The hairs along the bodyguard’s arms stood on end as a sudden chill ran through him. He couldn’t speak. Every word he might have said died in his throat the mont he looked back to where the loud noble should have been.
The man who had been behind him now stood at the front of the line. That alone wasn’t strange.
What was unsettling was his expression.
There was no confusion, no surprise—no hint that anything unusual had happened at all. He looked just like everyone else around him, swept up in the sa impatient frenzy of spectators waiting to enter the arena.
It was as though he alone had witnessed the man’s disappearance and sothing deep within him whispered that if he drew attention to it, he might be sent to the sa place the other man had vanished to.
Swallowing hard, he forced his racing heart to calm. Then, with stiff, chanical movents, he turned back to et Aden’s piercing blue eyes and gave a shallow half-bow.
"T–the platinum tier is all we have left at the mont... if that’s acceptable to you," he said, his voice tight with nerves.
Aden tilted his head slightly, the faint rustle of his tattered cloak the only sound in the vacuum of the guard’s panic.
"Platinum tier," Aden repeated, a hint of surprise in his tone. "Since when did this place have that?"
"A few months ago, sir," the bodyguard answered imdiately, his head still lowered in a half-bow. "Master Kaelen personally installed it himself—"
The rest of his words died in his throat.
Aden hadn’t spoken. Yet the mont that na left his lips, a surge of bloodlust erupted from him, heavy enough to crush the guard’s voice before he could finish the sentence.
The bodyguard clenched his teeth, dread tightening in his chest. He wondered which mistake in his life had led soone like this to appear at his post. Just as he began ntally bidding his family farewell, Aden spoke.
"Take to the seats."
To the bodyguard, the words sounded like rcy whispered into a death sentence.
The guard quickly wiped the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and nodded frantically. His hands trembled as he fumbled with a heavy, polished slate, the digital ledger reserved for the arena’s wealthiest guests.
Before Aden could reach for the gold pouch, the bodyguard had already tapped a command onto the slate, causing the massive reinforced doors of the VIP entrance to groan open.
’Zero, Lorelei,’ Aden called out through the Sync. ’It seems the bodyguard isn’t as bad as I thought.’
The two Vassals could only remain silent. Their Master’s shalessness was beginning to baffle even them.
But they didn’t give it much thought and just began following him while noting the angry expressions the others were making at the bodyguard.
Aden walked down a plush, carpeted hallway, its luxury a stark contrast to the damp stone of the lower district below. Ahead, the roar of the crowd grew louder, muffled only by high-grade resonance-dampening glass.
An elderly man in a black suit and neatly pressed trousers led the way. He served as a guide to Aden until they stepped out onto a private balcony that overlooked the entire arena.
"We wish you a pleasurable stay," the man spoke in a low voice, before closing the large door behind him with a soft click.
The heavy silence of the balcony was a jarring contrast to the cacophony below. Aden walked to the edge of the railing, his tattered clothes fluttering in the artificial wind generated by the arena’s cooling fans.
Below, the Pit was a grotesque spectacle. The sand, once white, was now a mosaic of rust-colored stains and gouged furrows. In the center, a man stood over the twisted remains of his previous opponents—but Aden’s eyes didn’t linger on the victor.
His gaze remained fixed straight ahead, cutting through the thick glass toward the opposite side of the arena where the other platinum-tier guests sat. Each balcony was sealed off by heavy panes of Resonance-ingrained glass, ant to keep prying eyes out.
But such a barrier ant little to Aden.
Beyond the glass, five figures occupied every balcony, each suite as lavish as the next. They smiled as they watched the arena below—smiles that barely concealed the madness required to enjoy a place like this.
Aden only spared them a glance before he refocused on the ongoing battle below. He could tell they were of so sort of noble lineage, but Daren’s mories didn’t register either of them, and that could only an they were not worth rembering.
A sentint Aden shared as well.
As they watched the fight below, Zero’s voice sounded in his head.
’Master, your heart rate has increased by three beats per minute,’ Zero noted through the Sync. ’A rare physiological response.’
Lorelei didn’t make any comnt, mostly because she was strangely fixated on the bloody battle ensuing below and forgot to tap into the Sync.
’Since when did you start monitoring my internals?’ Aden asked, mild dissatisfaction threading through his voice.
’My sincerest apologies, Master. I must ensure your safety, especially in a place as dangerous as this,’ Zero replied evenly.
Aden’s expression did not soften. His gaze drifted back to the shifting sands of the arena below.
Unaware of it himself, his fingers tightened around the railing until the tal groaned and bent beneath his grip.
’I’m doing fine, Zero. Be more like Lorelei and focus on the battle below,’ he replied in an uncharacteristically coercive tone.
Zero bowed and turned his head to the battle below, though he didn’t bother to analyse like he normally did.
Below, the victor of the previous match had been dragged off, and the iron portcullis on the far side of the Pit groaned as it began to rise. The announcer’s voice, amplified by the Resonance-conductors built into the walls, shook the very floorboards of the balcony.
"And now, for our ’Opening Act’ of the evening gala! A special treat for our generous donors—The Remnants of the Heresy!"
Aden’s heart skipped a beat for a split second. Sothing within him hoped he was wrong about what he was about to predict.
But wishes don’t always co true
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