The Lord of Veins | Shadow Slave

Blood streamed down their faces, blurring their vision. The clash of their blades was the only thing keeping them centered in the intensity of battle. 

They tore away from each other. The crowd roared their anticipation building. 

Dex was a mess—sweat and blood matted his hair to his forehead, his chest was exposed through his mundane armor as well.

But even with this being the case she was in far worse shape. Hera's was now hollow, her cheeks drawn tight over bone. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each exhale a wheezing effort, as though the very air was choking her. Her veins were stark against her skin.

Yet through it all, her gaze never wavered from him—unblinking, cold, empty.

Her voice was strained and hoarse, barely a whisper. "End it, Hera..." she murmured, her breath coming out in a wheezing hiss. 

Then, a shift---a tremor in the air. Dex's eyes widened as her movements blurred, faster than he could track. Though her eyes were shut tight, there was no hesitation. 

Dex reacted immediately, raising his blade to intercept. 

Her strike hit like a storm, severing his blade, cleaving clean through the blade right above the guard. 

Dex stood frozen, staring at his broken weapon. The severed steel glowed faintly.

"What am I fighting?" Dex looked back at Hera to see her holding her blade this time, her mundane blade was glowing orange, like it had been forged in a volcano. 

They set me up. His gaze snapped to Hera's face, her expression vacant, as if she truly there.

Without warning, she raised her blade once more. His instincts screamed. Dex reacted as she swung downward.

What happened to the rules about not killing?! Damn it!

With a swift motion, he summoned his curved steel, its silver gleam slicing through the air as he intercepted the blow. Heat flared as molten fragments of her blade scattered like sparks, biting into his flesh. The burn was immediate, sharp as fire, but he gritted his teeth, swallowing the scream that tried to claw its way out.

In a fluid motion, Dex kicked her, the force sending her crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. Her blade clattered from her hand, landing far out of reach.

This duel was over. Dex stood, chest heaving. For a moment, everything went silent. 

The crowd erupted—not in cheers, but in furious shouts, faces twisted in contempt, eyes glinting like daggers.

Dex's stomach churned as he faced a sea of sneering onlookers. Yet to him, they could all piss off; the match had been rigged from the very start.

A single, deliberate cough cut through the chaos as the female announcer, her voice amplified by some unseen enhancement, attempted to quiet the crowd. With a composed air, she smoothed her pristine sleeves before addressing the audience.

"Now... Now..." she murmured, her voice still holding that enchantment that magnified it tenfold. "Let's maintain order."

Dex couldn't lower his guard, even if he wanted to, he couldn't trust any of them.

"Dex is declared the loser of this match for breaking the rules. As a result, he must fulfill---"

"Zip it!" Dex roared, cutting her off. He his bare upper body in his [Sycophant's Enshroudments]. He felt his upper body's fatigue lessen greatly. 

"Your rules say I lost? Fine. Mine say we're not done here." He quickly shoved the announcer aside. In that breathless moment, a loud clash of blades rang out, breathing life back into the crowd.

The audience was in shock to see Hera attack so recklessly, yet they were equally surprised when Dex saved the announcer by pushing her out of the way of Hera's wild slash.

and a clash of blades instantly followed, and the crowd rose in shock as Hera was already striking to cleave through the announcer and it would have happened if Dex didn't push her out of the way. "Mine say we are not done here." 

Their blades clashed again.

"Hello?! Are you deaf?! I lost—you already won!" Dex shouted.

Yet she remained unfazed, devoid of hesitation or mercy.

He barely managed to parry in time. Each impact rattled his bones, forcing him back step by step toward the wall of onlookers. Gasps rippled through the crowd as spectators near the perimeter scrambled to distance themselves from the chaos.

Beyond the frenzied craze of the audience, the other leaders of the cohorts observed in composed silence.

"What a mess. Your vision was clearly wrong—how do you expect us to explain this?" The Justice Cohort leader murmured, his arms folded and eyes half-closed in quiet contemplation.

Beside him, the Strength Cohort leader shifted, his muscles tensed beneath his heavy cloak. "Shall I stop her?" he asked, already rising from his seat.

A soft chuckle interrupted him.

