Kian Emris [4]

I stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling the weight of the colosseum's atmosphere pressing in from all sides. But I still couldn't shake the feeling moments ago.

The Zenith….

Right after she welcomed me, I was flung back to this place with a casual snap of fingers. It all happened in a second, and I found myself standing here.

I saw this back then, but something was different about it today. The cheers seemed louder, more frantic, almost ravenous than usual.

I approached, slipping between bodies that stank of sweat and excitement. Their eyes were wide as they glittered with the kind of maniac joy that only bloodsport could bring.

It was intoxicating, even to me.

The crowd moved as one, like a single breathing organism, feeding off the violence unfolding in that solitary ring. The only ring, the middle one, that was alight with the dance of batte. The other two were unoccupied.

It was a rare sight. When I stepped here for the first time, it was a sea of noise and chaos. But now, it seemed to converge toward a singular point, like a whirlpool pulling everything into its center.

I pushed myself further inside. When I reached the edge where I could see the battle clearly, my eyes widened.

Neo.

There he stood, bathed in the low light of the arena, unharmed, almost bored. His opponent was a hulking man with broad shoulders and muscles that rippled beneath scales that dotted his right cheek.

He was barely holding on. Locking eyes with him, Neo exuded a mockery with a subtle gesture.

"As I said, give up. You're not entertaining anymore. Really, such a disappointment since you carry a small part of the old blood."

I felt a chill, not from fear but more from recognition. I couldn't tell if it was pity or disdain that lined his words, but the cruelty was unmistakable. It was a strange feeling, knowing Neo so briefly yet understanding him too well.

He was a person who took nothing seriously unless it amused him. To him, people were toys—expendable if they failed to entertain him.

The man stumbled back, gasping for breath, bruises flowering on his skin. Yet, despite his battered body, his spirit remained intact. He spat blood onto the ground and stood tall, though his legs wobbled as if they could give out at any moment.

"Even if my limbs were cut off, even if I die, I won't give up. Not against someone like you."

The crowd murmured incoherent words as if they were amazed. But I could feel it. They didn't believe in him. The murmurs were actually laced with pity, not with amusement.

How could they not?

Here was a man standing against someone he had no chance of defeating, yet refusing to acknowledge the obvious. The crowd loved this—loved when the weak spoke big words, loved when their dreams were shattered by cold reality.

I could almost feel their collective breath hitch.

Neo was undeniably skilled. His movements were effortless. There wasn't even the slightest indication that he had broken a sweat. He shrugged and yawned. He looked like a cat toying with a half-dead mouse.

"How many times has it been?"

Neo thought aloud, stepping closer to the battered man.

"Ah! I lost count. I'm giving you one last chance. Entertain me."

The audience roared their approval, but the tone was dark, as though they were less interested in the fight and more in watching the inevitable outcome unfold.

"End him," someone shouted.

"Make it quick," another urged.

Neo smiled faintly as his eyes narrowed as he raised a hand.

"You know, I'm starting to get bored again."

The man lunged forward, fists swinging, his movements desperate, fueled by sheer willpower. The arena itself seemed to tremble with each blow he threw. His fists cracked the stone beneath their feet, and the force of his swings sent tremors through the ground.

Yet, despite the man's determination, each punch was met with nothing.

Neo's body swayed with the wind, his movements once again seemed so effortless. It was as though he anticipated every move the man made before he even thought of making it.

"Too slow."

Neo teased, dodging a punch with a lazy step backward.

"You really don't get it, do you? Talent wins, effort doesn't. It's like trying to build a tower with broken bricks. No matter how much you try, it won't stand."

He punctuated his words with a swift jab to the man's ribs, sending him crashing into the ground. Dust billowed up around him like a cloud of dirt and defeat.

The crowd gasped, then cheered.

"I thought there'd be more fight in you."

Neo rubbed the back of his neck lazily.

