Crimson Red Rage

Vandrad had quite literally never been as angry as he was right now. Even though he was just barely regaining consciousness, he could already feel the rage burning down deep in his core as the last memory before he blacked out came into mind. He’d been utilizing the training room in the middle of Fairy Tail, opting to expand on his magical prowess. His transformation provided him quite the boost in strength, as well as allowed him greater access to absorbing ethernano, but he needed something more than that. He felt that it could go beyond the level it was at now; expand to a tier that he’d never dared venture towards before. The truth of the matter was, he’d never needed to. The battles he did get into didn’t push him like they did when he was younger, his Empowerment being exactly what he needed to win. And when he trained with recruits and his soldiers, he never had to push himself to even activate his Limit Breaker. In fact, it had been quite some time since he’d had to push his transformation past its normal range. The mind control that had attempted to overcome him was only halted by him enabling that last spell, granting him the strength to resist the influence of the tower. Vandrad had smugly told himself that it was even better for Mercury – had he not managed to break free, he was sure he would have utterly crushed her.

He’d just turned off the simulator when something had struck him in the back of the head, disorienting him. His instincts had kicked in and he had spun on his heel, looking to return the pain to whoever had dared attack him. But his hand had been easily caught in the hand of Mercury, who was staring at him with her usual confident and smirking self. The bitch had decided to strike him?! As he growled and began to form a near-endless slew of insults to throw in her face, her hand had rushed at him and then the lights had gone out.

As his mind started to quickly rise out of the darkness of unconsciousness, he felt a lot of things all at once. The first was the anger, of course; that wasn’t going to just disappear. He also felt something wrapped tight around his wrists – hard metal that bound his flesh. Cuffs, he could only surmise. There was also the unbearable heat; it felt like he was pressed up against the sun’s surface himself, with the way the ground burned against his… bare flesh. And the ground was coarse and he was sliding? Slowly his eyes began to open, his face laying against the sandy floor on its side. As his vision cleared, he could very distinctly see – and feel – the horizon moving down. He was being dragged like a slab of meat. As he lifted his head slowly, sand was kicked up into his face, causing him to sputter and turn away angrily. He’d caught sight of hooves before his vision had been rudely interrupted.

He flexed his muscles in an attempt to break the bindings on his wrists to no avail. Whatever they were, they were of an integrity that surpassed his strength – quite the physical feat. With no other option, he pulled his knees up to his chest and pushed off the ground, leaping into the air just enough to get his feet back onto the ground. Wide, furious black orbs snapped up to survey exactly what was happening. A black metal chain, constructed of an element so dark it seemed to absorb the light, was twisted around his hands and keeping them together. The other half of the chain was wrapped around the back horn of the saddle that sat upon a slow moving camel. Sitting upon that self same animal was Mercury, whom he could easily distinguish thanks to her rather unique features.

"What the fuck is this?!” He demanded, coughing as he spoke from his dry throat. He pulled back against the chain but found absolutely no avail or give, his feet simply digging into the sand and sliding through the golden grains. He stumbled back up and looked down at himself, his brow furrowing in utter shock. He was damn near naked; a simple leather undergarment that could only be related to a loin cloth sat taut against his hips and covered up his groin. But other than that, he had been stripped of everything that had been on him. His anger flaring higher, his eyes snapped back up to the Silver Wolf wizard. "Hey! HEY!” he snarled, his fury providing the strength to coat his throat in saliva. "I demand you let me go this instant, woman. I will not be dragged around like some kind of slave. Release me. Now!”

If his mother could see him now. Not only was he dressed like the lowest of the low class, barely wearing clothes that people hadn’t shat or stepped on but he was swearing like a common sailor. Whatever negative thoughts he had that involved foul language were one thing but to drop arguably the hardest swear word would have made his entire family gasp and grab for their pearls. Even in his angriest states before this, he somehow managed to avoid saying such course words out loud. But given the circumstances, he simply couldn’t and wouldn’t stop himself from letting loose. In all honesty, what better way to ask what was happening was there beyond this? He had started in the Fairy Tail guild hall, been knocked unconscious by this bitch and now he was literally being dragged through the desert in chains.

