Chapter 10

  Set yourself apart in your deeds, so the sum of our whole becomes stronger. Seek new avenues of strength and you will find that your weaknesses will be less exploitable. It is through such diversity that we may better stand together, strong enough to face all odds.

  -Collected Teachings of the Exalted Sovereign

  The rest of the day, Phaidros had not managed to score a hit on Zenovia. She did start wearing her helmet during the exercise though and the gesture made Phaidros swell with pride. She was taking him more seriously now. He knew he’d have to thank Daxia sometime soon but he still had more training to do. The next three days passed faster than Phaidros knew and he only slept once during that stretch of time, stretching the energy of his ignited soul as much as possible to not waste a single moment he could. Each day Zenovia managed to crack fewer plates before Phaidros managed to parry the bullet and each day he got closer to catching Zenovia. She had begun to also ask him to practice running around the wall in his armor to get a feel for how fast he could go and also to go use the jungle as an obstacle course to further his familiarity moving through crowded spaces. It also served the purpose of giving Phaidros something to do after Zenovia left him for the evening. They had also returned to trying to activate his life sense but to little avail. When he was alone with his thoughts, it was difficult to feel life around him without the creeping dread of his future with the beast and his dead and lost relatives behind him. He now felt most comfortable when he was training in his armor with a sword in his hand. It was the only time he felt like he was truly in the now.

  Now came the difficult part, however. They needed a third. Phaidros couldn’t rely on Charon being ready in time, and he couldn’t accept just anyone’s help. He needed someone deadly and easy to work with. Often these two did not go hand in hand. He had begun to wonder if it was easier to wait for his brother. Part of him still worried for his safety, he hadn’t heard a word from him since he left. Phaidros still had no idea how he planned to catch up in the first place. Charon wanted him to trust him to handle himself but Phaidros had been the main person taking care of him since he cindered. His brother could barely walk, let alone fight. He hoped that whatever Charon had planned, it wasn’t going to get him killed.

  Phaidros stood against ‘The Ring’, a large building made of solid stone as if it had been carved from a giant boulder of ages past. Statues of various Ignited, Shaped, Defined, and Ideals lined the pillars that held up the many archways that made up its entrances. The sun hung low in the sky, still rising, and currently being mostly shadowed by the great tree in the center of Dasos, making the usual hot and muggy atmosphere feel a bit more comfortable. His armor kept him cool despite the heat, but he had his helmet tucked under one arm which made his face feel the full sweltering heat of the jungle. He could hear the sounds of battle behind him, people were already in there dueling and he was tempted to go in and watch but, he’d prefer not to get ahead of himself before Zenovia arrived.

  As he thought that, he saw the armored warrior stride up, rifle slung over her shoulder and helmet under her arm as she nodded to Phaidros. “Did you do your rounds?”

  “Ran around the entire wall, twice.”

  “And obstacle training?”

  “Swung around in the jungle through and around the trees for two hours.”

  “And your sword—”

  “I did everything you asked, Zenovia,” Phaidros said with a light chuckle.

  “You’re going to need it. I’ve been keeping tabs on what has been going on in The Ring and who might be a good partner for us.” She kept her voice low; she didn’t need to be swarmed with interested parties eager to prove themselves against a Shaped Beast. They had to be picky, if they openly spoke about the trouble they were facing, then every Ignited and their mother would descend upon them like a pack of starving vultures.

  “Who’d you find?” Phaidros asked curiously, following her lead and keeping his voice down.

  “A new guy who arrived a little over a week ago. A zhuk from what I’ve heard.”

  “A zhuk?” Phaidros asked, the name sounded made up.

  “I guess I should expect you not to know that. They’re the warrior caste of the nazeko.”

  Phaidros took a moment to register that and remember what he could about them. He had never seen them on Dasos which made young Phaidros not really think to learn anything about them. If they were anything like Daxia though, the expectations were high. He smiled awkwardly to Zenovia, hoping she’d explain further.

  Zenovia stared at him before grunting in annoyance. “They, at some point, were just insects but a few of them became Ideals and lifted up their kind in their footsteps and made a handful of clans, each representing their origins.”

  Phaidros blinked. “They used to be bugs? Wouldn’t that make them… small? And not very helpful?”

  Zenovia quickly smacked Phaidros upside the head with a dull thunk before holding her finger up in warning. “You’re lucky he didn’t happen to be standing nearby. They’re like humans, they come in many shapes and sizes, though even more so than us.” With that she dropped her hand, stepping past him and heading through one of the archways to one of the stands, the sounds of battle echoing within. “Now come on, he has been spending a lot of the time in The Ring so it’ll be our best chance to find him.”

