Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 32: HEROES’ CHALLENGE

Chapter 32: HEROES’ CHALLENGE

The scent of freshly spilled blood permeated the air as Reed made his way through the Tournament Grounds. The architecture had transformed overnight—the governance platforms replaced by sixteen combat arenas, each enclosed in transparent barriers that contained the violence within while allowing spectators an unobstructed view of the carnage.

"This is more what I expected," Reed muttered as he observed a Hero from the Fire Domain dismember his opponent, the severed limbs cauterizing instantly as they fell. The crowd roared its approval, nobles and commoners alike unified in their bloodlust.

Shia walked silently beside him, her face a mask of concentration. She had barely spoken since the previous night when Reed had approached her with an unexpected request.

"You want me to what?" she had asked, disbelief evident in her voice as Reed presented her with the mysterious vial given to him by the water-domain girl.

"Drink it," Reed had replied, studying her reaction carefully. "The Tournament rules have changed. Today’s challenge focuses on Heroes, not Lords. You’ll be fighting in my stead."

"I’m not your Hero," Shia had protested. "I’m your shadow, your assassin. I was never meant for the spotlight of the arena."

"Perhaps that’s precisely why you should take it."

Now, as they approached the registration area, Reed could sense her nervousness beneath her stoic exterior. Shia had spent her life in shadows, striking from darkness and disappearing before her targets realized they were dead. The open combat of the arena was foreign to her nature.

"Lords and Ladies," announced the same disembodied voice from the previous day, "present your Heroes for the Second Contest."

The gathering of nobles converged on the central platform where the Master of Ceremonies stood. Validus looked even more severe than before, his ceremonial robes stained with what appeared to be fresh blood—a traditional blessing from the Archons for the day of combat.

"Each Hero will represent their Lord in single combat," Validus proclaimed. "Victory advances your Lord to the next round. Defeat means elimination." His eyes lingered meaningfully on Reed. "Death is not required for victory, but it is... encouraged."

Reed stepped forward. "I present Shia as my champion."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Many had expected Reed to continue the anomaly of representing himself, as he had implied during registration. Validus consulted his ledger, frowning deeply.

"Shia... no family name? No rank? No elemental affinity?" His distaste was evident. "This is irregular. All Heroes must be registered with the Archons’ Registry."

"She is registered," Reed replied calmly. "F-Rank. Shadow affinity. Assigned to Goblin’s Hollow auxiliary forces."

The murmurs transformed into dismissive laughter. F-Rank was the lowest possible classification—barely above commoners with no magical potential whatsoever. Shadow affinity was considered a defect rather than a proper elemental connection, suitable only for menial tasks and cannon fodder.

Lord Krell’s metallic form rippled with what might have been amusement. "The Goblin Lord brings a shadow rat to fight against true Heroes? This grows more entertaining by the moment."

Beside him stood Ironheart—a massive figure encased entirely in living metal, its surface constantly shifting with faces of warriors it had defeated, their visages frozen in eternal agony. Not a Hero but a construct, as Madame Vex had revealed.

"The pairings are determined by the Archons’ will," Validus announced, unrolling a ceremonial scroll. He read through the matchups, pausing dramatically before announcing: "Shia of Hollow will face Bloodmist, Hero of Lord Vexus."

Reed’s expression darkened. Vexus—the fleshcrafter. The Lord who had tried to have him ambushed in the Undercity. This was no coincidence.

Bloodmist stepped forward from behind Lord Vexus’s grotesque form. The Hero was a nightmare of biological engineering—a humanoid whose body continuously dissolved into a crimson mist before reforming, never quite the same shape twice. Where a face should be, only a swirling vortex of blood-red vapor with two gleaming points of light serving as eyes.

"Your pet shadow will make a fine addition to my collection," Lord Vexus said, his multiple mouths forming a synchronized grin. "After Bloodmist absorbs her essence, of course."

Reed didn’t respond, turning instead to Shia. "Remember what we discussed," he said quietly. "Trust yourself. Trust what’s inside you now."