Of course she was up and chipper – why wouldn’t she be? She had him leashed like a wild animal in needing of breaking. Her outfit made her look like a carnival clown or like she should be waving a red cape in front of a bull. His demand for release fell on ignorant ears and, even worse, she corrected his imagery by explaining that he was, in fact, a slave at the moment. His jaw clenched just a bit tighter as she explained merrily that he was certainly going to make her a lot of money and how she had been more than happy to check his body as she was stripping him down to nothing. Then she mentioned something called the Ring of Blood and how he would be the sole focus in the area, an elaborate title and shady description that made him narrow his gaze. He’d personally been on hand for several missions that involved clearing out illegal fighting pits within the borders of Bellum, each one with their own secret names and ways of operating. It seemed she had happened upon one… well, wherever they were.

But she didn’t seem like she was out for busting it up. If she had, he would have thought that she would have told him such a thing. As much as she was a major pain in his ass, she had always been relatively straight with him. If she’d gotten a job that required his help, she would have come to him and attempted to put it in a way that would make it interesting to him. Though he had to admit; he wouldn’t have agreed to play the part of a slave, even for the sake of having a good fight. There were certain things that his upbringing and his pride simply wouldn’t allow. The only other conclusion was that she was earnestly making plans to sell him.

Had she heard what he said in the tower? Thinking back on it, after he had broken through the mind control, he had realized that he had quite loudly blurted out his title and his place of origin. He’d waited, a bit impatiently, for her to find a way to tease him about it. She’d done it with most anything and everything else that had provided some kind of ammo. And yet she hadn’t. Maybe his clarification had provided a means to an end for her. She had said she had secrets and her own goals in mind. She’d even mentioned enemies – perhaps she was selling him for the jewel in an attempt to get in close to someone. Or, even more depressingly, maybe she just knew that a prince that could fight would fetch, as she put it, ‘a pretty penny’.

"You have the gall to think that I would thank you for attacking me, stripping me down, chaining me to a wild animal and dragging me half-way across who the hell knows?! I establish my dominance by my own volition, of my own choice. I am not a dancing monkey for you to wind up and play with whenever you damn well feel like it!” He roared once more, jerking hard on his chains as a means of protest. Even if it was fruitless, just the motion of yanking on the magical restraints made him feel the tiniest bit of rebellion against her plan. His gaze leveled on her as his anger continued to boil beneath the surface, a mixture of several emotions playing in his eyes. "You’ll regret this, woman. I’ll make you regret this. You may have me chained right now but I won’t always be. And the first moment I see an opening, the first dropped guard from anyone – including you – and I won’t hesitate to go for your throat. To think I took the time to work with you on jobs, to bother to show any kind of interest…”

He stopped short of saying anything about trust. He hadn’t truly trusted Mercury during the two jobs they had done… but she had earned a little of his respect. As pretentious and stubborn as he could be, she had made great strides in helping him along his journey. Granted it was all very easily found information but she hadn’t paused or demanded recompense for it. He was starting to see now that, perhaps, this was his way of paying for it. For daring to let his own guard down. He scoffed silently and looked off to the horizon, shaking his head softly.

As usual, she took his words and twisted them around to make them weapons. His self-admonishment over working with her was met with a playful tease about supposed developing feelings. He hissed between clenched teeth, the very notion that he cared for her utterly and physically repulsive. He had stomached her at the very best -- any actual positive feelings came at the idea of putting his fist right through her stomach cavity. She turned away from him, treating him to the notion that she didn't see him as a threat. And perhaps that's what she honestly felt at the moment; unfortunately these chains seemed to have quite the bind on his magic circulation. At this point, it was like he was trying to pull a building with his bare form. She tossed another comment his way, informing him that the situation he was in now was more about survival than personal agenda but she clearly wasn't broken up about it.

But that wasn't the end of her verbal abuse. She touched upon the fact that she had managed to get ahold of him easily. As his rage soared to new heights, she lamented over the inflated image she had formed of them confronting one another and how she had been sorely and painfully let down. Her remarks attempted to pierce his ego as she belittled him over the gap in strength between the two of them, going on and on about how one strike had put him out for over a quarter of the day. In her tangent, she revealed that she had actually taken him out of the country. Desierto -- that made sense. The wild, law free expanse was more akin to savage lands than a true nation. "Only an idiot takes pride in beating their opponent when his back is turned," he hissed between clenched teeth. She must have felt so smug; taking him off guard and dancing over her idea that he was a puffed up peacock; all show, no content.