"It's really disappointing when someone with a fragment of the old blood turns out to be this weak."

I could see it now. I could see the blood dripping from the man's mouth. His body shook uncontrollably, yet still, he rose. Even if it was futile, even if defeat was inevitable, he stood back up.

The crowd murmured again.

"As expected, no amount of effort can overcome immense talent."

"Geniuses are just different."

"Sixth disciple of the Zenith."

A voice added from somewhere behind me. I turned but couldn't find the speaker in the countless bodies.

Neo sighed, as he seemed to notice the one-sided cheers of the crowd. He frowned, and I knew the reason. He hated it. He hated this kind of crowd.

From the short time I spent with him, I noticed he desired something to entertain him but hated those cowards who did nothing but hide behind others, mocking someone who's probably stronger than themselves.

"Last chance. Entertain me, or I'll end this now."

The man let out a ragged breath, blood still spilling from his lips, and his eyes seemed to lose its focus. His legs buckled but did not fall. There was something about his stance now, something both tragic and heroic in its own way.

He knew, just as everyone else knew, that he couldn't win.

Neo stepped forward, raising his hand again, ready for the final blow.

"This is getting repetitive. I'll end it here."

As Neo's fist hurtled towards the man, I watched, knowing what would happen. It was obvious. Neo was faster, stronger, better. There was no way this man could—

But then, something changed.

The man's eyes suddenly flared with an intense, unnatural green light. It was as if all the pain, all the exhaustion, vanished in an instant. His movements, once sluggish, now became a blur. In the blink of an eye, he vanished from his spot.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd as Neo's punch hit nothing but air.

Neo blinked in surprise, turning just in time to see the man reappear behind him, his hand glowing with that same eerie green light. There was no hesitation in his movements as he prepared to strike aimed directly at Neo's unguarded back.

For the first time, I saw something flicker across Neo's face.

Surprise.

The crowd fell completely silent.

Time slowed.

My heart raced.

Again, in this world, there was genuine uncertainty. I couldn't resist but smile as my heart raced even faster.

The crowd, too, seemed to feel it—the sense that something impossible might just happen. But before the blow could land, Neo's body shimmered, and in an instant, he was gone, reappearing a few feet away with an almost bemused smile on his lips.

"Ah!" Neo slightly tilted his head. "Now that's interesting."

He dusted off his sleeve. The man, still glowing with that intense green light, stood frozen for a moment, his hand outstretched in the air where Neo had been.

Neo's eyes narrowed, and the amusement in his expression faded. There was a coldness now, a darkness behind his gaze.

"But it's too little, too late."

With a flick of his wrist, Neo moved again, faster than before. He was a blur, his body cutting through the air like a knife.

"I wasted time watching that pathetic loser."

Once again, a voice murmured behind me. But as I looked behind, there was nothing. I only noticed a difference, and it was a person who wore a cloak and a hood was no longer there.

…But I made sure to imprint the little image of his face on my mind.

I turned my attention back to the battle, but the next thing I saw was the man flying backward, crashing into the ground with a sickening thud.

"..."

This time, he didn't rise.

The crowd erupted into cheers as their bloodlust was finally satisfied. But I stood frozen, watching as Neo dusted off his hands, his eyes flickered towards me.

"Yo, Kian! I missed you!"

Neo leaped out of the ring, landing effortlessly behind me. The crowd's murmurs rose around us, their gazes sharp and full of judgment.

"Who's that?"

"He looks pathetic with that frail body."

"No way! Could it be—"

But their whispers were abruptly silenced as Neo shouted over the din.

"Listen up, losers! This guy right here is none other than the Seventh Disciple of the old hag… I mean the legendary Lucille, the Zenith of Pride!"

The crowd erupted in disbelief, their skepticism palpable.

"The Seventh Disciple? Him?"

"With that weak-looking body?"

"No way, that's gotta be a joke."

Neo turned back to me, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a whisper that only I could hear.

