches. He noticed something, his armour, which protected his forearms, was stained red. Then, both his arms went numb. The man rapidly distanced himself.

  “W—What have you done to me?”

  “Glass is the weakest synthetised element, isn’t it? Remember, a summoned creation will remain as summoned. Every created thing with mana can be modified. That is only if you’re a skilled sorcerer. Now, surrender or endure suffering caused by the Roughest Sleeves!” the muffled voice explained.

  “What the hell are those?!”

  “You know, basic magic. A few glass particles went under your armour. Now, they’re expanding into spikes, piercing through your skin. The process is slow to cause as much pain as possible.”

  “You bastard!”

  Mitcher ran to Marcus with the last ounces of his strength. The Rough Glass dodged the attack with no difficulty. Dragoncry’s eyes filled with rage.

  “Aura of Wasp Swarm activare!” he proclaimed, sacrificing the last portion of his mana.

  The attacks grew faster and harder to see with every miss. Mitcher’s consciousness wasn’t present, but his instinct was. Flaw resembled a wounded creature more than a prideful warrior. His battle axe swings resembled a diving hawk, both in sight and sound. Nevertheless, his blows were getting faster and faster. Thus, Tingel found it harder to avoid them.

  ‘I cannot avoid his strikes infinitely. Damn, that bastard probably doesn’t even know, but he halted the Roughest Sleeves. They require a great focus and an immense amount of mana. That moron has more luck than sense. I don’t know that aura. If I had to guess, it probably enhances your strength and instinct with every missed attack. I have to play risky, or I’ll lose,’ thought Marcus, dodging those powerful swings.

  “I.W. invocare!”

  A thick wall of glass was summoned between him and the steel weapon. Tsh! It broke down into countless pieces. Flaw lost his focus for a moment, glancing down. The act put a final nail in the coffin. Just that glimpse was enough for Marcus to win over his foe.

  “Glass Hammer invocare.”

  Once again, the weapon appeared in his hands. Now, it was smaller and was empty inside. The Rough Glass struck his foe with it. The glass shattered into many shards. The floor was full of them, and they were stained with blood. The man's senses had returned, but soon after, he lost consciousness. It was over.

  “We have a winner! Marcus “the Rough Glass” Tingel won his first match by a knockout!” the announcer stated, raising Marcus’ right hand.

  Marcus stood still. He tried to hide it, but he was exhausted. Despite dodging most blows, he really felt the last one. The Ice Wall somewhat absorbed the impact, but not entirely. His armour was dented, and underneath it, he had a pretty big bruise.

  “I didn’t even notice it,” the man declared, walking out of the arena.

  The audience went silent. Most of them lost money because they had bet on the supposed front-runner. They started booing at him. The announcer was sweating in distress. Suddenly, Denir stood up, catching everyone’s attention. He started clapping loudly, silencing them. A few mean looks were directed at him, but he didn’t bother to care. For the first time, Moodeen saw a real fight.

  “Hey, are you his bitch or what?” a neighbouring man mocked him.

  “Are you mad because he owned that moron without using aura? Or perhaps because he had no weapons? Please answer me,” the butcher replied with a wide smile. The confectioner got closer, showing him his dagger.

  “Whatever…”