Allen1996
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Chapter 21: Flare
🕑 Added 2024-10-30 00:26:45 +0000 UTCAyelek stood at the edge of the training yard, her like etched-in firelight, waiting for the call to enter the arena. She steadied her breath, felt her pulse under her fingertips as if it were the beat of a distant war drum. Each beat a reminder that she was here by her own choice, that she had originally defied fear to follow the one they called Aegor—she who had once been nothing more than a slave, stripped of all pride and purpose. Yet here she was now, alive with power and purpose, stronger than she had ever imagined possible. She was part of something greater, something beyond the nightmares that once bound her.
A few months ago, she had been one of countless slaves in Astapor, a mere plaything in the hands of men whose names she wished she could forget. When Aegor had risen, when a pleasure slave just like she had been had marked the end of the Good masters with what seemed divine command, when he had shattered the chains of Astapor with his will and his wrath, Ayelek had also felt the chains within herself break too. She had witnessed his light spreading over the city, the people bowing, weeping in reverence. And as she looked into that light, she knew she had to follow him, not as a woman freed, but as one reborn, as someone that needed so much more than the pathetic and weak Ayelek. Aegor had been just like them, just like her. Didn't this mean in a way, that if she tried to emulate him, she would become something worth looking at, strong and proud, something glorious?
When news came of him beginning the creation of an army, she joined without hesitation, determined to stand at the forefront, to carve a place for herself beside the man who had risen as a god among mortals. Her decision had been cemented on the day she faced the Dothraki, between the blood and the shout of men, between being surrounded by certain death yet shooting at it that you would not be cowed no matter what, not even when a tide of enemies surged toward them like a wave from hell.
She remembered the dust churning under the pounding of hooves, the savage cries of the Dothraki mingling with the shouts of her fellow soldiers. They hadn’t faltered, hadn’t wavered, even as the sun was blotted out by an unnatural darkness, and the fallen rose as monstrous echoes of the men they had once been. I
They hadn’t faltered because, through that darkness, they had felt Aegor’s presence, she had felt Aegor’s presence—his light, a guiding flame, urging her forward. She had felt him fighting as much for them as they did for him, she had felt the Earth shaking, the world taking hues and colors she had never thought existed before. For him, she struck with relentless fury, carving her way through shadows and terrors, her spear and her, dancing together between life and death.
They had won that day, had broken the Dothraki and their allies, had shattered the monster that they had become after that the fool darkness had claimed them. And Aegor himself, just like she had known, believed he would, had emerged victorious. Her god, her saviour won and with divine might turned a desert into a green wonderland, had resurrected with his divine power the ones who had unfortunately suffered and died at the hands of the monsters the Dothraki were.
Returning to Astapor, the people of the city especially after her savior used his divine powers to show them the battle Ayelek and her brothers and sisters in arms fought in. The people of Astapor had showered them with gratitude, with awe, as if they were heroes from some ancient legend. They had looked at her with only respect and adoration. They looked at Ayelek as if she was a hero, something glorious. The old Ayelek had only known shame and disgust and fear and violation. This new Ayelek she had become would never be looked at as such again and this was because of Aegor.
They were told to rest at their coming back in the city but the truth was that Rest felt now foreign to her, something she could only see now like a luxury that dulled the edge of her purpose. She had tried of course because they Aegor’s orders, but her body yearned for more.
Why would she rest, when every hour spent idle was an hour that could sharpen her skill, could mold her into the warrior Aegor needed? Each passing gaze from the citizens, their reverent eyes upon her, only strengthened her resolve. She was no longer a slave, no longer broken. She was a hero. And Aegor had made her so.
When she looked in the mirror of one of the new dwellings he had created for the people of Astapor, houses and homes that seemed as if they were chambers made for royalty, she barely recognized herself. She saw a tall muscular form, almost as half as taller than she originally had been three months ago.
She saw someone pretty enough that songs would be written about her. She saw dark beautiful thick defined curls framing like a dark halo, copper coloured skin that shone like gold, a face perfect without any imperfections with thick lips, features that could be called regal, proud, a body that was both the sum up of femininity with curves in all the perfect places while showing defining and imposing muscles that weren’t there for show.
