I stared at him, really really stared at him. More than half tempted to merge with Galarion so I could pierce deeper and observe his aura, I settled for digging into my legs and reveling in the pain that I barely felt.

  Stop crying, quit the quivering… Stop. Stop looking at me like that.

  Galarion floated beside me and slid into my head, wrapping his tentacles around my thoughts. The tug came. The ravenous pull into his body stole the edges of my emotions, cutting off the peak and leaving me with a massive hill.

  Only after I finally breathed did I realize how badly I was squeezing my legs. The blood stained my skin and I rubbed it on my pants.

  “Cyrus,” Isaac whispered.

  “No,” I cut him off. “No, don’t say anything. Just shut up.”

  His eyes softened, and they kept staring at me–through me! It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the Isaac I wanted. He was supposed to be snark and angry sass, snapping quips and complaining while issuing casual death threats he’d never fulfill.

  Sympathy was bad enough. I expected it from Teddy, or Celenae. I barely withstood having them stare at me the way he was looking at me. And theirs paled in comparison to the grief marring Isaac’s face.

  I don’t want your pity.

  “Hey, listen. I know I pulled a funny and got you to understand my pain like some emo middle schooler going through a phase, but how about this: you let Galarion erase what you just saw and we can go back to normal?” I asked.

  His expression didn’t change but he stopped crying. The last few tear drops fell off, and he wiped his eyes dry. The silence made it worse, maddening.

  “I think,” he said slowly. Isaac stood up and rolled his shoulders. “That you should share this with the others. They’ll want to know.”

  “Or I don’t and we can save that for another day. Like after the tournament.”

  He released a flat-toned chuckle. “You’re a coward.”

  “Anything else?”

  He turned away and moved to the door. As he turned the knob, he stopped before the click and paused.

  “Honestly? There are a lot of things I want to say to you. But from how you’re looking at me, I know it’ll only make you angrier. You don’t need that right now, not from me.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He shook his head. “No. I mean it. Go to sleep, spar, train, fuck someone–do anything, something that’s not brooding in this room alone. Or fuck it all and go ballistic. Teddy’s parents wouldn’t care if you trash the place. And Walter is too professional to complain. But Cyrus?”

  “What?” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Stop abusing your skill and deal with your shit. And for what it’s worth; I’m sorry. I thought I could handle whatever dumbass excuse you had stuck in that warzone of a head, but I was wrong. I’ll be the bigger man and admit that, just this once. But you didn’t deserve that. They didn’t either.”

  With his final statement, he opened the door and shut it behind him. I stared at the wood, waiting to see if he would come back or if someone else would fly in, but it remained sealed.

  Sighing, I leaned back and sunk into my chair.

  “That was dumb of me,” I chuckled.

  My voice sounded hollow.

  Now what? I’m not even sure what I’m actually feeling right now. Angry? Tired? Sad? Having emotions suck.

  A tremble in my head buzzed my spine. Slowly, I ran my hand across my temples and pressed down.

  “Galarion?”

  Another tremble, this one sharper and filled with the duel sensation of hot and cold at the apex of my spine. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it felt off.

  “Galaaaaariiioooon,” I tried again.

  I moved to tap my head but a tentacle emerged and pushed my fingers away. One by one, ten limbs emerged and wrapped around my hand before spilling into my palm. Lowering it, I watched Galarion unflatten himself and spring to full shape like a cartoon.

  “Galarion is… I am sorry,” he said quietly.

  Using my thumb, I caressed his face and brought him in for a hug. “You don’t need to be sorry. And if you do, it’s fine we’ll work it out.”

  My usually bright and eccentric familiar molded to skin. His body took on the color of flesh before transitioning into the black of my nails. I noticed flecks of varying colors inside the black reminding me of glitter.

  Is that what my nails look like? Huh.

  I raised Galarion to eye level and smiled. “So? What’s wrong? If it’s about taking some of my emotions earlier, it's fine. I appreciate the help.”

  “No… Not that.”

  “Then what?”

  “I am sorry.”