"...You really are entertaining, Kian."

Neo's laughter echoed through the dim hall as we moved away from the crowd, settling into a quiet corner of the colosseum.

The noise seemed distant now, though it still throbbed like a pulse vibrating off the stone walls. Neo, as carefree as ever, dropped himself onto a rough-hewn bench, patting the spot next to him.

"Man, that fight was boring."

He leaned back and stretched his arms behind his head. He sighed, and acted out like he owned the place.

"The guy had some potential, sure, but no spark. No thrill."

He turned his sharp eyes on me, that mischievous glint ever-present.

"Not like you."

I hesitated before sitting next to him. Neo always made things sound so simple, like the world revolved around what was thrilling or dull to him. I wasn't sure if I admired his bluntness or feared it.

"So, Kian, you seem different lately. Maybe getting used to things around here? Or maybe..."

His voice trailed off, his eyes narrowed playfully towards me.

"...Maybe you're starting to remember who you are?"

"Remember who I am?"

I blinked, unsure how to answer. The name Kian still felt foreign, but familiar, as if it had always been there, just waiting for me to claim it. But what did Neo mean by 'remember'?

I couldn't recall a life this body lived before I came.

Neo studied me for a moment with his same usual smirk. He was always watching, always waiting for some reaction.

"You've got potential, Kian."

Once again, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Lucille saw it, and that's why you're here. People don't get picked to be disciples for no reason. Even if they passed that darkness test without any casualties. You've got something, even if you don't see it yet."

I looked down at the ground. Lucille. The name meant something, didn't it? Seventh Disciple. I'm the Seventh Disciple. But what did that even mean? Why does it matter?

"This place isn't just about power. It's about survival of the most entertaining."

"..."

I took a breath, feeling the weight of Neo's words.

"I got it. But… what are the Seven Zeniths?"

For a moment, Neo's grin faltered. It was subtle, like a shadow passing across his face. He opened his eyes and stared at me with an unreadable expression. Then, he let out a soft chuckle as he leaned slightly forward.

"Ah, you don't know? You agreed, and you don't even know what you're part of?"

"Weren't you the one who pushed me into it…?"

"Still, that old hag didn't tell you anything?"

He shook his head, the laughter building again as if the whole situation was too ridiculous for words.

"Man, Lucille really likes to keep her cards close, huh?"

I frowned. Neo's reaction wasn't what I expected, and I felt even more lost. How could I be part of something I didn't understand?

Neo leaned in closer.

"The Seven Zeniths… they're not just any group, Kian. They're power. They're the top of the food chain in this world. Seven individuals, each tied to an ancient force, and each one more dangerous than the last. They rule everything, from the shadows, from the surface… whatever they want."

He paused, letting the words sink in. My mind raced, trying to piece it all together.

"And you're saying… I'm a disciple of one of them?"

Neo laughed again, though this time it was quieter, almost to himself.

"On declaration, yes. Buf officially, on paper, not yet, but you will be. Lucille's grooming you for it. If that old hag were to be disappointed, she can just take your head and claim it as nothing but rumors."

"Didn't she say I was officially a member of… The fu—"

I cut the words before they got out of my tongue. Neo leaned back for I don't know how many times, and his grin widened.

"But once you're fully awakened, you'll understand. It'll all make sense."

Awakened? The more Neo spoke, the more I realized how little I knew about anything.

Kian Emris.

Do I have control over it? Or was I just playing a role someone else had written for me?

Neo must've sensed the storm of questions brewing in my mind because he leaned back again, looking up at the ceiling as if the conversation had exhausted him.

"Ah, don't worry too much about it. You'll figure it out soon enough. Besides..."

He glanced at me as the smirk returned to his lips. Being repeated countless times, I'm getting sick of his assessing gaze. But it's not like I can do anything about it.

"...You're still pretty damn entertaining, and that's all that really matters, isn't it?"