CHAPTER ELEVEN:THE DEVIL'S STAGE:DAY TWO—ECHO OF FIRE
[In the end, we only regret the chances we didn't take, and the memories we didn't make.]
The Arena pulsed like a living heart—louder, hungrier than the day before.
Day Two had begun.
From the moment Zareina stepped onto the sand-coated floor, something had shifted. Her posture was straighter, but colder. Her steps made the ground vibrate faintly, as if the earth remembered her name even when she did not.
She didn't speak. She never did.
But her presence screamed.
The first challenger lunged with dual blades, cocky from previous wins. Zareina didn't flinch. Her mismatched eyes—now a chilling shade of storm-gray and blood-rose—glimmered as sound rippled from her throat like a hymn from hell. Not a word, just a tone. A resonant hum.
The man's blades shattered mid-air before they reached her.
Her right hand lifted slowly—empty.
Then her Evol pulsed.
From the space beside her palm, a weapon formed. Not summoned. Forged.
A sleek black blade with flickering runes of red and blue emerged, singing with heat. It was as if the Arena itself had coughed up a piece of her soul and shaped it into steel.
The crowd didn't cheer.
They watched in reverent silence.
The echoes of steel on steel still rang from the arena floor, but Zareina stood untouched in the center, her hoodie fluttering with the breeze of passing drones. The crowd roared, unaware that they had just witnessed something far beyond a match.
Zareina moved like silence wrapped in thunder. Every fight became a dismantling—a graceful devastation. One challenger tried to trap her with seismic walls. She sliced through them like whispers. Another hurled a vortex of flame. She absorbed it, twisted it, and returned it as a shimmering blade of glass that exploded in the air above them both.
And then...
A burst of crimson light pulsed out from her chest.
The sands darkened. Four shadows stepped from the light, humanoid forms—part memory, part projection—each bearing a weapon that seemed to match Zareina's rage. Her Evol had gone beyond control. She was summoning fragments of her own fury to fight beside her.
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From the high balcony,
Aspen exhaled slowly, the tip of her candy melting on her tongue. Her eyes gleamed, watching Zareina like she was watching a prophecy unfold.
"Did you see it?" she murmured, without turning her head.
Cipher adjusted the focus on her surveillance lenses, zooming in on Zareina's face. "Her eyes… they're changing. Also.... something more too."
The left was a vivid blue, but the right—earlier dulled with brown lenses—now burned with molten gold, flickering like a dying star. As Zareina turned slowly to meet the eyes of her next challenger, both irises briefly shimmered into deep crimson. The opponent staggered back, unnerved.
"Emotion-based... chromatic flux," Cipher muttered, noting it down.
Aspen tilted her head with amusement. "She's not just adapting. She's remembering. Her blood knows this place even if her mind doesn't."
Cipher's voice dropped. "And Icarus? He hasn't taken his eyes off her."
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Indeed, in a shadowed booth high above the arena, Icarus stood behind a pane of bulletproof glass, one hand pressed against it like he was trying to reach through. His breath fogged the surface, but he didn't care. His golden eyes never blinked.
"Zareina…" he whispered.
Last night,
Icarus watched Zareina's fighting videos repeatedly, trying to understand why he felt such a strong connection to her. As he pondered this, a soft neon light illuminated the dark room, but he paid it no mind.
Behind him, a hologram flickered to life—his assistant, its expression sharp and attentive.
"Sir, you haven't eaten in two days. Your vitals—"
"I don't care," Icarus snapped. His voice was both hollow and burning. "She's waking up. Don't you feel it?"
The assistant hesitated, then sighed. "...There's something you need to know. The head assistant called me today. He said boss gave him some clearance."
Icarus's brows crooked in the middle.
"What is the boss up to?"
He gets up from his chair and went to his wine cell. But he thought about her.
The assistant still hesitated,"...It's about you and...Miss Ravyn.."
Icarus turned slowly, his face still masked in obsession.
"You and Miss Ravyn… you both lost your memories," the assistant said. "But your evols are entangled. That kind of psychic resonance doesn't break unless someone forces it. And someone did."
Icarus froze.
"But your instincts…" The assistant's voice softened. "They're remembering each other."
Now,
Up in the private observation deck, Icarus sat perfectly still. His nails dug into the leather armrest of his seat, eyes devouring every movement she made. His heartbeat synced with hers—every shift, every breath.
A woman sat beside him now. She was dressed in white, features sharp like an unused dagger. Her long legs were crossed, a silver fan tapping gently against her chin.
"She is... perfect," the woman whispered.
Icarus didn't answer. But the corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. A tremor.
"I see now why he wants her so badly," the woman continued. "She isn't just fighting. She's remembering. And if she remembers everything…" she trailed off, her eyes gleaming. "Even the devils will kneel."
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Back on the arena floor,
Zareina's final opponent collapsed, gasping for breath after a phantom note in her voice caused a temporary blackout in his auditory system. She hadn't laid a finger on him—her voice alone had shattered his will.
The announcer hesitated before speaking. "U-Undefeated... Challenger #017 remains... u-unscathed."
The crowd broke into madness.
Zareina turned to walk off the arena floor. Her mismatched eyes pulsed again—this time, violet and silver. A storm inside her was rising.
Suddenly, an announcement cut through the atmosphere, jarring and loud.
"Attention, contenders. The final match will be held in two days. But before that… a preview. A reckoning."
Icarus leaned forward.
The screen above the Arena flickered.
The voice continued:
"On the third day… in the final round… it will be Zareina…"
The crowd held its breath.
"…versus Vex."
A murmur swept through the stands.
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High above the Arena,
Vex was already watching. Her blade rested lazily across her shoulder, eyes like fire catching light. She didn't flinch at the announcement. In fact, she grinned.
"A dance with a human-ghost," she whispered. "Let's see if your voice can kill my silence."
Down below, Zareina's shadow flickered. Her eyes—one a deep violet, the other now burning white—glanced toward the screen. She said nothing, but the Arena shivered.
And above them all, Icarus whispered only one word to himself.
"Mine."
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Up on the balcony,
Cipher turned to Aspen. "If she wins the Arena... what then?"
Aspen chuckled, her voice low, like thunder over water. "She's not here to win."
"Then what?"
"To burn," Aspen whispered. "Everything."
They looked down again just as Zareina glanced up—briefly—toward their balcony. For a heartbeat, her eyes locked with Aspen's.
The flame in Aspen's chest flared.
"She saw us," Cipher muttered.
"No," Aspen smiled. "She chose to."
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Meanwhile, in the hidden chambers beneath the Arena, the Boss stood in front of an ancient console, his assistant standing beside him.
"She's already rewriting the rules," the assistant said.
The Boss merely nodded, eyes never leaving the screen where Zareina walked through the arena gate.
"Two pieces, one game. Neither remembers—but they'll find each other." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "And when they do…"
The screen crackled.
"…The world won't be ready."
(To be continued)