One of the duelists caught Gilgamesh’s eye immediately. An old woman he did not recognize but the angel made of folded wings behind her proved her bloodline.

  Facing her was a fair-skinned man of powerful build. His short blonde hair spiked upwards and his head leaned on a tilt with a cocky, psychotic smile. But Gilgamesh saw the traces of an unsettling clarity in his arrogant eyes.

  [ Vandal vs Puabi Zoraster ]

  Gilgamesh found nothing about his clansman to be special, or even noteworthy. She had neither a Divine Name nor a unique yazata. He glanced over at Shamash and found that the elder’s interest lay more in the man called Vandal.

  The Puppet Emperor raised its arms, and white yazata arms lunged forth. Vandal threw himself out of the way and rushed the old woman, but Puabi conjured two more with great strain to force him back. The first two curved back around to hound him with the others, but even though he was forced completely on the defensive, Vandal dodged them all with nothing but amusement.

  “Twice as fast as the Training Dummy at its base.” Gilgamesh assessed of the Yazata arms. “That man is fast, but the only reason he's managing to avoid them is because the old woman is half-inept. But even a half-skilled Zoraster is a towering mountain now…”

  The hands finally grabbed hold of Vandal and pulled in all directions. But nothing happened. The arms stretched Vandal to the normal limits of his joints and nothing more, evident by his mocking laughter.

  “An Atreus.” Gilgamesh deduced. And it seemed Puabi did the same.

  The Zoraster woman immediately released the Atreus in mid air, then slammed him into the ground by the throat. With the air knocked out of him, the yazata arm tightened its grip around Vandal’s throat and raised him high as the other arms bound his limbs.

  Atreus were indestructible, not invincible. They could not match the power of a fully formed yazata, and even if they could, it was futile. A yazata only touched what it wanted to and was only touched by what it allowed.

  There was no defense against its strikes nor attack that could harm it in return. No normal attacks, at least. The Zoraster stood above all other clans, as had been so since the dawn of the Magi. But as the life was choked out of him, Vandal showed an insidious, mocking smile.

  The skin of his flesh turned red and the whites of his eyes stained black. Two more arms grew from underneath his own and ripped apart the yazata arms that bound them. Then with all four, he tore the one around his throat in half.

  “What?!” Gilgamesh scarcely believed his eyes.

  Panic washed over Paubi as she conjured more arms, but Vandal rushed right past them and even past her. He landed on the Yazata behind her with a stomp, and grabbed the edges of the yazata’s wings as he started to pry them open.

  Puabi threw him away with everything she had, fear having replaced her panic. Vandal simply rose to his feet unharmed as he laughed.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to know what’s inside~?”

  She sent her yazata arms racing towards him again, but Vandal caught each one with his own and waved their futile struggles back at her.

  “You wretched heretic!” Puabi yelled with indignant fervor.

  She dispelled the four arms and conjured four more in their place. And Vandal casually shattered her head with a swipe of his arm before she even realized he had moved.

  “So boring…” His psychotic expression fell to one of casual disappointment. Jeers rained down on him from the Puppet Spectators, but he simply sneered up at the sky and left the Arena.

  “What was that? Demonic power? How could it be superior to the Zoraster bloodline?” Gigamesh’s jaw clenched again. “Yet another I cannot defeat…”

  “Charlemagne’s Monster.” Shamash spoke. “That old tyrant mimicked our rituals to create a living weapon. For what reason, I do not know. But the monster broke free of its chains, and is now a rabid dog loose upon us all.”

  Gilgamesh was about to say something, but another duel caught his eye. One perhaps insignificant to all but him.

  On one side stood a woman with ashen hair covered in dull scars, as pathetic and unconfident as ever. She wore the same clothes and armor, but her flanged mace and round shield were nowhere to be seen. Instead, she held a two-handed steel maul, and the crazed desperation in her eyes seemed more intense than he remembered.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  Her opponent was equally as unremarkable at a glance. A common man with common weaponry, his being a shield and a flail.

  [ Mirzo Wallin vs Heroine ]

  Heroine charged forth and struck as soon as the fight began, about twice as fast as he had seen her in the slums. Her opponent blocked the huge hammer with his shield, though the force sent him sliding back. He burst back into range, but Heroine carried her swing to spin all the way around and strike again.

  The man swung his flail with surging mana at the barreled hammer. A loud clang rang out as the small flail sent cracks through the maul and knocked it back.

  “Is her maul not enchanted?” Gilgamesh observed.

  Heroine grimaced. She spun again and flung her maul at the man without hesitation, right for the shoulder of his flail arm. The man twisted to the side to avoid it, and Heroine slid in close in that opening with her dagger drawn.

