Chapter 89: Winners
Stanis gritted his teeth and swung down, his hands burning under the lightning.
"AAA—"
The scream was cut short. The man was cut short.
Stanis landed by rolling across the ground. He stood up and looked behind him. There lay the man, in two pieces. There was a clean cut through his stomach, the opened ends sealed up by the lightning just as quickly as they had been sliced open. The two ends were violently shaking with the limbs moving madly as if they were performing a cultist's ritual.
In all truth, the sight was nothing when compared to the stench. The cut open flesh had been burnt closed, the air around stinking of human flesh. The smell was strong and noxious, the people closest to the body gagging in response.
The African man reeled in from his shock, looking around. Was this to be his cruel afterlife? Then he squinted his eyes and looked closer, noticing that this was the very scene he had died at. But before he could say anything about it, the pain kicked in. Having your body cut from stomach down turned out to be quite painful, as the African man would soon discover.
The people surrounding his body suddenly recoiled in shock and fear after seeing the dead body move. The upper body was senselessly moving and soundlessly screaming.
Stanis heard the noises and turned around, quickly coming down from his high. He clutched his chest and fell, his sword falling beside him and crackling loudly as it burnt the ground black.
"What did I say about not killing anybody?" Ciae asked, his voice oddly calm and collected. "And how dare you go against me?" he roared.
He was still standing by the Colosseum seats as an incorporeal hand formed over Stanis, picking him up before flinging him violently towards the edge of the arena. Ciae harrumphed as he sat back down.
The lady beside him whispered, "You better not have killed him. Otherwise, I'll kill you now,"
"Hmph. Don't worry about it, I just gave him a little shock. Didn't expect him to actually kill the guy until the final moment." he responded.
Ciae looked towards the arena and saw that the fighting had thinned out, people frightened by the sudden events. He cleared his throat before announcing that there were only 15 minutes left of the fight, an announcement that seemed to really get people going.
Through all of this, Stanis was slumped on the ground next to the walls. He shivered and shook as he watched the procession carry on. He was in pain, sure, but not only was he already used to large bursts of pain but Ciae had also thrown him quite lightly, only making a show out of him instead of actually hurting him. With a hidden agenda, of course.
That hidden agenda was what Stanis was now scared off, far too weak to even get on his knees. It was the power of the strike, no, it was the quality of power behind the strike. There had been very little power in the hand fling but the mana that made up the incorporeal hand gave Stanis Goosebumps.
He spluttered and croaked, coughing out blood. He felt weak, weaker than he ever had been.
Eventually, after about a minute, he managed to focus his mind on a goal. He needed healing. So, he began casting Light healing upon himself, although the effect per cast was limited due to the fact that he couldn't get his circuit into order. Either way, the pain lowered with every cast and it allowed his mind more leeway each time.
After finally clearing his mind, Stanis crawled up from the ground and straightened slightly. He saw tiny wisps of smoke still coming from the man's body and walked towards him, eventually coming face to face with his violence.
Stanis felt sick in the stomach, and more so in the mind, as he looked at the expression on the man's face and the way his arms moved. Hardening his mind, Stanis walked over and pushed the two parts of the man's body together, somehow the two parts merging. He then repeatedly cast Light healing over the man, ending once he saw some sense within all the pain through the man's gaze.
He then bumbled around the man's chest, before noticing the medallion wasn't there. He turned around and saw the place where his sword had fallen, the ground burnt black like charcoal. But no sword…
Reality had felt melancholic all this time like he was going through a bad mood. But now urgency cut through, his foolish anger once again rising as he looked around.
He saw lightning in the distance and moved towards it, his hand slipping inside his cuirass and grabbing his dagger. He had been angry with the African man, sure, but now he was enraged.
The tiny bolts of lightning and crackles of thunder got louder as he got closer, the climax of the moment overruling his senses which had slowly been making a comeback. He slipped past one woman, then a man, and then stabbed his dagger into the next man, only to be blocked.
He looked up venomously, coming face to face with the man holding his sword. In his other hand, he held a hatchet, with which he had blocked Stanis's stab.
"Oh," exclaimed Pete. "You're finally awake. I knew you'd want these so I held onto them," he quickly explained, "Wouldn't want some dimwit to steal your stuff now, would I?"
Stanis glared at the man before grabbing his sword and medallion from Pete's outstretched hand.
Pete dropped his hatchet from his other hand and looked at it in pain.
"Wait, bossman. What's this?" he asked, before cringing in pain as he began to lose sense of his hand.
That was when Stanis turned his glare to Pete's hand, noticing how the darkness had spread through the hatchet into Pete's hand. He moved and tightened his grasp around Pete's hand, manipulating darkness from Pete's bloodstream into his own.
Pete was relaxed by the end of it and back to normal as he said, "Oh geez. Tha----"
Stanis fiercely slapped him across his face, the type that makes even bystanders cringe in pain, before walking away.
Bear came forward and looked at Pete. "I tell that stupid. You still do," he grumbled.
Skint shook his head while looking at Pete. "What were you thinking? Fucking dimwit,"
Pete straightened his head, cleared it off the dizziness and looked at his boys.
"I was right. The power, you saw. The fucking power," he said while looking at Stanis's back. "I want it…"
****
Ciae opened his eyes and stood up.
"Time's up, organise yourself from your numbers. 1 over there and 1000 over there," he said while pointing to the edges of the arena.
Stanis walked over to the top ten and noticed on the way that the African man was still rank 27. Not much surprise there though: even after he had healed him, the man had looked scared and at least 10 years older.
In truth, Stanis looked far worse than the man, even now. His posture and body language was an easy giveaway for anyone who looked, which was basically everyone as Stanis had stolen the spotlight mid-way through.
He moved between number 6, a short girl who looked to be 14, and number 8, a man who had a pony-tail and stood dastardly relaxed. The girl gave him a long look as he moved next to her whereas the man merely glanced.
Stanis looked at the rest of the top ten during this time. It was while he was staring that number 10 walked into place, Stanis looking over, only to be given an earnest salute. Stanis looked away as Pete grinned, rubbing his medallion warmly.
Ciae jumped from the Colosseum seats and landed in front of the 1000 people.
"You have all fought well, and although I'm sure the ranking isn't perfect, I doubt any of you can complain about it now, either."
He closed his eyes and stood silent for a second, his face a blank canvas. He reopened his eyes. "Remember that those you just fought to get your ranking are your allies. I know many of you have other allegiances, but remember that you are Human first. The day you lose your humanity in chase of power is the day you will lose it all."
"You will now be transported to your specific rewards. Good luck," he ended, walking away into one of the gates.
Stanis felt the familiar sting of pain run through his body as all went black. He then opened his eyes in the next second. He tried his best to stay calm but couldn't as he looked around at the scene in front of him. It looked like Earth before the apocalypse…
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Author's note: The number of collections for The Pale Orphan has largely stayed the same. If any of you are wondering why I care so much about it is because it is the fiction I'm currently working on, and one that I think is leaps and bounds better than this. And yet, I know for certain it wouldn't survive in Webnovel's ecosystem where number of chapters trumps any sort of quality, and since it only releases a chapter every two days, it's at a massive disadvantage compared to, say, Catacylsm System.
So, I'll change the rules since I love you guys and because I clearly can't convince the majority of you- this will be the final change. For every 50 people who add 'The Pale Orphan' to their library, I'll release 3 chapters of Cataclysm System. Only 20 more people need to do it for all of you to hit the first milestone.
https://www.webnovel.com/book/11575841405440205/The-Pale-Orphan
So what are you waiting for? Smash that button already and then have a smashing day ;)
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