I opened my eyes to a gentle tapping on my cheek and the deafening roar of thousands of voices crashing into my senses like a storm.

  “Lady Lilliana?” The voice came from above, gentle yet urgent. I squinted, blinking away the fog of unconsciousness. Slowly, a face came into focus—black streaked silver hair framing worried eyes.

  “Nida?” My voice was hoarse, my teeth clenched against the pain. I tried to move, but agony surged through my body, sharp and relentless. I bit back the urge to scream that rushed up my throat like bile.

  “Please don’t move, my lady,” another voice suggested, if firmly. Nasq. “The healers are repairing your body. Just breathe. Relax.”

  Trusting my paragons to keep me safe, I forced my muscles to comply, even as pain radiated from every fiber of my being. Gradually, over the next half hour, the sharp anguish dulled into a persistent throb. Even as the healers pulled away and I felt the warmth of their healing magic leave me, a strong feeling of rawness took over, as if all my skin had been scrubbed off with sandpaper.

  When the healers finally bowed and excused themselves, Nasq and Nida helped me sit up. They’d brought me to a section of the Colosseum wall—ironically, the same spot where Nida had collapsed during her own battle. Her expression was tinged with worry as she looked on with concern.

  “For a moment there, it looked like he'd killed you,” Nasq said quietly, his words were nearly drowned out by the crowd roaring for the current match-up—Morgana Silverwater against some opponent I hadn’t bothered to remember.

  I groaned as I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. “As if I’d die to someone who bottlenecked in the silver realm.” I froze then, a thought occurring to me and my eyes snapped to theirs. “I won… didn’t I?”

  Nasq chuckled, his silver hair catching the light. “You did, my lady. Barely. Sir Alaric lost consciousness seconds before you did. No one has any idea how you did it, though."

  Nida snorted. “You should’ve seen the nobles squabbling over the results. One of the King’s knights had to use magic to replay the last moments. Turns out, Alaric’s eyes rolled back, and he started foaming at the mouthjust seconds before you fell.” She laughed, her tone gleeful. “For all his pomp and bravado, I’m surprised he didn’t piss himself.”

  I smirked, though I kept the truth to myself. Attacking Alaric’s mind directly with Authority had been a calculated risk, one I didn’t plan to share. Not yet.

  "He did not foam at the mouth," Nasq argued with a roll of his eyes.

  "Did too. I saw the foam in the crystal replay."

  “Will you be ready for the next round?” Nasq asked, ignoring Nida’s colorful recounting.

  I shook my head, my grin fading. “I could probably handle Morgana on my own, but Justicia is going to win her group without much of a challenge. With her being at nearly full strength, she’d wipe the floor with both of us.”

  "Then...?" he asked, but I shot him a knowing look and his eyes widened. "It's... it’s time?”

  “Finally,” Nida breathed, her voice taut with anticipation. “My spear’s been itching for action. Just watching these fights is mind-numbingly boring.”

  “I'm pretty certain it's you itching for a fight,” Nasq retorted with a smirk. "Not your unawakened weapon."

  Nida huffed. “Shows what you know. I’m going to awaken her one day. Just you wait.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure you will.”

  Their playful bickering continued for a while more, but I tuned it out. Despite the healers’ best efforts, my core was nearly depleted. Barely a quarter filled. The faint trickle of energy it had gathered over the past half hour wouldn’t be enough—not for what lay ahead. Forget Justicia or Morgana, I needed to find energy sources if I were to go up against the Hydra.

  Quietly, I summoned the House Coin from my storage ring, its cool weight hidden in my palm. With some of my remaining energy, I activated it and issued the command. “Start. Now.”

  Aargorn’s reply was immediate. “As you command, Duchess.”

  “How did you convince the Duke’s soldiers to attack their own city?” Nida asked, her voice a whisper.

  “I didn’t,” I admitted. “They think they’re protecting Elyndor from an imminent monster attack.” It was technically true.

  Nasq frowned. “What happens if they find out we led the monster to their families?”

  “They won’t,” I said firmly. “Only the soldiers I’ve resurrected and a few Paragons know the truth. The rest believe their orders are to tail the Hydra and report its movements.”