  “Didn’t have to smack me about it,” Phaidros mumbled, following after her. She stopped, turning back to him with a glare. “Sorry,” he quickly added. She silently turned back around and stalked into the ring with Phaidros in tow. Inside, they went up to the stands to view the duel currently taking place.

  “Oh we’re in luck,” Zenovia commented at the top of the stairs up to the stand.

  “Is he here?” Phaidros asked, quickly moving up beside her, looking around before she gestured to the dueling grounds.

  Two Ignited were currently in pitched battle against one another. Though there was one clear difference: one of them was massive. The man had to be at least seven feet tall, his ignited armor only adding to his hulking mass. Thick armor plates padded every inch of his body, interlocked and interwoven in a complex pattern that made him look more like a graceless beetle than the usual, slimmer armor sets Phaidros had gotten used to seeing. The strangeness continued to the man’s helmet, the usual flat surface of the standard helmet instead curved concave toward the man’s face with two chunks of chitin shaped into mandibles coming from each cheek and meeting in the center. Atop the helmet were two holes that sprouted out into a pair of branching antlers. In the man’s hands was a two-handed hammer that looked to be taller than Phaidros was, with the hammerhead being overly massive, too massive, Phaidros thought, to be practical in any meaningful way.

  He was quickly proven wrong as he saw the zhuk fight. Down below, the zhuk’s opponent was in standard ignited armor, wielding a halberd, a popular choice as it mimicked the Exalted Sovereign’s own weapon when he was still mortal. The weapon seemed useless however as the man was repeatedly shifting backwards while thrusting the halberd forward as the antlered Ignited came barreling toward him. The armor cracked under the strength of the blow but there was so much of it and the zhuk didn’t even seem to care as he roared in reply and swung his hammer once, the force of the blow sending a wave of sand to kick up from the ground in its wake.

  The man opposite him ducked under the swing, the sheer weight of the strike still making his boots skid backward against the sand. The hammer slammed into the side of the ring where they had been fighting and left a crater in the rock. The zhuk’s opponent seemed to think he had an opportunity as he shot forward, aiming to strike a blow at one of the smaller plates that covered an armor joint. That was a split second before the man was grabbed by his neck and hoisted into the air by the zhuk as he, with one hand, yanked his hammer out of the wall, threw the man into the hole he had just made, then slammed his hammer into it again. A loud crunch echoed through the stadium.

  Zenovia, Phaidros, and the other scattered Ignited who were in attendance stared in stunned silence, a few of them with mouths agape. The zhuk pulled the hammer out of the now much bigger crater in the wall and his opponent fell face first into the sands, chitin plates in splintered pieces revealing the metal exoskeleton beneath. Phaidros’s enhanced sight let him get a good look at the man even though he was far up in the stands—he was still alive, but he was going to be out of action for some time. When he looked back at the hole in the wall, he saw an imprint of the man’s armor carved farther into the stone, showing that it had managed to hold, if barely. As the man slumped, the zhuk let out a loud, boisterous laugh and he turned back toward the crowd, arms at either side of him in an open gesture. “Is that all you have for me?” The man had an accent, with a slight buzzing trill at the end of his s sounds. “This is all the Holy City of Dasos has to offer? I was hoping to have a fun vacation with the Ignited who struggled most but instead all I have are easy victories!” he lamented. “Are there no others?”

  The only answer he received was silence. Phaidros and Zenovia glanced at each other before Zenovia whispered, “…well I think he’ll be a great help.”

  “Then maybe we should challenge him?” Phaidros offered. Zenovia hesitated. “You’re not scared are you?” Phaidros prodded.

  “What? No! Of course not,” Zenovia bit back. “I don’t want him to smash up my rifle and have to get it fixed before the hunt.” A bad lie.

  Phaidros looked back to the zhuk who had scoffed at the crowd, throwing a dismissive gesture at them all before he picked his hammer off the ground and hoisted it over his shoulder as he began to walk towards one of the waiting rooms. Kindling staff immediately ran past him, giving him a wide berth, to collect his opponent off the dueling grounds. “Well, now’s our chance to talk to him. Come on, let’s catch him before he leaves, or breaks someone else.” Zenovia nodded and the two hurried off.

