Gladiator (3/3)

It's a good thing Palandri stopped talking, since before he can even blink, the arena's champion has already started to have a bright golden glow about him… and long golden threads start materializing and unwinding from around his body.

Palandri doesn't have his Reh Name, so he can't use Spirit vision without an artifact at all… Yet… why is he able to see the Spirit Threads around the champion?

Just to be sure, Palandri does a quick scry spell on himself to make sure there's no illusion placed over his mind… which there isn't.

'Spirit Threads aren't visible in the physical plane unless…'

Before he can contemplate this further, the threads snake out and attempt to attack the battalion's barrier.

It seems that the mages are well aware that Haalfrin favors spirit and spatial magic, so they designed their barrier to mostly protect against spatial and spiritual attacks, while sacrificing some integrity on the physical side of things.

Despite this, Haalfrin's spirit threads are visibly beating on the barrier, and the battalion's shield is showing signs of cracking.

This isn't exactly surprising to the battalion, so they hunker down and steadily march forward – hoping to surround Haalfrin, then activate another formation – killing him on the spot.

The champion seems to understand what's going on, so he unbuckles his ax from his belt, and the thing floats in the air briefly before flying towards the barrier.

'Must be an enchanted ax,' the young master surmises. 'I don't sense that this thing is being actively controlled with a spell… so that's the only explanation.'

When the ax hits the barrier once, the entire thing cracks, then is blown to pieces the next second.

"WHAT!!!??" Palandri can't stop himself from standing up and shouting. 'Who let such a powerful weapon loose in the commoner's hands!? A weapon that can break apart a formation spell is a national security issue! Why has no one said anything about this before!?'

This is the imperial city, and this arena is right at the doorsteps of the imperial palace. After 10 years of fighting here, wouldn't the imperial family have tried to confiscate this ax yet?

Before Palandri can think any more on this, his eyes are fixated on Haalfrin's figure, which is still standing still with his hands behind his back.

Maybe he looks like he's holding back to the audience because he's not hacking and slashing like a normal warrior. However, Palandri knows enough about magic to know that the champion is casting some VERY powerful spirit magic.

Just because Spirit magic isn't visible, that doesn't make it any less impressive or dramatic.

Sure, Physical Dra magic is colorful and impressive, with sweaty, muscular men beating down on each other. However, Spiritual Reh magic can be felt by everyone around it – especially if the caster's spirit is exceptionally powerful… which seems to be the case with Haalfrin.

'I can even feel the strong surge of emotions coming from Haalfrin's spirit from all the way up here…' Palandri starts sweating in genuine fear now.

Of course, Palandri is only able to feel the genuine emptiness and arrogance from Haalfrin's spirit because he's a well educated mage. The rest of the audience down below only feel a euphoric rush of excitement as their own spirits are touched.

'That man must be a Rehkin,' Palandri realizes in fear. 'Only a high ranking Rehkin could have a Spirit that powerful… But… what's a Rehkin doing here, on this side of the world gate? There's no way the emperor doesn't know about this…, right?'

With Palandri believing Haalfrin to be a Rehkin Clan Elder or something, the rest of the fight comes as no surprise to him.

With the "Alanha" army's spiritual barrier gone, they're completely ensnared by Haalfrin's golden Spirit Threads, and they all fall to their knees, looking at the ground with blank expressions.

One by one, the arena's champion walks up casually to the battalion, and he kicks each soldier down in turn. They flop over onto their sides without resisting and lie still.

Once all the soldiers are prone, the champion lifts his left hand up, and his bone ax flies through the air – landing in his palm gracefully.

Without saying another word, he clips his ax back on his side and walks back out the way he came.

…But before Haalfrin is even through the door, Young Master Palandri is already running down the stairs and bolting for the exit down to the waiting lounge.

Since Palandri knows a bit about how the building is laid out, he points towards the south exit and gives a swift order to Manni, "Go over there and see if you can intercept Sir Haalfrin! I'll go to the East exit!"

"What should I do if I find him?" Manni asks quickly.

"…No time! Just stop him somehow! Let me know so I can run over!"

With that said, they both go their separate ways.

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In the end, Haalfrin ends up going for the South exit this time. Just as the arena champion is about to get out the door, a tall, well-muscled young man with a sword at his hip and chainmail armor runs up to him and shouts, "Sir Haalfrin! Wait a moment!"

The gladiator pauses, then gives a side glance at Manni. "…What?" is his simple reply.

Manni looks down and tries to think of an excuse. 'The only thing young master said to do was stall him for a minute, right?'

"Um… Sir?" Manni says with a gratuitous smile. "Could I have your signature?"

"…Paper and pen?" Sir Haalfrin says with an outstretched hand.

"I… I forgot it at my seat. Do you mind waiting for a minute while I go grab it?"

Manni can see Haalfrin breathing in a little heavily at this. Is he impatient? Angry? Disdainful? The man's face is otherwise stoic, so the young master's bodyguard is clueless about how Haalfrin is really feeling.

"…Fine."

