Xain stood in one of the coliseum's inner corridors with the two people assigned to accompany him: Prince Mark, and Clara, who still looked shaken, her complexion pale from whatever she had felt earlier. Xain glanced at her more than once before finally speaking. "Are you sure you want to come with me?" he asked, worry evident in both his voice and posture. "You don't have to if you're feeling unwell." Clara shook her head immediately. "It's fine. I can go," she replied, lifting one hand slightly, offering a tired but sincere smile. "Don't worry about me."
Prince Mark watched the exchange in silence. *So this is what Zara meant?* he thought. He did not interject. He was aware enough to recognize that he was an outsider here—he only knew Clara, and even then only in a formal capacity. With his G.E.A.R. worn, his presence was naturally imposing, so he couldn't fault either of them for not trying to strike up conversation.
Suddenly, Xain's eyes snapped toward the far end of the corridor. They widened just a fraction before he turned back to the other two, forcing a nervous smile as he rubbed the back of his head. "Uh… I just realized I have something really important I need to take care of," he said. "So I'm going to go do that." Prince Mark tilted his head slightly. "And what would that be?" he asked, his modulated voice echoing faintly in the stone passage. Xain visibly stiffened before answering more quietly, "It's, you know… business. Bathroom business." Clara blinked, then let out a small, awkward chuckle. "Oh. Um, go ahead then. We'll let the others know where you went once they come out and finish deciding who's going where."
Xain nodded quickly, dipped into a brief bow toward Prince Mark, then turned and walked off down the corridor at a brisk pace. Prince Mark watched him the entire time, his gaze following until Xain disappeared around the corner. *Was he telling the truth?* he wondered, before giving a subtle shrug. *It doesn't matter. He doesn't seem like the type to scheme.*
Meanwhile, once Xain was safely out of sight, he broke into a jog. He spotted Ercale slipping into an unused room and immediately followed, pushing through the door after him. The space was nothing more than a storage room lined with racks of practice weapons and worn training equipment.
"Where have you been!?" Xain demanded the moment the door shut behind them, his voice tight and strained.
"Surveying the situation. Getting into fights. Retreating from fights," Ercale replied flatly as he crossed his arms. "I haven't been wasting time."
Xain stared at him. "Wait—what? Retreating from fights? As in running away?" The words sounded foreign coming out of his mouth.
"Yes, ape. Running away," Ercale said, completely unamused. "You do it often enough. You should know how it works."
Xain went pale. "How? Why? What? Who made you run away? How is that even possible? What is happening?" The questions spilled out in a rapid rush as he took a step closer.
"Calm down and take a breath," Ercale said dryly, lifting one hand to stop him. Xain froze mid-spiral. "This isn't even the bad news I came to tell you yet."
Xain swallowed. "The bad news?"
"It looks like your sorceress stalker followed you here too," Ercale said evenly. "She's been burning demons so far and was talking on what was essentially a phone to her… mistress. That last part isn't important right now. The important part is that she's here."
Xain's mouth fell open. He straightened, then dragged both hands down his face before dropping to one knee and yelling into his palms, "Screw my life!" He forced himself back up a second later. "So who did you lose to?"
Ercale scoffed. "Arkanis. The strongest Demon Lord after me. He's here." His eyes hardened. "And I doubt any of your merry band of friends has a chance against him one on one. Or three on one. Or all on—"
"Okay, okay, I get it," Xain cut in quickly, waving a hand. He hesitated for half a second, then added, his tone sharpening, "Could you tell me what he looked like?"
Ercale raised an eyebrow. "Why do you want to know?"
"Just tell me," Xain insisted. "Please."
Ercale studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "Red robes. Hood pulled low, a gaiter covering most of his face. Carries a staff. He stands out—you'll know him if you see him, assuming that's why you're asking."
Xain's hands clenched slowly at his sides. "So he's the one who…" His words trailed off. He shook his head once, forcing the thought away, and looked back up at Ercale. "What's the plan now?"
Ercale began pacing the cramped room. "I have a few ideas," he said, measured. "But I need to hear what your plans are as well." He stopped at a small, grimy window and looked out over the city—smoke rising, bloody red rain, streets broken and burning.
"I have plans, contingencies," he continued, turning back. "Things I didn't intend to set in motion, but that are going to help us." He stepped closer and placed a hand firmly on Xain's shoulder. "So, ape," he asked, voice low and serious, "are you ready for the counterattack?"