Chapter 53: The Call to Arms
Darek and Pow-Pow had been hurled across the arena by what had seemed like a casual thrust of the spear, now lying at the edge of the stone ring while the Conqueror still stood exactly where he had begun the fight. His posture had barely changed. Motionless, almost indifferent, he remained at his starting position, as if the chaos of the last moments had never happened.
Slowly, Darek raised a blood-smeared hand and ran it over his stomach in disbelief.
Where the spear's tip had struck him, a dark hole still gaped in his body.
His fingers hesitated for a moment before touching it, as if even his body hadn't fully understood yet that the wound was real.
The injuries left behind by the vines had long since vanished. The moment the red dust had touched them, flesh and skin had sealed themselves instantly, as if they had never existed.
But this wound was different.
That damn spear.
The Conqueror had simply shaped it out of his own armor.
And whatever the tip had left behind refused to disappear.
Darek pressed his fingers carefully against the wound.
The next moment, a burning pain shot through his entire body.
"Aghh!"
The cry tore from his throat uncontrollably as his body jerked in reflex.
He pulled his hand back and stared at the blood still slowly seeping from the injury.
"This damn wound…"
His voice was rough with pain and disbelief.
"…it's barely closing."
The hole the spear had left behind resembled a warped, uneven crater stretching across much of his torso. It wasn't an ordinary wound, but a twisted opening of torn flesh and exposed tissue, as if the tip hadn't just pierced through him, but had ripped a piece of him out along the way. The red dust had mostly stopped the bleeding and gathered along the edges of the injury, trying to pull the destroyed tissue back together.
But something in Darek's body resisted the healing. His organs and the surrounding flesh didn't react to the dust's regenerative power as they normally would. Instead, they behaved as if they didn't recognize the damage at all. The healing stalled, as though it were facing a wound whose structure it simply couldn't comprehend.
I told you to be especially careful around him. That's no ordinary guy, Iris said in his mind with an almost casual calm.
Darek turned his head and glanced toward the edge of the arena.
"Pow-Pow! Pow-Pow, get it together!" he called hoarsely.
The small red bear was still lying where the shockwave had slammed him into the wall. The humiliation clung to him heavily, as if it had soaked into his fur and posture. But Darek's voice slowly broke through that haze of shock and wounded pride, and after a few seconds, Pow-Pow's body began to stir as he gradually came back to his senses.
Pow-Pow, who had shrunk back to his normal size, shook his head as if trying to fling the heavy weight of humiliation out of his fur. His jaw tightened visibly, and a faint grinding of teeth could be heard as a hard, defiant spark slowly returned to his eyes.
"I'll make him pay," he growled at last. "Humiliating me like that… that bastard's going to regret this day."
Despite the pain, Darek felt an unexpected sense of relief spread through him.
In that moment, he was genuinely glad that Pow-Pow was exactly the stubborn, arrogant bear he was. When Pow-Pow set his mind on something, he wouldn't stop until he got it. That was precisely why Darek didn't want a weak or uncertain partner at his side. Not someone who would break at the first defeat or let doubt consume them.
Pow-Pow lifted his head.
His voice suddenly turned loud and full of energy.
"LET'S GO, DAREK!"
His eyes burned with unrestrained defiance.
"I don't want anger or pride. Give me a proper dose of hatred!"
He pointed at him with a clawed paw.
"I'll even forget the two voices you owe me. Then we're even."
Darek, whose combat form had already dissolved again because that brief moment of success and the shift in his emotions had once more shattered the power state, still stood upright. Despite the pain, despite the gaping wound, and despite his fading strength, Pow-Pow gave him back a sense of determination in that very moment.
"Let's crush him!"
Darek's body tensed.
Around him, a growing cloud of red dust began to gather. It condensed rapidly, swirling faster and faster around his body, yet even now it was clear that its quantity remained limited. Too much had already escaped through his injuries. Too much strength had been lost in this fight.
The arena itself had changed.
The vines that had once dominated the entire ground were now either destroyed, brutally torn apart, or lying motionless on the stone. A few even began to slowly withdraw, as if instinctively realizing that their time in this fight was over. Deep beneath the ground, the bud had long since recognized that Darek and Pow-Pow could no longer be considered prey.
All of this happened while the Conqueror simply stood there.
His posture unchanged.
His gaze calm.
He watched the two of them as if observing a performance that interested him no more than the rustling of leaves in the wind.
Then he moved.
Without haste.
Without any visible strain.
The massive spear suddenly left his hand and rose into the air in a clean, controlled motion, as if he had casually tossed it upward.
For a brief moment, the monstrous weapon spun silently above him.
Then the Conqueror caught the spear over his shoulder again.
"Let's end this. If you survive, you win."
The words fell calmly. Almost casually.
And that was exactly why they carried more weight than any threat.
Darek and Pow-Pow saw the movement immediately.
Both of their bodies tensed instinctively.
He's going to throw.
The thought hit them at the same time.
And in that same instant, both of them knew they might not survive this.
Darek forced his body to gather even more red dust. The particles streamed from his wounds, swirling around him and condensing into an ever faster rotating cloud, while his strength was already dangerously depleted.
Meanwhile, Pow-Pow pushed himself to his feet. His small body trembled briefly, but then he steadied himself with determination. His claws dug into the stone floor of the arena as he tried to find the feeling within himself that he had just demanded.
Hatred.
He forced himself to dig deeper, his teeth grinding as his gaze slowly hardened.
The Conqueror moved.
His arm slowly tensed.
The muscles beneath his armor tightened as he drew the spear back. At the same time, he extended his other hand forward, open and calm, as if it wasn't just balancing him, but guiding the entire throw.
