Carnival of Devils (Ch 8 – Part 2)

The ground was finally cleared, with only Ayege and the unarmed Orb facing each other. Feeling frustrated and wronged for not owning a weapon, Orb considered using his energy at least to defend himself.

Seeing only the silhouette of his enemy, Orb pounced toward Ayege to strike him with his right hand while trying to condense his energy in his palm.

Unfortunately, and to his dismay, he could not. He could neither sense his energy nor form it into a powerful attack as he wished.

As he believed that his inability to sense his own energy and wield his power in the past two weeks was due to his contracting the plague and the constant abuse to which Vermon subjected him, a new fear formed within his mind.

Could it be the seal? He could not banish the thought.

Ayege dodged that attack with a derisive smile, as it looked lame and primitive. Underestimating Orb’s abilities, the two continued like this for a while until Orb succeeded in hitting his opponent’s hand.

Although Ayege was offended, he did not see the need to use any special weapon except his cane and did not consider channeling his Uthusian energy into it.

Thinking that he could win against Orb by taking advantage of his partial blindness and attacking him with his cane, was a bad idea.

For as soon as he raised his cane to strike Orb, the latter blocked the attack with a swift kick where his foot hit Ayege’s hand in a loud “THWACK!”.

The cane flew out of Ayege’s grasp, and he felt enraged and shocked.

Who said that simple combat skills do not work? Orb thought to himself.

Ayege quickly recovered and, with his other hand, grabbed Orb by the wrist to hold him in place while kicking his stomach with his heavy boot.

The impact sent Orb tumbling to his knees, and he writhed in pain for a moment as the crowd jeered and laughed.

“Argh … Uggh,” Orb gasped.

Orb swiftly stretched his hand, seized Ayege’s sword from his belt, and unsheathed it at dazzling speed. Ayege was astounded at Orb’s boldness and serious intentions to engage him in a fierce fight. “How dare you steal my sword, despicable slave! Give it back!” He growled.

Orb was finding it difficult to carry Ayege’s heavy and broad sword with his emaciated arms. He was used to wielding lighter swords with one hand in close combat and unexpected confrontations in the past.

However, he often wielded elements of nature to fight for and protect him without the need for man-made weapons.

Orb waved the sword with both hands in the air from left to right, trying in vain to strike his opponent.

It was getting dark, and the lamps hanging around the arena posts did not help him see clearly or distinguish what was around him.

So Orb received a blow at his exposed neck from his opponent’s cane, which he retrieved while Orb struggled with the heavy object in his hands. 

Due to that blow, Orb’s arm slackened for a second, and Ayege startled him with another blow to his arms.

Ayege dropped his cane, stood before Orb, and quickly grabbed Orb’s forearm, twisting it and forcing him to drop the sword as he rained insults. 

Ayege struck Orb’s chest with his other hand, releasing magnetic energy that almost stopped his heart.

Orb retreated and fell on one knee while clutching his chest with his hands, grimacing momentarily in unbearable pain.

Feeling extreme fury, he extended his right arm in the air at a level roughly equal to his knee in a second attempt to condense his energy in his sweaty palm.

In those fleeting moments, Ayege remained oblivious to Orb’s capabilities, uncertain of what actions he might take. It was not until he witnessed an aura of energy concentrating in Orb’s outstretched palm that he realized the impending danger.

The energy began to radiate horizontally, its intensity resembling the gleaming edge of a sword. 

In a heartbeat, the luminous glow surged forth with astonishing speed, manifesting as a razor-sharp current of air directed squarely at Ayege. 

It struck him forcefully before spreading upward like strings ascending the sky.

This collision pushed Ayege about three meters backward and inflicted several deep wounds on his cheek and his forehead.

When the attack was over, the crowd saw Orb standing still with his palm outstretched and his wheezing getting louder and louder by the second while the horrified Ayege was on one knee.

The crowd at the carnival was as silent as the grave, unable to react out of shock and indignation. They condemned the rebellious slave for the offensive energy he possessed.

