Page 157 of The White King's Favorite

“We can’t allow that,” muttered Naptunie. “Lady Cessilia would hate such a thing! Even if she doesn’t like the Yekara Clan, she wouldn’t like someone to endure such terrible torture!”

“I know, Nana. That’s why I’m watching carefully, but I doubt we can simply convince Ashra and her stubborn clan to simply give up. That idiot is about as fierce as one can be. She’s good, but at this rate, she’s just going to push Cessilia past what she can actually handle...”

Naptunie looked down at the fight again, with a very different view this time. This no longer felt like a fight between equals, and perhaps it never had been. Now, it was like they were watching a tragedy unfold. Lady Cessilia’s green eyes did seem colder than ever, unlike what Naptunie had seen before. Meanwhile, Ashra was focused on the fight, and as Tessandra had said, completely unwilling to give in. Plus, her whole clan was behind her. The Yekara people weren’t losing one second of the fight, looking so focused yet so blind as to what their candidate was really going through. Some were shouting to support her or scold her for the smallest mistake. They wouldn’t allow Ashra to lose, let alone give up. Their candidate knew there was no option other than winning, and she was fighting for this. She had abandoned her plan to slowly injure Cessilia, and she was now fighting to kill her for real.

“...What can we do?” asked Nana. “Should we intervene before it’s too late?”

“I think it’s already too late,” muttered Tessandra. “It was too late the moment that stupid bitch decided to pick a fight with Cessi, Nana. Cessilia would have been able to hold back if Ashra hadn’t really aimed to hurt her. But this crazy bitch will not back down, and she isn’t even admitting she’s going to lose. If we stop the fight now, the Yekara will accuse us of trying to save Cessilia, regardless of how much she’s been winning over her opponent.”

“...They are ready to sacrifice their candidate,” said Sabael. “Look at them, Nana. She’s bleeding a ton and not a single one of them looks sorry for her or worried. It’s their so-called clan pride speaking. The Yekara will never concede defeat against a foreigner.”

“Then... what do we do? I know that Ashra isn’t really on our side, but I don’t want Lady Cessilia to suffer because of her clan either. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

Tessandra glanced back at the King. Ashen’s expression was indecipherable, but all this time, he hadn’t said a word, his expression focused on Cessilia and Cessilia alone. Although she didn’t know this man well and didn’t like him much either, Tessa knew he was at least reliable in terms of strength. The White King wasn’t of dragon blood, but if he had been trained by the War God himself, he ought to be worth something decent, at the very least. Tessandra thought this highly of him because he was the only man the legendary War God had trained himself that wasn’t his own son.

“...She’s got us,” finally said Tessandra. “Cessilia wouldn’t have gone through with it if she didn’t know there wasn’t a chance she could be stopped.”

Naptunie confidently nodded. She was feeling even prouder knowing that Cessilia was relying on them, even if it wasn’t her in particular. Now, she could refocus on the fight with a bit of a lighter heart and felt even more determined to witness Lady Cessilia’s victory.

Despite what was at stake, this ought to be one of the most epic one-on-one fights they would ever witness. Even some of the Yekara people had forgotten to shout and support their candidate, focusing on the fight. The level of the two young women was among the very best, far above most men in this room that carried a sword. Cessilia’s movements were like a river, smooth, unpredictable, and wild. Her whole body was enhancing the beauty of each of her movements as if it was a dance centered around her weapon and its victim. She was unstoppable like the sea while Ashra moved like a furious flame trying to survive. The fight was both astonishingly beautiful, and yet so violent. More and more blood was starting to flow; Ashra now had cuts on all sides, her dress gradually turning into a darker red. No matter how much they loathed that woman and her family, even Tessandra had grown some respect for her as a fighter. However, the difference in strength was only growing more and more obvious with each wound. Cessilia’s blue dress was still pristine, while the ground beneath their feet had turned red.

Suddenly, though, something different happened. While she had just inflicted another wound on her opponent, Cessilia grimaced without visible reason. Tessandra jumped on her feet, feeling something was wrong. Ashra was faster to react. While the Princess was destabilized for a second, her sword dashed forward. A new red line appeared. However, this one was on Cessilia’s throat.

