The shadows within the room danced every which way as the Burning bonsai flames flickered.
Mnemoscopus' lips curved upward as he slowly and calmly walked toward a random wall. On it, luminous blue Vines scaled the whole surface, including the pillars right next to it.
"Artefacts are simply tools forged to extend a being's capability." Mnemoscopus murmured, his voice echoing softly in the chamber as he gently caressed the leaves of the luminous blue vines.
Streams of bitter smoke billowed from his fingertips. "When one imbues their innate skill into a medium, its shape and nature depends on the Forger's personality, Authority, and will."
Using his left hand, Mnemoscopus continued gently caressing the leaves of the board luminous blue Vines. Small patches of his skin had already corroded.
The blue luminous leaves had an oily layer that corroded anything that touched them… Mnemoscopus touched their leaves regardless.
This was an already known fact in the Auramancer cultivation world. It was the roots and light released that had restorative properties.
However, Mnemoscopus wasn't bothered by this. With effortless ease, the small patches of corroded burnt skin regenerated instantly.
He sighed slightly, admiring the broad heart-shaped leaves in front of him that produced a soft blue light.
"For instance, these Status 4 Firefly Heartleaf vines were forged by Status 5, Nomostreble Auramancers."
With the required 'Authority', recipe and Ingredients, an Auramancer might theoretically be capable of forging the same Artefact repeatedly'.
Unfortunately, Mnemoscopus' 'Authority' isn't associated with the healing or restoration path.
Regardless of his high cultivation status, he could not forge such items himself, making trade essential even for Chōrastrebles like himself.
Most Auramancers tend to trade for Artefacts not within their own 'Authority' to cover their bases.
"It makes one wonder why someone with your cultivation status couldn't be bothered using an Artefact."
Mnemoscopus remarked while staring at the wall. There were only two individuals in the room, so who he referred to was quite obvious.
Kurael was a Status 6 Axiostreble, and all Axiostrebles were not fools, reaching such a cultivation status was itself proof of their own genius and talent.
And every Auramancer of that status understood the importance of having and using an Artefact. Even if they came with annoying drawbacks.
Mnemoscopus causally touched the wall he had been observing the whole time. In the next moment the surface shimmered with a golden glow and dispersed into resplendent small balls of light. Immediately the cheers from the coliseum filled the room.
That part of the wall had now connected the private chamber to the basilium that overlooked the battlefield.
"Heh heh… With your cultivation status, you easily have methods to enslave weaker Auramancers and force them to create Artefacts with desirable properties." Kurael scoffed, no longer pretending to be asleep.
Mnemoscopus chuckled "No longer playing dead, are you?"
"Humph… So you already knew I was awake this whole time?... As expected of someone with your Status." Kurael already knew the question was redundant…
Mnemoscopus' Authority belonged to the mind path. One would have to live under a rock not to know this… why wouldn't he have methods to be aware of Kurael's situation?
Before Mnemoscopus, three high-backed seats stood within the basilium. The center seat featured the highest back, while the one to its right possessed softer edges and a feminine aesthetic.
However, the seat to the left looked very ordinary and lacked any ornamentation on it. It looked like a seat yet to be seized.
The golden-faced Mnemoscopus approached the basilium, walked over to the center throne and took a seat before he gestured towards the ordinary, stone, high-back chair to his left.
"The battles have begun. Don't you wish to see what your juniors have been up to?"
Kurael saw this and was stunned for a moment, a thought rushed through his mind,
'What is his scheme here?' This gesture seemed simple yet had a lot of underlying meanings. Like subtly treating him on near-equal terms, or even acknowledging him with high regard.
Kurael shook his head, reined in his emotions and dismissed the thought. He knew his place. He was merely a frog attempting to escape a pan with hot oil. He had to consider jumping straight into the fire next. Was that not a better plight?
Kurael sat upright and walked towards the basilium Mnemoscopus just connected to. As he drew closer, the cheers grew louder.
He warily took the seat next to Mnemoscopus. It had no cushioning, its hard cold surface would make an ordinary person uncomfortable.
Kurael preferred it this way. A leader resting on soft cushions easily lost his guard, and the austerity reminded him too sharply of his previous life.
Looking down, he stared into the stands filled with a sight he did not expect to see. In a weird turn of events. The stands were not filled with identical faces of golden-faced Mnemoscopuses.
Instead, the amphitheater was filled with a diverse, less uncanny crowd of spectators wearing raw skin hides of various beasts. To an outsider, they might resemble corrupted Doxamorph creatures, but they were merely ordinary viewers dressed in regional garb.
The sea of crimson blood surrounding the stage bobbed up and down. A heavy, humid reek of metallic blood and charred incense hung thick over the coliseum floor, lingering in the stagnant air above the roaring audience.
Kurael rested his knuckles against the cold stone armrest, feeling the subtle vibrations of radiating aura from the spectators arena below. They were all awakened Auramancers, each of various statuses.
Down on the stained sand, every ragged breath from the two human challengers billowed like white mist in the dim light.
Their desperate, synchronized heartbeats echoed with a hollow rhythm; a stark, fragile contrast to the ancient, overwhelming presence of the arena itself and the silent, golden-faced monster sitting calmly at his right side.