She didn't see someone frail, someone scarred, something who had been violated in every fool way possible, someone who had begged for years for Death to come yet who had not been strong enough to do what was necessary with her own hand to escape from the life of a lowly pleasure slave.
How could she stop now after that he had changed her so much? How could she rest she thought when every breath she took free, not scared was because of him.
So no, she didn't respect the command of her god. She sinned by not giving him what he asked but because she wanted to give him what he needed, a blade even sharper, a weapon even stronger and how could she be such by resting? How could she be such when only a taste of his divine panacea reduced exhaustion into nothing?
She felt proven right, understood when she was not alone in her resolve, when she went to train by herself to their barracks and found that hundreds of others, maybe thousands had thought just like her, hadn’t been able to wait a day before coming back to the role that felt only right to them, one of the soldiers of Aegor.
The barracks were alive with soldiers just like her, men and women who had once been slaves, who had once fought the Dothraki with her and together, they honed their skills day and night. In a way, she had thought that this was what a family must be like.
When it was said that their god wanted to bless some of them to make them an elite and stronger force, Ayelek volunteered. She volunteered and her efforts were paid back in full by her being amongst the ones chosen. Aegor would grant them a blessing, a divine gift, a fragment of his power, a blessing that he called Aura and only a tenth of the soldiers had been deemed worthy, and she had been among them.
The memory of Aegor bestowing that power upon her was as vivid as the taste of blood and dust in battle. She had stood before him, her heart pounding with a mixture of awe and humility. Up close, his presence was even more overwhelming, an ethereal beauty that seemed to defy the mortal world. He was so perfect that it made her want to cry, that it made her wish to berate the world itself to have the arrogance, to have the unworthiness of being able to encompass him.
She could remember how He had spoken, his voice resonant, almost like a song that felt like everything good in the world, who felt like that time when her shackles had finally been broken. His soft perfect voice had weaved through her mind like the threads of a dream
“Forever unshackled, forever unfettered, I give to you a piece of freedom, a piece of humanity, a vow to the world for all to be forever free,” he had spoken, he had vowed into her soul.
At that moment, she felt his power surge through her, a fierce warmth that coiled in her veins, simmering and alive. She had believed in him before, but even if she hadn’t before, she knew she would have undoubtedly after. How could she not after having felt the brush of his soul against hers?
How could she not when strength soft and burning, wild and tame had surged into her veins? How could she not when all of sudden, it felt as if the world had opened up for her, that all this time, it had been close and she hadn’t even known about it? How could she not when she felt her soul laid bare yet so strong in its totality on the surface of her skin?
With Aura, she had trained relentlessly. Her body became a fortress, her senses heightened, her strength bolstered beyond what she once thought possible. She practiced keeping her Aura as a shield upon her skin, a barrier against harm, and pushing her physical limits as far as they would go. Every strike, every step, every drop of blood, sweat and tears was proof of her dedication, a silent promise to Aegor that she would not falter, a prayer, worship at his altar. Others may pray by kneeling but she would never kneel again for anyone and she knew it was to the liking of her god who abhorred servitude in all its forms. No, she would instead stand tall and proud for him, this is how she would worship him, by becoming something strong enough to help bring into reality the world he dreamed about.
Word had spread that those chosen would soon face the ultimate test—a spar against one of the colonels of the army who had been unsullied once, who seemed to have grown just like the other ex-unsullied so much faster and leaps beyond soldiers like her who weren’t soldiers when they were slaves, against one of the members of the personal guard of Aegor himself.
She had heard and knew that most of the high rankings unsullied had already reached near-perfect control of aura which meant that a fight against one of them would be more than harder. Still, it didn't change much. She had made herself a vow, that she would win, that when Aegor will be looking at her, it would be while she stood proud. Facing him would be like challenging the sea itself, unyielding and formidable. She would not back down. She would fight with everything she had, with every fiber of strength Aegor had gifted her, to stand worthy in his eyes.
Now, at last, the time had come.
She walked into the arena with her head held high, her footsteps steady, each one resounding like a heartbeat against the earth. The training yard was alive with anticipation, her fellow soldiers watching from the shadows, their breaths held in collective reverence and respect. Many had passed before her. This was her turn Somewhere beyond them, she knew, Aegor was there, watching. She could feel his gaze like a warmth upon her skin, an unspoken promise that almost seemed to whisper that he believed in her as she believed in him.
