dsaprox

Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

In their exchange, Seraph finally managed to wing Phune with a holy blast, leaving his arm numb, but with a frustrated snarl, Phune waved his other arm and hit Seraph in the leg with a sphere of water. Seraph collapsed, howling in pain as the water dissolved his clothes and flesh. He had felt this burning before, this corrosion of his skin. Noah had used acid against him during their fight, and right now, a tsunami of bad memories was washing over him. In his mind, he was back in the slums with Noah standing over him. Considering where the arena was built and where Noah was watching from, his delusion wasn’t far from reality. He couldn’t go through that pain again, that horror.

The fight continued in that fashion. Over and over again, Abner charged Reiss, only to be soundly beaten and hurled back. He’d hit the ground and slowly get to his feet, often while reciting some motivational quip that made Noah roll his eyes. The young man’s tenacity was admirable, but Noah wished he would stop screaming about the merits of determination and friendship. He had a rule against taking pleasure in the suffering of others, but was letting this fight continue for his amusement in seeing Abner getting knocked around. Even for an ancient spirit like Noah, the young man’s unrelenting “put me in, coach!” energy was aggravating, and he wanted to see his spirit break.