Shia nodded once, her hand unconsciously touching her chest where the liquid from the vial now flowed through her veins.

The sixteen arenas activated simultaneously, barriers rising to their full height. Shia stepped into her designated arena, Bloodmist entering from the opposite side. The crowd’s attention immediately focused on the more visually impressive Heroes—Ironheart battling a lightning-wreathed champion from the Storm Domain, a duel between fire and ice elementals in another arena.

Few bothered to watch the shadow-affiliated F-Rank face what everyone assumed would be certain death.

"Begin!" Validus commanded, and violence erupted across all sixteen arenas.

Bloodmist wasted no time, its form dissolving completely into a crimson cloud that rushed toward Shia with unnatural speed. This was Lord Vexus’s specialty—Heroes engineered to kill in the most spectacular and horrifying ways possible. Bloodmist was designed to envelop its opponents, forcing its mist into their lungs, eyes, and pores before solidifying inside them, rupturing organs and tearing flesh from within.

Shia stood motionless as the mist approached, her curved blade still sheathed at her side. The crowd that had bothered to watch muttered in disappointment—they had expected at least some token resistance.

Three feet from Shia, Bloodmist’s mist-form enveloped her completely, obscuring her from view. A collective gasp rose from the spectators who had now turned to witness what they expected to be a gruesome end.

But instead of screams, instead of blood, there was only silence. The crimson mist swirled in confusion, contracting and expanding as if searching for something.

Shia was gone.

"Impossible," Lord Vexus hissed, his multiple eyes widening in shock.

A whisper of movement behind Bloodmist was the only warning before Shia’s blade sliced through the misty form. Under normal circumstances, such an attack would be useless against Bloodmist’s incorporeal state. But Shia’s blade now glowed with an unearthly blue light—the same luminescence as the mysterious vial.

The mist shrieked, a sound like steel against glass, as the blade carved through it. Wherever the edge passed, the crimson vapor crystallized and shattered, unable to reform.

Bloodmist desperately tried to solidify, limbs and torso appearing and disappearing in rapid succession, never completing a coherent form as Shia’s blade continued its deadly dance. She moved with impossible speed, her body sometimes seeming to split into multiple afterimages that struck from different angles simultaneously.

The crowd fell silent, transfixed by the unexpected display. This was not the combat style of an F-Rank shadow affiliate. This was something else entirely—something ancient and terrifying in its precision.

In the nobles’ viewing box, Lady Isolde leaned forward, her expression a mixture of awe and concern. "That’s not possible," she whispered. "That’s not shadow affinity. That’s—"

"Void manipulation," finished Lady Seraphina beside her. "An art lost for millennia."

Bloodmist made one final, desperate attempt to escape, its mist-form streaming toward the arena barrier. But Shia was faster, appearing in its path as if she’d always been there. Her blade completed one perfect arc, and Bloodmist’s essence separated into two distinct halves before collapsing into crystalline dust.

Silence hung heavy across the Tournament Grounds as Shia calmly sheathed her blade. The other duels continued around them, but all eyes had turned to the arena where an F-Rank shadow affiliate had just obliterated an S-Rank engineered Hero in less than a minute.

Lord Vexus’s multiple mouths opened and closed in speechless rage. Reed allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

"The victor: Shia of Hollow!" Validus announced, his professional demeanor cracking slightly. "Lord Reed advances to the next round."

As Shia exited the arena, whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"Did you see how she moved?" "She wasn’t there, then she was..." "What kind of shadow can do that?" "Not a shadow—something worse..."

Reed met her at the arena exit, noting the subtle changes in her appearance—her eyes now had a faint blue luminescence at their center, and the veins visible beneath her pale skin pulsed with the same light.

"That was... effective," he said quietly.

"It burns," Shia replied, her voice strained. "Whatever was in that vial, it’s changing me from within. I can feel spaces between spaces, gaps in reality itself."

"Can you control it?"

She flexed her fingers, which momentarily seemed to exist in multiple locations at once. "For now."

