Skivv bounced with delight. "Final trial, folks! The Truth Gauntlet!" The arena stripped itself bare, no gears, no traps, just stone and a hush that pressed in hard after all that noise. The lights dimmed until the crowd became a low, indistinct mass, their hunger muted but not gone. From the far edge, a hooded elder stepped forward and placed a crystal orb on a low pedestal, its surface dull at first, clouded, unreadable. Nyxia limped into the circle and knelt. Mud had begun to dry on her skin, pulling tight when she moved. Blood still tracked down her leg, warm and insistent, but she straightened her spine anyway, shoulders set like pride alone might hold her upright. She rested her hands on her thighs and lifted her chin. The orb pulsed. A voice slipped out of it, thin as wind through leaves. "What did you lose that you still grieve?" Nyxia closed her eyes. For a moment, the arena vanished, the crowd with it. There was only scent and memory. "My mother," she said softly, her voice catching just once. "I don't remember her face. Only how she smelled. Tea leaves. Firewood." The orb warmed beneath the elder's hands. Accepted.
It pulsed again, slower this time. "What did you leave behind when you walked away?" Nyxia's jaw tightened. She opened her eyes, gaze steady. "People who loved me," she said. "Places that wanted to keep me safe." The orb brightened a fraction. "And why did you leave?" "Because safety became a cage." The light held, waiting. "What did it cost you?" Her breath left her through her nose. "Everything familiar." Accepted. The orb pulsed again, deeper now, the sound felt more than heard. "What have you chosen, again and again, even when it hurt?" Nyxia didn't hesitate. "Myself." A ripple of murmurs moved through the crowd, quickly swallowed by the hush. "What doubt still follows that choice?" Her fingers curled slightly against her leg. "That choosing myself means no one else ever truly will." The orb glowed brighter. "What lie do others tell about you?" "That I am reckless," she said. "That I don't care." "And the truth?" "I care enough to walk away before I break."
The elder's hands tightened around the pedestal as the light intensified. Final questions came faster now, pressing. "What part of yourself did you harden to survive?" "My mercy." "What part of yourself refuses to die?" "My will." "What would break you more than death?" Nyxia's gaze lifted, finding Perseus beyond the circle, not for permission, not for reassurance, just to anchor herself. "Kneeling when I do not choose to." The orb flared. Last question. "What part of yourself are you most afraid to lose?" Silence stretched. Nyxia inhaled, slow and deliberate. "The part of me that decides," she said. "When I stay. When I leave. When I bare my teeth." The orb shattered. Light burst outward, sharp and clean, washing over the arena as the crowd erupted into sound. Skivv threw his arms wide, laughter ringing over the roar.
"She has earned the right to claim her prize!" Chains rattled overhead as a voidglass cage descended, armor gleaming inside, close enough to taste, close enough to promise. The plates caught the light and bent it strangely, reflections warping as if the metal inhaled and exhaled. Nyxia took an unsteady step toward it, blood dripping steadily from her fingers, lungs burning with every breath she dragged in. Then the cage stopped. Skivv's grin sharpened. "But Serath'Kai tradition says… nothing worth wearing comes easy." The lights dimmed again. Not darkness, not fully. More like bruising. Shadows thickened at the edges of the arena, sound dulling as if the stone itself leaned inward to listen. The crowd did not protest. They quieted. Recognizing.
Hidden gates slid open. One figures emerged. The mercenary, boots scraping against the stone as he rolled his shoulders, cleavers hanging loose at his sides like extensions of his arms. He was breathing hard already, sweat cutting pale tracks through grime at his throat, eyes locked on Nyxia with a sharp, practical hunger. He intended to end this close. Behind him, from the podium drifted the elder. His hood swallowed his face entirely, robes whispering over the floor without sound, hands folded calmly at his chest, posture almost reverent. Waiting. Nyxia shifted her stance, weight settling into her hips. Every muscle screamed at the adjustment. Her legs shook. She ignored it. Pain had become background noise hours ago.
In the stands, something moved. Her gaze flicked up for half a heartbeat and caught the hooded man again. Tall. Still. Unmoving amid the chaos. He did not cheer. Did not lean forward. Did not react at all. Watching. The barrier flared between her and Perseus. He took a step forward anyway, jaw tight, fury flashing naked across his face. Loque snarled and lunged, claws screeching uselessly against the invisible wall, spectral form rippling with restrained violence. "You lying little—" The horn screamed and cut her off.
The mercenary charged. Nyxia met him without finesse, without grace. She ducked the first cleaver, felt the second rake across her shoulder and split skin open, heat flashing sharp and blinding. She drove her elbow up under his chin with everything she had left. His head snapped back. She stepped in and slammed her forehead into his face. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed across her cheek, warm and wet. He staggered but stayed upright, swinging blind with a heavy backhand that caught her across the ribs. The impact lifted her feet. She skidded across stone and hit hard, shoulder first. White pain bloomed. Air tore from her lungs. She rolled. Because stopping meant dying.