  The waiting rooms were more like small meditation chambers. Here the Ignited would focus themselves before a fight. There were no armor or weapons to choose from, as each warrior Ignited was given their own set to care for and maintain. The zhuk currently stood in the center of it all, hammer hilt first on the floor as he picked at splinters of chitin stuck in the hammer head with thick fingers. It was proving difficult. The man was talking through his own private channel, a series of clicks emanating from him that sounded frustrated when the door opened and Phaidros and Zenovia walked through. “Great match out there,” Phaidros started, realizing now he wasn’t quite so sure how better to approach the man.

  The zhuk scoffed, standing taller, towering over the two humans as his visor turned to look at him. “Was not great. If it was great I would be missing a plate or two,” he grumbled in clear disappointment.

  Phaidros wasn’t sure how to respond, “Uh… sorry?” he tried.

  “Sorry?” he asked, disappointment bleeding into amusement. “You are not the one to be crushed by my hammer, little man.” He hefted the hammer onto his shoulder walking over to the two of them before leaning over to look Phaidros over. “Unless, you want this? The rest of them are cowards but maybe you will prove me wrong?” Phaidros instinctively leaned back, which made the zhuk seem to loom even more.

  Phaidros suddenly felt nervous. “Oh– well– I–” He tried to quickly come up with a reply before Zenovia quickly pushed him to the side to look up at the zhuk. “We’re not here to fight you. We wanted to talk to you and possibly get your assistance.”

  Another scoff left the zhuk before he turned to go back to the center of the room. He carefully balanced the hammer back to where it was so he could pick more pieces of chitin from it. “You are no fun. What is it you want from me?”

  “Your name, first of all. It’s only polite,” Zenovia replied. “I am Zenovia, this is Phaidros.” She gestured to Phaidros beside her who bowed his head respectfully.

  The zhuk watched them for a moment, head flicking down then up, as if sizing up potential prey. “Dominik,” the man replied. “Dom will be fine.”

  “Dom. A pleasure,” she said, a smile in her voice behind her visor. “Welcome to Dasos, you mentioned something about a vacation?”

  Dom muttered something under his breath. “Was busy fighting in the war on the homeworld. It was great, for a time. Ah but the same battles over and over again get tiresome, yes?” Phaidros noticed some tension in the zhuk’s voice as he spoke about it, like he wasn’t telling them everything. He didn’t want to interrupt his potential new hunting partner however as he continued, “I thought it must be an amazing vacation to come out all this way and hunt and fight among fellow Ignited to get my spark back. Seems I am mistaken though, I don’t see any good sport when I look around, well, except one.”

  “Who is…?” Zenovia asked.

  “Shaped creature that prowls around the outer village.” His grin was clear in his voice. “I want to kill it, now that would be a battle worth the trip out here!”

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  Phaidros finally managed to push his way back into the conversation. “You’re in luck. That is exactly why we want your help.”

  Dominik laughed, dousing what little confidence Phaidros had gained in one fell swoop. “Ah yes, I remember you! You are the one preventing me from hunting this creature. I wish to kill it by myself, you see.”

  Phaidros furrowed his brow. “It killed some of the best Ignited that were here in Dasos when there were three together and you want to take it on by yourself?”

  “Yes.” Dom answered as if it was obvious. “If I am beating all of your best so handily then I think I can take the beast by myself, but am unable to do so until you either fulfill your rite of vengeance or it kills you, or you spend the rest of your time burning away doing nothing. If you are not confident you can kill it then I just need to wait.” The zhuk nodded, as if this was the natural solution to his problem.

  Zenovia cut in now. “You’re willing to wait for a chance to fight this beast yourself? And if we die then oh well? Where’s your sense of comradery?”

  “Bah,” Dom answered, chin lifting. “Every day is a war to live in this world, yes? That is the first of the Exalted Sovereign’s teachings. If you wish for respect, you earn it. Your soul being on fire does not mean anything to me until you have proven that it burns hot.” He beat his fist against his chest as he said this and leaned over them both again. “Perhaps I could be convinced you both are worthy of hunting the beast with me, in a duel?”

  Zenovia’s fists clenched in frustration but Phaidros gave it more thought. “Very well,” he found himself saying. Dom let out a ‘Hah!’ of triumph.

  Zenovia’s gaze snapped to him then back to Dom. “Excuse us for one moment.” She then grabbed Phaidros by the shoulder and dragged the two of them away as Dom shrugged. When the two were at the edge of the room, she whispered, “Are you insane, boy?”

