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Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

Sarah rolled about in her bed, unable to get to sleep. She’d woken up an hour after midnight. A nightmare where her friends niggling words tormented her in sleep as well. Sick of staring at the dark ceiling, she got up and tip-toed out of her room. Down the hall her dad’s door stood open, not bothering to close it as he always got up first in the mornings.“Dad?” She quietly called as she peered around the door.

The ref tried to intervene, but Cain impaled Thera on his horn and then ripped her in half with it like it was a knife. He held the two halves of her shredded corpse, letting her blood pour down onto his face and paint him red, all while he continued to scream in a berserker’s euphoria. Once the crimson spray had slowed, he tossed Thera aside and pointed to the crowd.