The Yekara Clan shouted like one man, but they missed the change in Cessilia’s eyes. Her irises narrowed, suddenly looking almost reptilian.

“Shit!” muttered Tessandra.

It was too late. Cessilia’s sword sliced the air with unprecedented violence, and this time, a large stream of blood flew upwards. Ashra stumbled backward, her shoulder mutilated by an extensive gash, blood pouring out of the wound. This time, she retreated, her survival instincts taking over everything else. Cessilia didn’t give her that opportunity. The Princess rushed forward, her blade ready to strike again. This time, the silver blade was dripping with blood. Ashra’s desperate attempt to flee was pointless; all of her previous injuries were slowing her down. Half of the audience was shocked by the sudden turn of the fight, yet mesmerized by the tragic scene. Some of the Yekara Clan were still shouting after their candidate for her not to flee, but Ashra had no way to win or escape this time. Cessilia was coming for her, covered in her blood, her eyes so calm and icy, it was scary. She looked like a goddess of war; come to earth to execute some ineluctable fate.

“Cessi!” Tessandra shouted, running down the stairs.

“If the other girl meddles, she will lose!” shouted the Yekara Clan leader, almost happy to see Tessandra rushing to his own niece’s help. “She is forfeiting!”

It was like half their clan was blind to Ashra’s inevitable end. All that mattered was seeing Cessilia lose, one way or another. The tragedy just had to turn in their favor, the sacrifice didn’t matter.

Cessilia finally reached her opponent and raised her sword, ready to strike again. Her gaze was full of something deep and painful. She looked fierce, but if one could see past that, there were actual tears in her eyes. She was trapped in the agony of a memory she couldn’t escape. Her throat was in pain, her heart was bleeding, and it was hard to breathe. Blood everywhere, and the agony of something, someone she had lost long ago. The sensation of that hot liquid running down her neck was just too familiar. She needed to get out of there. Eliminate those who wanted to kill her. She wouldn’t succumb a second time to weakness. She had to get out, at any cost. She had to kill them.

She lifted her sword, ready to strike. This time, she’d get out of there in time. She wouldn’t lose her voice or her dragon. She was stronger than those who hurt her. She could kill them. She’d killed before, she could do it again. She was strong, strong like a dragon. She could kill. This was nothing...

She swung her sword. A perfect move for a kill.

“Cessilia.”

The sound of two metals clashing woke her up. She raised her head to face Ashen standing before her. He was like a wall, his broad torso blocking all of her sight.

“Cessilia,” he called her again.

She blinked twice as if she had just woken up. Cessilia was out of breath, and two strands of her curls were falling on her face, but as she looked up at him, he could tell his Princess was back. She was just realizing where she was, what had happened. There was a deafening silence in the cave. All they could hear was the faraway sounds of water, the erratic breathing of the fighters, and Ashra’s grunts of pain.

“W-wha-... What did I d-do...”

Tears appeared in Cessi’s eyes, and she let go of the blade, letting it fall loudly on the ground. She was in shock, remembering everything that had just happened as if she hadn’t been in control until now. And in a way, she hadn’t. She looked at her trembling hands. The sword’s handle had left deep marks in her hands, her calluses showing along with dark scales. There was blood on all of her fingers, even under her nails. Her sobbing got more intense, her eyes looking at those hands and the sword at her feet in disgust.

“A-Ashen...” she cried, unable to utter anything else.

“It’s alright.”

He moved to hug Cessi, wrapping her in his arms as tightly as he could. She sobbed against his shoulder, her whole body shaking in distress. She wasn’t shocked by how she had harmed and injured her opponent; Ashra had begun this fight and fought back just as hard. No, Cessilia was shocked by how much she had lost control of herself. She had lost all restraint, and gotten completely immersed in the fight, to the point where she wouldn’t have thought twice about killing her opponent. It wasn’t her, though; Cessilia’s trauma caused her self-preservation instincts to take over when she could have won this fight easily without them. She thought she could control herself, but her memories had made her react in a much too extreme way.

---