Meeting these two gentlemen reminded him of something the directors had told the Jestivan a few months back. That their talents were on the level—and, most likely, higher—than the highest-ranking officials of any of the kingdoms’ militaries … outside of the generals, that is. Perhaps these two realized this too. Maybe it was common sense to everyone else that a Jestivan was someone who possessed great ability and even greater potential. But to Bryson, it didn’t feel that way at all.
The Intel King instructed Bryson to have a seat next to him, which Bryson politely obeyed. He was now sandwiched between King Vitio and Princess Shelly.
“The match should be starting soon,” informed Vitio. “Flen!”
After a few moments, Flen lazily walked over to the king. He moved in a surprisingly nonchalant manner for someone who was supposed to be a servant of a royal family.
“Get us connected,” Vitio ordered.
Flen rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “Let me see if they’re ready.” He stared blankly into space for several seconds before a holographic display appeared in front of him. However, his technique was grotesquely odd. Instead of using both eyes to display the picture, he used only one, which was fixed in a certain spot. Meanwhile, the right eye turned a deep burgundy and moved freely on its own.
“Hi, father,” said a very familiar voice, instantly jarring Bryson’s attention from Flen’s creepy eyes.
It was Lilu, who was pictured in the display. She was still in her hospital bed with the metal contraption attached to her upper torso. Bryson finally realized what her plan was, and he took a deep breath of relief.
“How are you feeling, beautiful?” King Vitio asked with a grave tone of concern.
Lilu smiled. “Breathing is still difficult, but I’ve been perfectly fine. Vistas has been great company.”
“Next time we’re getting Vistas. Why do I have to get the raw end of the stick?” Princess Shelly whined.
Lilu laughed softly, careful to not hurt herself. “Vistas, say hello to the jealous princess,” she teased. A hand waved in the forefront of the screen’s vision. Bryson was amused at the thought of Vistas waving his hand in front of his own eyes.
Bryson noticed Flen’s free-moving eye rest on him, and that was when Lilu enthusiastically—well, to the best of her ability—said, “Bryson!” He understood: the right eye was recording while the left was presenting.
Bryson couldn’t hide his joy. “Hey, Lilu!”
“Don’t think just because you’re the son of Mendac means you have any chance with my sister,” Shelly said with a sneer. Perhaps “assertive” was too kind of a description.
Bryson’s face soured immediately. “First of all, stop looking at me as my father’s offspring. Second, don’t jump to conclusions.”
Shelly’s face reddened. “How dare you. I don’t care if you’re a zana. I am a princess! Watch your tongue.”
Lilu rolled her eyes as King Vitio jumped in. “Stop this. Mind your manners, Shelly.”
Shelly shot up from her seat. “I suppose he’s the son you always wanted! Actually, he probably is your son! You and Mendac were always so far up each other’s hind that he probably planted it while you conceived it!”
Something warm sprayed against the back of Bryson’s neck. He turned around and saw that Himitsu had just spit wine all over him and was now laughing hysterically. He made no effort to hold it back.
Flen was also laughing, and Bryson would have reacted the same way if he wasn’t so flabbergasted. There wasn’t even time for the king to respond since Shelly had stormed out of the suite. He merely sat there red in the face.
“Didn’t expect to see you, Himitsu,” Lilu said.
Himitsu, who had finally caught his breath, replied, “I’m so happy I was invited. She looks every bit like a princess, but speaks like a sailor.”
The rest of the time was spent conversing and bonding with King Vitio. Shelly had come back and taken her original seat, acting as if nothing had happened. The plan started off poorly, but there was still plenty of time to right the ship.
Down below, a tiny man walked toward the center of the arena floor. The crowd went silent.
“Here we go!” King Vitio yelled as he sat up in his seat.
The man was holding a small cone-shaped object, and upon reaching center stage, he put it to his mouth. “Ladies and gentlemen!” His voice was thunderous. It echoed around the stadium’s climbing walls of seats.
