CHAPTER 32: ANGELS DON’T BLEED SILVER

The white plague surprisingly rose to its feet a few seconds later and shook the blow off. Then it proceeded to let out a dark giggle. The glass needles on its body started to sink into its body like they were dissolving in it, a few seconds after there was no needle left on it but a huge black demon. It turned to face Hizan, its face hard to decipher with no eyes or mouth on it.

Till it spoke. "That tickled, that’s why I could not devour you."

Hizan gulped down heavily, he clenched his jaw tight. "I have no choice but to go all out, if I kill him will I still be able to get the sword?" He did not want to think much on his next options because of the impossible to predict demon before him.

This time when the white plague moved its speed itself created a sonic boom that shattered the ground beneath it. Half a second later it dug its claw into Hizan’s chest tearing some vital organs and coming out at the other end. Its power had more than doubled becoming too fast and strong for anyone in the endless forest to handle.

Hizan screamed out in pain as he felt his body being suspended high in the air. He watched the monstrous entity open its maw to devour the stream of blood leaking out from it. "How dare you!" He barked with righteous rage as his body stayed to speak.

Hizan’s heart sped up like it had never done before, his body started to become sparks of light and electricity glowing brighter and brighter. He knew that if he did not use all of his power he would inevitably die. And he did not initiate this plan just to throw his life away.

He screamed, folding every last reserve into one wild surge. Bright light began as a pulse in his chest. Then it grew, crawling across his skin. Then bolts erupted from his skin like coiled spears tearing him apart. He became a live thunderhead. Then came the sound.

Not thunder.

Not a scream.

Something between.

He smiled through the pain, and for a moment, he looked less like a warrior and more like an angel. He could see flashes of someone in his mind but it came only as a glimpse.

By the time the white plague knew what was going on it was already too late. For a creature that fed on death, it had never seen light so pure and for the first time, it flinched in fear. Hizan imploded right above it, the light devouring his shape. The ground vanished for a moment, the sound itself a cacophony of multiple explosions. When it ended, there was no wind, only silence and a burnt outline where he had stood.

When it did there were two figures still standing. One was a huge black demon bleeding silver blood from all sides, it looked badly damaged and struggling to breathe. The second was a handsome white haired man struggling to stay standing, his clothes sizzled with some parts of it already damaged.

Hizan’s vision blurred slightly, he reached for his strength and found only air. For the first time in years, the prince understood what it meant to be prey.

A long silence fell on the first floor ground, it felt like the tower itself wanted to know who the victor was. The black demon let out a weak moan, "What’s your name royal blood?"

Hizan tried to maintain his composure but his wounds caused him to wheeze slightly. "Hizan, prince of the tower."

A short silence followed before the lips of the white plague grew into a heinous smile. "I’ll remember that." Shortly after saying this its body turned to dark mist that scattered in the air leaving behind a pale thin boy with rough dark hair.

The boy left standing looked more like a corpse than a real person, he fell to the ground without showing any resistance. Hizan almost thought he was dead till his body jerked slightly, he conjured a small ball of lightning in his hands with all he had left in his reserve and approached the dying boy with the intent to kill.

"How dare you threaten me, I own you." He said between heavy breaths.

He raised his hands slowly the lightning crackling in the air and a young man beneath him. Just as he was about to kill him he felt restrained by his arms and legs. There were tunnels of wind holding him back. Then came the familiar but not friendly voice of the testmaster. "The battle royale has ended, any more acts of violence will lead to the crossed being expelled from the trials."

Varrick landed next to the white prince and walked towards the pale boy who laid on the ground, his breathing was laboured and barely noticeable. The rot had spread after taking so many lives, the sign up read:

[400 CROSSERS REMAINING]

He looked at the aftermath of the first trial then at the white prince who still seemed to want the already dying young man dead. He then looked up to princess Shireen who still hovered in the air giving him a look of disapproval.

The sign changed again:

[397 CROSSERS REMAINING]

And then the numbers continued to drop, even as the rot had stopped those that had been heavily affected by it were still too weak to survive.

Varrick snapped his fingers and almost immediately a light breeze blew across the entire endless forest picking every one off the ground. He looked at the body of the young man who had been the cause of the problem and told himself. "How did such a weakling awaken the white plague?"

Hizan interrupted his line of thought. "You should kill him now that you have the chance."

He kept silent for a while before saying. "Even though, I want to watch him grow."

Varrick’s lips twitched, not in a smile but something that looked like curiosity folded into boredom. He had seen ambition burn bright and turn to ash too many times; watching it was a kind of cruel scholarship. He did not relish in the slaughter he had to witness every now and then. He relished the equation: hunger, trial, survival. Let the pieces move. Let the weak seed itself into strength or rot. The tower demanded balance, and he was its reluctant blade. Every one was simply a cog that kept the circle of inevitability turning.