Just when Manni thinks that he's succeeding in stopping Sir Haalfrin, the champion materializes a small notebook out of thin air with spatial magic, and he tears off a page. Without even writing on it, he hands it to Manni, then turns around to leave again.

Manni gives a cursory glance down, and he sees that Sir Haalfrin's signature is already on the paper.

… It seems that the arena champion gets stopped for his autograph all the time. It seems that he walks around prepared…

'SH#T!'

Manni steps forward to try stopping him again, but the champion seems to be allergic to clingy people after years of being famous, and he slips out of the room and disappears into the streets.

'SH#T! SH#T!'

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Further down the imperial city's main road, Haalfrin's tall figure ducks under a heavy blanket, which had been propped up as an impromptu door. The building he's just walked into is the inn that he happens to sleep in for this week.

The people in this part of town are far too poor to make it to the arena, so no one here knows his face – less trouble, that way.

Well, he still gets recognized every now and then, so he changes inns every once in a while.

Just as he's about to sit down on a stool and order a meal from the innkeeper, he feels the air to his right suddenly get a little warmer.

Since he's learned so many Drakin techniques from Dakka by now, his skin has become so sensitive to temperature that he can feel body heat through the air. So, without even looking or listening, he can FEEL that someone just sat next to him. He can also smell the perfume, so he knows it's a woman.

Haalfrin is about to ignore this woman and go back to getting the innkeeper's attention, but the woman coughs a little awkwardly and looks at Haalfrin meaningfully.

Haalfrin looks to the side, and he sees a modest looking woman with an above average attractive face.

"Are you… Sir Haalfrin?" she asks with a quivering excitement in her tone.

The man resists the urge to roll his eyes. He can feel the flirtatious intentions from her spirit, and he doesn't plan on entertaining such nonsense.

Still, several decades spent with Tanya had ingrained in him the habit of at least being polite on the surface. (She HAD argued with him vehemently whenever he was rude to people.)

So, Haalfrin doesn't immediately tell the girl to piss off. It's better to wait for her to make her move before he politely rejects her.

"Are you free tonight?" she asks while glancing down.

Instantly, Haalfrin's mood sours. He'd thought, with her modest appearance, that she had a crush on him… Haalfrin barely holds in the urge to vomit on the innkeeper's counter.

Before he met Tanya, Haalfrin didn't really have an opinion about slutty women. It's just not something he ever had to think about for most of his life.

However, after enjoying a few decades in a wholesome and healthy relationship with a woman, the idea of self-deprecating, slutty women and predatory, womanizing men became more and more repulsive to him.

It's just… the idea of being casual about that sort of thing is a blatant mockery to something that he holds dear.

And so, despite feeling disgusted, Haalfrin gives a polite smile and says, "No thank you."

The woman looks down with embarrassment – not disappointment.

Before the woman can get up to walk away, another woman jumps in from behind and puts her hands on the first girl's shoulders. "I knew he'd say no, Java! Let me have a go!" She turns to Haalfrin and gives a toothy smile. "What about me? Am I pretty enough?"

This second girl has a paler face than her friend, and she has brown hair instead of black. Other than that… Haalfrin can't really tell how pretty she's supposed to be. From his view, she seems as equally unremarkable as her friend.

When Haalfrin doesn't answer, the girl doesn't seem discouraged. "If one's not enough, what about the two of us at the same time?"

"Can you go away, please?" Haalfrin says with a straight face.

"Oh, come ooon?" the brunette says with a coquettish tone. "Do you have a girl waiting for you?"

Before she can keep prattling on, Haalfrin releases a bit of his Death Aura, and both girls go pale with fright. The second girl, who was standing up, immediately bolts out the door, and the first girl tumbles off her chair before fumbling out after her friend.

Evidently, Haalfrin didn't want to answer her last question.

"Popular with the girls, huh?" the innkeeper says with a wink.

"…Only the wrong kind." In Haalfrin's mind at least, most girls with a straight head on their shoulders would much rather fall in love with a man who'd actually like them back, rather than some random stranger with a glamorous title and six-pack abs.

Instead of taking Haalfrin's order, the innkeeper puts his elbow on the counter and leans in. "I heard them call you 'Sir Haalfrin.' Are you using that gladiator's name – the guy who keeps beating up all the empire's best mages? I mean, I can't blame you for wanting the clout, but I don't think it's a good idea. The wrong kind of people might find trouble for you."

Haalfrin gives a wry smile. "Ha… Well, Sir Haalfrin won't be a name talked about in the imperial city anymore. Today was his last day as a gladiator."

"…What?"

"Yeah," Haalfrin says, "He announced his retirement to the Kalkass Arena boss about a year ago, so they threw everything they had at him in today's battle. They wanted him to die a heroic death and give one last show, but I guess it didn't work."

"Ah!" the innkeeper says with a smile. "So you went to today's battle! Was it fun?"

"Eh," Haalfrin shrugs. "It was boring."

After Haalfrin finishes his meal, he slaps a few coins on the counter and gets up. "I'm going upstairs to grab by things, Mr. Gule. I'm not coming back."

"All right! Nice seeing you! Have a safe trip!"