The Second-Rank coughed again, rolling onto his side. His chest rose and fell unevenly, every breath scraped raw. He didn't dare look up, but his body trembled as if Zylus's shadow was still holding his throat.
The Third-Rank tried to stand, failed, and laughed weakly under his breath. "This is insane… we trained our whole lives… just to become scenery."
"Not scenery," Zylus corrected. "Well," He crackled, "I guess you can say that."
Everything Zylus was saying was, in the scenario each of them lay in, had now turned out to be, evidently true.
Ivy clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "Zylus… if this is you choosing mercy, then what happens when you stop choosing it?"
Zylus didn't answer right away.
For the first time since his transformation, his gaze softened. It had turned, slightly, quieter.
"When I stop choosing mercy," he said, "there won't be anyone left to question it."
The arena seemed to shrink around them.