  Before either could respond, Morgana's energy and magic combined to form a dragon of crimson flames. It seemed to roar with fury as she unleashed it, sending it crashing into her opponent. The man was instantly consumed by the vortex of fire, his inhuman screams jarring as they cut the air. When the inferno finally receded, his body was scorched beyond recognition, his voice silenced. Morgana laughed as she stood above the burnt warrior, taunting him with uncontrolled vitriol. For a moment, it seemed that despite his condition, Morgana had no plans to cease her onslaught.

  The judges quickly intervened, pulling Morgana from the arena and away from the other fighter as healers rushed to the fallen combatant. Morgana snarled at the judges, her fury unchecked as she jerked her arm away from the judge's grip before stalking off without a backward glance.

  “Gods, that girl’s unhinged,” Nida muttered with narrowed eyes, watching as Morgana disappeared from view.

  “Perhaps she’s starting to realize just how weak she is compared to me,” I replied, a spark of satisfaction flickering within. “Help me to my feet.”

  Nida slid her arm around my shoulders while Nasq used wind magic to steady me. Pain instantly flared and only got worse when I started to walk, every step accompanied by screams of protest from my barely mended bones. I gritted my teeth and pressed on. With Nida’s help, I made my way to the closest group of healers on standby.

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  “Is there an infirmary nearby?” I asked, my voice strained.

  An older woman nodded. “Aye, of course, there is dear. Though it is quite full, mind you.” She gestured to the closest opening leading outside the Colosseum's tournament area. “Straight that way, take a left and keep going. When you hear the sounds of people in pain, you can just follow that."

  Nasq thanked the older woman while Nida and I had already begun making our way toward the infirmary. If my luck held, the healer's words would be true and it would be stocked full with half dead warriors.

  Despite the callousness of her directions, the healer's words quickly proved true. As the distant cries of the injured approached, I let a small smile creep its way onto my lips.

  If I was to restore my core, I’d need every advantage—and every opportunity.

  I ignored the confused looks Nasq and Nida shot my way. The infirmary wouldn’t have the time to treat me before the Hydra attacked the city—I knew that much. But I wasn’t heading there for treatment. Not from the healers, at least.

  After a few more minutes, we reached the infirmary at long last. The off-white room stretched wide, packed with dozens of beds crammed less than a few feet apart. Nearly all of them were occupied. Wounded participants sprawled across the floor, their injuries ranging from severe to fatal.

  An exhausted man with a clipboard suddenly appeared in the doorway. He squinted at us for a second but didn't move. When we were half a dozen steps from the infirmary entrance, he approached us, his gait stiff and hurried. “Do you need a bed too?” he asked, his voice weary.

  “No, I’m here to visit someone,” I lied.

  Relief washed over him as he stepped aside. “Good. We don’t have any left anyway.” He gestured helplessly to a group of injured sprawled on the floor. “We’re also extremely short on healers. I can’t guarantee your friend’s been treated beyond basic first aid yet.”

  I offered him a faint smile that he didn't bother returning. Not that I could blame him. He muttered something under his breath, then hurried off toward a healer working at the back of the room.

  The three of us exchanged uncertain glances, but I wasn’t going to question my luck.

  “Find me the most injured ones you can,” I ordered, removing my arm from Nida’s neck as I leaned against one of the beds. “Now.”

  Their eyes widened as the realization of what I intended to do dawned on them. Without waiting for their protest or questions, I turned and limped toward the far corner of the infirmary, scanning the wounded and ignoring those who were obviously sleeping off some kind of healing elixir. After a minute or so, I found a mortal warrior lying unconscious and alone. His left leg was severed below the knee, and the rest of his body was so mangled that blood seeped through layers of bandages. His breaths were shallow, the light of his soul fading with each exhale.

  What made him the type of person I was looking for, however, were the half dozen heart rings circling his uncored heart. A core would have been preferable, but I wasn't about to turn my nose up at six heart rings worth of energy.

  Perfect.

  Placing a hand on his forehead, I drew a deep breath and activated the faint trace of Soul Weaver energy remaining in my core. The energy flowed outward, silently encircling the injured man with its invisible presence. When I exhaled, it began pulling his energy toward me.

  Resistance from his heart was minimal to this point I nearly didn't even notice. His near-death state made the process easy despite my lack of physical contact with the warrior's heart. I fought the urge to cut into his chest and draw directly from his heart—an act that Elyndor’s people would not forgive, especially for one of their own. Had it been on the battle field, or had the man been a slave, I may have gotten away with it. But in an infirmary...

  No. A bloodless, clean death would be less trouble to disguise.