She took her place, the spear in her grip solid and comforting, a reminder of her purpose. Before her, the colonel stood, impassive, his own spear held in a stance of quiet readiness. Just by looking at her foe, she knew that he was formidable, his eyes sharp. She could feel, and see flickers of his aura thrumming faintly around him, like a shimmer of rust a shield of unseen power. She met his gaze, her own resolve unyielding, her pride unmarred.
This was it. This was the moment she had prepared for, the moment she would prove that she was no longer a slave, no longer weak, no longer at the mercy of any force but her own will. Ayelek tightened her grip, feeling the pulse of her Aura beneath her skin, a fire that she would wield with all the fervor she had poured into her training.
She took a stance, her body coiled with energy, her heart thrumming in time with the pulse of her Aura. As she faced her opponent, the world around her seemed to fade, the noise of the arena a distant murmur, leaving only the sound of her own breath, steady, determined.
She wasn’t the Ayelek of old, broken and small. She was something far more, something crafted by the hands of a god, something born anew in the fires of battle and faith. And today, she would show them all. She would show him that she was worthy.
*scene*
Ayelek tightened her grip on the spear, fingers tense as she faced her opponent, the Unsullied commander. The training yard around them seemed to shrink, a silent coliseum of weathered stone and dirt walls—a world narrowed down to the hum of a spar, the static weight of her own expectations pressing against her chest. The sunlight broke through clouds in shafts, illuminating the ring where she would stand or fall, and she could feel Aegor’s gaze somewhere in that light, watchful, weighted. She wanted him to see her succeed, to see that she would earn her place with every last spark she could summon.
Across from her, the commander stood relaxed, steady as a mountain in his stance, his own spear an extension of his body. His face was unreadable, but his posture was coiled, prepared, like a falcon ready to strike. He knew, and she knew, that his mastery eclipsed hers. But she would make her mark today.
“Begin,” he commanded, and the ground between them closed in a heartbeat.
Ayelek’s first thrust cut clean, slicing through the air with precision, but the commander parried with a flick of his spear, a serpent twisting just out of reach. She stepped back, shifted her weight, and spun low, using the shaft to drive herself forward again, her strike aimed toward his shoulder. He dodged with effortless speed, pivoting to her side in a blur, his counter slicing just close enough that she felt the wind of it graze her cheek.
Her aura thrummed, protecting her from what might have been a blow that could stagger a lesser fighter. Pain and protection intertwined, pushing her past the ordinary limits of flesh and bone. She lunged again, her movements sharper, feeling each fiber in her body tense and release like the taut strings of a lyre. She swung high, aiming to force him off balance, but the commander anticipated her, and his counter came faster than she could blink.
His spear struck, hard and relentlessly, and pain bloomed across her arm where she hadn’t expected it, a sharp ache that shook her grip. She hadn’t been focused enough to maintain her aura. Still, she held, biting back against the shock that radiated from her shoulder down through her bones. He was better, so much better than she was, and yet a reckless thrill urged her on. She lunged forward, felt her spear connect—barely—against the curve of his armor before he twisted her weapon aside with his own and drove her back. She fell, her back slamming into the dirt, breath hitching in her lungs.
Aegor was watching, she reminded herself. Aegor was watching, and she could not—would not—yield.
She rolled to her feet, teeth grit, the weight of her weapon surging with new determination. She struck low, aiming for his legs this time, and as he deflected the blow, she followed it with a thrust toward his chest. But he was faster, deflecting her spear with a movement so smooth it felt like an insult, an artist correcting a careless brushstroke.
Ayelek’s vision swam as his spear glanced off her thigh, sending a jagged line of pain up her leg not protected by aura. She fought to keep her balance, a hiss escaping between clenched teeth. Blood trickled down her calf, warm and pulsing in time with her heartbeat, but it was nothing compared to the fire that now blazed within her chest.
The thing with aura is that she always had to be focused to keep it on her skin. She knew that with more time, it would begin second nature as easy to breathe even in fights but right now, each time she didn't focus, each time she was surprised, each time she didn't centre herself, her aura went down.
