Chapter 290: Life Isn’t Worth Living Anymore… (Patreon)

The dark energy rattled at Beatrix’s touch and exploded outward in a flower of indigo spikes. A spike shot out into her hand with a painful icy grip. She cried in agony and fell back. She rolled on the floor as her body seized up. Her mana flow fell into complete disarray as the freezing sensation spread across her body.

Stryg slowly sat up and pushed himself to his feet. He walked over to the wheezing Beatrix and stared down at her, his lilac eyes alight in a soft glow.

Beatrix looked up in sheer terror.

“W-what… a-are y-you…!?” she gasped with chattering teeth. Her lungs felt as if they would freeze over.

The Ebon Aspirant bared his small fangs and smiled wide. There was no warmth in his eyes. Beatrix frantically tried to crawl away but her limbs had gone entirely stiff.

He reached down and pulled the orc up by her black hair. She grimaced and cried out weakly. He narrowed his gaze and looked her over as she dangled helplessly from his hand.

The Aspirant raised his other hand and wrapped his fingers around her throat. He squeezed down slowly and watched the air seep out from her strangled breaths. His sharp claws dug into her red flesh with ease. Blood trickled down his fingers and filled his nostrils with the scent of iron. It would be so easy to squeeze down on her narrow neck, like snapping a twig underneath one’s boot.

The orc wheezed a quiet rattled noise, the last of her air escaping pale lips. Gone were the pride and confidence she had marched into the arena with. Gone were the taunts and mocking remarks. Gone was the anger raging beneath her calm demeanor. All he saw now was the fear in her amber eyes.

Beatrix stared at him with panicked eyes and saw her reflection mirrored in his lilac irises. She froze, her listless movements wilted to a halt.

The Aspirant didn’t understand. Where was her rage? Where was her anger at her defeat? Where was her fear of death?

She bit her lip and closed her eyes tight. A single tear slipped down the side of her red cheek.

Then he saw it. What he hadn’t before. Frustration. A frustration born from the inability to do the one thing everyone expected of her… and the dull acceptance of knowing that she never would live up to those expectations.

How had he not noticed it before? He had seen the same expression staring back at him countless times in his own reflection.

He pulled her in close, his hand still wrapped around her neck, her limp feet dragging on the sand. “What am I…?” he whispered her question to himself.

Am I a Shield to my friends?

Am I an Ebon Aspirant to the Realm?

Right now he felt like neither. All he felt was…

Stryg smiled, satisfied, and with a quiet methodic cadence, he whispered, “I… am… the son of Blood Fang… and the father of Ebon Hollow... I am Stryg… and I see you, Beatrix Morrigan.”

Her eyes slowly opened wide at the mention of his last words.

Stryg released his grip and lowered her to the ground. He glanced up at the Herald’s Tower looming over the coliseum and crossed his arms expectantly.

