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The rest of the fourth round continued without issue. Foley held his own in a fight against a woman armed with two quarter staffs, relying on his tried-and-true method of putting up his defenses and waiting for his enemy to tire. For several minutes, she beat on his shields like she was playing the drums, but when she realized she couldn’t break through, she surrendered, able to walk out of the arena with some of her dignity intact. Not long after, Saimallah claimed victory in another one-sided beatdown against a church agent, never even touching his opponent. The round ended with Seraph narrowly defeating an axe wielder, due much in part to luck. The man was mighty and skilled with his weapon, but the fact remained that if Seraph still had his magic, he wouldn’t have even been a challenge. All of the prince’s victories were won by the skin of his teeth.

Seraph, his arm raised, slammed his fist against the ground and slowly got up. He channeled his mana to his wound, trying to repair the damage. He may have lost his might as Light’s Emissary, but his abilities, albeit weakened, remained, and new flesh slowly grew to cover the burned tissue so long as he actively focused.“No, I don’t have that right yet. I haven’t suffered enough.”

As carefully as she could, she untangled herself from his legs and slipped out of his bed and made for the door. As she walked back to her room her mind was doing somersaults.What was she thinking?Why did it smell so good?What if he woke up?How would I even explain myself?Did I taste it?I need to smell it again.Why can’t I get the taste out of my mind?