Each failure, each bruising strike, only fueled her resolve. She could feel Aegor’s presence like a silent promise, a weight urging her to rise, to strike, to make herself worthy. She steadied her breath, watching her opponent’s feet, waiting for the slightest shift in his stance. And then, like a dancer sweeping into the final arc of a symphony, she surged forward, every muscle focused, every thought narrowed to the silver point of her spear.
A clash—then a slip.
The commander’s counter came faster than thought, a sweeping strike that sent her sprawling once more, her back hitting the ground with bruising force. Dust rose around her in a hazy cloud, obscuring her vision, blurring the edges of her world. But the pain was a roar that cleared her mind, that reminded her what she was fighting for.
She stumbled to her feet, chest heaving, bruises blossoming under her skin like some twisted tribute. Every inch of her ached, but she met his gaze with defiance, shoulders squared, grip steady.
“Ayelek,” he warned, but his voice was distant, lost in the relentless beat of her pulse. Her gaze flicked to where Aegor stood beyond the ring, watching, impassive. She wanted him to see her rise, again and again, until her body refused, until there was nothing left to give but claimed victory.
The commander lunged, and she mirrored him, their spears crashing in a blur of motion. Her strikes were less calculated now, more wild, each one aimed at breaking his rhythm, at forcing him to retreat even a step. She swung, deflected, twisted, and for a moment, she felt the thrill of near-success as her spear glanced past his guard, almost touching his side.
Almost.
But he recovered too quickly, his own weapon a blur of precision as he disarmed her with a brutal twist that sent her spear skidding across the ground. In a breath, he had her trapped, his spear hovering inches from her throat, the finality of defeat hanging between them.
Ayelek’s chest heaved, sweat trickling down her brow, her body battered and bruised, yet she felt the sting of loss sharper than any cut. Still, she forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to let her pride falter.
“Again,” she rasped, voice raw, her own resolve bracing her against the weariness creeping in. She picked up her weapon, willed her legs to steady, her mind to focus.
And so they went on, again and again, a brutal, unrelenting dance of steel and will. The commander’s spear moved with unerring precision, his strikes fast as lightning, his blocks unbreakable, and yet each time he knocked her down, each time he forced her to the edge of defeat, Ayelek rose, her spirit indomitable.
She felt as though she were learning the language of battle anew, each bruise and scrape translating into a sharper understanding of what lay between them—the chasm of skill, yes, but also the raw, unbridled fire that drove her forward. She fought, not only to win but to show him, to show Aegor, that she was worthy of the gift she had been given, of the new life she had been granted.
The world narrowed, her senses keen and clear, her movements sharpened by the fire in her veins. She lunged, sidestepped, pivoted, struck, feeling the way her body adapted, inch by inch, learning from each mistake, each misstep.
At last, she saw the opening, a brief flicker of vulnerability in his defense. She moved without thought, her spear flashing forward in a swift arc aimed at his shoulder, a strike that would not be enough to win, but perhaps enough to prove her worth.
But he was faster, even then. His counter came swift as a storm, knocking her back, sending her sprawling onto the ground for the final time.
This time, she didn’t rise.
She lay there, breath ragged, every nerve alight with pain. The commander stepped back, lowering his spear, and there was a flicker of something in his gaze—respect, perhaps, or at least acknowledgment.
Ayelek looked to where Aegor stood, her vision blurred with exhaustion, but her heart steady. She had done her best, given every ounce of herself in the pursuit of something greater, something beyond her own limitations.
‘Why are you thinking like that Ayelek? Why are thinking like the pathetic slaves that she was?! Didn't you change?!’
Yes, only the old Ayelek would have thought as such, would have been satisfied with such. It didn't feel enough, it didn't feel enough! It wasn’t enough! How was she going to respect the promise that she had given to herself if this was how it ended?
How could she be worthy to usher the world he dreamed of, to fight against the entire world and change it by force when she was failing here?
How could she still be proud when she was down? How could she be proud when it wasn’t her standing, while she was the one on the ground while her saviour, her god was watching?
She couldn’t accept it! She wouldn’t accept it!
Her body protested as she tried to move it. Breathing itself felt hard. Her entire world felt like agony yet slowly, Ayelek began to rise.
