A Gorgeous White

The sound of liquid dripping on the broken floor entered Moulin's ears. Was it blood? Drool? He could not care. The glowing eyes of crimson seemed to see through his soul. It was ominous and mysterious sending chills down his spine. He knew he could just release the string of his bow and escape, but he was caught in a terrifying trance. He could not move an inch of his feet while he kept staring at the eyes gradually nearing. His breath quickened and he could hear the loud pounding of his heart. What... was in front of him?

The creature cackled loudly seeing the delightful fear in Moulin's eyes. However, he also finds his courage loathsome. "The... foreign soul of the divine... you smell sweeter than the flesh of fae."

The footsteps grew heavier and faster. The sound of the creature's footfall made Moulin think that it had already reached him. The words it had spoken awoken the fear in the heart of the youth but he didn't release the tension of his back, not even slightly. He was scared, yes. And he was scared of death most of all, but he would never go down without fighting for his life.

Moulin noticed the brightening glow of his white band. Although he was relieved, his eyes didn't stray from his target. However, the creature noticed it and released a desperate roar. Before Moulin's figure had teleported his fingers on the bowstring relaxed and the ice arrow flew swiftly. He didn't know if he had hit it but before his body disappeared, a bloody arm stretched out towards his face. It's long black claws just inches away from his face.

Moulin disappeared.

.............................

"Hah, hah... Hah... "

Moulin appeared inside a tunnel. The first thing he did was drop on his knees and breathed. His sacred weapon disappeared before it could fall on the floor. Droplets of sweat that he had never noticed dripped down on the stoned floor underneath him. It took him a couple of minutes before he finally calmed himself down. It was a frightening experience. He had never been bewitched by anything in this life. Captain Vidola had trained his body and mind to resist anything malignant that could twist his thoughts and move his spirit. However, earlier he was completely lured. He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes tightly. Truly, he was still weak. He had wavered and almost lost himself to something...

To... someone?

He didn't get a clear look at the rest of the creature's body except for its outstretched arm. The arm was covered in strip-like wounds, bleeding heavily. The skin color was hard to identify because of the blood. It might have belonged to a human, an elf, he wasn't sure. Moulin sat up and slid down the wall beside him. His gaze stared at the bright light at the end of the tunnel.

His bracelet gleamed and a new message appeared.

'You have entered the final trial. Please proceed to the arena'

His silver eyes glanced shortly as the exit of the tunnel. He leaned the back of his head on the wall behind him as he closed his eyes. After all this, he's going bathe in his warm scented waters for the whole day. He won't even care if his whole body would prune up.

With a groan, he pulled himself up and supported himself on the wall as he stood up. If he wanted that cozy bath, he must finish the trials as soon as possible. The heels of his boots clicked on the stoned floor as he walked towards the end of the tunnel. While he walked he kept thinking about the original's last words and the unknown creature that tried to catch him. The memory of the temple halls also made him really curious. Honestly, there was so much going on in his mind that his head ached.

Moulin shook his head. He was only a few steps away from the exit of the tunnel before he stopped. He took a deep breath and his silver pupils gleamed with solemnity.

He stepped into the daylight and his ears met the thousands of applauses and cheers roaring in the air. Moulin adjusted his sight and his silver eyes met the vast view of the massive orbicular arena. Its thick, twenty-feet tall walls separated him from the audience. The ground beneath him was dusty and he knew he should stay silent for his words will only be drowned out by the roars of applause.

A strong wind swept away his hair and a little dust got caught in his eye. Moulin frowned as he rubbed his eyes that were turning watery. He glanced behind him and the exit of the tunnel he came out from was sealed by a thick stone wall. His frown deepened. What kind of treatment was this? It was like he was an imprisoned slave forced to battle for his freedom.

Moulin narrowed his eyes as the tunnel at the opposite side of the arena stage glowed. Another candidate stepped out of the tunnel. Red eyes and dark hair, his build was quite muscular and within his grasp was a double-edged sword. It's blade stained with dark blood, freshly pulled out from the corpse the young man had killed earlier. It glistened under the light as few drops of blood dripped on the ground.

From the Elder Council's seat box, stood its Guild Lord. Emlen stood behind him, his relieved gaze locked in Moulin's slender figure. His heart finally was at ease when he finally saw his little brother's little form.

Moulin didn't see Emlen's figure from below and only noticed the Elder Lord as he raised his arms. The glistening golden lines on his arms made others bow their heads in reverence. He knocked the end of the brass staff on the ground and almost instantly glowing bold words of gold appeared, hovering just above the center of the arena stage.