"Hm… nay," interjected a woman. "Seraph will handle this one. Our dear Hera has taken quite a beating—I wouldn't like her to get hurt further." She sighed. "A shame, though—I expected her to reveal whatever he is hiding…"

Her delicate white bonnet with lace trim framed a calm, composed face. The high-collared dress, meticulously embroidered with fine detail, carried an air of tradition befitting the cathedral's grandeur; though aged, the fabric remained pristine.

"Alright, time to perform!" announced Seraph, leader of the Cohort of Unity, with an eager grin. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, stretching her arms high before releasing a playful sigh. Then, with a snap of her fingers, a small flute materialized in her hand.

Meanwhile, Dex was still fighting for his life. He was backed into the cold stone cathedral wall. Hera's blade came down, slicing into the wall behind him with a violent crack, sending a cloud of dust and debris billowing into the air.

Dex seized the moment. The instant the dust obscured them, he lunged. His blade flashed through the haze, aiming for her exposed side. But Hera was faster. She parried, the force of it sending a tremor up his arm—yet he didn't stop. Twisting with the momentum, he burst forward and slammed his fist into her face.

After striking her, he braced for retaliation, but instead, a melody filled the air. It was light and almost playful at first, tickling his curiosity, but before he could shake its hold, it wrapped around him like an invisible snare, tightening with every note.

Dex's limbs grew sluggish, his vision blurred, and before he could resist, his body gave out, crashing to the ground.

Seraph strolled closer, still playing her flute's melody. She paused seeing Hera still standing, her blade still clutched tightly in her hand as her back was to her. Seraph then huffed in mild frustration as she turned to the others with crossed arms.

"How is she still awake?!" she called out dramatically.

The Justice Cohort leader scoffed. "How the hell would we know? It's your aspect—figure it out yourself!"

Seraph groaned; he was always yelling at her. It wasn't her fault she was still learning. With a resigned huff, she tiptoed closer and peered at Hera's eerily still form. After a blink—and another—Seraph gasped, "Oh my gods, she's asleep! That's actually adorable!"

Without hesitation, she flung her arms around Hera, slowly peeling her iron grip off her red-hot blade, then she began attempting to scoop her up—only to struggle immediately with the unexpected weight. "Oof—why is she so heavy?!" she groaned.

The Bonnet Girl watched Seraph with a light smile. "Told you she was the better option…"

The Strength Cohort leader nodded. "Very well…"

Finally, the Faith Cohort leader spoke. "M'lady… it appears someone didn't evacuate with the rest," he said, gesturing toward the solitary figure left behind.

Raising an eyebrow, the Bonnet Girl glanced briefly in that direction. "Hmm… I see that. You can go speak with her for me."

With a nod, the Faith Cohort leader departed to approach the unusual individual who had refused to leave.

While panic drove the others to flee through winding corridors of the cathedral, Esmeray chose to settle into one of the empty chairs.

Her legs elegantly crossed, she leaned back, her eyes drifting not over the frantic discussions of the leaders but toward woman in the bonnet.

From the moment Esmeray caught sight of her, she felt an immediate, recognition. Esmeray understood that this woman was a seer of a rarer breed. Unlike typical seers whose visions often skimmed the surface of fate, the Bonnet Girl exuded a profound, layered insight. Esmeray sensed that while both possessed the uncanny ability to perceive hidden truths, the Bonnet Girl's understanding of the unseen realms might even surpass her own.

"Little help!?" Seraph's voice rang out, tinged with both desperation as she struggled to drag the motionless body of Hera.

It wasn't long before Thorne, the leader of the cohort of Strength, rose. With a few deliberate steps, he moved toward Seraph.

As Thorne reached Seraph, he offered a nod before hoisting Hera over his shoulder. "Thank you, Thorne!" Seraph exclaimed, her ever-present cheerfulness always being shown.

Unexpectedly only a few seconds later did the leader of the cohort of Faith reappeared. The Bonnet seer arched an eyebrow. "Back already?"

The leader of the cohort of Faith responded. "She didn't want to speak with me, she wanted to speak with you. She only asks that he be taken care of now, and when he awakens, she will return to see him."

Esmeray slowly rose and began to walk away. With each measured step, she left.