He was supposed to show no resistance, to hold no strength in his possession, and to surrender to punishment and torture without objection and complaint.

Vermon, on the other hand, who watched Orb from the beginning, could not help showing off his playful grin. He unconsciously placed his hand on his torn, blood-stained shoulder where Orb had bitten him earlier.

“That man never ceases to amaze me!” he audibly admitted to himself while keeping his eyes on his slave.

Ayege’s anger, in contrast, was unbearable. He hit the ground with his palm, creating a hole to entrap Orb standing.

Dirt flew in huge quantities from that hole and scattered on the spectators around the arena, who did not dare to complain but quickly shielded themselves from the dust storm by emitting barriers from their own Uthusian energy for some time until it subsided.

Orb started coughing after being suffocated by the dust storm and was startled when Ayege grabbed him by his hair, dragged him over to the hole, and threw him there.

Keeping Orb standing in that narrow hole, Ayege restrained him relatively. Ayege grabbed the nape of Orb’s neck with force as he channeled some of his Uthusian energy to burn Orb’s skin and hair.

Orb heaved in pain and then muffled a cry of agony lest he delight his opponents and ignite their excitement. As the smell of burning hair and human skin spread out, it thrilled the crowd and made them cheer in ecstasy and excitement.

Orb was trembling in obvious pain and suffering and tried in vain to shake his head and raise his hands to the place where his neck was burned, but after releasing his earlier air attack, he felt extremely exhausted.

Yet, Vermon suddenly appeared in the arena and, at last, ended that as he caught hold of Ayege’s arms.

“That’s enough—I don’t want you to mutilate him!” he firmly warned.

Ayege tried to resist Vermon, “Don't interfere, Vermon!” he yelled, “The game is not over yet!” However, Vermon pushed him aside, angrily shouting, “I have the right to end the game if it is causing damage to my property!”

Surprisingly, Tarsus, who watched the game from the start, teleported himself from the first row of the slave owners to the center of the arena at that moment. With his palms almost touching their chests, he stood between the two young men to stop them from a possible fight.

“Let us not fight each other over slaves, O great lords of Arkosia,” everyone heard his deep voice reproaching.

Tarsus was one of the imperial philosophers. Even though he never completed his education and lacked the refinement of his acquaintance, Barloschios, he was close to the emperor. So even though it was very exciting to watch two nobles fighting each other, when Tarsus stood in the blood-stained arena to stop them, no one objected to his intervention.

Ayege and Vermon silently retreated. Grimacing and displeased with the little torture he inflicted on Orb, Ayege left the arena with his fist raised as a sign of victory amid the crowd’s excited cheers and loud clapping.

Then, Tarsus spoke. “Ayege, son of Syrphadous, has won the game,” he pointed at Orb and continued, “Noble lords and ladies of Arkosia, forget not the defeat and humiliation of a rebellious slave today at the hands of the sons of Uthus.”

* * *

The crowd’s cheers rose again, and the carnival attendants brought Orb out of the hole under Vermon’s anxious gaze, which he struggled to hide.

After losing his shoes during his encounter with Vermon in the first round, Orb’s bare feet barely carried him as he was escorted back to the shed.

Some slaves made way for him, and others continued staring at him, but none offered assistance. He stood with trembling limbs for a few minutes before sliding down the wall and stretching his legs.

He attempted to calm his racing thoughts and quivering body as his emaciated shoulders slumped from weariness and exhaustion. Yet, Orb’s weariness of spirit surpassed his physical fatigue.

A moment elapsed. Orb leaned his head back against the wall, noticing the dwindling presence of slaves around him. It appeared that attendants had ushered them into the main arena to entertain their masters in a new, cruel game.

Pale and thirsty, Orb wanted to cry but did not have the strength. He closed his heavy eyelids and thought the sounds of brutal cheers and the nonstop cries of new victims grew distant.

He slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

End of Chapter