“I-IT SEEMS THAT BEATRIX DAI-MORRIGAN IS UNABLE TO FIGHT ON. THE VICTORY GOES TO STRYG OF TEAM HOLLOW SHADE!” Jane Stemme announced.

~~~

Stryg dragged his feet through the southern tunnel underneath the coliseum. Even from down here, he could still hear the roaring cheers of the crowds in the stands up above. Many cheered for Hollow Shade, but there were some who cheered his name over and over. Stryg couldn’t stop his lips from curling ever so slightly.

He stumbled and placed his hand on the wall to steady himself. He sighed and continued on his way to his team’s training room.

Whatever clarity spell Beatrix had cast on his body had left him feeling woozy. After a minute, though it seemed more like an hour, he reached the training room’s door and knocked once.

The door swung wide open and slammed into the wall. Sylvie stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, and a glower expression on her face.

“You didn’t use the dagger I picked out for you,” she said in a miffed voice.

“What? Oh, right,” Stryg said slowly and glanced at the dagger still in its sheath and strapped around his thigh.

“Sylvie, move out of the way. Give the boy a moment to breathe before you grill him about his inadequate footwork and whatnot,” Ismene called out.

“But his footwork did falter, several times, actually,” Sylvie grumbled.

“Give him pointers later. Move now,” Ismene slammed her cane into the floor.

“Fiiine,” Sylvie moaned and moved out of the way.

Stryg smiled half-heartedly at her strange disappointment. His classmates and professors, save Loh and Vayu, were already waiting for him in the room. Stryg had made it clear he didn’t want to see Loh and she had respected his wishes. Vayu on the other hand seemed to still be guilt-ridden over accidentally spilling the secrets he had held on tightly for so many years. No one had seen him leave his room in days.

“Three cheers for today’s victor!” Tauri hollered.

They raised their metaphoric cups and cheered loudly. Stryg broke into a full-blown smile. He thanked them quietly before making his way to the nearest bench and sitting down with a tired sigh.

“Stryg, you okay?” Tauri asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he nodded very slowly so as to not worsen his vertigo.

Ismene leaned on her cane and pushed herself to her feet. She hobbled over to Stryg and gestured for him to sit up straight, “Alright, let me get a good look at you.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“And I say you’re a stubborn idiot,” Ismene clicked her tongue. “So unless you want to add ‘broken arm’ to your list of vexing quirks I suggest you take off your shirt and let me check for injuries.”

“I suggest you do what she says,” Callum whispered loudly from across the room.

“Yeah, I got that,” Stryg glared at him.

“I’m waiting,” Ismene tapped her fingers over her cane.

Stryg sighed and pulled off his shirt.

Freya whistled and smiled appreciatively, “And here I thought with that girly face you had to be as thin as a stick underneath that shirt.” She looked Stryg’s muscular chest up and down, “Hmm, almost as nice as Kegrog’s, almost.”

Sylvie rubbed her chin deep in observation, “Yeah, they are quite nice. Especially the serratus anterior.”

“Sorry, what now?” Callum’s face paled.

Cornelius twisted the corners of his mustache, “I never took you for a lady’s man, Stryg. You know, on account of your inability to grow a single follicle below your eye-level and all that.” He sighed begrudgingly, “But I suppose some women do like exotic appearances.”

“I can’t tell if they’re all complimenting or insulting me,” Stryg muttered with narrowed eyes.

“Ignore them,” Ismene said as she poked and prodded him with her gnarled fingers. “Hmm… No external injuries, despite your ludicrous idea to dual cast enhancement spells. You’re lucky your body is tougher than most.”

“My agility spell wasn’t enough to break through Beatrix’s water wall. The vigor spell allowed me to close the gap,” Stryg said defensively.

“Yes and then you landed yourself right into the girl’s clarity trap,” Ismene said.

“You knew?” Stryg asked, surprised.

“I did not know she was a true blue mage if that’s what you’re asking. But I do know how she managed to knock you onto the ground.” Ismene sighed, “There hasn’t been a true blue in the Great Cities Tourney in over a century, I did not expect there to be one today. But I should have prepared you for that possible outcome. I failed you… I’m sorry.”

Stryg shrugged, “I won, it’s all that matters at this point.”

“The win is the least that matters in a victory,” Ismene noted. “What you learned in your battle, that is what matters.”

Stryg leaned his head back and rested his upper body on the wall. He stared at the ceiling in thought, “I learned about a mage’s flow equilibrium and a spell’s threads…”

“Tch, you’d think Riri would have taught about flow equilibrium months ago,” Ismene shook her head. “After we return to Hollow Shade I’ll teach you how to strengthen your spells’ threads.”
“You can do that?!” Stryg asked, surprise clear in his voice.

