Edric's POV
Darkness clawed at me with tangible fury, tendrils of shadow whispering tempting promises of rest, of surrender. My limbs felt encased in bronze and made of lead, my muscles spasming painfully with every ragged breath. Every heartbeat was like a hammer striking against my newish soul core sending waves of agony radiating through my battered frame. But deeper than the exhaustion, deeper than the pain, something foreign ignited within me—a relentless drive to rise, to fight, to prove every sneering noble and jeering spectator wrong. I refused to remain on the ground. I would be a champion.
My vision sharpened slightly as I rolled painfully onto my side, retching violently and spitting red bile onto the sand. Pressing a trembling palm down, I staggered upright. The edges of my vision still swam with murky shapes, shadowy forms reaching greedily for me, but I forced them back, only for a blood-red haze to wash over my world and rage to claim my mind.
Kushim's POV
"A Manticore?" I spat the word out in disbelief, anger twisting like hot metal beneath my skin as I gripped the iron bars overlooking the arena. A beginner should never face a beast like that. My heart beat vigorously in my chest as I watched Edric. He had seemed confident, almost self-assured at first, but everything changed the instant that monster prowled out onto the sand. I prayed silently that he remembered our training, my knuckles whitening with tension. The nobles and fight coordinators didn't usually risk promising fighters this way. What were they playing at? Was it solely for the spoiled girl's amusement? It was a twisted game, and my student was their pawn. Edric wasn't family or even strictly a friend, but after years spent together, he had become close enough. Perhaps that had been Master Thorne's intention from the start when assigning him to me.
I glanced upward to the royal balcony, searching desperately for some clue, but the figures were too distant and vague to read clearly. Turning my eyes back toward Edric, I saw him fighting, exchanging blows with surprising precision. Pride surged fiercely within me as Edric scooped sand and flung it into the Manticore's eyes—a move I hadn't taught him, but one I admired greatly. It was clever, ruthless, exactly what he needed in this moment.
Yet as the battle escalated into brutal, bloody chaos, something shifted. Edric's movements became savage, almost animalistic. He was no longer my disciplined student; he fought like a wild beast himself, reckless and utterly without restraint. Fury and dread twisted sharply in my gut. Why was he taking such insane risks? He traded his own left arm for a vicious strike into the Manticore's eye socket, tearing free a grotesque mass of tissue and gore. I watched, stunned and horrified but also relieved, as the monstrous creature crumbled slowly, becoming nothing but a husk of its former threat.
But my relief was short-lived. Edric stood wavering, covered in gore, eyes glazed with an eerie madness. The medical clinic workers rushed toward him, cautious but determined to help him. Yet even as they approached, Edric tensed dangerously, his body vibrating with barely-contained violence. I knew instantly that I had to intervene. Without thinking, I burst out of my watch area and bolted down the hall from there it was the sidelines of the arena, sprinting across the hot sand toward him, desperate to rescue him from whatever terrible madness had claimed his mind.
Edric's POV
My blood burned like molten metal, my vision edged with pulsing crimson. I felt utterly feral, foam gathering at the corners of my mouth, my breaths coming in savage pants. Flames danced around me, mesmerizing and beautiful, drawn to me like serpents answering a charmer's call. They whispered in crackling voices only I could hear, promises of power, of vengeance, of freedom. I wanted nothing more than to embrace them fully.
A sudden, heavy pressure pressed into and against my back. Whipping around, I saw my instructor's face—but not the calm, joking Kushim I knew. His expression was wary, cautious, like he was confronting some dangerous animal. Reflexively, my lips peeled back to bare teeth, an instinctive growl rumbling deep in my throat. Was he now my enemy too?
He raised his sheathed sword cautiously, eyes steady but filled with a profound worry. Instinctively, I reached to lift my hammer in response—only to discover with a dagger twist in my gut that I held nothing more than a charred handle. The hammerhead had shattered or melted away entirely. Panic rose briefly before the fire surged forward, wrapping lovingly around me.
Instead of burning, I felt its heat flood through my veins, exhilarating and intoxicating. But My vision blurred and darkened as it seemed my body couldn't handle the new found stress it was placed under.
Yet, before the darkness could fully seize me, strong hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me back forcefully from the brink. Kushim stood close, his eyes not those of an adversary but those of a worried mentor.
"Easy, Edric," Kushim's voice came firm and steady, yet full of concern. "It's alright now. What's gotten into you?"
I tried to respond, wanting desperately to apologize or explain, but my voice failed me entirely. Instead, I managed only a weak, shaky nod. Relief, profound and overwhelming, surged within me, knowing Kushim wasn't here to harm but to help. The last thing I saw clearly before consciousness finally slipped away was the genuine, unwavering concern etched deeply in his eyes.