"Maybe your little pet—" He gestured lazily at Sasrir. "—wants to spill some human blood for once."
The hall tensed.
Hunters stiffened. Guards gripped their weapons. A few Sleepers went pale.
Everyone knew Sasrir was dangerous—nobody knew how much. And Gunlaug, damn him, was trying to turn that fear into an excuse.To see just what secrets Sasrir was hiding, to see if he posed a threat to Gunlaug's despotic reign.
Beside me, Kai swallowed hard. Sasrir remained perfectly still. Not a muscle twitched—but I felt it. Like the shift in air pressure before lightning strikes.
Gunlaug straightened, gaze sharp as a knife.
"So tell me," he said softly. "Which Champion will stand for your accusation?"
All eyes fell to me.
But as the hall waited for my answer, Sasrir stepped forward.
No sound accompanied the motion. No flare of aura, no ripple of killing intent.
He simply moved—and suddenly the hall felt colder.
"I will, of course."
His voice was quiet. Not loud, not theatrical. Just inevitable.
A murmur rippled through the crowd like a shockwave. Even the Hunters—hardened, jaded, violent—leaned back as if something enormous had shifted in the air.
Sasrir tilted his head, the barest hint of a smile touching the corner of his mouth.
"The question you should be asking…" He lifted his gaze to Gunlaug, then let it slide toward the accused Guards. "…is who will stand on their side?"
The two Guards froze. Then trembled. Then nearly collapsed entirely.
Their faces drained of all color, lips quivering like men standing before the gallows. A moment ago, they had been sneering, arrogant, smug.
Now?
One let out a broken noise and stumbled backward. The other's knees knocked audibly as his weapon clattered against his armor.
Facing a malnourished girl was one thing.
Facing the Reaper of the Dark City—the shadow walker, the best Hunter the Forgotten Shore has seen in years—that was another entirely.
They wouldn't have mustered the courage even if they'd been given ten lives and a hundred blessings.
The hall fell utterly silent.
No one breathed. No one spoke.
Even Gunlaug's confidence seemed to have flickered—only a fraction, but enough for me to see it.
Sasrir continued to stare at the two Guards, expression serene, voice still gentle:
"Well? Which of you wishes to meet the gods today?"
Neither answered.
Neither could.
They stood like statues carved from pure terror.
And for the first time since stepping into this hall, I saw doubt creep across the Bright Lord's golden throne.
The silence shattered—exploded—under the weight of Tessai's bellow.
"ABSURD!"
The Giant's voice slammed through the throne room like a battering ram. Several Sleepers flinched. One actually stumbled. Even Harus blinked, as if roused from some distant nightmare.
Tessai surged forward a step, the floor cracking beneath his heel. He was enormous—towering, swollen with muscle, veins bulging like ropes beneath ash-gray skin. His armor screeched from the strain of containing him. The air around him distorted with barely restrained brutality.
His furious gaze snapped to Gunlaug.
"My Lord, this farce has gone on long enough!" he thundered. "That brat speaks nonsense! He's looking for any excuse to slander our Host, to spit on your authority!"
He jabbed a finger toward me—thick as a branch, knuckles like boulders.
"And that whore—yes, the one who 'mysteriously' can't show up—no doubt she seduced him into this! Whispered lies into his ear until he ran here whining about justice!"
He sneered, lips curling back over teeth stained with whatever lunch he'd eaten last.
"Justice? Justice?" He spat the word like it tasted rancid.
"This coward wants to twist your laws! Manipulate you into cutting down loyal men of the Guard! This entire stunt is a disgrace, a joke! Just throw them out—better yet, have them whipped for causing disorder in your hall!"
He cracked his neck, a sickening sound of bones grinding.
"And if they dare complain—if they dare keep pushing—we can solve this RIGHT NOW." He slammed a fist into an open palm, the impact echoing like a war drum. "No 'trial.' No theatrics. Just blood on the floor."
Behind him, the accused Guards nodded frantically, hiding behind the giant like he was a living fortress.
Sasrir didn't move. I didn't look away.
And Gunlaug? Gunlaug didn't even blink.
The Bright Lord stood languidly before his throne, face unreadable behind that mask of liquid gold, eyes half-lidded as though Tessai's roaring tantrum were nothing more than wind whistling through a window.
He let the Giant rant.
Let him stomp and howl
It was clear—painfully clear—that Gunlaug didn't care about Tessai's anger. He didn't care about the girl either, he didn't even care about the accused Guards.
What he cared about was the fact we had brought trouble to his front door and demanded he deal with it. For a man like Gunlaug, this was bordering on treason, on defiance. In fact, if not for the goodwill and reputation I had built up over these past six months, I was sure he would have ordered Harus to cut me down on the spot. I wasn't Nephis-I didn't have the legacy of the Immortal Flame Clan to protect me. Here, on the Forgotten Shore, I was a nobody.
Though, I was already changing that.
