Death Frost | Deathsworn #2

Chapter 47 ❆ Murderous

Maun came to find me in the praying grounds. I was lying supine on the grass, like fish drying under the sun. I knew I was supposed to take Lotus position, but this one served its purpose for me, really. The breathing pattern I was asked to do as well as the sunbathing helped ease some warmth into my bones—warmth I realized I was missing. Like the Abbot said, it helped tune me to the energies concerning my domain. And with the help of the rich and spiritual air circulating about the place, I did not have trouble reaching that prized zen state...even with my erroneous posture.

Maun squatted next to me, poking my cheek. I felt him arrive considering my heightened state of awareness, despite his tentative and hushed footsteps.

I opened my eyes and met his silver violet ones, quirking a questioning brow. "What is it?"

"You've got a fight in twenty minutes," he signed. "Mistress Veronika asked me to come and find you just in case you forgot."

"Oh, right," I whispered. "I do have a fight, don't I? Against that guy?"

He nodded. "We should go."

I unwillingly stretched my lazy bones and stood up, yawning. "I think I quite like...breathing..." I said. "Anyway, I should probably go."

I went back to the arena and slipped into my lion costume, pulling the furry mask over my head. I pulled on my stiff joints and heard the sharp pops as they jolted into place. I moved my head around in a circle then quietly made my way out towards the dugout at the urgings of a monk who moved to my side informing me of the need for my presence.

I nodded numbly his way. The audience had already reconvened in the arena, and they filled the air with a distant hum of excited chatter. I gravitated towards the sound. It filled my ear more and more as I emerged into the open sky. Looking up, I breathed in the expanse of the space, finding it much wider than I had initially thought it to be.

"And now for the final fight that shall mark the end of this tournament!" the announcer's ear-piercing voice resounded. "Normally, we settle the champions, but our last fight is a rematch, which I know you're all very excited to see!"

The hushed whispers rose in volume and turned into cheers. I looked over to my side and found Black Flame, standing tall and gazing upon the audience like a king. I felt like I should be upset somehow, especially with this attitude coming from him...like the win had already been secured, somehow. All I felt inside, however, was numbing calmness—as though nothing could threaten me at all.

I did not know what to make of this feeling. It felt like transcendence—being beyond all things that should worry me in what little insignificant struggle existed in my own small corner in the universe. This whole tournament might define my life right now, but I knew I would soon move beyond it to take on bigger things.

And this opponent beside me, one who Eren feared so much and the one I worried most about earlier in the tournament, was a smidgen of a problem...like a small pebble I unfortunately happened to trip over on the road.

It felt cold, this sense of detachment, but it wasn't too bad. For these times, it served its purpose, and it calmed down my hyperactive thoughts. I dwelled less on my imagination, more on the sensations.

"Let's welcome our challenger! Lionheart!"

The resounding howls of approval and excitement thundered through the arena once more. I gazed about calmly and spotted people holding up signs with my name on them. One even said, 'You better win. I bet my whole fortune on you!'

I exasperatedly rolled my eyes under the mask. Why'd it have to be my fault? It wasn't my money. It wasn't my fortune. If I would be getting twenty percent of the bet, or maybe fifty, I might care. But no.