"What a nice line."
Roi's eyes were fixed on the line between two great tiles that passed right between his feet. He did not dare to look up. All those eyes on him made him terribly uncomfortable.
His time for rest passed too quickly. He was still tired, sweaty, exhausted, and his wrist was still in so much pain. He could feel the soul of Sun God in every part of his body, as if it had split.
Roi didn't watch Lish's training; he was too busy in his head. Xoloth cursed both Gordàlish and his people. Now, he understood why he was called a monster, as the dozens of whispers of the people around him reminded him.
But why take it out on him? It was Xoloth's fault, not him! Or Its people.
Almost everyone stopped training to witness the real fight between the 'Monster' and Mansin. They gathered around them, forming an oval-shaped circle.
There were about 10 meters between the Savior and Mansin.
Their weapons lay on the ground, on the sides of the center of the small arena, close to the feet of the spectators. To their left lay the shields, and to their right the wooden swords.
Roi noticed the shield was close to the enemy's sword.
(<
Derlom was among the first to arrive and managed to whisper those words before being pushed behind everyone else.
He vividly relived the image of Derlom being beaten while trying in vain to defend himself with his shield.
Useless.
(<<...Always choose the shield.>>)
It was the first lesson Lish told him. But he wasn't Lish, and what could he do with a shield except be beaten up?
"I can't let that happen. I must defeat him. They have to see that I'm special. THAT I'M THEIR SAVIOR."
(<
Just as Calees said, he had to go for the sword and fight as she did: fast, fearless, and merciless. She was standing behind him... with Jest.
<
<
Roi's legs trembled, and sweat trickled down his large nose. His fatigue seemed to vanish, but he was not fooled.
"I have to end this soon."
Roi glanced at Mansin, who was looking at everyone around them. The whispers slowly died down.
<
Both of them sprinted in the same direction. Roi aimed for the sword, Mansin for the shield.
The Savior's legs failed at the last moment. He fell on his knees, but managed to take his weapon. The girl near them drowned in dust.
He looked at his enemy. He was getting up with his shield.
"Merciless!"
The Savior took the sword both-handed, and with a grunt of effort, he got up and swung the sword at him. He brushed past many of the crowd and even his shield.
He didn't touch him, but managed to make him step back.
"Fast!"
The Savior pushed through his pain and weakness and stepped forward. A more powerful grunt helped him swing his sword.
It hit the hard shield and its recoil sent it back with even greater force than it had arrived. The Savior couldn't help but be dragged with his sword.
Mansin's shield swung towards his face at an impressive speed.
***
A loud whistle was all he heard in the darkness. He couldn't feel anything.
He saw clouds of dust obscuring the countless shoes before him. His mind was blank.
Slowly, he began to feel a painful headache crushing his head. It was unbearable. He could also feel something traveling on his left cheek to his lips and beyond.
Thousands of senseless words surrounded him.
His world, made of leather shoes and dust clouds, changed quickly to the orange sky, covered by two large heads and a voluminous braid.
Derlom and Calees!
In a short amount of time, he began to feel everything: Voices, insults, laughs, pain, fatigue, and intense heat on the cheekbone.
The loud whistle became fainter and fainter, and the pain more and more severe. Everything was in pain.
<
With a grunt of pain and effort, he managed to bring his fingers to his left cheek.
<
Roi raised his fingers, and they were soaked in blood.
"UH?!"
That thought turned into a disorganised jumble of words and screams.
<
<
In that moment, another face, much more gruesome and hairy, covered the sky. It was the Bastard.
<
He disappeared as quickly as he appeared. The voices became distant, and the noise that was crushing his head slowly quieted down.
<
Roi didn't mind that. With all his muscles exhausted and all his pain, he was glad to be carried back to his little house. But, soon, he regretted it.
<
The Savior didn't know how many people laughed, and he didn't want to know. He buried his face in Derlom's shoulder, who cursed under his breath and blushed in shame.
Roi closed his tired eyes, leaving behind the laughter, a small pool of blood, and his pitiful proof of his power.
***
A short but sharp pain woke him up again.
<
Roi's head was pressed against a soft pillow by Derlom's hand. His nose was squashed, his mouth pressed against his palm, and he couldn't open his left eye because a finger was covering it.
<> Roi's words were muffled.
Another sharp pain made him straighten his fingers. His skin on his left cheekbone was pulled tightly.
Roi understood immediately that there was nothing he could do except bear the pain and look at the wooden ceiling.
There were texts written in an unknown language carved into the planks, some of which were followed by simple images.
He noticed that the texts were similar to some words in Dolor's book. The writing style was harmonious, just like Dolor's, as far as carving into wood would allow. They were even similar to the engraving outside the temple, without all those silly lines above.
He thought they might be referring to Sun God, but he realised he was wrong as soon as he saw the first symbol: a man's virility. Actually, there were many of them.
He straightened his fingers in pain once again.
Suddenly, the skin on his left cheek tightened, and Derlom's hand no longer pressed him against the pillow. With a white dagger, His friend cut the green thread near his face.
<
Roi couldn't help but smile with him. Even though that nickname was a reminder of his failure. He could still hear the laughter as if it were there.
<
<
In that moment, the pain in his body suddenly worsened. His wrist, head, face-muscles-lungs-ribs-fingers. EVERYTHING. Everything was a mess.
His entire body was a mess, a failure. Something made to be laughed at. A body so weak that it has to be carried around like a frail princess.
"I hate you, Gordàlish."
It was all his fault. All because of his small and useless soul, capable only of warming him and nothing more.
"What blessing? It's a curse."
He closed his tired eyes and focused on his Curse. It was in every part of his body, but the biggest pieces were in his wrist and on the left side of his face.
"Come on! GROW! MAKE ME SPECIAL! DO SOMETHING."
He could feel it, but he didn't know how to bend it to his will.
<
Was he really their Savior? Was he the Savior of Sun God? Did he really speak to Gordàlish?
Despair and tears kept him company until he fell asleep.