  She thrust it up to his neck, but it only grazed his chin as he lurched his head back. In that second opening, Heroine disarmed him of his shield and flail and kicked him away as she took the man's weapons for herself. Heroine quickly attached the shield to her own arm and rushed the man without hesitation.

  The man darted back and grabbed the maul she had thrown. His muscles bulged and mana surged around the maul as he swung it with more force than she had herself.

  Heroine blocked the maul with her stolen shield, but the impact cracked its surface and knocked her back through the air. Though the moment she landed, Heroine simply burst back to attack.

  The man hesitated for a moment, then drew a dagger from his spatial bag and threw it at her. Heroine easily evaded it and pressed the attack with her flail, but suddenly her eyes widened and she tilted her head to dodge the flying dagger that had curved back around.

  “Foresight? No, she couldn’t have gotten that from mere Bronze tier options. Intuition?”

  The man threw two more daggers that continuously homed in on her as they found, forcing Heroine to dodge the flying weapons more often than she could press her attack.

  Gilgamesh watched closely. “She’s not paying attention to them with her eyes. Her ears. She’s listening to the sound they make through the air. Her ability seems to be just sharp senses combined with experience.”

  On that observation, Gilgamesh made a deeper deduction. “It looks to be always active, but she can’t have much Spirit. Even now. It must be a Trait.”

  Heroine finally managed to close the distance enough for a clean strike. The maul and flail clashed again, and the maul shattered. Heroine’s arm jolted up to shield her face and torso from the fragments, though some of them peppered the rest of her body along with her opponent’s.

  “Her wounds are shallower than those the man received.” Gilgamesh observed. “Her Vitality shouldn’t be that high when she clearly favors Strength and Agility. Does she have another trait to increase the toughness of her body?”

  Gilgamesh grew calmer as he delved into deeper assessment. On a whim, he searched through the trait list and found his best speculation on what hers seemed to be.

  [ Erratic Nerves ]

  ‘Enhances the speed and sensitivity of reflexes.’

  [ Alert ]

  ‘Maintains elevated senses slightly beyond the natural limits.’

  [ Tough Hide ]

  ‘Skin becomes as durable as Low Grade metal.’

  “Why did she choose traits? She can’t get Attribute Points from them nor can she improve them as with Talents. Bronze tier isn’t good enough to justify what she loses out on otherwise. She is simple-minded but not incompetent enough to choose immediate power over potential. Did I misjudge her...?”

  Gilgamesh watched her as she waged a brutal battle of weaklings.

  She had improved in her stats quite a bit, better than a Low Grade Lancer golem now, and she had gotten new abilities. But still, she seemed slightly better than average at best. Her opponent was no one special and still she struggled.

  “Those spasms have worsened...” The moment the thought crossed Gilgamesh's mind, a stillness took hold. “...worsened? Erratic Nerves is a Trait. Traits cannot be altered. Not without a Stigmata...”

  An unfamiliar ease flowed through him. “...Is she the same as me?”

  Shamash’s dull eyes took keen note of Gilgamesh, but he remained silent. His eyes grazed over to Heroine, who he had thought nothing of before, and took note of her as well.

  Finally, Heroine just barely eked out an ugly victory by impaling the man’s throat with the broken handle of her flail. But when her opponent’s body vanished, so too did his flail and shield. Panic struck Heroine, and she vanished from the arena at once.

  "Yazata derive their might from their wielder. All possess fivefold one's Attributes, without exception." Shamash said in the calm lull, then asked a sensitive question. “Do you know what Marduk’s unique power is?”

  Gilgamesh was not keen to answer. “...a transformation of gold… which brings great might and indestructibility.”

  “Not quite.” Shamash refuted. “His golden form allows him to harness mana infinitely. The more he has, the stronger he can become.”

  Shamash let the stillness that those words brought linger for a moment.

  “Marduk is no fool, so he ought to have put nearly all he has gained into… Spirit.” Shamash’s eyes drifted down as he spoke the last word. “...I had long wondered how he would gain enough mana to become unparalleled, but not once did I imagine something like this Schema that shackles even gods of myth made flesh.”

  “Mana is gained so freely here. I see no end to the power he will possess.” Shamash looked Gilgamesh directly in the eyes. “In this world, Marduk’s potential is infinite.”

  Gilgamesh’s resentment and envy surged, along with a nauseating sense of defeat. “If… If Marduk can gain power faster than me and has no limits… then… how am I meant to overcome him...?”

  “Nephew.” Shamash spoke solemnly. “Marduk was always meant to be the chosen hero.”