The two challengers stood with tattered, bloodied clothes, their pale faces etched with grim determination.
The Heavy gates rumbled open releasing a grotesque looking creature. It had a shiny spider-like body, its height that of a stallion. Its shimmering silver fur was durable as steel, all razor-sharp and pointy.
It had a bloated, round abdomen so fat it looked like it would pop at any moment and swollen to the point where its sparse fur stood on end.
Dangling from its rear, just at the anus, was a sticky black rope resembling exposed intestines, dragging left and right as eight boney white legs clawed forward.
Its face was quite peculiar though; an emasculate, androgynous visage with perfect features, its alabaster skin glistened softly and its gentle gaze capable of disarming an opponent's resolve and melting one's stern heart.
A bell chimed and the creature's restraints were released. The creature dashed forward with terrifying speed, far too fast for its size, leaving trails of black webbing in its wake in erratic, unpredictable leaps. Jumping every which way like the wild beast it was.
The more muscular looking challenger dashed forward as well. Clashing with the creature head on. His rusted blade colliding with its obsidian boney appendages.
Behind him, the leaner archer drew her arrows when the purple liquid in the vials around her waist reduced visibly. The heads of the arrows turned to a purple hue when she aimed at the creature's head.
Sensing the threat, the creature shifted its massive plump abdomen to shield its tantalising face.
Some of the arrows pierced into its fat abdomen while others simply missed or bounced harmlessly away. At the same time the closer challenger managed to chip away a piece of one boney appendage.
The two worked quite decently together, even though from time to time they hindered each other.
This was not intentionally though, it was simply because they were inexperienced, and one had to be a fool not to notice this.
The two challengers fought with all they had their moods turning darker the longer they fought. As battle dragged on, even their resolve wore down. The archer gritted her teeth as her fingers cut and bled her quiver nearly empty.
The close ranged combatant was in a different state; despair already gripping his heart as the creature showed no signs of fatigue. He could only make his swings faster and heavier.
His bones groaned. Salty, sticky sweat stung his open wounds. Without hesitation he took out a vial that glowed with dim red light and gulped it down whole.
The archer saw this and screamed on top of her lungs,"You idiot, what have you done? You're not ready for that. Your courting death!"
"Then so be it... This is the vile creature that destroyed my village! I'll wont get another chance to avenge my brethren!"
His muscles bulged, bones thickened and reflexes became sharper. He thrashed his rusted machete with redoubled speed and brute force. Bits and pieces flung, as he chipped deeper into the creature's defences.
The arachnid twisted its gorgeous face at this development, offering a pure, soft, gentle smile before winding its body and delivering a devastating counter-blow.
The challenger flung backward across the stage, slamming his arm into the ground to slow his momentum... right into a thick, pulsating black web string.
Upon closer inspection, one would realise the web was composed of jet-black, intestines. Veins bulged and squirmed beneath the surface.
Accidentally touching them directly drained the moisture of the body part that touched it until leaving it as dry and brittle as stone.
This was the very fatal error the melee combatant made. His arm blackened, filled with salty venom.
His companion archer stood frozen in fear. Cold sweat turned her clothes to a darker shade.
The crowd went crazy at this sight. Some roared with laughter, some cheered, some wore solemn expressions, while others were simply indifferent, anticipating the battle.
The creature screeched; its ever increasing speed made it truly terrifying... This was even its top speed. The creature was merely playing with its food.
The lone humans that reached this far were nothing more fodder. Because of this fact, the arachnid grew careless and left an opening, allowing the courageous human to sever one of its boney legs, throwing it off its balance.
Hope flared in his eyes. He swiftly twisted his body, swinging his machete towards the jugular of the tantalising-faced arachnid.
Spurt.
A sudden force coming from his chest halted his advance. Surrounding his body, a hot mist rose with a lot of intensity.
Slowly looking down. His feet left the floor. He couldn't see his other foot as the severed bony appendage that he remembered cutting off impaled him clean through.
The gorgeous face tilted upward, opening wide until the corners of the lips tore away in bloody strips. Revealing sharp mandibles.
The courageous avenger wore a wide, brilliant grin screaming defiantly through punctured lungs, "Hahaha, go ahead! Eat me whole… I'll tear you to pieces from the inside out!"
This man showed no fear, it was like he was happy with where the battle was headed. He pulled out two more vials of the strange crimson liquid and gulped them down.
His body burgeoned even further, tattered clothing shredded as muscles expanded wildly. Across his wide back, a red ink tattoo of a dragon biting its own tail writhed around the protruding spear of bone piercing his chest.
Looking toward his archer companion, he offered a final, calm command, "Withdraw from this battle... everything is going…"
Before he could finish the arachnid drew its boney appendage closer to its jaws and swallowed the one armed champion whole.
Its powerful jaws crushed bone, flesh, and the iron machete alike. The human's muscles were too chewy and his bones were too hard to grind.
The liquid he drank definitely caused its meal to be so hard to enjoy. Powerful mandibles grinded the tough meat until it softened enough to slide down its throat.
The archer watched in terror as the arachnid's aura flared even brighter, having consumed a soul body core.
This was a sign her companion was truly dead. And now, she was the next dish on the menu.