Vitio leaned toward Bryson. “He’s the emcee for the Generals’ Battle every year. He’s from the Archaic Kingdom, and his ancient piece projects his voice to astounding levels.”
“I am so happy to see so many faces!” the emcee continued. “I see fans sporting the colors of their respective kingdoms! The Spirit’s blues! The Passion’s reds! The Intel’s yellows! The Adren’s silvers! And of course, the Archaic’s browns!”
With each kingdom he named, a different section of the crowd would roar. Bryson gazed toward the bottom of the stands where the other Jestivan were supposed to be positioned. He spotted Tashami in front of his area, but he was the only one. There were too many people and the stadium was far too big for him to recognize the others.
“Shall we welcome the stars of the show?” the commentator asked. The cheers that followed were an obvious yes.
He named off each general, presenting them one by one as they walked into the massive ring. The Intel General was last to be named. “A good man, but nothing like your father,” King Vitio remarked.
Bryson’s blood boiled, but he bit his lip. “Who could be?” he said smoothly, which Vitio replied to with a hearty chuckle.
The host continued shouting through his ancient: “We all know the drill! A free-for-all! Every man and woman for themselves! The last one standing wins the title of Chief General of all the Light Realm for a year!”
Then he lowered his tone and became more serious. “However, this is not a battle to the death. You are eliminated once you are no longer able to fight—not when you are no longer able to breathe … Is that clear, Generals?”
Each general responded with their kingdom’s salute, making it clear they understood. There were four men and one woman. She was a brutish-looking lady with shoulders as broad as any man’s. It was odd seeing her sporting blue. The Spirit Kingdom was known for its powerful and iconic women, but they were typically dainty and elegant.
“My money is on the Archaic General,” Lilu predicted.
“Show faith in your kingdom, dear,” her father said disapprovingly. “Our general is fully capable.”
“I’m rooting for him, but I’m being realistic.”
Bryson gazed at the olive-skinned man in brown, who Lilu just predicted to win. He was holding a long brown staff with a glowing orange ball hovering at the top of it. The bone structure in his face was sharp, and his perfectly clean-shaven head was shining next to the orb’s light.
The host walked off the arena’s floor, and before Bryson knew it, a raucous shout boomed across the stadium—“Fight!”
What Bryson would have expected, which was an epic standoff of five great fighters respecting one another’s skillset, did not happen. Instead the action commenced immediately, and the Archaic General wasted no time in putting his ancient piece to work.
Twirling his staff upside-down, he slammed the glowing orb into the ground. The entirety of the arena floor began to shake as if it had been hit with an earthquake. Crevices with smoke spewing out of them extended in every direction.
Clouds of grey obscured the arena floor, but their presence was short-lived, as the beastly Spirit General dispersed them with a heavy blast of wind. Bryson couldn’t understand the warrior’s intentions behind the Archaic General’s opening salvo, which seemed as if it was just for show. An attack had to occur somewhere.
The other generals still had yet to make a move, but then the Adren General shot toward the Archaic General. Bryson could follow his movement surprisingly easily. Perhaps he had underestimated his o
wn talents.
Nevertheless, he was surely too fast for the Archaic General—except that the other man had already planned for it. The moment the Adren General disappeared, a wall of deep red blasted into the air, enclosing the Archaic General in a circle. The Adren General slammed into the barrier and instinctively jumped back while grasping his lava-singed elbow. Now Bryson understood the preemptive move the man had made at the beginning of the fight. He had broken the arena floor to draw up lava from the ground.
“You know better than that, Sinno,” the Archaic General drawled. “Look down.”
General Sinno had retreated directly on top of a hole. He dove to the side, narrowly dodging another burst of lava. But while he was mid-dive, a surge of electricity collided with his chest. It came from the Intel General, who had entered the fray.
Sinno shuddered as the electric surge burned through his nerves. He looked up and asked, “You two are teaming up on me?”
