18.

By midnight, the two young ones had entered the lions' territory. A few lionesses approached and guided Aurora to the top of a rock formation the lions used as stands. Virindia remained completely alone in the center of a circle, surrounded by enemies—yet this time, it was different. This time, he had her.

Aurora might not have been strong, brave, or dangerous, but she was there, supporting him, hoping he wouldn’t die—and that was already far more than his mother had ever done for him.
He felt foolish for ever having been grateful to her just for giving him life. Perhaps his friend had been right all along—he was nothing but a whim of Mother Earth, not important to her at all, just a game of egos.

“We’ve been waiting eagerly. We’re all thirsty for the grand show we’ve been promised,” declared the king of lions—and, according to him, of everything.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” Virindia replied bravely, though his legs were trembling.

“Then let’s waste no more words.”

The beast lunged at him, still towering over him in size, but that no longer mattered. Virindia rolled to the side, escaping unharmed. Yet the beast, more prepared than during their previous duel, didn’t let him counterattack and charged again—with the same result. The pattern repeated again and again until the creature made a mistake. Virindia managed to grab a fallen branch and struck with all his strength.

Sicutis let out a growl from the impact and quickly got back on his feet. Virindia dropped the now-broken branch just as the beast leapt toward him again—only to be intercepted mid-air. Virindia used the creature’s own momentum to flip him and slam his back violently against the ground.

With a growl, the beast couldn’t rise again, and the surrounding lions snarled furiously. Virindia stared at his fallen opponent, then circled the arena, looking at his hands—what had he become?

His senses sharpened when, even though Sicutis was still on the ground, the noise around him became deafening. He saw young lions leaping into the fighting ring, their fangs bared in hunger for vengeance and power.

Virindia stepped back. Though he had won—for now—against Sicutis, there was no way he could take on an entire pack. He grabbed the broken branch he’d used earlier and tried to defend himself, but another lion tackled him from the side. His clothes and face were instantly caked in the mud that covered much of the lions’ territory. He felt the sting of claws tearing into him, his hands sinking into the muddy earth beneath—until they struck something solid.

Opening his eyes amid the filth, he saw a glimmer—it was a sword, buried in the mud.

Virindia rolled over, slashing the lion above him with the blade—its hilt golden, adorned with a small orb of green and blue crystal.

A collective gasp echoed around him. The beasts recoiled. Virindia stood, and the pack stepped back in wary fear. Every step he took toward Sicutis echoed in his chest, the arena drowned in impatient silence. When he reached the fallen lion, he found him bleeding heavily from the mouth. The weapon in Virindia’s hand felt heavy—heavy as guilt, as power.

“Finish it quickly. You’ve won. Don’t make this more humiliating,” Sicutis grunted.

Virindia knelt beside the lion and raised the sword above his head—but just as he brought it down, he shifted it aside at the last second and began to laugh, still gasping for air.

“I need your honesty, Sicutis. Do I strike you as ignorant, or ungrateful? I do not harbor sadistic thoughts toward any sentient being. I’ve never begged for blood or punishment. I merely wish to settle our little dispute. After all, I am meant to create the world, not destroy it. No one has taught me what war means, or what it looks like. But the great Quinihil, in his glory days, taught me the importance of mercy. And today, I inform you that my intentions toward you are clear—I seek neither your power nor your fame. You may keep your lands, your pride, your leadership—and most of all, your life. I don’t want any of it,” Virindia leaned closer to the lion’s ear. “You may keep it—but only because I allow it.”

Picking up the sword, still smiling darkly, Virindia turned to a stunned Aurora.

He walked toward her, helping her down from her place, and the two left together—tall and proud—until they were out of the lions’ sight. Only then did he succumb to the pain in his back. Without hesitation, Aurora took his arm and helped him walk until they made it home.