And as Tessai finished with a final, snarled:
"This is INSANITY, my Lord!"
Gunlaug merely tilted his head—calm, composed, amused again.
As if this entire uproar was nothing more than entertainment to him.
As if he was waiting—hungry—for what would come next.
"In that case," Gunlaug drawled, tilting his head just slightly, "why don't you volunteer… Tessai?"
The room froze.
Absolutely froze.
Every Sleeper, every Hunter, every Guard nd Artisan and Handmaiden—even the accused men behind Tessai—went rigid as if the air itself had turned to ice.
Even I blinked, surprised.
Tessai, however—Tessai went pale.
Not much, not dramatically. But enough that someone with eyes sharper than most—someone like me—caught the flicker of fear that crossed his brutish face.
"M–My Lord," he started, his deep voice suddenly lacking its usual thunder. "I was merely suggesting—merely saying that this is beneath—"
Gunlaug didn't even speak to him. He just turned his head and stared silently, the shimmering gold of his faceplate reflecting Tessia's own ugly mug back at him.
Then—
A soft voice cut through the hall like a silver blade sliding free of a scabbard:
"Are you a coward, Tessai?"
Silence rippled outward as heads turned.
Seishan stood a bit apart from the others, elegant and pristine as always—every movement graceful, every word cool and sharp enough to draw blood.
She blinked slowly, lips curved in a polite, deadly little smile.
"Your shouting was so impressive," she continued. "I assumed you were volunteering. Otherwise… why speak so loudly?" She let her gaze drift down Tessai's frame, pausing deliberately around his waist. "Unless that enormous size of yours is simply compensation for...something else that is lacking, perhaps."
A few Hunters swallowed audibly.
Someone in the back snorted.
Tessai's face went from pale to furious scarlet in a heartbeat.
His jaw clenched hard enough that the muscles stood out like thick ropes, his enormous hands trembling with murderous restraint. His gaze snapped to Seishan—pure fury—before swinging toward the only target he was allowed to kill:
Sasrir.
Sasrir didn't even blink, didn't move, didn't smile at the crass insinuiation Seishan had made on his behalf. He simply looked at Tessai the way one might look at a dying animal thrashing on the ground—pitying, but not enough to intervene.
The sight nearly drove the Giant mad.
For several long, suffocating seconds, Tessai's chest heaved—rage, humiliation, raw instinct clashing with whatever primal sense of survival he had left.
Then, finally—
He nodded.
Slowly.
Stiffly.
Like a man stepping into his own grave.
"…Fine," Tessai growled, voice raw and shaking with fury. "I will crush this bloody shadow."
A ripple of fear and anticipation swept the crowd. The trial was no longer a matter of justice.
It had become bloodsport.
And Tessai had just agreed to fight the Reaper.
Gunlaug's pleased mood returned—bright and terrible.
As if this was exactly the outcome he had hoped for.
"Then let justice begin," Gunlaug's voice boomed, slow and deliberate, his hand sweeping in a dismissive arc as he sank back into the golden throne. The echoes of his words hung in the hall like a storm just on the horizon.
The crowd immediately shifted, parting to form a wide circle in the polished stone expanse. Whispers rushed through the spectators, a tide of excitement and fear that prickled at the skin. Some tried to inch closer, others braced along the edges, all of them keenly aware that this was no ordinary duel.
Tessai stepped down from the dais, his massive frame filling the space. Every movement radiated raw, contained power. With a grunt, he summoned a Memory—a two-handed longsword that shimmered faintly with icy blue light, edges serrated as if to rend both steel and bone. The blade hummed subtly, vibrating against the cold, heavy air.
Almost simultaneously, his Aspect awakened. Dark blue scales shimmered across his skin, thickening and hardening until they resembled plates of solid ice. The room's temperature dropped noticeably; frosty breath fogged the air, and tiny crystalline snowflakes formed along the floor, vanishing almost immediately under the heat of the bright torches. It wasn't just a show—the armor was practical, each layer of ice as strong as steel, each shard a possible weapon in Tessai's hands.
He hefted the sword with ease, swinging it experimentally once, and the sound of ice scraping ice resonated like a clap of thunder. The circle of spectators collectively inhaled. Even the seasoned Hunters and Guards shifted slightly, calculating the danger.
Sasrir remained where he stood, unflinching. The shadows around his form stretched, curling like ink across the floor, absorbing the chill that tried to creep toward him. Every instinct in Adam's body tensed; he felt the weight of the fight before it even began. He knew that a single slip—misjudging the reach, underestimating Tessai's speed—could end in disaster.
Tessai's eyes scanned the circle, finally locking on Sasrir. The two of them—predator and shadow—stood in silence for a heartbeat that seemed to stretch into eternity. The air between them crackled, icy vapor swirling, heavy with the promise of violence.
And then, with a low growl, Tessai advanced, the two-handed sword raised, ice plating creaking and glittering in the torchlight. The duel had begun.