Lillith

  I sit on my bed, leaning my head back against the wall. I take a deep breath through my nose and open my eyes. I have finally finished, and just in time. Had to cut it close, what with getting enough sleep to not be in extra danger out there. As usual, Bahamut is watching me with calculating eyes. “You really are Lillith, aren’t you?” she asks. She is looking at me with horrified fascination. Or rather, she is looking at my most recent . . . updates. I shrug, no point in hiding it now.

  “The one and only,” I respond. “Never did catch your name, though.” She shakes her head.

  “No. It’ll be harder for you to kill me if you know my name. You need to separate yourself. Think of me as an opponent, not a person. People have names. I’m just . . . Bahamut,” she responds, wearily.

  “She says, moments after asking me for my real name,” I quip. She offers a single, humorless laugh.

  “Well, if you are the real Lillith, I don’t think I’m likely to have that dilemma. Not if half the stories I’ve heard about you are true,” she responds.

  “Man, who is spreading this shit? I swear to God, I will shove a fucking pear up their ass if I ever find them,” I complain. Bahamut gives me half a smile. She’s softened just a bit, after a week together. But she still lets little more than a corner of her mouth escape her armor.

  “Well, most of what I know came from my father. You’re one of the only people he’s ever actually been truly afraid of, you know? He believed in you before anyone else I’ve met. He’s always said you would come for him, some day. Like you have a vendetta against him specifically. Wouldn’t blame you if you do, honestly,” she replies.

  I roll my shoulders, stretching after the hour of meditation. I put one hand on my head and push, cracking my neck loudly. Man that shit leaves me stiff. “Well, I don’t know who your dad is, but that’s unlikely. I probably have nothing against him specifically, anyway. I just got here, haven’t met many people yet, and few I plan to hunt down. Although it sounds like he might deserve it. I’ll leave that to you though, once we both get out of here. You really think I plan to kill you? After watching me bust my ass not to let anyone die in my last match?” I ask.

  “If you really are kind, you will. Markus won’t be merciful if you refuse. If I’m going to die either way, I’d rather a quick one than anything he has to offer,” she insists.

  “Well murder certainly will solve the problem, but I doubt your murder will. But tell you what, convince me you deserve it, and I will. I’m certainly not hesitant to kill when it actually needs to be done,” I offer.

  “I’ve killed a lot of people in that arena. My hands are soaked in blood,” she answers immediately. No grief accompanies the declaration, but she certainly wears regret. It’s interesting, how different people compensate for the loss with different emotions.

  “When you didn’t have to? Not just to prevent that ugly fate you mentioned earlier?” I push. She is silent, answering my question with closed lips. “Right. You want me to mercy kill you for mercy killing people. And am I supposed to slip into a warm bath with open wrists right after?”

  “If I win, I plan to show you that mercy. It’s the least you can do. They know who you are now; they may try to rig the game. You can’t count on victory with certainty, even with . . . all of that. If you want an easy death, offer me the same, please,” she pleads.

  I examine her seriously. I then hold out my left hand and flex my claws. “No one ever does the least they can do. Not unless they are rich. I am going to kill Markus today, or I will die. Whether you beat me or not. That is my only goal. Get Markus in front of me, and kill him. So, if you win, don’t extend that mercy,” I insist. She glares at me and I glare at her. Neither of us has any intention of doing what they other asks. Both of us are certain our choice is the greater mercy. Which means we will both be fighting for our life out there.

  Our staring contest is interrupted as the steel door swings open and the prim woman who registered me walks in, guards on either side of her. She pushes her glasses up her nose, entirely composed until she gets a look at me. At this point she jumps and lets out a short but embarrassing squeal. It takes her a moment to compose herself, and another to recognize that I do still look like me. I just have a couple extra decorations, so to speak. I can see how they would be startling in an unlit room.

  I extend my claws and examine them as if I’ll find something caught underneath them. “That time, is it?” I ask. The woman clears her throat before responding. Then she catches a look at something under the bed and raises an eyebrow at me.

  “The magic circle. What’s it for?” she asks.

  “Magic,” I reply easily.

  “It’s not in the center of the room, it won’t work,” she challenges.

  “You’re not in the center of the room. You’re working,” I counter. She looks at me incredulously.

  “That’s not- that doesn’t even-” she starts, then she looks at Bahamut, who shrugs. Finally, our guest rubs her temples and sighs. “Just tell me what it does.”

  “Nothing now,” I answer honestly. “It seems some malcontent scratched out most of the defining runes. I’m afraid it’s downright unreadable, much less usable.” Our visitor looks back at Bahamut, who simply shakes her head.

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  “Are we really going to play this game today?” our guest asks.

  “I mean, I’ve got time for it if you do,” I respond with a wink. She rolls her eyes.

  “I suppose whatever it is it won’t change anything now. I’ll just have to report it after I escort you to your gate. Bahamut, someone else will retrieve you shortly.”

  “What, no bath first?” I complain. She scowls at me.

  “It would be a waste of water. You can fight as you are,” she dismisses. I leisurely stand and saunter to her side.

  “You really want to present your demon queen to the masses in this state? Could be underwhelming,” I say. She begins walking, expecting me to follow. I causally comply.