  The rotting taste reminiscent of when I'd absorbed Narissa’s energy returned, though thankfully to a lesser degree. The man’s energy was horrendously impure, but at least it hadn’t been tainted by any System. I swallowed back a gag as my body absorbed the final tendrils of his energy and stepped back, pulling my energy away from the corpse.

  Unlike Narissa, I hadn’t taken his life energy so there’d be no visible change to his body. Though I supposed even if I had drained him to the point of mutating his corpse, there were so many bandages wrapped around him it was possible no one would know. And if anyone were to examine his energy, they’d find only four dying rings. I left just enough energy for the rings to continue existing if doing so without purpose or utility.

  In all likelihood, his death would be attributed to over-expanding his energy during a fight, with what little remained leaking away afterward.

  My core rumbled as the new energy coursed through my meridian channels. Though I knew the effects wouldn’t be immediate—my core still needed to purify the energy before fully absorbing it—I was happy to know my plan would work. It'd worked against Narissa, but it wasn't a skill I'd used very often so the limits of it were still uknown.

  Over the next thirty minutes, I wandered around the infirmary, discreetly absorbing energy from a dozen or so wounded fighters. Most of them died, despite my occasional efforts to keep them alive. Toward the end, I managed to control the speed and depth of my absorption with soul-weaver energy, though that was likely attributable to my core no longer starving for energy.

  Even so, my core was still far from full when Jarold announced the end of the final group three match. Unsurprisingly, Justicia had obliterated her opponent.

  I bristled at the tournament’s obviously rigged nature, wishing—again—that there’d been at least one cored warrior I could have absorbed. But no, only ringed mortals.

  The healer who’d stopped us earlier returned to the entrance and kept a suspicious eye on us as we left the infirmary. When I glanced back, I caught him scurrying over to the last man I’d absorbed from. The man still breathed, thankfully, so I doubted his inevitable death from energy depletion would be blamed on me.

  Assuming the infirmary even survived what was coming.

  With my half-filled core, the three of us returned to the Colosseum’s inner arena. City earth mages were already repairing the destroyed arena, transforming it into something sturdier and more majestic than the earlier stages. Where the previous arenas stood barely a foot off the ground, this final stage rose six feet high, with three sets of curved stairs leading to its elevated platform.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the finals!” The announcer’s voice boomed through the Colosseum. “We’ve witnessed many bloody battles today, with lives left hanging by mere threads. But now, we come to the final bout—the last chance for these three combatants to prove their might. Will our contestants please make their way to the stage?”

  I nodded to my Paragons and strolled toward the nearest set of stairs, feeling the new energy purify and flow into my core. With every step, my stamina and strength steadily returned.

  “From the left corner, we have Lady Morgana Silverwater! Entering the tournament without an official combat title, the audience has dubbed her the Fire Demon—though rumor has it she prefers ‘Fire Queen.’” The crowd laughed as Morgana flipped off the audience and scowled. “Damn, the Fire Demon sure is scary.” More laughter followed. “In the right corner, we have Justicia the Fallen, proxy warrior for Marchioness Eliza Alistar! Between us, I’m not sure why she’s called ‘The Fallen.’ She hasn’t fallen even once.” The crowd murmured and chuckled lightly—not as openly as they had at Morgana’s introduction. “And finally, from the top of the stage, welcome Lady Lilliana ‘Queen’ Silverwater! She dominated the first group, which—let’s be honest—was stacked far more heavily than the others. Lady Lilliana faced Sir Alaric and the Hidden Sage, both fighters in the upper stages of the silver realm like Justicia. I think this is about to be the bloodiest fight yet—”

  Jarold's words were drowned out by a deafening roar that shook the Colosseum to its very foundation. The ground trembled as if under siege from an earthquake, and an icy shiver ran down my spine. The roar ended, leaving only a heartbeat of silence before screams erupted and a storm of chaos enveloped the Colosseum.

  I looked at Morgana and Justicia, both of them staring up at the sky where an immense shadow hovered, now blocking the sun and pitching the Colloseeum into shadows. Then a geyser of purple-black flames rained down on the city, emanating from an enormous shadow that blotted out the sun with its monstrous form. The purple-hued flames crashed powerfully against an invisible barrier surrounding the city for only a few seconds before that barrier shattered like cracked glass.

  With a smirk, I lowered myself into a crouch and charged at Morgana, my blade snapping from its sheath like an enraged serpent.