His fury was heading towards the unbridled range. Never in his life had he been at such a disadvantage and worse yet, it was at the hands of this insufferable witch. Better to be taken out by assassin and be done with it than to wall here with her cherry picked words basting insult over injury. She spoke up again, continuing her pity party over the fact that he had offered so little challenge. She'd almost been impressed when he had broken through the mind control, that he wouldn't be controlled by anyone. A low growl rumbled out of his throat as she waved the illusion away. She even went as far as to say that his falling to the mind control in the first place should have been enough of a sign to his weakness.

A moment passed before inspiration struck her. She spoke of the unfair tactics she had used to take him in the first place, seeming to realize that doing so hadn't really provided him a true chance. She even went as far as to throw his own words back at him, mocking his statement about her not being able to touch him and admitting she usually would use that against him -- which, in and of itself, was using it against him. She turned back to him with a devilish smirk, concluding that perhaps she should give him a chance to rightfully defend himself, if only out of pity. She hopped down, keeping a fair distance between herself and him as she explained that the shackles on his wrists were binding his magic but he still had his natural strength. Then she invited him to take his shot, snapping and removing the chain from his cuffs so that he could move his arms proper. He glanced at his arms, slowly rotating them to stretch them out, feeling the soreness pulsing through his muscles. Being dragged wasn't the greatest way to expand upon musculature growth after all.

Yet he didn't move to attack. No, he didn't shift even the slightest bit like he was going to get into a ready position or simply launch himself at her. There was no doubt that he was angry; the air was thick from the harsh emotion ebbing off of him. And while snap instinct was to go at her like a wild animal, he didn't. Instead… he began to chuckle. It wasn't a laugh full of true enjoyment or amusement but one of absolute malicious awareness.

"There is not a doubt in my mind I can handle you, you pompous wench," he said as he continued to chortle. "But I'm not going to play into your little game. I won't fall into your terms just because it'll amuse you. And I'm not about to play into your game of placing yourself on a higher pedestal just for the chance of hitting you. No, I will bide my time. And when the opportunity best suits me, that's when I'll strike. And I won't be doing it out of some maligned sense of pity from you." Despite his need for liquid at the moment, he still managed to spit in her direction, showcasing his utter disgust with her. "So we may as well continue on. It seems I have a date with several soon-to-be corpses."

This wasn’t going to be a last stand nor the last sign of his rebelling against this entire ordeal. When he said that he had every intention of hunting her down and putting a brutal end to her, he meant it. He would surpass the grave to achieve that goal at this point. But as he brazenly stated to her, he had no intention of doing it by her rules. That would utterly and completely defeat the point. So she could seemingly offer herself up as a sacrificial lamb all she wanted but Vandrad wasn’t buying into it. He stood there, his laughter fading away as the stone-cold face of his anger clung to him. He waited, assuming that she was planning on marching over and trying to goad him some more. But all she did was stare back at him, considering him for the rebel he was proving to be. If anything, it meant that he was going against what she was assuming he would do – and that was just how he liked it. He was not a trope to be enjoyed nor a one trick pony to antagonize. She wanted to play games? He’d find a way to operate beyond the board.

After what felt like hours, she finally shrugged and relented to his wishes, having come to some conclusion about not pressing him further. He highly doubted it would be the last attempt to rile him up but he had, at the very least, claimed some semblance of a personal victory here. Even if she wrote it off as lacking any real effect to her goals, he’d still gone completely against what she had assumed. A step was still a step and when it came to being chained, bound and essentially enslaved, any gainage was better than what waiting for him. With their stances individually set, Mercury went back over to the camel and set herself on it, beginning their journey again. The chains were not linked back to his cuffs, giving him some semblance of freedom but he chose not to press it – for now. He followed after her, his eyes boring holes through her back as he pictured several different things he wanted to do to her.