He was on her immediately, shadow swallowing her as she scrambled. Nyxia kicked out, heel crunching into his knee. It bent wrong. He roared and went down with his weight carrying them both forward. Nyxia surged up, straddling his chest before he could recover, fists coming down in brutal rhythm. Once. Twice. Again. Her knuckles split. His helm fractured. Teeth broke loose and bounced across the floor. He grabbed for her wrist. She leaned down and bit into the exposed flesh of his forearm, hard enough to tear. Blood flooded her mouth, hot and metallic. He screamed. She pulled back and slammed his head into the stone. Again. And again. The sound changed. Went dull. Wet. He stopped moving.
Nyxia stayed there for a beat too long, chest heaving, hands shaking as blood pooled beneath him and soaked into her thighs. The crowd noise faded, narrowing to a distant, roaring hum. She pushed herself upright—and felt it. A pressure behind her eyes. Not pain. A pull. The air thickened, crawling cold over her skin, sliding down her spine like breath where none should be. Behind her, the elder lifted one hand. Nyxia twisted just in time to see the corpse convulse beneath her. Not rise. Convulse.
The mercenary's back arched violently, ribs cracking outward one by one as something inside him forced its way through muscle and bone. The sound was obscene, wet and tearing. Blackened veins lit beneath his skin, pulsing like veins filled with night. The crowd gagged. Someone screamed. Nyxia scrambled backward on hands and heels as the body tore itself open, organs spilling out in steaming heaps. The head lolled uselessly, neck clearly broken, jaw hanging slack as something else moved him. He dragged himself upright on ruined legs, chest cavity open, entrails slapping wetly against the stone with every step. Nyxia's breathing slowed. The pain dulled. Not gone. Just distant. Focused. Like everything sharp inside her had been honed to a single point.
The thing lurched toward her. She did not dodge. Nyxia surged forward and drove both hands into the open cavity of its chest. Her fingers sank deep, sliding through heat and slick ruin. Something pulsed against her palm. She closed her fist. And tore. Entrails spilled over her arms and thighs. The thing shrieked, the sound warping, echoing wrong. Nyxia leaned in and bit down into the side of its neck, teeth tearing through flesh and tendon. Blood sprayed across her face, warm and choking. She laughed. Once. It came out wrong. Too sharp. Too thin. The body clawed uselessly at her. She hooked her leg behind its knee and hauled it down with her weight. They hit the stone hard. She stayed on top, smashing its head again and again until the skull collapsed inward, gray matter smearing beneath her fists. It still twitched.
Nyxia snarled, reached back into the ruined chest, tore free what remained of its heart, and crushed it in her fist. The twitching stopped. Silence fell like a dropped curtain. Behind her, the elder staggered as Loque finally broke through the barrier with a roar, slamming into him with spectral force. Claws raked. Jaws tore. Void spilled from the man's wounds like oil, smoking where it struck stone. Nyxia rose and crossed the distance in three unsteady strides. She grabbed the elder by the throat and drove her arm straight through it, ripping upward in one savage motion. His body split from neck to chest. Whatever lived inside him screamed as it spilled out and dissolved against the floor. Nothing remained.
Nyxia stood shaking in the wreckage, gore coating her from throat to knees, breath deep and uneven. Loque pressed into her side, solid and grounding, his presence the only thing anchoring her as the buzzing behind her eyes slowly receded. Above her, the voidglass cage shattered. The armor dropped at her feet with a heavy, final sound. Nyxia looked down at it. Then lifted her head. Her smile showed teeth. Not pretty. Not soft. Something earned. The barrier finally dropped with a sharp crack of light, the sound snapping through the arena like a held breath released.
Perseus didn't hesitate. He crossed the ring in long strides, boots splashing through blood and viscera, hammer still in hand, eyes never leaving her. He stopped at her side, close enough that she could feel his heat, his presence steady and solid against the lingering buzz under her skin, a quiet gravity pulling her back toward herself.
Nyxia didn't look at him at first. "Gather my things," she said calmly, voice still rough at the edges, like gravel dragged over silk, "before someone decides to steal them." A flicker of a smile tugged at his mouth despite himself. "Yes, ma'am." He turned and moved without question, scooping up her discarded gear, the torn remains of fabric, anything that belonged to her before the pit tried to claim it. The crowd parted instinctively for him now, eyes darting away, unsure where it was safe to look anymore.
Skivv hopped down from his perch, clapping slowly, goggles gleaming as he eyed the carnage with naked delight. "Careful what you wear, girl," he chirped, grin stretching wide. "Some armor doesn't come off clean once it knows you." Nyxia finally glanced his way. Her gaze alone was enough to make him swallow. She said nothing. And Serath'Kai would remember exactly what it had unleashed.