Chapter 54: The Protagonist Rises

In the sky, Adonis dropped.

The steam had thrown him sideways.

His armor’s cloak billowed, his ears were ringing, and he could barely catch himself.

Below him, the white cloud was still roiling.

Above him, Scorcher was stillthere.

It was missing a few feathers and its beak was cracked at the tip, but it was coming down at him like a banner of fire as its wings enlarged and burned harder.

And Shocker was charging another bolt on the ground.

Adonis took a deep breath to gather his thoughts.

Any good plans would be pointless and powerless in the face of Bradley’s next words.

"The cat never let go."

"...Huh?"

Adonis turned his head slowly. The black cat looked at him from behind his shoulder.

’Damn it...’

He got warped again, now Adonis was no longer a hundred meters away from Scorcher. He’s in front of it, close enough to count the cracks on its beak.

The hawk’s talons slammed into his chest.

THOOOOOOM!!

The black plates of his Magic Saint Armor cracked as a piece of the shoulder guard flew off. Any moral man would’ve been split in half at the waist.

The armor was the only reason Adonis was still in one piece.

He fell for what felt like an hour, limbs useless, and hit the sand with a crash that blew up a crater around him.

CRAAASH!

"...guh."

He tried to breathe, but the air felt like knives in his lungs.

He tried to lift Indra, but the spear was too heavy.

His arms and most of his body hurt so much he couldn’t even hold the weapon, much less swing it.

Above the arena, the sky was darkening.

Bradley walked across the sand toward Adonis with his hands behind his back, in no hurry at all.

His beasts hovered around him, he stopped.

"I should’ve been the favorite, you know."

Adonis uttered nothing but coughs.

"I’m the most talented. Do you know why I’m the last man standing in this arena besides you? Because I earned it. I’ve trained since I was five. No one rates a beast tamer as it’s not a combat-heavy class like Leander’s. I hate that."

His fists tightened.

"And yet I’m better than every one of you. But no one sees it. Do you know why? Because you were born and you took my face."

He bent down and his eyes burned with tears.

"A prettier face. A little prettier face. And all my life, the court looked at you instead. The maids sighed at you. Father forgot me. They called you the beautiful one. Ahhh, it’s unfortunate, my sorrow is immeasurable, Adonis. I’ve been carrying this pain for so long. And I’ll make you feel it. Every bit. I’ll beat it into you until you understand what I—"

KRAAAAAAK!

A pillar of white lightning fell from the black sky.

KRAKOOOOOOM!

It hit Bradley dead center.

The sand was glassy, smoke curled off his shoulders, his hair stood on end, and he stood still with his mouth half open like a man who’d forgotten what he wanted to say.

"...A-, ah."

Shocker squeaked and tumbled off his shoulder, charred.

Bradley’s body twitched.

"When did you..."

Adonis pushed himself up on one knee.

He pressed a hand to his ribs in pains. A little blood ran from the corner of his mouth but he’s still smiling through it.

"Each mode of my spear has a unique cast. The one I used up there was Tidal Lance. And the one that just hit you was Storm Crown."

"Cast...?"

"It takes time to charge. A lot of time. So I used the water first. The steam covered the sky. It hid the clouds from you. While you two were busy with your little hawk-and-cat show, I had time to set up my cast."

He coughed again and wiped his lip.

"Getting hit by Scorcher wasn’t part of it. But it didn’t matter. I knew you’d get complacent once you thought you’d won."

Bradley stared at him.

Adonis lifted a finger toward the clouds, grinning weakly.

"It strikes the target every three seconds. For ten seconds."

"...Eh?"

"Every three."

"Wait. Every three seconds?"

KRAAKOOOOOOOM!

The second pillar of lightning came down.

Bradley didn’t even get to scream. His body went rigid, then white. He collapsed face first on the sand and his eyes rolled back. His fingers kept twitching.

The crowd was silent.

Adonis tilted his head, staring at the smoking heap.

’Wow. He’s actually scary. Maybe I underestimated how much he hates me. For a second, it almost felt like he wanted to kill me. Forget that, he actually did want to...’