They still had a couple of hours worth of travel, as he found out. On they went, her leading the way and him following behind like a dutiful slave. Several times his eyes spied the canteen on her camel, seemingly hanging there as a means of teasing him. Though it was close to her, he surmised that he could quickly dash up and grab it. But he never did and interestingly enough, neither did she. Two hours wandering in the desert and she, not once, pulled it around and drank from it. She didn’t even seem bothered by the blistering heat, which was just as strange. Perhaps the canteen was brought along for him? He shook that thought away – it was probably another test or means of pushing him further into subservience. By the end of the trip he was quite thirsty but he would sooner be damned rather than test his luck with whatever was in her water pouch.

A building rose up out of the horizon – their destination, no doubt. Vandrad narrowed his eyes to get a better look at it right as she spoke up, declaring it time to for the show. Before he could think to ask what the hell she meant, the chain was once again reattached to his cuffs. Adding further insult to injury, she summoned a hard metal muzzle that latched itself to his mouth and additional, weighty chains to wrap around his ankles, silencing and slowing him all at once. She would be able to feel the rage simmering off of him as his eyes widened, bloodshot veins practically piercing his sclera. Yet they continued on, with the Prince once more practically being dragged right after the Silver Wolf wizard.

The house for the Ring of Blood was far bigger than he imagined it would be. In fact, he was sure that such a sizable structure would draw a lot of unwanted attention. But there was a heavy magic aura in the air that he could still feel, despite his minimalized magic. Places like this always had plans ahead of time in case trouble started brewing. Maybe the building itself was warded to teleport if things went awry. That was the only thing that made sense. He shimmied to the side enough to see the line that awaited them. Masters and slaves gathered in a column, awaiting entrance several meters up by the guard post. He could practically smell the pompous elitism from here, an all-too-familiar scent that had hounded him since childhood. No doubt there were probably Bellum dignitaries here as well. One might have thought that would bring him ease – perhaps he could get their attention and possibly saved. But Vandrad knew better than to think that; if they were here, they had no positive aims. They probably wouldn’t even recognize him. A flash of steel caught his gaze as a sword was swung at a slave that had proved unworthy. With his life essence still pouring from him, the slave was thrown into a sizable and bloody pile just off to the side; a grim reminder of what happens to lowlifes that weren’t worth anything.

It wasn’t long before it was their turn to step up and for Vandrad to be appraised. Mercury busied herself with one guard to gain entry while another fellow, a merchant no doubt, began to examine him. Like a piece of meat he was observed and investigated, the sniveling weasel stopping in front of him and looking at him like he was some kind of good in a store window. The Prince narrowed his gaze once more at the smug man, already mentally deciding that this bastard would die as well. Maybe he would break this guy’s legs off and use them to beat Mercury into a bloody paste.

No, that was too quick a death for her. She needed to suffer more than that.

Mercury offered him to the merchant, so long as she received a fair price for him. The man seemed almost insulted by the notion that he would cheap her but even Vandrad was educated enough to know an actor when he saw one. He assured his false fairness before asking his name, the Prince already sighing and closing his eyes in annoyance. Imagine the shock when she named him ‘Ashur’; a fabricated designation that lacked a royal title as well. His eyes flew open, his head snapping to look at her in surprise. Why the hell wasn’t she selling him honestly? What did she seek to gain by lowballing herself?

Like a ticking clock, his mind struck true midnight and gleamed the truth. This stuck up bitch was using him for a job. Why else would they be here? Such a realization may have quelled the anger of others but now Vandrad. No, the idea that she was outright using him and throwing him into a job without his consent seemed to overwrite all the previous rage that had been bubbling and brewing. His muscles flexed once more, timely considering she walked right over and began to showcase him to the merchant via feeling him up. He growled behind the muzzle, an almost animalistic sound rumbling inside the metal contraption. He listened very intently as she wove a salacious tale of him being a thief that had attempted to rob her store. She oversold his strength, declaring that an entire regiment of soldiers were needed to quell his power. And she had brought him here to be sold, as he had apparently destroyed her store in his fit of rage.

