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The fights continued, but they were becoming more and more drawn out. The weakest combatants had all been culled in the first three rounds, and now the remaining warriors were going at it with everything they had. Eventually, Noah’s first target entered the arena. He was a young man, spirited and garbed in plate mail, having won his fights with hard-won determination and effort. His name was Falco. Noah followed him outside, the warrior unaware of his presence. On the other end of the ring, his opponent arrived, another man, a few inches taller and years older, wearing dark clothes and an amused smirk upon seeing Falco. Both were brawlers, entering the ring without weapons.

“Not needed,” said Curcio. “These specimens bond automatically, but for that convenience and power, the recipient will suffer greater vulnerability to sunlight. However, that means that whoever receives them will be as close to a genuine Profane as possible, minus the ability to reproduce,”“So, you’re abandoning the microscopic parasite concept, then?” Scyler asked.

“Now, what’s in here, I wonder? Liquid pleasure, which will enslave your mind and bend you to my will for the rest of your life, offering everything you have for another taste? Or maybe it’s a vicious toxin that will have you screaming and writhing in pain, biting your wrists in an attempt to kill yourself, with every second feeling like a lifetime spent in the heart of a bonfire? Pick a vein, and let’s find out. Or…” He brought the needle right up to her eye, making her shudder in terror. “I can always go in through the mucus membrane. Yes, that sounds like fun. Now take a deep breath and think of home.”