Her body swayed, her knees buckled as if they were to break at any moment. The colonel was looking at her. They all were looking at her. Aegor was looking at her.
With a kick, almost a negligent one, her spear rose in the air, stopping in her grasp as she caught it.
The Ayelek of before, the weak girl in chains would have already given up, would have bent her knees and she was this girl no more, she would not allow herself to become such a thing again.
She could feel blood from her forehead trail on her face. It fell in her eyes and made the world take a red-like quality.
Ayelek put herself into a fighting position even though her body only wanted to give up. She could feel it, still burning in her soul, under her flesh, the gift of her god.
She still could fight!
With a shout, she threw herself at the unsullied colonel, the world around her stopping existing, the only things mattering were her adversary and the fact that Aegor was watching.
Her spear was deflected with a violence that made the air itself crack. The instant after, the spear of her adversary was rushing at her head.
Ayelek moved, ducking, thick strands of black curls being the only thing cut at that moment, the body of the woman still moving, her spear coming back with vengeance.
The unsullied didn't even seem to notice. In his movement that could only be called inhumanely fast, one of his armored hands lashed out at Ayelek’s spear grabbing it and pulling her closer to the man before she was pushed by her kick in the stomach that sent her flying and raking against the ground.
Ayelek ignored the pain, pushing her moving body with a heel to fly back this time, aura cradling the tip of her weapon.
This time, the unsullied dodged, Ayelek’s form speeding past him as he leaned on the right.
Ayelek didn't let it discourage her. She rotated the next instant, her feet digging through ground and rock.
This time when she pushed, they broke. This time when she moved, it was so fast that the unsullied didn't have time to dodge.
Ayelek’s spear crashed against the aura of the other man with a resounding boom. The attack pushed the unsullied who this time was the one leaving trenches in the ground.
Ayelek didn't stop, like an animal, pouncing toward the man with the body of her spear. The unsullied blocked it with his own so Ayelek did it again and again and again and again and again, dozens of strikes searing through the air with enough strength to break steel and the unsullied answered in kind.
The two of them were at this point more blurs than anything else, flashes of gold and rust clashing in one place a moment, in another the next again and again.
The colonel tried to profit of his closeness to Ayelek, breaking her guard by pushing her spear to the side, an armored fist covered in aura flying toward her midsection only for it to be stopped by the left hand of Ayelek to close around it, their flesh entering in contact making a sound akin to a thunder strike.
The cold focused and apathetic-looking grey eyes of the colonel met the crazed hazel ones of Ayelek.
Ayelek’s head moved head butting the unsullied who seemed more surprised than hurt but it gave Ayelek what she wanted.
The colonel lost his balance as Ayelek pushed forward, her grip on her spear abandoned as the fire inside her soul rushed like a torrent, her bloodied flesh becoming something even harder than metal, strong enough that the air around her arm shimmered before she punched down the Unsullied square in the face.
The unsullied fell on the cracked ground with a sound akin to a thunder strike, the ground under him rippling, his form bouncing back up.
Already, the unsullied was showing why he was worthy of being a member of Aegor’s personal guard, his spear that he was still holding moving on the path of the second punch.
Steel met her fist and was found not good enough yet that second where fist was slowed down by the spear was all the unsullied needed to move too, a kick launched on the side of the head of the woman.
Kick and fist met each other at the same time, both their owners sent flying. Ayelek’s form bounced, slid and bounced again on the ground, her impromptu flight stooped by a corner of the arena stopping her.
It wasn’t a kind stop. It was one that left her flesh burning in agony, that made her want to cry due to the pain no matter the fact that Aegor was watching.
She had battled against the Dothraki and it had been less painful and exhausting than that.
Ayelek tried to see the condition of her adversary. He must be in the same condition as her, right?
She was wrong.
The man was standing back up with no sign that he even had been touched. She could still see the shimmer of Aura on his form. The only thing she had done was destroying his helmet.
Their gazes crossed. He seemed to say good work, he seemed to say that it wouldn’t be a shame for her to give up now and it infuriated her.
It angered her.
It angered her so much that she felt as if she was burning from the inside. This pain, this burning felt like defeat, it felt like glory, it felt like unholiness and divinity.