  “If I can’t face him now then I have no chance against the Shaped Beast,” Phaidros whispered back.

  “You don’t right now,” Zenovia hissed. “You haven’t even been able to hit me yet, Phaidros. Don’t reach too far before you’re ready. Let me fight him and when I’ve beaten him we can have our third and continue your training without putting you in a hospital bed.”

  Phaidros narrowed his eyes before he quickly turned back to Dom, “Clearly you are a greater skilled warrior than most. I don’t know if I’ll be able to defeat you, but surely there is some way I can prove myself?” he said more loudly, though he could feel Zenovia struggling not to strangle him.

  Dom lifted his hammer back onto his shoulder. “If you break a single plate off my armor I’ll be surprised. I can see your ignited potential, it’s like a candle flame. It is so little. If you manage to do this then you will have a chance to kill the Shaped Beast, maybe even more of one since I’m there.” He let out a single, punctuated laugh then gestured to Zenovia dismissively. “Go find the Kindlings, tell them another duel is taking place.”

  “You’re not going to take some time to rest or let your armor grow back?” Zenovia offered in a clear attempt to buy time.

  Dom scoffed again. “Small Ignited barely cracked it. I am hoping you do better, at least someone other than Sacred Suneater will be worth something out here in this jungle.”

  Zenovia glared at the two of them. “And what about him?” she said, jerking a thumb towards Phaidros. “Just a single broken plate?”

  “Oh no, the beast will not be going easy on him and neither will I. It would be an insult. We will go until one of my plates breaks or the little man is broken on the ground,” Dom replied, eagerness barely hidden from his voice.

  Zenovia tensed, looking at Phaidros one more time. “Last chance, Phaidros, let me handle this.”

  Phaidros smiled softly. “Have a little faith, Zenovia, please? I need to do this or else I’m never going to be ready.” Zenovia hesitated, but seemed to accept this answer. She nodded one final time then stalked out of the room, expression grim.

  “You better get to the waiting room,” Dom said to Phaidros. “I look forward to seeing how much that vengeance drives you.” Phaidros nodded, taking a deep breath as he stepped out of Dom’s waiting room, a pit growing in his stomach. A million doubts had begun to creep into his head like worms burrowing into fresh soil. Was he truly ready? He couldn’t imagine getting hit by Dom once and still standing afterwards and he still hadn’t managed to land a hit on Zenovia yet. He would have to figure it out quickly, or else he may spend his remaining time to hunt the beast in a hospital bed.

  It wasn’t a long wait once Phaidros had made it to the other room. Once inside he inspected the blade in his hands, seeing the reflection of the armored warrior staring back at him. It didn’t feel like it truly fit him. He had trained plenty, yes, but was he a true warrior? Charon was, his father was, Dom definitely was. Did he deserve to say he stood among them? He reached inside of himself, feeling the warmth of the fire around his soul. It was the single spark of hope he had. To be an Ignited was to look at insurmountable odds and try anyway all for the sake of the experience one might gain from it. However, the line between bravery and arrogant foolishness was often a hazy one at the best of times, as his father told him.

  He opened his eyes again, staring at the doors ahead of him as the staff prepared the dueling grounds. The room was too quiet, he thought, as if the weight of the task he was about to undertake should come along with something, anything, to distract him from the company of his thoughts. He took another slow breath in and out as suddenly the doors before him opened.

  Phaidros stalked out into the field of rough sand of the dueling ring, Dom walking opposite of him. As he looked at Dom now he saw not a potential ally but an enemy, each step forward narrowing the window of escape for himself against the horror he was about to face. Dom had no grace in his steps; each bootfall felt as if it sent a small tremor through what little hope Phaidros had. However, it was so strange when he realized after the first step out, the next step came easier than the last. The fire within him began to heat up, burning away the doubts as he made it clear to the world that he would not stand down against this threat.

  The Kindlings above were announcing the rules of the duel as agreed upon while the two Ignited stared each other down. The countdown began and Dom hoisted his hammer off his shoulder and gripped it in two large gauntlets. Squaring off against the zhuk like this made him seem more like a monster out of some children’s fairytale than the proud and honorable visage of an Ignited and Phaidros had to wonder if that was the reflection that Dom’s armor chose for him or if it was made like that. Phaidros mimicked him, bringing his sword off his shoulder as he widened his stance, one foot sliding back in the sand and blade pointed towards his opponent. The countdown got to zero.

