The Wheel Of Samsara - 37 To the Second Round I

Another number shattered in the curtain of light, leaving only a 42 floating alone.

Amon looked at it wistfully, trying to keep his calm. He couldn’t believe it had all worked out in the end. He took a deep breath as he did his best to endure the pain in his shoulder. His left arm was burning in pain, and his fingers were starting to numb.

He looked in a daze, looking at the crowd of spectators. He realized he couldn’t hear then. All he could hear was his own heartbeat. They seemed to be cheering, but he really didn’t care. As he looked absent-mindedly at the stands, the serene voice echoed again.

“We have our tenth competitor qualified to the second round!””Congratulations number 42, you may go back to the waiting hall to rest.”

Only now Amon realized that the voice had probably been narrating the fights to the crowd the whole time, but the sound had most liked been blocked by the curtain of light. Amon sighed, and slowly got out of the platform, dragging his feet and cutting out a sorry figure.

As soon as he got out of the blue curtain, his ears almost exploded. Deafening cheers echoed through Hell’s Keeper Arena, to the point of making the ground lightly tremble. This was really a huge event.

He made his way back to the white hall, where a purple-clad young woman was waiting for him. She gave him a light smile and said, “Follow me to the Medical Center, sir.”

Amon lightly nodded, holding his left shoulder with his right hand as he followed her. The woman brought Amon through a side door, taking him to a long hallway full of rooms.

It was somewhat hard to see, as the light was dim and the walls were dark, making Amon remember the Warrior Hall. The woman guided him to an empty room, which had nothing but a small bed in it.

“Please wait here, sir. An Elder of the Medical Pavilion will see you shortly.” The woman politely bowed to him and left, leaving Amon alone. He spread his divine sense, confirming that there was no one close to him as he sat on the bed, still holding the stick.

“LYA!” He shouted through gritted teeth, muffling the sound somewhat. His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at the iron ring in his finger.

“Yes?” A calm and gentle voice answered to his angry shout.

“Are you insane!?” Amon was fuming as he started venting. “A freaking stick!?”

“What of it?” She asked as if it had nothing to do with her.

“You saw that fight! If I had a sword…” Before Amon could finish, Lya interrupted him.

“If you had a sword they would see you as much more of a threat, and you would have been eliminate as they wouldn’t have underestimated you so much.” Her tone was indifferent, as if she was stating a fact. “Plus, didn’t the pressure of not having a weapon to rely on force you to properly plan every move of yours?”

“Yes.” He answered honestly as his ears reddened slightly. “I don’t know what happened. Things just started clicking in my head as I thought on what to do.”

“This means that it is becoming almost a second nature to you, which is good.” Lya said.

“I was very impressed with the way you handled that fight.” Lya said as she praised him. “You should keep up the good job, I am sure you can get to the quarter finals at the very least.”

Amon nodded happily. “But can I ask you something?”

“Yes?” She asked innocently.

“Can I use a sword in the next fight?” His ears reddened even more.

“No.” Lya said, returning to her silence. Amon didn’t know this, but she was really very satisfied with the way he fought.

Amon was about to complain, but he heard steps outside the room. He promptly stopped talking as a middle-aged man wearing white clothing entered through the door.

“Hmm…” The man said as he looked at Amon’s injured shoulder. Amon could clearly see streaks of white in his black hair. “It did not hit the bone, it is easy to solve.”

He searched inside his clothes for a moment before recovering a red pill.

“Eat it and you should be fine in a few hours. You can sleep in here, the second round will only start tomorrow.” The man said before hurriedly leaving the room. Amon could only guess how many injured the staff had to deal with.

He looked at the pill in his hands and ate it without much concern, closing his eyes as he lied on the bed and falling asleep.

—

“Hmm…” A deep, cold voice sounded in Jake’s mind, making him shudder.

It had been only a few months since Jake had been told of the existence of Nemeus, but he still couldn’t get used to the feeling of someone speaking directly in his head. It was as if someone was invading his mind every time Nemeus spoke something.

“What is it?” Jake asked in a low voice, keeping his eyes on the platforms.

He was in a separated place in the green cabin that held all the Elders attending to the competition as well as some of the leaders of the wealthy families in the Inner Ring. Luckily, his position was so high that he didn’t need to pay much attention to them. All they would do was to nag and try to get on his good side all day, and Jake hated fake people.

“What did you think of that boy?” Nemeus asked in an indifferent tone.

“What boy?” Jake asked, distracted. He had been focusing most of his attention on a single platform, where a fierce fighting was happening. Jake seemed to be tense as he watched it. His black eyes couldn’t hide his worry.

“The one with gray hair. That won a few minutes ago.” Nemeus answered.

Jake finally averted his gaze and looked up, thinking. He seemed to ponder for a moment as he chose his words.

“His performance was very good. Both his opponents were stronger than him, but he managed to keep up with the and even ended up victorious using his wit and nothing but the basics.” Jake spoke calmly as he recalled the fight. “He has a very good foundation.”

“When you met him before, did he look so well-trained to you?” Nemeus asked.

“Actually… no. He wasn’t even in Body Tempering, and he seemed to be really frail, even if eager.” Jake knitted his brows as he thought. “He was almost a completely different person, at least regarding his bearing and the impression he gave.”

“Is it possible to go from his level at the time to the one he is at now in a mere seven months?” Nemeus’ voice was cold as he tried to get every guarantee he could from Jake, even if he himself already knew the answer.

“Not unless you are abnormally talented, or use means unknown to me.” Jake said with a thoughtful expression. “I really don’t know how he managed to do it; I heard that his talent was horrible.”

“This is enough for me.” Nemeus said and returned to his usual silence.

The truth was, the moment he laid eyes on Amon he knew the truth. He had heard every single the detail of the life the boy had, and he knew very well how much he had been through. He should have an extremely thick Nebula surrounding his Truesoul.

Yet, when Nemeus probed him with his divine sense, he saw no Nebula at all. At that moment, all of his doubts had been cast away. Amon Kressler was a Soul Cultivator. To be more precise, he had turned into one after the Scavenging.

The sword he had found was Brightmoon, and Lya was probably teaching him the way of the Sword Cultivators. Nemeus was sure because there was only one technique that allowed one to use the Nebula to nourish the Truesoul.

Amon Kressler was cultivating the Soulrousing Technique, a Forbidden Technique that had been banished four hundred years ago.