The Whisper of the Nightingale

CHapter 42: Things You Live For

With a vicious looking spear strapped to his back, Fiscal of the Talon Clan breathed in deeply as he stepped out into the enormous arena located at the heart of the eastern peak of Sky City. Smiling broadly he took in the sights and smells of one of his favorite places - the Combat Abyss. He had been coming here since he was ten, and had started fighting in bouts only a couple of years later - he had mostly lost at first, naturally, but over time Fiscal had grown stronger, and more vicious, resulting in victory after victory.

By now the Abyss had almost become something like a second home for him; he knew every inch like the back of his hand and could describe every one of the nearly ten thousand shields that covered all the walls inside. He loved the Combat Abyss; here, his temperament was appreciated - here, he was someone.

Of course, ever since the Talon Clan took over the Nightingale Prefecture he was someone out there as well.

With large strides that caused the people around him to scurry out of his way, Fiscal walked over to the section restricted for the one hundred highest ranked mercenary contestants and took a seat on the metal bench marked 'Top 40'. Looking around at the occupants of the other benches in this area, he counted roughly thirty contestants present - some sitting on the three benches in front of him, but most of them sitting on the six benches behind him.

His smile widened with pride. It had taken him twenty years to get into the top forty on the Combat Abyss's mercenary ranking and he had only a year ago made the breakthrough - to high Spirit Adept - that made such an accomplishment possible. He was aware that this didn't mean that he was even in the top hundred, or perhaps even top thousand, spiritualists of the nation as a whole - after all, most Spirit Champions preferred military employment over mercenary life - but he felt prideful about it anyway.

As the sound level in the arena was growing increasingly intense, a movement in the opposing restricted area caught his attention.

'So the rumors are true,' he thought with an odd look - halfway between awe and contempt - on his face, 'Limpkin is back.'

Taking hit seat at the very first row of the section for assassin contestants was a man who, apart form their similar age, contrasted Fiscals appearance in every way. While Fiscal was muscular, dark haired, and covered in metal armor, Limpkin seemed tawny, had grey-blue hair and wore nothing even remotely close to armor.

Even their accomplishments were in stark contrast to each other, for whereas Fiscal had struggled for twenty years to make it to the top forty, Limpkin had only needed ten to break into the top ten, despite not yet having made the breakthrough to Spirit Champion. As such, Limpkin was one of the very few Adepts in Combat Abyss history who had managed to best low Champions in the assassin's ranking.

*DONG!*

The Abyss's bell rang out in the hall bringing immediate silence from the audience. The gate beneath the exclusive section opened up and the eight Abyss Angels walked out in two neat lines. Already drooling, Fiscal ignored those so called angels and stared at the open gate behind them.

Moments later a true goddess walked out: her hair was like a golden veil that touched the ground behind her; her voluptuous but lithe and elegant body was draped in a white dress so thin it bordered on transparent; her clear, copper rimmed, eyes shone like embers in the torch light. Contrary to the cold expressions on the Angels, this woman smiled warmly. All the new visitors, whom had already been entranced by the eight Angels, nearly lost their minds at the sight of her.

"Damn, that woman drives me crazy," groaned Fiscal and licked his lips. "One day, I'll have my way with her . . ." Had niot the two guilds running the Combat Abyss been fiercely protective of the nine ladies currently on stage, Fiscal would have forcefully tried to bed them long ago.