  “You look fine. They won’t be able to tell the difference in the illusion, and it doesn’t carry smells with it,” she says as she walks.

  I sniff as we pass the various other cells. “Well, fair warning, if you advertised a ‘filthy demon queen’, you may have attracted the entirely wrong kind of audience for the event at hand,” I joke.

  “You’re awfully chipper, for a woman walking toward her death,” she replies. So I guess they do have something of a plan to deal with me. They have certainly rigged the game.

  “Well you know. You’ve been to one of your executions, you’ve been to them all,” I answer easily. We leave the slave quarters and enter more familiar territory, passing more people and better decorated walls. Finally, we arrive at the waiting area, just inside my gate.

  “It will be a few moments before they are prepared on the other side. The Void sage says you have water mana. If you are so concerned about cleanliness, you can take this opportunity to use it, before you are cuffed,” she offers. I eye her and the man behind her, holding the mana dispersal cuffs. Then I give them a toothy smile.

  “The Void Sage sure loves saying shit, doesn’t he? Really got the gift of the gab, that guy. Someone should really teach him the ancient proverb of my homeland,” I reply.

  “And what is that?” she asks.

  “Snitches get stitches,” I grin. “No matter, you can put the cuffs on as you please.” She rolls her eyes, but gestures and the guard secures them around my wrists and neck.

  “I’ll be sure to let him know, if I ever see him. You certainly won’t get the chance,” she retorts. “Wait here until the gates open. There are two sages waiting, aside from these guards, in case you decide against fighting. It’s been a . . . pleasure.” With this she turns to leave.

  “Appreciate the vote of confidence!” I call after her, but she only sighs and continues walking. As such, I lean against one wall and wait. It takes an unusually long time for the gate to open. So long I am actually a little startled when it starts to move to the side. I put my left fist in my right hand, cracking the knuckles.

  “Don’t get yourself killed too quickly,” one of the previously silent guards says. “I’ve got good money on you beating at least three of them.” I raise an eyebrow at this. Three of whom? Well, I suppose I’ll find out in a moment.

  “I’ll try not to disappoint,” I promise as I make my way to my gate.

  “You will,” the other guard grumbles. I turn and walk backward for a few paces as I kiss my clawed hand and blow it to the more negative of the guards. A moment later, I am in the open air again. The moment I turn to face Bahamut I draw my mouth to a line. Goddamnit. Bahamut is, in fact, waiting for me. Along with ten other prominent gladiators. I have a feeling this too, will not be a free-for-all. Worse than that, I am the only person wearing mana suppression cuffs. I am not, on the other hand, the only person with mana. All eleven of my opponents have it, with Bahamut’s being the strongest.

  Bahamut’s aura is impressive, and her earlier comments about her father suddenly grow far more interesting. She has enough mana to crush any spell I try to cast with pure force. If she can respond to them, in any case. I can handle that. The others all have less intense auras, but powerful enough that I can’t ignore them. I can, of course, still use my mana with these restraints on. Otherwise I’d have introduced myself to the dirt the second I put them on. There is no question I’ll have to use it in this fight. It’s going to be a lot harder than I thought. But, I can manage it.

  “Ladies and Gentleman!” The announcer’s voice calls out, this time waiting for me to enter before introducing me, apparently. “May I introduce you to a creature of myth . . . The monster under your children’s beds . . . The woman the Void Sage calls the greatest threat in the history of the Republic! That’s right folks, this is no persona. No costume and name meant solely to rile up the crowd! No, the Gladiator Sage has captured her, the actual monster of prophecy, and brought her here to fight and die before you. Known to those of the third plane as ‘The Mage of Mourning’, may I introduce the genuine demon queen, the self proclaimed omega, the fearsome Lillith of Endings!”

  The crowd cheers loudly as he finishes, then the sky fills with an illusion, giving them all a close up look at the devil herself. I look a bit different than the last time I appeared here, and the cheering takes on an entirely different tone. This is hardly surprising. They lay flat against my skin and match the color of the flesh they grow from, to include my tattoos. Walking past me in public they would be easy to miss, as is their design. But blown up to the massive size of the illusion above me, no one can miss the new scales I’ve grown on much of my body. An extra layer of defense with . . . a couple of other features. More disturbing than that, however, is the other visible change. One which many may not notice, but many will. The new, closed eyelids on the small of my back and the front of my left shoulder.

  “Lillith. Invader, demon, and monster. We are so pleased to have you here, instead of terrorizing our country. I understand this match may feel a little . . . unbalanced. But, of course, you don’t hold back when facing the queen of demons, do you?” The announcer asks, more for the audience’s sake than mine. “Would you like to address the crowd before we begin? Or perhaps the sages? One last speech to your demonic subjects perhaps? We will broadcast your words to everyone if you do!”

  It’s odd they are giving me an opportunity to speak at all. I suppose they must want some extra evidence I’m the real demon queen, or they just aren’t worried about me swaying people. I guess with Nexus energy they don’t need to worry much. I look up into the sky then close my eyes. I sigh wearily, then chuckle before offering my so-called ‘final words’. This fucker really put me up against ten mages who could each kill Baldwin without a second thought. I only really have five words to offer right now, and all are for the Gladiator Sage.

  “Lick my fucking taint, Markus.”