Shadow Slave: Paradox

Aeona dreamt of an abandoned castle.

Jagged edges, crumbled stone, vines drooping off bricks from top to bottom. The enormous building bathed in crimson moonlight, dwarfing any other structure.

That was, apart from three carefully sculpted alloy statues which stood sternly.

One of which was 'painted' in a pale gold, similar to what one would describe as 'Holy'. It had an oddly levitating illusory halo, and it burnt with a fiery temper.

This flame, it surely wasn't ordinary. Just through scanning it with the corner of their eye, one would feel as if they sinned.

To the left of 'Holy' was one which—at first glance—seemed cursed. This one was painted lavender, with black dots, almost as if the purplish paint was scraped off to reveal the onyx black below. 

And to the right of both Holy and 'Cursed' was one which felt overshadowed by the other two. It was simple, gray-scaled, and wore the eyes of a seasoned warrior. 

If Holy were the protagonist, and Cursed was the antagonist, 'Warrior' felt as if it were an ally of one of the forces, but not a being in the center of things. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, words like protagonist and antagonist failed to exist in this cruel nightmarish world. The only 'colors' were dozens of shades. 

These statues lay just before the entrance of the Crumbled Palace. On the contrary, behind it was a colosseum, this one in pristine shape.

The walls and pillars sat as if newly polished and carefully cleaned. In the center was a massive circular formation with grounded wood as the floor. There also seemed to be gravel scattered across, perhaps for grip.

Just as quickly as these landmarks appeared and took shape, they changed with time as it rewinded. The crimson sun set and rose thousands—no, tens of thousands of times.

The jagged landscape gradually grew unspoiled, fresher than ever and well kept.

Time slowed, then stopped, and then resumed at its usual pace. 

[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your first trial…]

'What the…'

Push. Shove. Grab.

Aeona felt a dull yet excruciatingly painful sharp pain in her side, glancing down, she noticed a blade at her waist. 

'Ah.'

An unwavering sweep of heat blasted into her skin, sucking out sweat and scattering it across her body. 

'What the—'

"Get a move on!" Aeona was once again pushed forwards. She, and three men who looked to be in their thirties were approaching a large door. 

The hallway they were walking through was fit for royalty, or at least to her standards it was. She gasped to question the situation, but was met with only her own breath.

As one of the three guards grasped the knob for the door, she came to a realization.

'A fucking gag!'

Her clothing was rough, as if wearing rags, or generations upon generations of hand-me-downs. 

No matter how one judged it, this situation looked really bad. 

She wasn't even able to fight back, it was as if the very ability to move her muscles in protest was sealed.

'Sealed? Is this an Aspect?'

She widened her eyes and quickly remembered to summon her runes.

After a quick focus of attention, as she expected, her status information appeared. 

—

—

Name: Aeona.

True Name: —

Rank: Aspirant.

Soul Core: Dormant.

Memories: —

Echoes: —

Attributes: [Fortune's Curse], [Mark of Divinity], [Hourglass's Heir].

Aspect: [Battle Maiden]

Aspect Description: [Woman of war.]

'Curses… why is it so short!'

She blinked a few times but ultimately had to accept that it wouldn't change, not even if she took a closer look. 

"Agh!"

As she was about to look deeper into her attributes, her back was kicks by a boot

And her face landed in a pit of gravel and dust. 

She felt both pained and freed, as the gag from before glamorously vanished. Perhaps it had been taken off, but she was preoccupied with her status. 

Snapping back to reality, she pushed herself off the ground and slowly rose from the floor. Around her were shouts, conversations, and laughing. She even noticed people betting currency and other tradable materials. 

'What… What in th—'

"Get to your station, Pig!" The one who kicked her demanded, pointing a glowing finger at her face. 

It was an aspect, a dangerous one.

"A… Ah." She quickly looked left and right and figured that this 'station' was the only area she was able to move towards, and so she moved. 

As she stepped, the situation dawned on her. She was in the Pristine Colosseum, the one she had seen before the Nightmare started. And she was the cattle being used for entertainment. 

Sweat trickled down her already drenched face. She swiped off the dust, sand, gravel, and dirt that stuck to her face, before taking a deep breather and continuing her analysis on her status. 

[Fortune's Curse] Attribute Description: "In the gamble of chances, you are one of the fortunate. On the flip side, challenges grow daunting."

'Now what the hell is that supposed to mean!?—And why did I even get this..?'

Now the attribute wasn't particularly bad, but considering that "challenges grow daunting" existed in it, that would likely prove to make the First Nightmare more nightmarish.

She had nothing to get lucky about anyways!

She inwardly cried as she glanced at the other participants for what she infers to be an up-and-coming battle. 

'Curses!'

Noticing she might be tight on time; she focused solely on her personal information.

[Mark of Divinity] Attribute Description: "You bear a faint scent of divinity, as though someone briefly touched by it once, a long time ago."

[Hourglass's Heir] Attribute Description: "The value of time seeps through the river of your essence, marking you as its beholder."

'That would be great if I was an Awakened and could control essence, but I'm in my fucking First Nightmare!'

Aeona then mumbled in anguish.

"Damn it all…"

Suddenly a man dropped onto a platform in the center of the Pristine Colosseum. The landing blew dirt and gravel into the air, and as the dust clouds cleared, Aeona's face paled. 

'I-Is that… An Ascended..?'

"Welcome folks and folkmaidens! I'm so glad to have you on this fine day!" A male's voice echoed through the area, as if boosted by a memory, or perhaps some other means. 

All Aeona could do was listen, she was stuck in a 'station' and literally could not object to a Master.

"Today, for this week's spectacle, we have some special guests! As you all have been waiting for, this is a special event—hence the special guests!

"In each of the 16 corners stands a powerful and unique warrior! Each of which to become gladiators for your greed! Which one will you bet on!? Which will triumph!? Which will announce their superiority!? And lastly, which will fail to rise to such an occasion!?

"In this tournament of four stages, we will view and watch as glory is fulfilled!"

Suddenly the crowd erupted into chants, standing ovations, and applauds."Glory! Glory! Glory!"

'So, it's a one against one tournament, which continues for four rounds until the final.' She walked up to the gate in front of her. And glanced at the floor.

There was a rune which seemed conveniently translated by the spell.

[9]

"So I'm number nine…" She muttered as the man picked up where he left off.

"Hahaha! Calm yourselves, calm yourselves… There is no need to get excited quite yet! As we haven't announced the rules yet!

"Each battle will be held for 5 minutes! Within these 5 minutes, the two chosen gladiators will brawl to be the last one standing!

"If one is not decided after such time, they will be forced back into their stations and their match will resume after the other scheduled matches for that period!

"If you aren't aware, the periods are: Round One, Quarter-Finals, Semi-Finals, and Finals!

"We will be going in numerical order, which means number one will fight number two, number three will fight number four, and so on! Is that understood ladies and gentlemen?"

Claps and mannerisms of understanding exploded from the spectators, and they continued their faithful chant.

"Glory! Glory! Glory!"

The Ascended spoke again, but this time towards the cattle used for entertainment. "Gladiators, is that understood?" This time, his voice was distant, as if spoken with true disgust.

Not a soul responded, but the man had no intention of receiving a response. The 'gladiators' opinions had no value after all. 

"Now! Without further ado, let's begin round one!"

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