She could feel it, surging through her veins, so hot, burning, hurting, reinvigorating, strengthening.
It seemed to scream at her is this all you're capable? Is this all that you amount to? Are you the same Ayelek who was broken, who could never do anything or are you something glorious, something capable of standing proud behind him?
Her body moved on its own almost as if it wasn’t hers in control yet something in her knew that it wasn’t the case, that all of this was her doing.
Ethereal, fiery chains manifested around the olive-skinned woman, breaking and dissolving around her.
She didn't give them more than a glance. Now, she was only focused on the unsullied who for once since the beginning of her fight looked wary of her.
Good. She would prove him right.
With a flex of her muscles, dozens of meters were crossed in an instant, her first moving faster than the wind itself, like a thunder strike ending in the face of her opponent.
Of course, even though he was surprised, it didn't stop him from retaliating, a punch just like hers ending on her face yet this time, she wasn’t sent flying, her focus on her aura wasn’t broken. Under the fist of the unsullied, her aura held. Under the fist of the unsullied, Ayelek grinned.
Her fist on the face of the unsullied changed into a grab, cruelling holding the jaw of the unsullied before she threw him into a wall, granite cracking before she attacked again, a straight kick to the face making the granite explode.
To his honour, the unsullied even though the situation seemed to have completely changed didn't let himself be overwhelmed.
He ducked under a strike targeting his windpipe, weaved on the left to dodge a hook, slid under another strike so that this time, it was Ayelek who was on the side of the wall.
His spear long broken, he used the most primal weapon known to mankind. His body. A punch was sent flying toward the grinning form of the woman.
She answered to him in the right and polite way in such circumstances. She sent a punch too.
Fist met fist, auras, gift of the divine shimmered the wind rose, the ground under them cracked even more as it had been crushed by the foot of a giant.
All of this was because of one punch from each. Aura began to rise from the both of them, coronas of power blooming around her body, becoming visible to the naked eye, one covered by rust reminiscent of dried blood, the other one drowned in angry gold reminiscent of a hungry fire.
This time when they clashed, the arena shook. Screams and gasps bloomed as the spectators, soldiers and civilians alike bore witness to glory.
One, two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four punches crashed against each other in less than three seconds.
In the beginning, each punch they threw at each other created intense pressure waves. As they continued their struggle, as gold and rust ate at each other, their actions began forming a localized shockwave.
The friction and rapid collisions between the two of them were such that their fists compressed the air between them, making it heat up, almost ignite, with small lightning arcs and sparks, forming around and between due to the intense friction.
They clashed and broke against each other. Ayelek struck again and again even though she could literally feel the bones of her hands and her arms cracking even with the aura supposed to protect her. She knew with certainty that it was the same thing with her opponent even if probably less than her because she had been the one who before the beginning of their slugfest who had taken the most damage.
Each collision released a thunderous sound, and with each punch between the two of them multiplying in speed and force, the noise escalated.
It would be almost impossible for any citizen of Astapor to not hear them. The walls of the arena in all directions began to crack. The fractured ground around them was shattered and blown away as if near a hurricane.
Ayelek felt only agony in her body yet she knew that if she looked at that moment in a mirror, it would be to find herself smiling.
Ayelek was in so much pain yet she had never felt this alive before. Ayelek felt tall. Ayelek felt proud and more importantly than all of this, she knew Aegor was watching her, that his gaze was locked on her form.
There was only one future she would accept, only one her soul whispered would come and this future was victory.
The only thing left to do was for her to claim it.
‘Aegor, Lord of mine, you who was just like I, you who freed us all, you who gave me the chance of becoming more, look at me, look at one who will never falter in the path of ushering your dream, of creating a world where all would be free, a world where what happened to the two of us would never be able to happen again.’
The two fighters' bodies tensed, their entire auras flying away from their bodies forming rust and gold vortexes around their fists. This would be the both of them knew the last strike.
‘This is my faith,’ she prayed. ‘This is how I would thank you, worship you forever and always, by standing proud and tall, by never faltering!’ she vowed.
Gold and rust met a last each one moving faster than ever, fast enough to barely breach but still breach the sound barrier.
Sonic booms came to life behind the two of them releasing powerful earth shaking shockwaves in all directions.
