Simma stood in the void, his breath heavy yet steady, staring deep within himself. For the first time since his birth, he had triumphed over the Umbrax. For the first time, he was not just surviving, but ruling himself.

And when he said "himself,"

he did not mean the boy Simma alone, nor the long-forgotten Zelihuth O'Connor. He meant both. He was O'Connor and Simma, two names bound by fate, two flames burning in the same vessel.

Whichever name was spoken, the truth was the same: he was whole again. Fully unlocked. Fully aware. Although his curse still gnawed at him like a patient predator waiting for redemption, but knowledge and clarity was now his weapon.

He had pieced the story together in fragments, like shards of stained glass rearranged into a mural: from the days he was a slave in the Haydes, branded an outcast… to the moment he wielded Yiriana's Bow… to when his demon-half had awakened and nearly consumed him.

Piece by piece, he had wrestled back his identity, until both halves; demonic and true, were finally forged into one.

But there remained one last thread to tie. His dragon. His fractured beast had to be restored, just as he had restored himself.

Exhausted and drained, but yet resolute, Simma moved forward. His steps echoed softly in the cavernous dark as he approached the clay-bound dragon, its colossal body frozen mid-roar like a monument carved by wrathful gods. Bowing low, Simma placed his palm upon its rigid, earthen snout.

A crack whispered through the stillness.

A thin line of blue light, like a vein of sapphire, coursed through the petrified surface. It branched outward, spreading across the beast's body in radiant threads.

Simma pressed down his other hand, and this time a surge of crimson energy flared, twining itself with the blue until the two hues pulsed together; red and blue, chaos and order, Umbrax and Azrax, all merging as one.

Simma now pulled away as the impact spread.

The clay began to split apart. And a thunderous roar tore through the silence as shards flew like shattered glass, and from within emerged the dragon reborn... like a phoenix breaking free from its own ashes.

Its scales gleamed ocean-blue, shimmering with a sheen as pure as crystal. Yet from head to tail, a crimson pattern snaked down its spine, blazing like fire etched into the sea. The same crimson tinged the edges of its vast horned wings, like streaks of storm scarred into serenity.

The beast's body was serpentine, long and sinuous, yet anchored by four short, clawed limbs. It was smaller than before... no longer the overwhelming, Umbrax-driven monstrosity, but rather majestic nonetheless. It bowed low to its master, eyes now the same piercing blue as Simma's.

Simma smiled faintly, relief doubling in his chest. He had done it. He had reclaimed not just himself, but his dragon. His curse still lingered, but it no longer ruled him; it bowed to him.

Around his arm, scales bloomed like living armor: translucent, ocean-blue, gleaming as though forged from glass. They wrapped his fist and climbed to his elbow, and from within the shimmer of light came his blade.

This time it was not born of rage, not red and crackling with fury. No, the sword was summoned from spirit, pure and unwavering. It gleamed sapphire, humming with a steady resonance. lightening circling calmly at its edges.

Simma exhaled deeply, a long breath that carried both exhaustion and triumph. Finally; the Azrax, his weapon, his beast, and his self were one.

The oppressive darkness that had suffocated him for so long began to lift, unravelling like a broken shroud. And as the void gave way, he found himself standing once more at the gate, beside the demon he had slain (split into halves), and the still body of Ms. Shady.

But his relief was short-lived. A shadow moved above, and then a great sigil burned into the heavens. A target.

At that, he remembered the tournament was still on...

'Or was it?'

He pulled out his bow.

Before he could act, his ES spoke in its metallic, merciless tone:

-------------------

[Countdown to end of tournament begins... 15... 14... 13... 12...]

-------------------

****

Far away, in the great city, the crowd roared with both joy and dread. The coliseum was alive with thunderous chants as recruits stumbled back through portals, victorious yet broken and tired.

One after another, they returned...

Mrs. Pink, to the shock of all, had been first. Sarah had emerged second, followed by Draco, Gwen, Lucy. Names were shouted, celebrated, honoured.

But one name remained unspoken.

Simma.

Although those that had not made it out were still more than a hundred, and they couldn't be disqualified yet.

The Sentinel had said that the last hundred to return were to be disqualified, signalling the end of the tournament. But those that were yet to return were more than a hundred, and it led to (the countdown)...

Ding!

And a huge screen appeared before the whole crowd, saying the same thing, Simma's ES Said:

---------------

[COUNTDOWN TO END OF TOURNAMENT... 15... 14... 13...]

---------------

The crowd counted with the huge screen.

As the giant screen hanging above the arena pulsed with each number, its glow casting sorrow over those still waiting for their chosen to return. Many recruits were still to come back. Therefore somehow... the air was also thick with despair.

Sarah looked around. She too had made it out through the wood hint, she was the second person to come back.

But Simma... Simma was not there, and it made her joy not as full as it would have been. 'Where the hell is Simma, for crying out loud?... He was the first person that passed through the portal when the tournament was starting, so what now is holding him back?' she pondered.

Her eyes darted across the sea of faces, her joy splintered by worry. Her voice cracked as she cried out,

"Come on, Simma! Where are you?"

The countdown was still going on.

--------------

7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2...

--------------

And immediately it said one...

A blinding light erupted in the arena's center, so radiant the crowd shielded their eyes. A wild gale swept the stands, tearing dust and banners alike into a whirling storm. And from within the brilliance came a body...

No, two bodies.

Simma had crashed into the earth with thunderous force, green blood spraying across the ground as though the void itself had vomited its horrors into the mortal plane. His form was drenched in it, his chest heaving, yet he stood.

Behind him sprawled the bisected corpse of the demon he had slain.

When the dust cleared, silence fell like a blanket over the coliseum. All eyes fixed on him, wide and unblinking. Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by a storm of murmurs; half in horror, half in awe. Fingers pointed at him, some trembling, some reverent.

Not only at Simma did they stare, but mainly at what had come with him. THE DEMON.

On the high dais, Dermot Reginald, head of the Sentinels, rose to his feet. His face was pale, his jaw rigid with disbelief as he looked upon Simma and the dead demon.

The horror written on his face was not so different from the one written on everyone's face.

Simma stared back at him; maybe because he suspected that someone within them had made him show at the underworld instead of the Soulnexer lair like every other recruit had showed, or maybe because the man had muttered:

"This is impossible."

***

Now the Great Fracture, was an event that had occurred long ago, and that was what led to the Bloodbath.

This event had caused a once whole entity called Azrax to split into two; its good part which was called the Luzrax. And then its antiself which is the Umbrax.

When this happened, the Umbrax had an upper hand since it fed on people's sorrows, agonies, pain, bad memories and anger. And as it fed on all these, it grew more powerful and started to dominate.

And then when it got very powerful, it wanted to change the world and everything in it, to make the world serve it, to change everything into waithraites. Therefore it bloomed, spreading its soul over the world, and that was what gave birth to the Bloodbath.

But then Zelihuth sacrificed himself reducing the Bloodbath, but yet, he was still cursed, for he was the one that should have healed the great Fracture from even giving birth to the Umbrax. But he didn't and now it had caused the Bloodbath

***

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