The merchant didn’t seem very impressed, tossing a measly amount of jewel out for him. Even as someone being forced to act as a slave, he was shocked and insulted. Luckily Mercury was leaning hard into her role as the master, haggling hard against the lowballing. They went back and forth before agreeing – begrudgingly – on one hundred and seventy five. Great – good to know his very life wasn’t even worth a quarter of the fortune he had in Bellum. As the money changed hands, the merchant ordered the guards to remove him. But instead, Mercury insisted she would be the one to take him. They seemed perplexed by this, voicing their disagreement. But she didn’t let up, painting him as a true monster to be feared. If he wasn’t so angry and one hundred percent sure he hated her, he may have been touched. At last the merchant agreed to let her go, if only to get her off his case. Then a hard yank from her tugged him inside, the pair finally entering into the funhouse of carnage. Off in the distance he could hear the audience and what was surely the sound of combat. He glanced around slowly before his gaze settled back on her, just in time to catch her wink. She’d played them right inside, he would give her that.

But that wasn’t going to save her. Whether this was a job or not, Vandrad stood by his word. She was going to die – at this point, it was just a matter of when.

The sight of slaves in cages and braced against the walls was a familiar sight to the Prince, as unbelievable as that sounded. He’d heard tell from distant relations of their time in such places, wagering fortunes upon glory fights simply for their amusement. But no, Vandrad had seen situations just like this during his time in the military. Slavery was a problem in a lot of places – even where it was legal, such as in Desierto. Many an operation revolved breaking up a slave ring, centered around fighting pits. He didn’t feel pity for a lot of people but he did feel a sliver for those that had been taken as captives and chained against their will. As he knew personally now, sometimes strength wasn’t enough to break through each and every burden. Sometimes it came down to simply staying alive long enough for an opportunity.

They also had large and monstrous creatures from all over. Some were mutant versions of normal creatures and some he couldn’t outright identify at all. Beasts that would be loosed upon these people for the entertainment of the crowds above. These people wouldn’t stand a chance; their arms shackled and their only defense being their stamina to keep running until they burned out. It was places like this that perverted the very name of fighting for glory and honor. For the first time since he had reawakened, his anger was directed at something else… if only temporarily. He wasn’t entirely sure who was going to be his first opponent but he already knew he’d have no choice but to kill them. These people had been here longer; they had learned the lesson of kill or be killed and they wouldn’t pause to consider anything he had to say. Mercury was still his prime target but this place… he was going to burn it down to ashes. And every fat, food-sucking, wine-swilling, money-grubbing piece of trash that sat in their boxes and chairs was going to melt with it.

Soon enough they reached the cage that was meant to be his. Mercury took a moment to address it’s… shoddiness, clearly unimpressed with its structure and design. He couldn’t quite tell if she was trying to push him up to a prison that would be harder to break out of or if she was more amused that they truly thought they could keep him in there. Whatever the case, the guard practically shrugged off her words and hinted that he wanted her to get along with putting him in there. The Prince was tugged and thrust inside the metal contraption by the Silver Wolf wizard, her magical chain disappeared and another took its place. This was the magic of the slavers and it made for a lot more of an uncomfortable existence. His arms were out and down, pulled to the absolute limit and then some. But as he stood there, he tensed his muscle to test the density of the metal link. And unsurprisingly, he could feel a little give. They truly were underestimating just how strong he was.

He remained still as Mercury approached him, now confident – or at least acting so – that she could get close to him without any sign of danger. Her hands danced over his muscles once more, fingers trailing over his skin and down around his waist. He fixed her with a dark stare as she lamented their parting, if only because she would miss the sight of his form. Despite her sudden intrusion in the back of his simple cloth bottom, he didn’t blink – even as he felt something slide past the hem and rest tightly against his body. She held his stare as her fingers came up to his jaw, telling him to bring down the house. He gave no indication one way or the other of what the words meant to him. Oh but he knew – far be it from him to misunderstand what she said so brazenly. She wanted him to bring down the Ring of Blood. That was his part in this entire operation. Of course that meant he was going to be the center of attention, which in turn meant that she had something secondary here. Perhaps the destruction of the slave pits wasn’t the primary objective of the job. Maybe it was something more…

As he pondered that, Mercury pulled away and left the cage, allowing the guard to finally close and lock it. He watched them, particularly her, as she took a moment to look about while the guard was fitting the key to the door. And it seemed something had caught her attention. She waltzed her way over to another cage not that far away, the figure inside of it barely visible through the iron bars. As she called out asking about a ‘runt’, the guard swung around and practically growled at how she walked about the place like she’d paid for it personally. It was his explanation that caught Vandrad’s attention; a child from Bellum that had been picked up. Apparently his fate was to be food for whatever monster or monsters managed to survive the day. That’s all he offered, now strong arming Mercury out of the place. And with one last glance from her, she departed up into the arena.