  I tapped his head and he sprung like a spring. “Just tell me and let me decide how mad I should be. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he said after a dozen seconds of silence. His skin turned bright pink and his head became sharper–arrow-like. “I followed Master’s instructions.”

  “Okaaay. And?”

  “I follow instructions. And more.”

  Instead of talking he used the thought-speech and sent over a whirling collage of thoughts and feelings. It took a second to filter through the mess but Galarion stepped in and placed a tentacle between my brows, sliding the thoughts together like puzzle pieces.

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  It took another minute of digesting it all before I understood the gist of what he wanted to convey.

  “Welp,” I sighed. “What you did wasn’t bad, Galarion. But I can see why you might think it was.”

  “It’s… Okay?”

  I nodded. “Yep. I asked you to share the memory. So that’s on me. But what was that about more emotions than I intended? Or did I misinterpret what you were trying to show me?””

  “No.” he lifted into the air and wiggled his tentacles. “More. More emotions, more feelings! More!”

  “Okay. What do you mean by that?”

  His tentacles gripped the sides of my head and he transitioned into a swirling mix of blues and reds. His eyes turned glassy as he mimicked kaleidoscopes with the dancing lights underneath his skin.

  “Master asks to erase feelings. Bad dream, bad memories have lots of feelings. I devour! I take! But Master doesn’t know, he ignores them.”

  “I see… So because I do what I usually do and ignore the other emotions beyond the pain and anger I forget that there’s more.” He nodded and I smirked. “And when you gave them to Isaac like I asked, he experienced the full brunt of everything that’s been packaged into those memory scraps you take from me.”

  “Yes!”

  “Then why are you afraid I’ll be angry? You did nothing wrong, I promise.”

  He wilted but not nearly as bad as before. Galarion released my face and flopped onto my hand, bouncing twice before settling.

  “Two-face man was hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

  That’s so fucking precious awwwwh.

  Thankfully, I naturally kept a tight restriction on the mental link between my familiars. While they would probably be ecstatic at me gushing over them, that kind of comment would have sent Zharia and Sturmrorex into a prideful rage.

  Instead, I opted to cuddle Galarion against my chest and prop my feet onto the plush footstool nearby. Now that he knew I wasn’t angry his skin returned to its usual vibrancy. Time passed with me staring at the wall and idly watching him test new outfits and ideas.

  Occasionally I’d give my input or help him adjust his appearance. The human fingers at the end of his tentacles were especially disgusting. Of course that sent Galarion into a rabbit hole of trying to out-horror himself with each new iteration.

  No more thoughts of repressed trauma and a growing sense of crazieness. No more pity-filled faces. I'd do what Isaac suggested; take a nice, long nap.

  Eventually, I closed my eyes and tried to drift to sleep.

  Bang!

  Oh for the love of…

  “What now?” I groaned.

  To my right, Galarion lifted into the air as a spinning dinner plate covered in pulsing eyeballs. He started to extend his tentacles outward, ready for a fight but slowed his spinning as he recognized the individual busting through the door.

  Igas paused, his gaze transfixed on the miniature eldritch horror. His hand slowly reached for his sword but stopped and he shook himself.

  “I don’t want to ask,” he grunted.

  I snatched my familiar from the air and flattened him into my head. Igas shivered at the sight of Galarion oozing into my ear but didn’t comment.

  “What’s wrong? Did the city blow up and dragons are invading?” I asked.

  “Dragons? Explosive? What?” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, nothing insane yet. But there are people here who want to see you.”

  Oh? That’s unusual.

  “Who?”

  Igas shrugged. “Myol the arena master. An uppity man with sparkling hair, and a hooded figure who refuses to speak. They are waiting in the parlor room.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “You were the one who broke the arena, face the consequences.”

  “Fine. Let’s go, Galarion, time to face the executioner’s axe.”

  Igas paused at the door frame, barring me from exiting. Slowly he turned and tapped my chest. “If for whatever reason there is a fight, we’ll help. Tier three or not, they won’t get your corpse freely.”