Around them, the other duels were concluding. Heroes lay broken and bleeding across the arenas, some dead, others merely defeated. Ironheart stood triumphant over the shattered remains of its opponent, Lord Krell’s reflective face showing nothing as he accepted the advancement.

Lady Isolde approached them, her water-form rippling with agitation. "What have you done?" she demanded in a harsh whisper. "Void arts are forbidden for a reason. The Archons will—"

"The Archons," Reed interrupted, "seem content to allow a construct to massacre real Heroes. I doubt they’ll concern themselves with technicalities."

Isolde’s expression hardened. "This isn’t about tournament rules. Void manipulation tears at the fabric of reality itself. It’s dangerous, unpredictable." She glanced at Shia, noting the pulsing blue veins. "And it’s killing her."

Before Reed could respond, Validus called for the victorious Lords to gather. The Second Contest had concluded, with sixteen Lords advancing to the next round. Reed and Shia joined the assembly, acutely aware of the space other Lords kept between themselves and them.

"The Third Contest will commence tomorrow," Validus announced. "Lords and Heroes will be tested together. Prepare accordingly."

As the crowd dispersed, Reed felt a familiar presence—that same shadow from before, watching from the highest tier of the Tournament Grounds. This time, however, it seemed to be focusing not on him but on Shia.

"We need to leave," Reed murmured to her. "Now."

They had barely taken three steps when Shia suddenly doubled over, clutching her chest. The blue light beneath her skin flared violently, illuminating her veins in a webwork of painful brilliance.

"What’s happening?" Reed demanded, supporting her as she struggled to remain upright.

"The void," she gasped. "It’s not just inside me—it’s opening."

Around them, reality seemed to waver, like heat distorting air. Small objects—dust, pebbles, droplets of blood from the arena—began to float upward, defying gravity. The nearest spectators backed away in alarm.

"Control it," Reed urged. "Focus on my voice."

Shia’s eyes met his, the blue glow now overwhelming her natural color. "I can hear them," she whispered. "Voices from the other side. They know your name, Reed. They’re waiting for you."

Her body suddenly went rigid, her back arching unnaturally. When she spoke again, her voice was layered with countless others:

"The nine will fall. The void will rise. The anomaly will take the throne of ash."

The blue light erupted from her eyes and mouth, shooting upward in a pillar that pierced the Tournament Grounds’ ceiling. For a brief, terrible moment, the sky above the Capital split open, revealing not clouds or sun, but an infinite darkness filled with watching eyes.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the phenomenon ceased. Shia collapsed into Reed’s arms, her body once again her own, though the blue veins remained visible beneath her skin.

Lords, Heroes, and spectators alike stared in horror. Lord Krell stepped forward, Ironheart at his side.

"This is beyond heresy," he declared, his metallic voice resonating with righteous fury. "This is void corruption—the very abomination the Archons saved us from in the ancient times!"

Murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd. Even those who had been impressed by Shia’s victory now looked at her with fear and disgust.

"Seize them both!" Lord Vexus demanded. "The tournament be damned!"

Guards moved forward hesitantly, uncertain whether to obey. Reed stood his ground, cradling Shia’s unconscious form.

"The Tournament protects all participants," he stated firmly.

"Not from this," came a new voice—cold, ancient, final.

The crowd parted as a figure glided forward—not one of the masked representatives, but an actual Archon. Its form was beyond comprehension, somehow both there and not there, beautiful and terrible simultaneously. Where its face should be, only a void darker than the blackest night.

"The anomaly and the void-touched will be judged," the Archon declared, its voice bypassing ears to resonate directly in the minds of all present. "The Trial of Nine commences."

The ground beneath Reed and Shia began to glow with ancient runes—nine interlocking circles forming a pattern identical to the map of rebellions that had been revealed the day before.

As darkness closed in around them, Reed caught one last glimpse of the watching shadow high above. It had taken form now—a figure in dark robes adorned with constellations, its face hidden beneath a hood.

It nodded once, as if everything was proceeding according to plan.

Then the Tournament Grounds vanished, and Reed and Shia fell through darkness toward judgment.