Now alone, Vandrad pulled slightly on his chains so he could lean, looking past his cage and to the smaller one nearby. The boy was still crumpled up in a ball but was slowly getting up, his own curiosity over the new slave getting the better of his pain. Sniffling, the black-haired kid slowly got to his feet and walked up to the bars, looking between them back at Vandrad. And the Prince was utterly stunned at the face he saw between the metal. He’d seen it before – several times in fact. It was dirtied and stained with tears but it was surely the son of one of Bellum’s middle class families.

Morli Bludregarde

They’d captured one of his people; a noble family that served his mother’s family for generations. Fresh, piping hot anger flowed into his veins as the child walked back to the corner of the cage and curled up again. He may have broken his chains right then had it not been for the entirety of his cage lurching. And slowly the entire thing was being lifted up, towards a now opening hole. The sounds of cheers, jeers and overall fanfare graced his ears. As he continued to rise up, he passed through something – some kind of wall of anti-magic that instantly sapped him of his locked away magical energy. It also seemed to dispel active spells, as Mercury’s cuffs and muzzle melted away into the air. Immediately his body went into overdrive, sucking in ethernano from the air swiftly to replenish what he had lost as he gasped for fresh air.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m told we have a bonafide, grade A fighter amongst our newest acquisitions. What better way to celebrate our special service to those prime members down in the ring than to let them break the bad boy in. Everyone give a warm welcome to Ashur!” The announcer’s grating voice echoed throughout the arena, his words met with hollers and applause. The entire cage turned and came to a stop, now facing the heart of the sandy pit. Crimson sand covered several different patches, still fresh with viscera and bloody matter.

Three heavily armed gladiators stepped up to his cage and opened it up, letting themselves in. Two of them grabbed a chain each while the other held out an lighting-infused baton and jabbed it into Vandrad’s side. He grunted and started to protest when the man jabbed the baton into his stomach again. As his vison shook from the currents running through his body, a mask was suddenly and unceremoniously placed on the top half of his face. Though he couldn’t see it himself, it was that of a weeping clown, except the tears were painted red. Weakened, the Prince was pulled out of his prison to face the harsh light from above. The stands stood near twenty feet above the fighting pit and wrapped around the entirety of it, providing an ample view of all the carnage. As Vandrad turned his head to look back, he watched his cage dissolve into the sand and disappear, showing no trace of its existence or how it had arrived.

He was led into the center of the ring, his chains tugged each way to keep him off balance. Once they’d reached the center, black metal boxes appeared next to the gladiators and they went about to tying the Prince’s chains to the blocks.

“What a hunka this guy is, am I right?” The announcer called out, earning Vandrad several cat calls and hoots of appreciation. “Talk about a perfect target for our five prime members!”

Vandrad turned his head to the side, finding five richly-dressed men and women standing in a line. They each held a different weapon and looked about as giddy as children in a candy store. Rich patrons, supporters of the Ring of Blood that paid a certain amount of jewel to come down and “have a match.” How utterly abhorrent it was that they locked,  chained and drained the slaves of their magic to beat up on for their own amusement. As if paying to watch them from afar wasn’t pitiful enough. “Now you four that have been given permission to go first may start, one after the other. But make sure not to cause any lethal damage now – that’s saved for our star of the day.” The woman who fit that bill seemed to smile a bit brighter, a long cutlass in her hands.

The first man approached Vandrad, practically giddy with excitement. He rushed forward and jabbed the knife he’d been given into the Prince’s shoulder, burying it halfway into the muscle. He yelled out in pain and hissed between clenched teeth as the man rolled the handle of the blade in a circle, like he was maneuvering a controller. Satisfied, he took a step back, leaving the knife embedded in Vandrad’s shoulder. The next contestant – because that’s apparently what they were – came forward with a hammer. She giggled as she bounced on either side of Vandrad and then swung it at his torso, bashing the heavy end against his ribs. Another sharp intake of breath came from him but no yell this time. The third approached with a spear and plunged it into Vandrad’s thigh right above the knee, blood oozing from the wound as he withdrew it and… licked it. The fourth member strove forward with a pair of brass knuckles. He leaned forward and inhaled deeply of Vandrad’s scent and went even further, planting a kiss right on the nose of his mask. Then he threw a hard punch at Vandrad’s face, knocking the Prince’s head to the side.