  “Begin!” the announcer shouted. Dom charged at him, bellowing a war cry with the weight and inevitability of an avalanche tearing down a mountain. Phaidros ran the other way.

  It was immediately apparent that this was the best decision as a second later the hammer descended on the spot where he just was and hit the sand with a mighty boom, causing the rest of the sand in the arena to lift several inches before falling back down. Dom roared after him, “Coward! Face me!” as he lifted his hammer back up, the thrum of the jets of his armor carried him forward in a chase after Phaidros all the way to the wall of the ring.

  Phaidros didn’t have much time to think, but right now the heat of his potential had become a roaring fire as he tried his best to survive. He didn’t have time to look back behind him to see where Dom was, instead he trusted his instincts and at the end of his run leaped up toward the wall, igniting a few jets to spin him around midair so he landed feet first on the wall. The momentum kept him planted there for a precious second before he threw himself back off and over the advancing zhuk. He twisted in the air and swung his blade in an arc down at his opponent, the motion making the blade flash in the sunlight. Dom was at full charge so he couldn’t stop himself in time but he did swing his full body around into an upward swing in counter. Phaidros barely missed the hammer hitting him square in the chest while his blade connected to Dom’s shoulder, creating a resounding crack through the arena. However, the sheer weight of Dom’s swing threw Phaidros off balance throughout the rest of his trip back to the ground, limbs flailing and jets flaring to try and make him upright in the air. It failed to do so, sending him into a small tumble before he caught himself, one hand and knee in the sand as he skidded backward, sword held in a tight grip in his free hand.

  Phaidros felt a rush of adrenaline fill him as he let out a heavy breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He didn’t die, he had managed to dodge an attack and managed to hit him! If he had the time to be proud he would, only his opponent was already coming after him again.

  Dom was unnaturally fast for someone of his size and if it weren’t for the enhanced reflexes granted to Phaidros by his ignited soul, he would have already been a bloody stain on the floor of the dueling ring. The zhuk’s hammer dropped so the head of it dragged menacingly through the sand as he then picked it up and heaved it in a low arc. Phaidros threw his body upward, the force of the blow causing a gust of wind to blow him backward and just out of reach for Dom’s grasping hand. Phaidros felt as if he had just avoided death’s own grasp as chitin scraped against chitin.

  Still, the young Ignited landed on his back, scrambling backward, jets creating a cloud of dust and sand as another hammer blow missed him by a hair’s breadth. This time, Phaidros had anticipated the small jump he and the sand made, activating jets on his legs that spun him upwards and back in a backflip back onto his feet, blade at the ready.

  All the while, Dom was laughing. “Run, little man, run! I wonder how much you can do that before I break your leg! Then there will be no more running for you! What will you do then?” He swung his hammer forward again. This time Phaidros braced and threw himself upward with a jet-aided jump, getting a single foot planted on the hammerhead that he sprung off of again in another twisting jump. His sword slammed into Dom’s helmet and made it jerk to the side as he passed overhead. He had missed his target of the same plate he had struck earlier and as he landed he found that he barely even stopped the momentum of Dom’s strike. The hammer swung around and crashed into the side of him. Time seemed to slow for a moment as the hammer met the initial resistance before sending him flying across the arena in a shower of splintered chitin followed by Phaidros bouncing off of a cracked stone wall and hitting the sand.

  Phaidros’ vision spun in circles, his suit flaring with messages of destroyed plates and others cracked. He blinked them away, stabbing his sword into the ground as his body quivered and struggled up onto one knee before falling down again. He looked ahead blearily to see Dom stalking over with slow steps, his hammer over his shoulder like an executioner’s axe. “You are very brave for stepping into the ring with me,” Dom called out. “But you fight like a little gnat biting a tiger. There will be honor for you if you surrender to me now. Your armor will not take too long to repair, but one more hit? And you’re out until your time is up.”

  “I can’t,” Phaidros wheezed out, finally getting his knees under him and one foot planted on the ground. “Not yet, it’s not over yet.” He returned to his feet shakily, bringing his sword back up. “Not until I avenge my father and kill that beast.”

  Dom’s head cocked to the side, gaze thoughtful. “You can’t avenge your father in a hospital.”

  “I won’t be, because I’m going to beat you.”