The Archaic General gave an inquisitive glare to the Intel General. “I must ask the same question. Why are you, out of all people, syncing attacks with me?”
“Because he’s a nuisance I can’t be bothered with,” the Intel General responded sternly. “The sooner he gets taken out, the fewer random variables I must consider. All he knows is speed, and I need structure to fight.”
Intrigued, the Archaic General stepped out of his circle and toward the Intel General. He then stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and said with a sly smirk, “An odd bonding of two rival kingdoms. Alright then, Lucas, let’s give the scribes something to talk about. I suppose getting Minerva and Landon to agree to this will be no problem. They’ve done nothing but bore the audience anyways.”
The two generals who had not been active gave a silent nod, and now General Sinno found himself against terrifying odds. He was crouched and already weakened while surrounded by four highly capable combatants.
“Shall we attack at the same time?” the Archaic General asked.
Another full round of nods were given, resulting in a prompt symphony of attacks. Minerva, the Spirit General, swiped her arm in a clawing motion, creating a harsh, downward-angled strike of wind that cut across the floor and sent Sinno crashing across the arena. Landon, the Passion General, slowly raised his hand in front of him with his palm facing up, summoning flames around Sinno’s body.
As the Intel General prepared to finish the hapless man off, something struck him in the back of the head and face-first into the ground—a giant hand of magma. He lay there, unconscious. It was such a marvelous display of energy control by the Archaic General, but the crowd jeered at his treachery.
“And that was Archaic General Inias doing his kingdom proud! He hatched a clever scheme that resulted in two KOs!” the commentator boomed.
Giving a gentle smirk, Inias pointed his staff toward the muscular lady in blue. A wave of lava flowed from the staff and spread thickly across the floor. Bryson felt the heat rising from the arena and could only imagine what the combatants were experiencing.
As Spirit General Minerva struggled to hold back the wall of lava, Passion General Landon took the opportunity to turn on her. He shot a burst of flame from his palms that she swatted away with a gust of wind. Landon ran behind her and sent out flames, completely trapping her in an inferno.
Inias redoubled his efforts, and the wall of lava reached the peak of its ascent, curled inward, and cascaded down toward her. With a single quick twirl of her body, the air around her began to spin, creating a twister of lava. She shot horizontal winds through the thick substance, flinging burning stone fragments at Inias. He dodged several of them, but two made contact. The second projectile was large enough to knock him off his feet.
Inias got up quickly and wiped a trail of blood from his chin. He looked toward Landon and gave a nod. They knew how exhausted Minerva was inside of the inferno, so they simply had to wait.
Finally, the twirling winds subsided, and the lava collapsed around Minerva. The two men were correct. She was keeled over on one knee. The moment she was exposed, the Passion General was already lunging at her with a vicious, flame-coated punch. She fell to the ground as the audience groaned.
Bryson had never experienced such a show of combat. This was not training or play-fighting. It was dangerous, and while they weren’t fighting with the intent to kill, those who fell had been pushed to their absolute limits.
“And that leaves the weakest of the generals left for Inias to take out,” Lilu said. “I won’t say I told you so, Father, but I told you so.”
Vitio looked disappointed. “That Archaic General ruins the fun. This will be five straight years. What makes it even more embarrassing is that he uses a different ancient each year.”
“He’s lucky the princes and princesses can’t fight in this battle,” Shelly said.
Bryson found her comment strange. She was a princess, not a soldier. “If you can hang with them, why do you need a general anyways?”
She smirked. “We royal blood first-borns, are actually more talented fighters than any general. We only use them so we don’t have to fight. We have to protect ourselves—or more importantly, the future of our bloodline.”
Bryson shrugged. In a cruel way, it made sense. He refocused on the final two combatants. With Inias and Landon not having to worry about anyone else, their combat became more technique-based. A kick would be followed up with a punch, which would be followed by a block and a jab. Every few moments, they would launch an elemental attack of lava or fire.