“Eh, somewhat. It isn’t as easy as learning a new spell. It’s more akin to meditation. With time and much practice you’ll be able to strengthen your spells’ threads.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

“With my help?” Ismene grinned, “Let’s just say by the time you’ve become an arch-mage there will be few true blue mages across the Null Realms capable of disrupting your spells.”

“Arch-mage? That’s so far,” Stryg said glumly.

“Stop whining, you ungrateful brat,” Ismene clicked her tongue. “And stop fidgeting, I still need to check on your mana flow.” She closed her eyes and placed one hand over his chest and the other over his head, “I’m not a true blue, so this will take some time.”

“Hey, Stryg?” Sylvie walked over and sat next to him.

Stryg sent her a side-glance, “Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you kill that orc girl?”

“Sylvie, I thought we talked about this,” Freya said. “We should avoid killing our opponents, especially the children of very powerful and dangerous warlords.”

Sylvie shrugged, “I’m just saying, it looked like you were about to kill that girl, and then you suddenly stopped. Why?”

Stryg closed his eyes and sighed, “She reminded me of someone…”

“Is that it?” Sylvie burst into laughter. “I thought you were the pragmatic one of our team. When did you get so sentimental?”

Stryg opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say.

Tauri walked over and placed her hand over Stryg’s shoulder, “His choice to spare her was the logical one. The Morrigans hold very close familial ties with House Katag. If Stryg had killed her it would have placed a lot of strain on our families’ alliance.”

Stryg said nothing, but he sent her a grateful glance. Tauri winked.

“Oh, that makes sense. You gotta keep the alliances up,” Sylvie nodded to herself. “But you gotta admit, a bit of conflict would be interesting too, no? Spice things up, am I right?”

“No, not really,” Callum said dryly.

“Tauri, get your hand off Stryg’s shoulder. I can’t read Stryg’s flow like this,” Ismene said bluntly.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Tauri said and took a step back.

“Yes, I too agree, Lady Ismene,” Cornelius nodded vigorously. “Miss Tauri should not lay her delicate hand on one of her students.”

“Now you’re just making it weird,” Tauri said distastefully.

Cornelius raised his hands up and spoke with an innocent voice, “All I’m saying is that a young man like Stryg might get the wrong idea if someone as beautiful as yourself were to touch his naked body. He might not be able to control his urges.”

“Stryg isn’t naked, he just has his shirt off,” Tauri frowned. “And he’s engaged to my sister.”

“Even still, you never know what is going through an adolescent’s mind,” Cornelius whispered. “One second they take their shirt off and the next thing you know they're stark naked and are about to pounce on you.”

“Is that so?” Tauri raised her eyebrow in disbelief.

Cornelius straightened his back and swept a hand over his stylized hair, “It truly is. I myself have come across several young women who just saw me and began to rip off their clothes and throw themselves at me. But I resisted! I did indeed resist their seductive charms and emerged unscathed because I am an honorable aristocrat above all!”

“How heroic,” Tauri said sarcastically.

Cornelius did not notice her tone and went on with a proud voice, “Your words, not mine, Miss Tauri. But yes, it was quite heroic. I do pray that you never find yourself in such a similar situation. I’m afraid there is no young man who would be able to resist your beauty and charm.”

“Your flattery has not gone unnoticed,” Tauri said dryly.

“I simply speak the honest truth. Just look at Stryg, he already has his shirt off from merely being in your presence. Imagine what might happen if you stay any longer. He’d strip down to nothing and then… I shudder to think what he might do next. Come, Miss Tauri, let us leave this place, you and I, and go somewhere much more peaceful. Perhaps a restaurant? Some dinner to soothe your worries?”

“...Does… Does this work on any woman you’ve ever met?” Tauri asked, flabbergasted.

“I don’t quite understand,” Cornelius smiled.

“I was already naked in a room with Tauri and she still seems fine,” Stryg said.

“WHAT!?” Cornelius screeched.

“Oh, now you decide to finally speak up?” Tauri rolled her eyes, annoyed. “And that’s so out of context, Stryg.”

Stryg shrugged, “Fine, let me clarify; there was another naked woman in the room too, she was lying in bed with me after we had sex.”

“That’s not what I meant, dammit!” Tauri yelled angrily, her face redder than usual.

Cornelius fell to his knees, his face aghast. “Life isn’t worth living anymore…”

“Stryg, stop moving!” Ismene snapped.

“I can’t tell if Cornelius is being overly dramatic or if we should strap him down before he hurts himself,” Callum said.

“My bet is on Tauri hurting him first,” Freya said.

“So did Stryg and Professor Tauri do it or not?” Sylvie furrowed her brow.

“You know,” Callum looked at Stryg and Tauri arguing with each other, “I really don’t know.”

(AUTHOR'S NOTE:)

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