His fingers pointed directly at Darek and Pow-Pow.
The arena fell silent.
A heavy tension settled over the space, as if even the air understood that the next moment could decide everything.
Even at the edge of the arena, the spectators could feel that weight.
Seraphis slightly raised his head, his body tense.
Iris hovered motionless in the air.
The third commander had his arms crossed, yet even he seemed unusually serious.
And beside him stood the fully grown silvaric bear.
Even this massive creature could feel the energy gathering, remaining completely still, as if even a predator did not want to cross the path of what was about to happen.
Iris' gaze was fixed on the scene, tense and focused. Within her otherwise cool, calculated presence, there was even a faint trace of concern that she could barely hide.
If that spear hits, this won't end well.
Her voice sounded calm in Seraphis' mind, yet the words carried a weight that couldn't be ignored.
1.4 percent.
For a moment, there was silence.
Normally I round numbers like this up or down. But this time… I hope this number can somehow give us courage, Seraphis.
Seraphis' gaze remained serious. A quiet hiss escaped him as his eyes didn't leave Darek for even a second. His posture was tense, his body ready, and anyone who knew him would have understood that he would interfere the moment it truly mattered.
At the edge of the arena stood the third commander of the Hunter Order.
His focus was less on Darek or Pow-Pow and more on the arena itself. There was clear concern on his face that the immense power gathering right now might damage parts of Silvara if a Conqueror were to lose control of his strength, even for a moment.
Beside him stood the silvaric bear.
Its massive body appeared calm, almost stoic, yet its expression was hard to read. Its eyes were slightly narrowed, its brow furrowed, and its gaze rested firmly on Pow-Pow and Darek. From the outside, one might have assumed that dark thoughts were running through its mind, perhaps whether it should jump into the fight itself or whether it would find more satisfaction in finishing the two of them personally.
But in truth, it was something entirely different.
Damn…
I shouldn't have let myself get provoked like that.
Its shoulders sank ever so slightly.
Then this never would've escalated like this.
While its face still gave the impression of a brooding, almost offended predator lost in thought, in reality, only a single thought gnawed at it.
This is all my fault.
The tension in the arena had reached its peak.
Even the air itself felt heavy, as if it were being compressed under the weight of the coming moment.
And then something completely unexpected happened.
Suddenly, Darek grabbed his head.
His fingers pressed against his temples as if a sharp pain had struck him out of nowhere. For a moment, his vision wavered as his body leaned slightly forward, as though he had to brace himself against an invisible wave.
But he wasn't the only one.
A moment later, the others clutched their heads as well.
Seraphis' body twitched slightly.
Iris froze mid-air, even her usually controlled presence faltering for a brief moment. Only the citizens of Silvara seemed able to handle it calmly.
At the same time, something else was happening.
Without Darek noticing, the red dust around him began to dissolve. The swirling particles lost their form and slowly scattered into the air, as if the force holding them together had weakened due to his distraction.
Pow-Pow staggered a step to the side.
The sudden interruption completely tore him out of his concentration, and even his newly ignited hatred lost its grip for a moment.
"A prophecy…?"
Darek's voice sounded surprised.
"Now?"
His gaze swept across the arena, as if checking whether this was really happening.
"Is it always like this here…"
A short pause.
"…that something is constantly happening?"
Then a gentle, delicate voice echoed.
And at the same time carried a calmness that left no doubt that every word held weight.
"I request all units of the Hunter Order and the Conqueror Order to assemble at the gate. All others remain in the city and hold your positions. We are expecting an attack."
For a brief moment, silence spread across the arena as the words moved through the minds of everyone present like a cold wave.
The voice continued.
"Several grotto worms carried in by the tide are currently advancing toward Silvara. It is a large group. A swarm of young specimens between twelve and twenty years old, several dozen between twenty and forty, six fully grown up to around seventy years, as well as three elders between seventy and eighty."
The reaction was immediate.
The Conqueror did not hesitate for a single second.
The tension of the fight fell away from him as if it had never existed. He had already turned away, bringing his spear back into a relaxed position.
Before leaving, he gave Darek and Pow-Pow a brief nod.
"We'll postpone this."
His gaze remained calm.
"Don't worry."
In the next moment, he was gone.
No movement could be seen, no step, no sound.
He simply wasn't there anymore.
The third commander of the Hunter Order followed shortly after. His departure was far less impressive, as he simply ran toward the exit of the arena, yet there was a clear urgency in his movements that left no doubt about the seriousness of the situation.
The silvaric bear remained for a moment longer.
Its gaze shifted once more to Pow-Pow and Darek, as if briefly checking whether they were truly still alive.
Then it let out a low grunt, turned away, and left as well.
"You got lucky again," Iris said, and there was a barely noticeable hint of relief in her eyes.
She briefly let her gaze sweep across the arena, as if confirming that the Conqueror was truly gone.
"Forget it. Let's just find a different dream. There have to be easier ones, and who knows what else is waiting for us here."
Her voice remained calm, yet her words were unusually cautious.
"We already had trouble with an eleven-year-old grotto salamander, and they only call specimens 'young' starting at twelve. If you think about it that way… ours was probably just a baby."
She shook her head slightly.
"Let's really forget about this."
A brief moment passed as her gaze turned toward the city.
"That many of those things isn't something we should be dealing with right now. We're here for something completely different. If I'm judging this correctly, the city is about to turn into a battlefield."
She paused.
"Maybe even the entire forest."
Darek was only half listening.
His thoughts were racing.
Something was bothering him.
Then it hit him like a strike.
Aria.
His head snapped up.
"ARIA!"
His voice echoed through the arena.
"She's out there!"
His body tensed, ready to sprint at any moment.
"WE HAVE TO GO."