Moulin Sills Fraunces vs Jax Alkonimere

"Let the battle for the position of the 16th standing commence!"

The audience cheered in excitement. The fights of the first twenty ranked candidates were always outstanding. From the number of five hundred fifty-three candidates that have entered the Trials, only about a hundred and four had reached the third trial, The Blue Fire Arena. In this trial, the candidates were randomly paired to fight for a place in the rankings to be recognized by at least one Guild Lord.

The moment the golden words in the air disappeared, the fight began.x

The man named Jax set his sword ablaze. The fire devouring his sword also engulfed his arm but from the man's serious expression, it seems he wasn't the least bit affected by the burning heat.

Damn it... It was a fire ability wielder. Moulin had not fought one ever since the assassins back in the northern woods. Moulin wasn't confident of his amateurish abilities back then. Now, although he had worked hard to polish his skills, he could not let his guard down. The pale golden band on the fire maeruthan's arm irked Moulin. The haughty look on the man's face made Moulin want to roll his eyes.

He sighed. Do they really need to rub it in his face on how inferior his position is to them? Honestly, if he wasn't such a patient man, he would have gone insane with the amount of arrogance people have thrown at him.

Moulin stood unmoving as he stared at the red-eyed man approaching him. The maeruthan, Jax, spun the sword in his hand with admirable skill as he walked forward. Blazing circles were created from his actions. It instantly convinced everyone of his eye-opening martial ability. Even Moulin was a bit surprised but he kept a cool face. He only stared in silence.

Jax snorted at Moulin's aloofness. He grinned as he charged forward.

Moulin positioned himself defensively. His eyes were glowing with a strong desire to obtain victory. He emptied his mind, drowning out the roaring cheers around him.

A blade of flames swiftly thrust towards Moulin's chest. Moulin stepped back, paralleling his body with the burning blade. He spun behind Jack and kicked the man's knees making them crash on the ground instantly. A loud groan escaped the man's mouth.

As Jax fell on his knees, Moulin leaped back. With a turn, he summoned his sacred weapon, directly aiming at his opponent's back without hesitation. Unfortunately, Jax wasn't as stupid as Moulin thought he would be. Noticing Moulin's movements, Jax threw himself to the side and dodged Moulin's freezing arrow.

'Ugh' Moulin frowned. He's tough...

"How smart... for a weakling" Jax grinned before he once again lunged at Moulin swinging his blade, launching wave by wave scorching blades at his competitor's direction. Each fire blade grew larger and larger as it neared Moulin.

Seeing the numerous fire blades thrown towards him, Moulin gritted his teeth before deciding to dodge every single one. Moulin wasn't entirely affected by coldness but he was quite sensitive to heat. The blades he avoided scorched the ground after failing to hit their target.

The battle between the two was fierce. One could easily feel the tension of the battle just by looking at them. The audiences were driven by excitement and anticipation as their gazes never left the two figures below them. Most had already guessed that the white-haired maeruthan would lose seeing how he was frequently avoiding his opponent's attacks. However, his reaction time and agility were marvelous. Although that was the case, some already thought of him as a coward.

Jax was tired of Moulin's spineless tricks so he raised his sword in the air and called forth a ring of fire around him and Moulin. The wall of fire stretched as high as the walls surrounding the arena stage and its heat was scorching. Moulin stopped his movements and frowned.

This was getting annoying...

At the same moment, within the hidden viewing halls of the Guild Lords, a certain Lord rubbed his chin languidly with his long fingers. His eyes glowed, a sheet of interest coating his golden pupils. Although there was a faint concern in his heart, he was overwhelmed with the inhumane curiosity of a particular silver-eyed youth's helpless expression. The forceful conflict of the battle was already escalating, and yet Moulin seemed to be restraining his true ability in front of the public.

He remembered how vicious he looked when he cut down numerous Veialean assassins without mercy. A smile adorned his stern countenance. How thrilling was the feeling when he pulled the reluctant doll in his arms. Like an adorable beast unwilling to be imprisoned and toyed to please its master. The thought was quite intriguing. The aloof Hercullian Lord's was oblivious of his shifting thoughts. Only Varick who stood by his side was shocked and somehow felt pity for the third young master's future.

He was uncomfortably unused to the warm aura surrounding his Lord. What was his master thinking about at this moment? Can't he see how helpless the young master looks in the arena? Sometimes he thinks his Lord needs a slight smack in the head to open his eyes for the real situation.