Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee

The barrier stays shut, but the arena has already slipped past anyone’s control.

The shouts hit the containment and come back louder. Whole sections of the stands are on their feet. Some repeat the winners’ aliases, others point at the suspended screens while the best moments of the fight run in sequence: Motorhead crushing White Wake’s guard, Eventide stopping against Freya’s neck, Void Monarch closing over Split Fang.

Then Duvilin’s shot comes up again.

The white image crosses the smoke, destroys the wings and the plates, hits the barrier, and rises over Azure Prime. Every replay makes the crowd react as if they were seeing it for the first time.

I knew the great Oathring events. In my other life I watched a few and heard stories about nearly all the rest. None of them ever ended with the stands like this.

People start leaving their seats.

For a moment, I think they’ll try to come down to the arena. Then I see where most of the crowd is heading. The lower corridors fill, everyone pushing toward the commercial sector.

Leona’s voice reaches the Oathring, amplified by magic.

"Today’s stock is limited. Get organized, my dears. Shoving the customer in front of you won’t make your potion show up any faster."

Above the movement, the Silver Fang’s glowing sigil hangs over the open coach. The white and silver design owns the sky over that part of the arena, visible above the crowd and through the screens still showing my face as I drank the LDP.

The plan is working.

Safe Harbor will stay buried where it needs to be. Nobody can strike at a guild whose existence they don’t know about. Silver Fang takes the attention, the customers, and the political weight that comes after. The LDP earns the fame it deserves without dragging the people I need to protect into the center of the fight.

Rahul’s voice comes over the COMM again.

"Mr. Sands. I asked you to stay where you are."

The celebration loses strength near the south tower.

A narrow opening appears in the barrier. Rahul crosses alone, setting the glass cane against the floor with every step. His aura arrives before the rest of his body.

The air turns heavy.

The arena workers back away. Some of the medics starting to approach the participants stop where they are, and even the shouting from the nearest stands dies down as he passes.

Rahul doesn’t look out of control. It’s worse. His face stays still, his steps hold the same spacing, and the cane touches the floor on the same beat. The hand closed around the glass is the only visible sign of the effort he’s making to keep the energy leashed.

I could pull the crowd’s attention.

The screens are still on me. All it would take is raising my voice, pointing at Rahul, or turning that approach into a public threat. Thousands of people just watched us win and already decided which side they like.

They’re also buying LDP.

If I drag their eyes into a fight with Rahul, the lines stop. The guards seal the accesses. The coach could be pulled under the excuse of controlling the situation, and everything we set up ends in a crisis in front of the cameras.

I took his event.

Now I have to let him take something back, even if it’s only his dignity.

Behind me, I hear Rhayne breathe in deep.

She came to in Oliver’s arms. She’s still sitting on the floor, her face pale, dried blood under her eyes. When she sees Rahul coming, she tries to push Oliver’s arm off and stand.

I raise a hand.

Rhayne stops. She doesn’t like it, but she stays where she is.

Rahul reaches me.

His gaze passes over the wrecked arena, the hired participants on the ground, and the Silver Fang sigil shining over the commercial sector. The screens replay the column of light behind him.

"You really can’t walk into a place without trying to take it for yourself," he says.

My mouth still tastes of blood.

"It was an excellent event."

His hand leaves the cane.

The slap catches my face hard enough to black out the left half of everything.

My head spins. Sound drops out of one ear, my vision breaks into pieces, and my knee nearly gives. I lock the leg before it touches the floor, but the motion spreads a wave of nausea through my whole body.

Rhayne tries to stand again.

I keep my hand raised, even without being able to look at her.

Rahul didn’t use OXI. There’s no magic in the blow, just raw physical strength. In the state I’m in, he could break me without any effort at all.

That’s a relief.

If he had chosen any other way to work off the anger, I’d probably be dead before I registered the attack.

Rahul watches me for a few seconds. Then he breathes, runs his fingers through his hair, and sets a strand back in place. When he takes the cane again, the aura begins to draw back in.

"Now we’re even."

He pulls a document from inside his coat.

I recognize the contract before he opens it. The lines of magic still run along the edges of the paper, tying my name to the conditions Rahul imposed.

A red flame appears between his fingers.

The contract vanishes at once. It doesn’t burn from the edges or drop pieces. The magic consumes the whole document and reduces the whole thing to a small pile of ash, scattered by the wind moving through the arena.

[Contractual Bond Dissolved.]

Rahul lets his hand fall.

"You’re free."

The pressure in my chest changes. I hadn’t noticed the constant weight of the bond until it was gone.

Rahul turns and starts walking back toward the opening in the barrier. After a few steps, he stops.

"Come find me in a few days. We still have our other arrangement to discuss."

My ear is still ringing. Keeping my eyes open already takes concentration.

"Yes, sir."

He tips his head slightly and keeps walking.

The passage stays open after Rahul leaves. The medics come back in, and the celebration slowly recovers its volume, though the workers avoid looking straight at me.

A message appears on the forum.

Richard: At this rate, we won’t have stock left in an hour.

I look at the commercial sector. The line has already taken over two lower corridors, and more people are coming down the stairs. Arena staff try to organize the flow while Leona repeats the details about the potion.

I answer.

Dryden: Make it clear this is a limited launch. The LDP will be available at supply shops soon. Give Simon’s shop priority when you announce the sale points.

The reply comes shortly after.

Richard: Understood. I’ll also cap the units per buyer.

Dryden: Do that.

I close the forum and look once more at the Silver Fang sigil. Any commercial or political attack has to go through that mark first. That’s what it’s there for.

Finally, I look at my reserve.

[OXI: 289 / 2,500][Warning: OXI low.]

For a few seconds, I consider drinking another LDP.

I let it go. The fight is over, the medics are inside the arena, and every vial left could tip a fight or keep someone alive in a real emergency. I need to stay conscious a few more minutes and find a refill machine. That’s all.

I chew two OXI Candies to take the edge off the symptoms.

[OXI: 289 → 689 / 2,500]

My arms still ache from taking Pegasus Wrath. Horizon drained energy every time a strike reached the armor. Memory of Lightwaves left a weight behind my eyes, and Eventide seems to have carried off part of my coordination when the voices disappeared.

Rahul’s slap was all it took for my body to drop the act.

Freya is a few meters ahead.

The medics check her shoulders and give a thumbs-up. Duvilin destroyed only the Permafrost structures, nothing else. She’s already on her feet, the scythe put away, but she avoids looking my direction.

When our eyes nearly meet, she turns her face.

Her posture stays firm. The discomfort shows in her tense shoulders and the way she keeps her arms crossed. She promised to kill me, lost her wings in front of thousands of people, and surrendered with Eventide at her neck.

The collar is still there.

I need to talk to her before Rahul, Dean, or some staff member decides to take her somewhere else.

I start walking.

Freya catches my approach and uncrosses her arms. Her face stays serious, but a faint color rises across her cheeks.

"Here to enjoy the win?"

I open my mouth to answer.

The floor tilts.

My vision darkens at the edges, and the sound of the arena pulls away all at once. I try to plant my next foot, but the leg won’t answer.

Freya fills the center of my vision.

For an instant, she seems to believe I’m moving in to hug her. Her body goes rigid, and her arms come up without knowing where they’re supposed to stop.

I fall against her chest.

She catches me on reflex. One arm goes behind my back, the other locks around my shoulder before I can slide to the floor.

"Dryden?"

I try to say I’m fine.

No sound comes out.

Freya’s arms close around me as she realizes I’m no longer holding my own weight.

The last thing I hear is my name in her voice.

Then everything goes dark.

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