The silence around us was as thick as the fog dancing at the witch's feet. Ciny and I were still half-dazed by the sudden appearance of that figure—she looked like she had walked straight out of a stylish nightmare, wrapped in fabrics that whispered when she moved.
The witch stopped glaring at me like she wanted to devour my soul and finally broke the ice with a crooked smile.
— "It's really not that complicated," she said, like someone offering a cup of poisoned tea.
I rolled my eyes.
— "Says the lady..."
She turned pale. Literally.
— "Lady?!" Her voice echoed like bottled thunder. "Not 'lady', you insolent brat! I'm only in my fifties..."
— "Fifty in each leg, maybe," Ciny muttered, arms crossed with disdain.
— "What did you say, missy?"
— "Nothing, nothing... hihi."
I sighed, trying to stay focused.
— "What exactly do you gain from all this?"
She crossed her arms, raising one elegant eyebrow.
— "Simple. Whoever becomes Number One has the right to impose a new rule in the Arena. And you... you'll impose mine."
— "And what rule would that be?"
— "Oh, that I won't tell. Not until the time is right."
— "Then I'm not playing along."
— "Not playing along? You'd rather watch your mana channels remain as useful as a spoon in a sword fight?"
— "Deal with it."
She stared at me. I stared back.
— "Fine!" she growled. "You win, stubborn brat. The rule I want is this: every battle must be accompanied by an artistic performance. Poetry, singing, dancing... maybe painting."
Ciny and I exchanged a look. Then, in a dry whisper, we spoke in unison:
— "That's it?"
The witch puffed up like an offended toad.
— "What do you mean, that's it?! Do you know how ugly it is to watch people just beat each other up? Where's the art? Where's the beauty of song, the emotions in prose? You kids only care about noise and violence!"
— "Old hag..." Ciny muttered, rolling her eyes.
— "What?"
— "Nothing, nothing..." she said, flashing that mischievous smile only she could pull off.
My mind, however, had already jumped past the arts and onto something else. My mana was still sealed. And if...?
— "If, by any chance..." I started hesitantly, "you can't fix my mana channels... can you at least check what's going on with Ciny?"
Both of them looked at me as if I had dropped lightning on the floor. Ciny reacted first.
— "No! I don't want you going through this just for me!"
— "That's my decision to make."
— "But..."
The witch raised her hand, silencing the argument.
— "Honestly? It might actually be easier to start with her case."
Ciny gulped. So did I. Then we told her everything—how she had... changed. How during certain battles, another personality took over. Cold. Ruthless. Almost inhuman.
The witch scratched her chin, and without warning, her eyes began to glow like twin blue lanterns.
She stepped closer to Ciny and stared at her intensely.
— "Hey!" Ciny protested, stepping back. "Can you not stare like that? This body already has an owner!"
I coughed, blushing. The witch just rolled her eyes.
— "Relax, you're not all that."
— "EXCUSE ME?!"
The glow in her eyes faded instantly.
— "Yes, it's a curse. You said you got it after being closest to someone who died, right?"
— "Yes..." Ciny replied, her voice barely a whisper.
— "Then..." She snapped her fingers with dramatic flair. "Solved."
Right then and there, Ciny arched her back, letting out a sigh that sounded torn from her soul. Like a ton of weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
— "Consider that an advance payment. When you beat Number One, I'll fix your mana channels."
— "That easy?" I asked, skeptical. "A curse breaks just like that?"
— "If you don't believe me, just give it time." She turned to leave, as if none of this had been a big deal. "I've got better things to do. Good luck, pretty boy."
And she vanished... laughing, like the world was a private joke only she understood.
We stood there for a moment. Silence fell again, thick as a blanket. Then Ciny dropped to her knees—not in pain. She was crying. Crying like someone who, for the first time, truly felt her body was her own.
I knelt beside her, squeezing her hand tightly.
I was happy for her.
But also... afraid.
Even without mana, I had to beat Number One. That meant I would need more than strength.
I would need something the Arena had long forgotten:
Hope.