In the royal box, Minerva was smiling.

It was a small, soft smile, warm in a way people rarely saw. Her hands were folded over her fan, and her eyes were fixed on her son who lay limp and twitching on the sand.

’You gave it your all, my son. I’m satisfied.’

Then her eyes widened a little.

"Oh!"

She leaned over the balcony and waved cheerfully.

"Adonis, sweetie! It’s almost three seconds again!"

Adonis blinked up at her.

"Oh."

He raised the spear and dispelled the thundercloud.

Adonis straightened as much as his ribs would allow, turned toward the King’s balcony, and waved lazily.

"Your Majesty! I’d say I’ve pretty much won this. Can we move on to announcing the winner now?"

King Aldrius didn’t answer.

He was staring at that face.

That calm, smug face, blue-eyed and bloody, grinning up at him from a ruined arena. A cool look devoid of fear... like no one could touch him.

His fingers dug into the armrests.

’This feeling.’

A very old feeling. One he hadn’t known in years. Not since before the crown. Not since he was a boy standing in the shadow of an older brother who looked at him exactly like that, with the same smug, lazy confidence, the same arrogance, as if the whole world belonged to him and Aldrius was a servant who happened to be in the room.

He remembered that look... and what it did to him.

A cold sweat ran down his neck as he trembled.

"Y... Your Majesty?" said a herald. "Shall I announce...?"

"Wait."

"But, sire—"

"I said wait!"

The nobles in the stands grew skeptical.

"Why is the King hesitating? The match is obviously finished. Prince Bradley can’t even stand."

"Is he troubled by the boy’s victory?"

"I’ll say it plainly. I hate that boy. I hated him from the day of the Awakening Ceremony. But I can’t deny what I saw."

"An enchanter, and he did this. Think what he could do for the army! A thousand of those spears. Ten thousand!"

"Our borders will never fall again."

Seeing the little praises he got from even conservative nobles let Adonis breathe a little easier.

’Okay. It’s over. We won. Time to go home and—’

A growl trembled across the arena.

It wasn’t a human sound.

Every head in the coliseum turned.

Adonis turned too an stopped breathing.

In the crater at the east end of the arena, where a pillar of purple lightning had once smashed a prince into the sand, a white light was growing.

It was small at first, like a seed. A single point of pure, colorless light, bright like the first edge of sunrise cresting over a black horizon. It pulsed, then it grew, and as it grew the shadows around the crater were pushed back, one by one.

A hand came out of the dust.

It was bloody to the wrist.

The fingers dug into the sand, shaking, and pulled.

Leander Falsbane rose from the ground.

He looked like a gory mess. His clothes hung in strips and his auburn hair was stained with blood and sand. His torn right arm dripped onto the earth, and there was so much of it that the sand couldn’t drink it all.

His left hand pressed against the stump, he’s still standing.

"LEANDER!"

Queen Lucelia’s cry was torn from her throat. She clapped both hands over her mouth, and the tears came all at once.

"He’s alive... he’s alive... gods, thank you..."

Adonis’s grip on Indra tightened.

There was a feeling in his body he’d never wanted to feel again. A feeling like standing in the middle of a theater when the audience turns to look at you.

The light around Leander expanded.

It poured down from nowhere, bathing him in a soft white glow, and the clouds above parted to let it through. In all that blood and rags, he’s never looked more heroic.

’Ah. That’s it, isn’t it.’

He’d seen this before. It’s native to every story, every time the hero hit the bottom, every time the villain thought he’d won, this happened. A miracle right at the edge of the grave.

The humiliation and defeat served by Adonis doesn’t matter in the face of Leander.

He’s the protagonist and Adonis is an extra.

The "golden boy" who would win the throne, win the girl, and live happily ever after.

His class, [Dragonic Swordsman], was more than a class.

It was the narrative’s favorite child.

’I should’ve seen thirst coming... a hero always rises at the last moment. When it all seems hopeless.’

Leander is the hero, and Adonis is the monster to be slain.