Chương 148: Just Fight Already!

Marcel looked at his opponent and shuddered; he stood 10 lengths away, but regardless of distance, he felt it. Warden had to be a Dreamer. Marcel had gone up against Dreamers in past colosseum games; he had even won on a few rare occasions. It was one of the reasons he was widely accepted as the Castellan of Lengue's guild. As someone who had experience engaging with them, he understood something. Dreamers were hardly people; they were just monsters in the shape of one.

The Qi-deviated cannibal was just one of the many that had succumbed to their desires and spiralled into what he was.

'A monster.' The problem was that he couldn't tell if Warden was a Dreamer or not. While Dreamers could easily recognize one another by aura, Aspirants like himself weren't as attuned to ambient Will as they were. To make matters worse, Warden's eyes were obscured, the easiest tell of a Dreamer. Trying to grasp onto ambient Will was like trying to fetch a fleeting thought after momentarily waking up, just to fall asleep once more; it was a difficult ordeal.

The purpose of this spar was to determine whether Warden was truly a Dreamer; if he was, matters could escalate from a provoked spar to vicious execution.

'Who knows what goes through a Dreamer's head? They're all nutcases.' It was common knowledge within the Nightrealm that Dreamers were anomalous by nature; who else could be stubborn enough, or believe in a lie with such faith that they could literally bend their belief into reality with their own two hands. He cleared his throat and steadied his sword.

'I wish this were the Lord of Light instead!' He flourished his blade and waited for Warden to lunge at him; he readied himself to die during this spar. Marcel steeled himself and began to shimmy his way closer to the statuesque ivory knight. Warden seemed to have fully frozen in stance; however, Marcel had seen similar behavior from wild beasts before they suddenly struck with explosive speed.

The gathering audience seemed to have their own theories of the bone knight's identity; with the timing of his appearance, people believed that he had some connection with the colosseum games, potentially a gladiator, a noble… or royalty. Marcel quietly prayed to himself, hoping to survive the spar somewhat intact at the very least. Images of Enver Holt's unravelled corpse flashed in Marcel's mind, his eyes averted in reaction, and unfortunately fell upon a red-crusted spinal whip hitched on Warden's belt...

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'Oh my god… I'm going to die here!'

Ann, Silvester, and Eren sat in the bleachers, their fatigued expressions lightened a little after their short-lived celebration. Almost everyone within the guild hall relocated to watch Marcel and the ivory knight spar. While many of the Lengue's contractors were acquainted with Marcel, the cohort had come from out of town; in fact, they came from beyond the Lengue continent. They only knew Marcel through rumors and the occasional accidental meeting. Marcel was known as an exceptional contractor- no!

an adventurer even! He was a folk hero within Lengue, who, among known Aspirants, stood among the best. Ann settled her eyes on Marcel; as an Aspirant, he was clearly superhuman. His battle stance was firm, his build was modest, but when Will or other sources came into play, physical appearance meant little to nothing. She squinted, straining her eyes while infusing them for a moment with what meager Will she had access to.

That singular moment of using Will like how a Dreamer did was intoxicating; she had enough time to witness each muscle twitch before movement followed; new senses assaulted her being, and momentary understanding graced her, before suddenly tearing itself from her; she immediately experienced an anemic-like rebound and a throbbing headache from compartmentalizing the sudden flood of minute information.

'And I'm considered a genius in Will control!' Silvester immediately reached over Eren and shoved his hand to cup her bleeding nose, before fishing out a handkerchief with his other hand and pinching her nose bridge.

"Tilt your head forward; don't swallow the blood if it gets in your mouth." Despite his swift actions, he didn't bat an eye; his focus remained on the stagnant sparring match. Eren leaned back to give Silvester more room to reach over; he tilted his head over to Ann and groaned.

"You should really stop imitating Dreamers! Anyhow, what did you learn?" Ann grabbed the handkerchief that Silvester held to her nose before fishing out a water bottle for him to wash his hands. She nodded to Silvester as a quiet thanks, and cleared her throat of some stray blood.

"It… might be June?"