The air rippled in the rising heat, but it seemed to only make the two stronger. The fans in brown wildly cheered on their Archaic General, Inias, while the ones in red did the same for their Passion General, Landon.
However, soon, the Passion Kingdom residents would have nothing to cheer for, as Inias swiped their general’s feet with the bottom of his staff. Lava splashed upward as Landon landed in it.
“This could be it!” the commentator yelled. “A final blow might be dealt!”
Inias stood over Landon as he struggled to rise. Inias raised his foot high into the air, readying to stomp. Landon looked up as the bottom of Inias’s wooden sandal plummeted toward his face—but then the crowd screamed. Screams of horror.
Blood splashed onto Landon’s face. A long metal pole was impaled through Inias’s stomach. The Archaic General gaped at his wound with wide eyes. Then a second rod shot through his back and heart. Before he could fall, a third rod went straight into the back of Inias’s head.
The Archaic General fell over like a dead tree as the lava swallowed his body. Attached to the final rod, gently blowing in the wind, was a flag. It was burgundy … the color of the Dev Kingdom.
16
First Blood
The gentle wave of the burgundy flag in the middle of the arena was in stark contrast to the chaos in the stands. Soldiers in burgundy were pouring across the benches, hacking down the spectators as they frantically massed against the exits. Here and there Intel soldiers in gold-trimmed, silver armor fought to stem the red tide, but they were too few in number. And random objects hurtled through the air without anyone seeming to throw them. Rocks, stone, and metal were levitating off the ground before striking down civilians and soldiers alike.
“Damnit!” King Vitio yelled as he jumped out of his seat. “Lars and Peter, go!”
“Dad, go check on the Archaic King right now!” Lilu yelled through the transmission. “He’s going to think that we did this!”
King Vitio gaped at his daughter. “But we don’t have any Dev soldiers any more. We only kept their intelligence unit.”
“Do you think he’s going to believe that?! With the history between our two kingdoms? He’ll think we used the Dev Kingdom as a scapegoat!”
As Vitio stood motionless, too overwhelmed to make a decision, Shelly sprinted toward the exit. As she reached for the handle, the door shattered into thousands of pieces as a thick pillar of wood blew through it. Shelly was taken off her feet as the
base collided violently into her stomach. Her body shot across the suite, and Bryson grabbed her just before she plunged over the railing and down into the stands. For a moment it seemed as if they both would fall as their legs dangled in the air, the top halves of their bodies dangling over the bar. Then Vitio’s burly hands grabbed them and pulled them back onto their feet.
Bryson looked down at Shelly. Her face was no longer smug, but momentarily dazed. Her eyes were half closed, but when she gazed up at Bryson, whose golden bangs had fallen in front of his face, they widened.
“Thank you,” she said—something he never thought he’d hear from her. Then she looked toward the entrance and her face now flooded with anger.
“Vitio! You will die today!”
The threat came from a tall skinny man draped in many shades of brown. His head was balding, covered in brown spots, and encompassed by a crown of twigs. He was the king of the Archaic Kingdom, accompanied by the handsome Archaic Prince and two officials.
***
Utter madness surrounded Agnos, and he was hesitating to join it. Even though he was a Jestivan, fighting was not his purpose, nor did he ever expect something of this scale to happen so soon.
But there was no time to stand around. As he stood in shock at the bottom of the crowd, looking up at the fleeing masses, civilians were collapsing left and right, felled by swords or flying debris. Then the burgundy-clothed attackers began to fall, and Agnos’s eyes searched for the assailant. But there was none. Then a presence appeared next to him.
“Zana Agnos, prove useful in some way by assisting in escorting the innocents.” It was Adren Director Buredo, who was looking gravely at the scene before them. It explained why Agnos hadn’t seen him. Buredo was too fast.
The Jestivan (Erafeen, #1) Page 15