“Well that was quite the punishment, don’t you think? But all good things must come to an end and now it's time for our final prime member to take what she paid for. Go ahead, m’lady – his head is all yours!” The woman smirked as she walked forward, swaying her hips from side to side like a tigress on the prowl. She stopped right before Vandrad, planting her feet and glancing up at the crowd. She raised her sword high, causing the audience to scream and chant for blood. Grinning she brought the weapon down and placed it against Vandrad’s neck, the sharp edge cutting into his flesh already. The sight of it made her lick her lips and with a bit of a wiggle in her hips, she yanked the sword back into position and then let it swing, aiming to cleave head from body.

But it was already too late. All through the punishment, through every ticking second after he had passed through the anti-magic barrier, Vandrad had been absorbing magical power. And by the time the last woman had come up to him, he was near full once more. The sword came in and the Prince violently turned towards it, power surging into his face and into his flesh and bone. His teeth clamped down on the sword and broke right through it, causing it to explode into dozens of flashing, glittering pieces. At the same time, his arms flexed and pulled towards his body, snapping the chains out of place and freeing him. With a sliver of sword still caught between his teeth, Vandrad turned and spat the sharp piece right at the bewildered woman that had attempted to kill him. The sharp edge pierced her eye, freezing her in her spot for a moment before she fell backwards onto the ground.

The crowd fell deadly silent as everyone froze in place, unable to process what was happening. But they could feel it – magic power growing in such heated intensity, it near rivaled the blaring sun outside. An aura of gold, flickering to a deep red, cloaked Vandrad as he stood at the center of everyone’s attention. "You want a ring full of blood?” He asked, his hair starting to change color as his voice raised into an ungodly roar.

“I’ll fucking give it to you.”

The ominous, shocked silence of audience and those still in the arena was a welcome one. After everything he had been through today, being able to quite literally shut anyone up was a relief. But that wasn't enough -- his anger called for more against this pompous ingrates. His golden hair flickered with someone deeper, something far more fierce… but it didn't quite change yet. Movement caught his eye from the side and he turned just enough to see one of the gladiators charging him. Snarling, the Prince yanked hard on the chain still attached to his arm, pulling the loose metal coil towards him. He then jerked his arm sideways to send the approaching length into the side of the charging guard. He'd aimed it perfectly -- it struck and with another hard yank, he swiftly wrapped it around the man's neck. There was a sickening gurgle that erupted from the man's mouth as his windpipe and neck were pulled in tight. Opting not to play around, Vandrad jerked the chain once final time and crushed the man's neck, leaving him to die painfully in the next few seconds.

Energy poured out of the Prince and the chains began to glow a bright yellowish red. His magic power was funneling straight into the cords, heating them to dangerous levels. Turning, he spun on his heel and whipped both chains at the stunned prime members, wrapping them up quickly and tightening them all together. As the metal melted off of Vandrad's arms, finally freeing him, the chains bound the four elitist pricks together, their cries of agony wailing in conjunction with the sizzling of the metal. The disgusting smell of burning flesh coated the immediate area as Vandrad set his gaze to the two remaining gladiators. By now, the audience had begun to screech and jeer loudly at the runaway slave. In truth, this wasn't the first time one of the captured slaves had gotten loose and it was assumed, like every other instance, that the rebellion would end sooner rather than later. It was just about squashing the Prince's resistance, preferably under superior strength and numbers.

The floors opened up and men and women began filtering out from the openings. Slavers and guards from the rest of the arena charged into the battlefield, looking to quell Vandrad sooner rather than later. There also emerged a horrifying looking creature -- a two headed man-beast dressed in shining, pristine armor. He marched into the arena among the waves of enemies, taking up a position near its edge. The trump card as it were would wait until he was needed, on orders not to engage unless absolutely necessary. After all, the champion only fought those that were worthy.

