Patience and Wrath
Pride and Humility
Both of them wield gratitude.
They are beings of malevolence and benevolence.
Two sides of the same coin.
Their armies march towards each other with pure generosity.
They strike with hatred and kill with passion.
Both of them are in total unison with their counter.
Once Gladys activated his dormant powers.
Something happened.
His need for mercy and the anger that brewed inside his guts made him realize how beautiful he was.
One
Then two
Then four
Then eight
Then Sixteen
Then thirty-two
Then, finally, sixty-four.
Sixty-four clones of Gladys filled the cramped space that was becoming the arena.
A space made for a single duel was transformed into an arena for the clash of armies.
The patience-loving puppets of flowers were slowly beginning to be destroyed one by one.
Yet they rose back again and again.
The wrath-torn clones were unstoppable.
Yet they couldn't advance even an inch.
Both armies, both leaders stuck in their respective corners.
Jabs of spiky colours were gliding through the closed space.
Slices of thorns were ripping skin apart.
The corpse opened its eyes.
The champion took off his helmet.
They watched each other.
Both of them knew that this couldn't continue any longer.
Their armies made way for them; half of the arena was filled with a mind-numbing smell of love, and the other was filled with the scent of blood.
In the middle of the arena, both the corpse and the champion stood.
Their armies were watching, yet they didn't comprehend anything.
The black mane of the champion was slowly drifting in the wind.
The crown on the corpse was fluttering.
Patience transformed the field beneath them into the once-dirty sand.
And wrath observed.
The man spoke first.
"Let's..."
The corpse opened its mouth yet again, unmoving.
"Destroy..."
Both of them paused for a heartbeat.
"Everything"
They both spoke in total equilibrium.
Pettals started vomiting out of the Patience's mouth, just like the souls of the dead left their buried tomb of sand.
Wrath made another clone of himself, then he stole the clone's trident just like he reaped the souls of many.
The newly formed pattles transformed into a sword of many colours with an eye at the hilt.
The newly acquired trident was clenched between many teeth. The shaft is visibly dented by the force with which it was gripped.
Wrath was quickly overwhelmed.
He thrust his spear into the corpse's abdomen, but only a flower came out of the other side.
Yet patience didn't even flinch; it walked slowly forward. Impaling itself much deeper. The sword moved with speed as it sliced through the flesh of the forearm. A splatter of blood landed on top of the carcass's torso.
Wrath pulled his arm back, yet patience didn't stop. It hacked and slashed at the champion. More blood landing on top of its beauty.
Instinctively, wrath sliced back at one of the flowers, which was painted with blood.
The corpse whinced.
For a split second, both of them stopped.
They knew what the weakness of patience was.
It was blood.
The corpse jumped back.
Yet the champion knew it was going to do that.
A shadow obscured the light which was illuminating the crown of flowers.
The corpse glanced upwards, and it saw one of the champion's clones falling on top of it.
But before it could land, a trident shot through it. Pulverising it into a rain of blood.
The shower of lifeblood landed right on top of the corpse. Washing every flower it saw in red.
The heart made of sunflower seeds started to beat again weakly.
Whatever blood that oozed through the soil, which was the skin. It entered it, making it beat a bit harder.
Wrath took his other trident out of his mouth and dashed forward.
Patience commanded the souls to serve as a shield.
They formed a wall with their bodies.
The champion destroyed the wall with ease, but his running start was stopped for a moment.
The lungs of the corpse inhaled and then exhaled.
The heart started to beat harder and harder.
The corpse's time was running out, so it did what it knew would ensure its master's survival.
It ran, and the champion chased after it.
The corpse ran with all its might until it reached the wall, sharp hooks made of flowers protruded from its skin, and it began to climb. But before the champion made contact, the corpse jumped to the side whilst climbing.
The champion couldn't stop, and he crashed into the wall. A massive quake shook the whole village of the Colosseum.
Once the corpse reached the spectators, someone was waiting for it.
"Blood, huh?"
The corpse just stared at this man.
The spectators next to this man weren't even paying attention. They were too busy yelling about the champion's name.
The corpse climbed over, and it just sat on its knees.
The man stood up and walked over to the edge. He put one foot on it, and he looked back at the corpse.
"I will give you as much blood as you need"
The champion got back up, and he looked up.
And someone was looking down at him.
That man spread his arms high in the air, his iris changed shape to display the number.
"10"
"My dear student, have as much as you want"
Every clone of Gladys started to bulge, and they started to grow in size. Veins visibly popping, they're shape morphing into odities. Until they all exploded.
Fear was truly visible on Gladys' face, since he was about to face something far worse than the corpse.
Pride was soon to join the fight.
Because of Glady's height and weight, the total blood inside his body is roughly ten litres.
That was multiplied by ten, so roughly a hundred litres of blood per clone.
So in total, six thousand two hundred litres of blood shot in the air.
Gladys's blood painted everything, from the sand to the spectators to the walls to the man's white robe and more importantly...
Eve.
The heart made of seeds started beating faster and faster.
And it slowly started to transform back into flesh.
The seeds bloomed for more life.
Her lungs started breathing.
The smell of pollen still lingered in the air.
Her brain restarted, electric signals were starting to take form.
Someone who died was coming back to life.
Someone dear to us.
Bathed in blood, cleansed of sin and scars.
A blank canvas made for whoever wishes to mould it.
Her pupils got their crimson colour back.
Her mouth started to move.
Her brain started to think.
Her consciousness started to take form.
Thoughts started to form in her mind.
She was starting to think.
She was starting to think.
Emotions didn't know which shape to form.
"Who am I?"
Her hands found her face; she wanted to know it. She wanted to know she was alive. And she was more alive than ever before.
"You're Eve, remember?"
Elyon smiled as he looked back at her.
"Right, I forgot...Thank you, Elyon"
Eve looked at Elyon, and she smiled.
Because she knew she had someone close to her...
A friend.