Slash…
The knife cut through Manto’s dense fur and flesh with a shrill whistle. The Coliseum fell silent. Dark blood poured in heaps onto the ground as the Lycan staggered backward, dragging himself across the floor while clutching his neck with one hand. His eyes, filled with pain and agony, glared at his attacker with rage.
From the stands, Mina frowned. Something about this felt wrong. What was about to happen would be worse.
Broken, Nova rose from the ground. He tossed the knife aside, held his abdomen, and walked toward Manto, staring at him with that dangerous glint in his eye. The aura of his two Spectrums wrapped around him, faint and wavering.
He didn’t say a single word. He just kept walking toward Manto. The aberration knew it was lost, yet it still tried to stand as life slowly abandoned its body.
Click…
Casually, Nova stepped on the pistol he had lost earlier. With difficulty, he picked it up and held it in his hands, checking the magazine.
Everyone watched, breath held.
“Four bullets,” he said, sliding the magazine back in place and aiming the weapon at the dying Manto. “That’s all I need.”
“Damn you… DAMN YOU!” Manto screamed, launching one last desperate swipe.
But—
Bang!
The bullet tore through the air, piercing Manto’s chest. His body collapsed instantly, falling backward, no longer able to move. How was this possible? Asmodai was in worse condition. So then… why?
“Why…?” he muttered, choking on his own blood. “Why did it have to be a human—?”
Bang!
Nova didn’t let him finish. With aberrant coldness, the second shot killed him without mercy. His face showed nothing but a chilling poker expression, one eye shining brightly.
Even though Manto lay lifeless on the ground, Nova—
Bang!
He fired again.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Bang!
One last time…
Click… Click… Click…
There were no bullets left in the magazine, yet Nova kept pulling the trigger, desperate to kill someone who was already dead. His face didn’t show it, but his mind was shattered from nearly losing control. His Serenity flickered, while his Anticipation burned like a raging flame. There was something else disturbing him, but the sensation was so faint that it went unnoticed.
When he finally realized he was acting like a frightened child, he stopped. He let the weapon fall and lifted his head. His hair covered his eye, and what little blood remained in his body had already spilled down to the last drop.
‘…I won.’
He had defeated an Aberration in a battle all by himself. He didn’t need his friends to fight for him. For the first time since becoming an Empath, Nova had won.
“Well, this certainly isn’t something any of us expected,” the announcer laughed nervously. “But I believe we’re all thinking the same thing.”
Approaching Nova, landing gracefully and taking a few steps to present himself to the audience, he raised his fist.
“Creatures of the galaxy! The winner! Nova Asmodai!”
After the silence, the Grand Coliseum of Aria erupted in cheers. Many stood up, celebrating the victor, while others wore expressions of disappointment. Mina, however, sighed and vanished into the crowd.
“Well done, boy. That was an excellent show,” the announcer said, placing his hand on Nova’s shoulder. However, he paused when he noticed something. “Oh… He passed out…”
His eye remained open, staring at the sky as if yearning for salvation. His body, ruined by battle—decaying and fragile—remained standing even as he lay unconscious. Nova had won, but he was so exhausted that he simply couldn’t endure any longer and collapsed right where he had fired the weapon.
“It’s incredible…” the announcer whispered.
Crack!
A loud creak echoed. On the other side of the Arena, the large metal plate—the gate—opened. Kaulai emerged from it, walking toward the center. His expression was complicated, as if he were sad and angry at the same time.
As Kaulai passed by, the announcer smiled arrogantly.
“You work fast, Kaulai. Though I don’t think they pay you enough.”
Kaulai didn’t respond. He simply lifted Nova into his arms and carried him away, back toward his cell. Still, the announcer didn’t give up.
“Make sure to restore the ‘product.’ We wouldn’t want the next shows he’s in to be depressing, would we?”
With a long, weary sigh, Kaulai said:
“Shut your disgusting mouth, Mófar. Your voice makes me sick.”
“What a bitter creature,” Mófar said, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the audience. But before that, he added one last thing. “Keep doing your job like you always do. It’s better to be a servant below than a slave above.”
As he walked away, Kaulai whispered:
“You’re the one who chose to be a slave…”
The curtain had closed on Nova’s show—for now. And so, while Mófar smiled at the audience, speaking like a clown, putting on the mask of the announcer of slaughter and entertaining the masses, Kaulai disappeared into the shadows with that wounded slave, whose suffering had only just begun.