  He removed his arm and walked out.

  I’m starting to think you all have a flair for the dramatics.

  Still, the words made me smile. If it came down to it, I wasn’t going to get them involved. While it was nice of him to say that, the most realistic choice was for them to stall and find a way to inform Teddy’s parents.

  Brushing myself off, I summoned my mask and slid it on. The room’s shadows lessened and a sense of calm flooded in.

  “Right. Let’s do this.”

  Walter waited for me at the end of the hall. He nodded once and flicked his wrist displaying a pair of pulsing bracelets that shimmered into ethereal gloves encasing his hands. With a twist, his sleeves rolled forward and the ghost gauntlets faded away.

  Okay, Walter is also a badass, noted.

  I nodded in return and paused at the door. Walter pulled it open and half-bowed letting me through. Immediately upon entering, an agitated static touched my skin. It wasn’t electricity, instead carrying with it a sense of abrasive heat snapping together.

  My senses traced the prickling mana to its source, where the severe-looking man with short-cropped dark hair speckled with glittering white flakes tapped his foot against the ground. He turned as I entered and sat forward, positioning his limbs as if ready to pounce.

  Beside him sat Myol who sipped a cup of tea looking far more relaxed. She maintained a natural gruffness that didn’t disappear as she smiled faintly at the teacup. Beside her toward the right sitting on a couch by himself was the robed figure with his hood down. It was impossible to see underneath the hood, my eyes failing to penetrate the shadows under the fabric even as I approached.

  Broken Tower took position behind the bar, making themselves busy without intruding. Teddy and Celenae signaled to me using their fingers. I returned the same, letting them know I was fine.

  “Greetings, I was told you were here to see me,” I said, lowering my chin to Myol while stopping to stare at the gentlemen.

  Myol raised her cup and frowned. She sighed and tossed the cup back, downing the rest of the liquid in one gulp before setting it down. After wiping her mouth she stood up and moved to loom over me.

  Her eyes studied me and her mana swirled outward, sharpening into blades once the points sprouted from her lower back.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  She ignored me and leaned forward, bringing her chin aligned with my ear. I was ready for her to whisper something but her mana continued to grow. It stretched downward and around me, lengthening into long triangles that encompassed my form.

  Myol cocked her head, her gaze transfixed on the floor. There was a second set of blades that sprouted downward. The blades wrapped around her legs and pierced the tile. Slowly retracted and met my gaze. Burninig pinpricks of light buzzed in a sea of searing illumination, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

  A new blade rose from the back of her neck and rose into the air before it dived into mine with the subttley of a slap to the face. It was more ethereal in qualitiy and bare visible accompanied by a deep ringing inside my head.

  I allowed the connection and waited, feeling heat and copper on my tongue.

  "" she said.

  Galarion flexed but I pushed him away. Instead, I grabbed the connection and squeezed down, barely repressing the thumping echoes of her voice.

  ""

  She studied my face but I kept my mask neutral. She scowled. ""

  "

  Suddenly the mana retracted with a snap and Myol grunted, standing straight.

  “Since you seem to be of sound mind, then I’m here to deliver a message,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  She summoned a sealed letter bound by orange wax and tossed it over.

  I caught it and turned it around finding ‘MORDRED’ written in silvery ink on the back. “What’s this?”

  Myol crossed her arms. “Consider yourself informed.”

  Informed?

  “Of?” I prodded.

  “The arena combatant currently known as Mordred is hereby banned from the arena for the following years as listed in the letter.” She muscled past me and headed for the door, stopping long enough for Walter to appear and hold it open for her. She snorted and kept walking.

  “Consider yourself lucky, brat. See you at the arena tomorrow. The rest of the single-elimination matches start at nine and the free-for-all is expected to be held at noon. Don’t be late and if you pull the same shit again, I’ll tear off your limb myself.”

  Wait what?

  Before I could speak, something clinked against metal and we all turned to see the severe-looking man stand up. His face contorted and he raised a shaking finger in my direction.

  “That’s preposterous!”