  Dom let out another laugh. “There is the spirit of a true Ignited, perhaps you would have a chance if your sword could pierce my armor.” He stepped forward and Phaidros cried out, bringing his sword up and aiming for the center of the spidering cracks along one of Dom’s shoulder plates. It hit square, Dom didn’t even try to block it and chitin splintered under the impact. It wasn’t enough. Dom dropped his hammer, grabbing the blade with his hand and gripping it tightly. He held it in place as he stepped into the strike and grabbed Phaidros by the neck, hoisting him off the floor just like he had the man before. “As it is now? You should give up and leave the hunt to the real Ignited.”

  Phaidros grunted, choking out a breath as he struggled against the man’s grip for a moment. Then with his free hand he threw a punch forward, landing it in the center of Dom’s shoulder plate. The hidden stinger activated, the plate in his gauntlet opening and a sharp spike slammed into the armor plate that sent a few more chips flying. Dom barely even registered the hit. “Lots of fight in you, even in the jaws of defeat.” Phaidros punched him again, still only leaving another crack and Phaidros with a slowly depleting level of oxygen. “You will end up seeing your father soon with that attitude.”

  “That may be,” Phaidros choked out, a crack following as he punched uselessly at Dom’s shoulder. “But if I don’t try”—another crack as he punched his shoulder again—“then you would be right, I would not be ignited.” His lungs burned but with it he could feel his potential burning brighter. “So no, I won’t give up.” One more crack. “Not now, not until the deed is done!” He reared his fist back, using the last of his strength, the fire within him raging as he slammed it forward, the spike finally finding purchase and creating a deep fissure in the shoulder plate. Dom blinked, stunned, dropping Phaidros as he stepped back. The motion made the plate fall in two pieces and hit the floor in a cloud of dust.

  Silence fell over the arena, all except for Phaidros struggling to catch his breath and coughing. The scattered attendants of the ring all cheered for the young Ignited’s victory over an opponent that had been making them all look like children pretending to be ignited. Dom looked at the broken plate in bewilderment before he just began to laugh again. “I suppose I deserve that for underestimating you. You are tenacious, little man.” He reached down, grabbing Phaidros by the arm and hoisting it up in the air as if to present a champion as he looked out at the rest of the crowd. “And such tenacity should be celebrated with your head held high! Stop choking.”

  “Easy for you to say, your grip is intense,” Phaidros managed to wheeze out, finally having the strength to look up into the crowd. He found Zenovia, whose fingers were gripping the edge of the Ring so hard he could see small cracks in the stone. There were several Kindling staff members around her, most likely trying to talk her down from jumping into the dueling grounds. When Phaidros could finally breathe normally again he could stand taller than he did before, a muted pride filling his chest. If that last punch didn’t land, that would have been it. Everything he was fighting for would have been destroyed before it even had a chance to find its own legs.

  “I’ve had worse,” Dom replied dismissively. “Now! With great victory comes great celebration. Surely there is some place for revelry here in the city? I haven’t had a good enough fight to celebrate yet to know these things.”

  Phaidros’ brow furrowed beneath his helmet; it was just now hitting him how friendly Dom was being. “I—well yes. You were just trying to make me give up a minute ago, why are you so eager to spend time with me now?”

  “Eh?” Dom looked confused at the question. “Yes, because you were a runt before who could not break a single plate of my armor.” He tapped his chest with his fist. “But now you are a strong warrior able to make even a zhuk clanner like me lose a plate!” he said with excitement. “The flame around your soul burns true now, and that is someone I am willing to fight alongside! Not some green babe.” He leaned over, visor looking into his. “I will hunt with you, help you get vengeance for your father—but now it is time for us to drink and eat.” He let go of Phaidros’ arm and slapped him on the shoulder. “Come! And invite your mother with you. I will not have my feast be denied to me!” he said before beginning to stalk away from the Arena.

  “She isn’t my mother,” Phaidros quickly corrected but still followed after him.

  “She sure speaks for you like one.” Dom chuckled.

  Phaidros shook his head, looking down to the ground where he walked. He looked to his hand gripped around his sword and realized it was shaking. This was his first true victory, yet the thought of losing horrified him. He was so close to that reality today and even then it was a shallow one; he had barely managed to break a single armor plate off of Dominik and he wasn’t even shaped. It was in that single step forward that he realized how far the path ahead of him still went and how little time he had to further it along.

  A little over three more weeks now, that was his deadline, and he was not sure he would be able to get the vengeance he sought. A chill ran through his spine as he was faced once more with the fact that he may die soon. The levity of the victory was gone and beneath his helmet he looked haunted.

  Was he really willing to die for this?