Vandrad's eyes scanned the entirety of the battle circle, calculating the numbers of foes now coming for him. Hissing like a caged animal, the Prince closed one of his hands into a fist and filtered his magic right into his palm. Energy built up quickly before he thrust his hand upwards, sending the magic ball flying upwards. It skyrocketed up towards the sun, nearly disappearing against the glowing star, before it suddenly exploded. And much like it had done back in the caves of Silent Glaciers, bullets of sharp magic began to rain down towards the battlefield. But Vandrad wasn't going to simply stand there and wait this time.

As the first pellets of dangerous magic began to strike ground, armor and flesh alike, the Prince charged into the fray with a roar. He targeted the gladiator that had used the stun baton on him, running at him at full speed. The fool attempted to thrust the crackling, snapping stick at Vandrad once more but he was already weaving to the side to dodge it. His hand snapped out to grab the extended wrist and jerked the hand backwards violently, turning the baton around in an instant. He then used his full strength to push the baton back on its wielder, a cry of help being silenced by the sparking end filling the hole of the gladiator's mouth. Vandrad reached out and hit the back end of the baton with his fist, pushing it further into the jerking man's throat. He then turned and thrust his hand out to the man's chest, unleashing a beam of magic energy. It sent him flying across the ground, crashing into several running guards and slavers. As the combination of bodies slammed into the arena wall and exploded, Vandrad was already engaging the other enemies.

He moved between bodies and energy bullets swiftly, taking the opportunity when one was hit by the cascading magic to land decisive and bitter strikes. He managed to keep up his position without much complication, the guards and slavers proving fairly weak. It wasn't until the champion came charging out of nowhere, his fist already cocked and ready, that Vandrad was caught off guard. The punch hit true, sending the prince flying back towards the wall and smashing into it. The stone buckled under his impact, crashing and crumbling all around him. As the smoke began to clear, Vandrad slid out of the crater and fell to a knee. The slavers and guards were on him instantly, jumping on top of him and trying to pin him to the ground. The full weight of each of them pressed down harder on the Prince, nearly bringing him flat against the ground.

But he wouldn't be pressed. He wouldn't be taken down here and now, not with so much fury still needing to be released. His magic energy went into overdrive, filling his vision with red and with another primal roar, his aura of energy exploded off of him, sending the dogpile flying in all directions. The ground shook beneath him as his hair, once as gold as the sun, was bleached in a crimson and glowing red. His eyes melted into the same color, as fierce and unyielding as the wild red aura that encircled him.

"Is that all you got?!" he called out to the champion, pointing right at the creature. Unamused, the beast charged at him. There Vandrad stood, awaiting its approach. And when the first came down on him, he met it with a punch of equal strength. But he followed it up with a punch to the stomach -- but it never met flesh. The sheer power behind the motion was enough to dent the creature's armor and body and send him sliding back on the sand. It gasped in agony, trying to catch its breath from the devastating punch.

Vandrad marched towards him… but then he paused as he sensed something in the sky. There hovered Mercury, aboard her floating device. She was looking down at him, checking up on him apparently. And she wasn't alone; clinging tightly to her was Morli, looking utterly shocked and awed at the carnage below. So that's who her target was. How bitterly ironic.

As much as he wished to destroy her, there and then, he chose against it. Not while she had Morli in her care. He didn't nod or gesture to her to signal one way or another. All he did was turn around, putting his back to her. She would surely understand his meaning -- he was telling her to go while she had the opportunity. It was the only one he was going to give her. He waited until she began to move away before he leveled his gaze on the crowd once more. Their champion injured and reeling, there was a feeling of panic settling each of their faces.

Good. Vandrad held out his hand and pointed to fingers downward. Magic energy as ethereal as the wind began to filter into the ground, expanding outwards as he funneled it downwards. The sand began to glow and shake beneath his feet, beneath the survivors in the pit's feet and even beneath the structure itself. Without cracking a smirk, smile or commenting on any of them, Vandrad turned his hand up, his two fingers pointing skyward. And all that energy activated, beams of light erupting from the ground and overwhelming the entirety of the Ring of Blood.

No matter how far Mercury got away from the arena, if she paused long enough to look back, she would see a massive beam of magical energy, swallowing up the building and all its occupants, shooting skyward. In fact, it was safe to say thousands of people all over would question and wonder about the strange column of power that had appeared in the desert that day.