When their fists collided, those shockwaves amplified, forming an intense blast wave ready to destroy everything surrounding them.
Their close surroundings were vaporized by the enormous explosion of kinetic energy released when they entered in contact and it didn’t stop there.
The energy from the impact due to how fast they moved heated up for a brief instant the air to thousands of degrees, creating a plasma burst, a flash of light so bright to the point that it seemed as if a second sun had been born for an instant.
The arena was flattened by their clash, no, flattened wasn’t good enough to express the destruction wrought because the truth was there were no more arenas.
The people watching would have been impacted too, hurt, some possibly killed as if it wasn’t for Aegor who instants before the clash had used his divine essence to shape a golden dome of flames around the arena stopping any possibility that could hurt his people.
Before the eyes of humans and a god, gold and rust clashed, the aura of the colonel against the aura of Ayelek.
Ayelek could feel her entire body shaking. The pain in her bones, in her body, seemed always overwhelming, mind-breaking yet she gritted her teeth and soldiered on.
At first, it seemed as if they were equalled, perfectly matched but slowly inches by inches, gold was being pushed back by rust.
It was normal of course. After all, she was facing someone who once had been an unsullied, someone who had been deemed good enough to guard their god, their divine child. More than that, she had been the one who took damages at the beginning of the fight, not her adversary.
The thought of losing should have, would have drowned in despair if she had believed in anything else than her victory.
“Now is the time her aura,” the gift of her god, the manifestation of her soul seemed to whisper.
“Now is the time to win. You just need to push a little more,” it whispered and she did, she gave everything and more a last time, more than she thought she could ever give.
She gave it all.
Gold surged again, stronger, brighter but this time it didn’t try to push, to overpower. No, gold instead trickled into rust almost like an infection, almost like venom travelling through veins to consume rust.
This was how it ended, not by overpowering but by absorption, by consumption, by cannibalization.
Ayelek watched the eyes of the unsullied widen In shock as his hand was crushed by her fist, her fist that continued toward his face.
She punched him and the world turned gold. The last thing she remembered before her body collapsed before gold ate at her mind was this thought ‘Look my lord, I did it, I won.’
Maybe it was a hallucination, maybe it was because of how her brain was shutting down but she could have sworn that she felt his touch, that she felt his voice, that he told her
“I am more than proud of you, Ayelek.”
Ayelek closed her eyes with a smile on her face, victorious in all ways that mattered.
Comments
rockus4
Beautiful I really like your prose in this fic it really fits.
Mordeus
that was fun
allen 1996
The original chapter I deleted before being stupid was at least two times bigger with Aegor POV and the POV of others. Too much time had passes without me posting so I chose post just this part for now. Hope y’all would like it. Don’t know if y’all caught it in the end, but the reason of Ayelek’s second win was her awakening her semblance. I thought it fitting to call it Unshackled Ascendance but I would not be against changing the name if y’all got a better one. Ayelek’s Semblance allows her to temporarily transcend her physical and mental limits, fueled by her powerful resolve to stand tall, proud, and unwavering in her faith and purpose. When activated, Ayelek’s body emanates an ethereal, fiery aura that manifests as chains breaking and dissolving around her, symbolizing the release of her past and the strength she’s forged in its place. This ability enhances her physical capabilities—strength, speed, and resilience—while amplifying her Aura, making her much harder to wound. As she sustains this form, Ayelek’s senses sharpen, allowing her to anticipate her opponent’s moves with instinctive clarity. However, the more she leans on this power, the closer she walks the line of exhaustion, risking severe mental and physical fatigue when it fades. Her semblance give her two effects. Resonant Pulse: Ayelek channels her Semblance into a focused area, creating a shockwave that knocks back foes and disrupts their Aura momentarily, allowing her to press forward or regain control in chaotic skirmishes. Lasting Flame: When fully committed to a fight, her aura solidifies around her body as a protective shield, visually like burning chains that deflect incoming attacks for a limited time. The shield burns brighter the longer she holds it, becoming nearly impervious but draining her Aura faster She also got limitations. Because while immensely powerful, her Semblance requires deep focus, making her vulnerable if distracted. Prolonged use strains her physical form, risking collapse if overused almost like one of the 8th gate in naruto.
