The Soul Engine Ch. 23 (Original Fantasy)

A/N: Mikael isn't so far gone that he's willing to dance to Zadicus' tune.

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The silence is deafening as Zadicus’ words hang over the Colosseum. The man himself spreads his arms wide, grinning like he didn’t just order the execution of a couple hundred defenseless prisoners. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that the Lord of the City is grinning like he knows he can get away with the order he just gave.

It makes Mikael sick to his stomach. Because technically, Zadicus is right. While Mikael is the last one standing, he’s not the last one alive in the arena. There are still hundreds left. All of the volunteers have either quit the field or died at this point. Maybe a few of the unluckier ones who entered without any teammates are still there, just unconscious and slowly bleeding out. But the rest are gone.

The same cannot be said for Zadicus’ so-called ‘criminals’. While hundreds of them have been reduced to corpses, there are still plenty who draw breath. Some are dying even now. Some are merely unconscious, steadily baking under the harsh midday sun beating down overhead. But the vast majority are crowded against the walls of the Colosseum Floor.

Those who weren’t very smart tried to flee back the way they’d come or through the volunteers’ exit gates. The guards had rebuffed them one and all, and in some cases outright killed them if they persisted. But the rest had shied away from both the gates and the fighting and were simply curled up in various different fetal positions, trying to make themselves as small as possible to avoid being detected.

Alas, their efforts had ultimately been in vain. Zadicus Quinn had initiated the day’s events with the intentions of every single prisoner he sent out onto the field dying. And the fact that so many still lived, at least in part because of Mikael and Thayla’s efforts to slay the more murderous and eviler of the volunteers… well, it put quite the damper on Zadicus’ plans.

At least, that’s what Mikael had to assume. The Lord of Alether did not seem to have any clue who Mikael was. Meaning that… this was another example of Zadicus’ short-sightedness at play. He’d already gotten what he wanted. He could have declared the contest over, named Mikael the victor… and then simply had the guards round up the surviving prisoners and reused them in his other arenas throughout the city until their lives were spent. Hell, he could have even garnered a modicum of good will among his subjects by letting the survivors go, Mikael supposed.

He wasn’t doing either of those things. Because he was petty and small-minded. He had already decided how today was going to go in his head. And the survivors didn’t fit into his plan. So he was trying to force Mikael to clean up the ‘mess’ and finish the job in order to get his payday.

Honestly, if Mikael had cared about the gold, maybe he would have done it. Even though he didn’t care about the gold, he was still considering it. The plan was to get close to Zadicus. He had so much power swirling through the Soul Engine and his body that he figured he should be able to overpower Bula and force Zadicus to cough up the answers he sought, so long as he could get alone with the two of them.

… But he doesn’t move. Because even if he’s told himself that he has to harden his heart, even if he’s convinced himself that he needs to do whatever it takes to survive and reach Zadicus… Mikael doesn’t want to do this. Fuck, even most of the dead men in his head don’t want to do this! There are a scant few of the darker urges that would love to murder innocents. They’d revel in the bloodshed even.

But far more of the memories that the evil scarred bastard up there forced into Mikael’s mind are of soldiers and warriors. And as savage as some of those men might have been, they still had their own sense of honor. Honor that made it hard to stomach an order to kill a bunch of shackled opponents wielding wooden spoons and iron soup ladles.

All in all, as Mikael sweeps his gaze around the arena in the wake of Zadicus’ command, meeting the eyes of so many weary, cowering people, he doesn’t see a single killer among them. And he should know, it takes one to know one after all.

Jaw clenching beneath his mask, Mikael turns back to Zadicus, mind whirling with options. But before he can speak…

“Monster!”

His head twitches, but even as his gaze moves in the direction he heard the voice, he can’t make out who said it. The Colosseum’s stands are packed to the brims with people, Zadicus’ own doing to be sure. Whoever said it is hidden among the crowd. Indeed, even Zadicus can’t seem to figure out who said it, his eyes narrowing into slits as he snarls and tosses a hand out in that direction.

“Guards!”

It takes a moment for the City Guard to get moving and Mikael realizes as he watches them start to push through that section of the stands that it’s not just because they have no clue who they’re supposed to be arresting. For the first time… Mikael sees reluctance in some of Alether’s guardsmen. Their movements are slowed and measured, and their lack of enthusiasm is blatantly obvious to him.

As he looks around at the rest of the arena, Mikael realizes that the Lord of Alether’s latest order has finally begun to make even the City Guard second guess their loyalty.

As the guards in that section of the stands put up a lackluster search for the dissenter, Zadicus turns his attention back to Mikael, sneering now.

“Well? What are you waiting for? The people of Alether are eager for a show! Kill them all!”

And there it is. Spelled out in incredibly blunt terms. Before it was ‘clean up the riffraff’. Such a safe way of putting it. But finally, Zadicus has gone full mask off. Kill them all. And Mikael has to do it too, if he wants the plan to succeed. If he wants to get close enough to get to Zadicus without being swarmed by every guard in the city plus Bula, he needs to sell it.

… Or does he? Looking around the Colosseum at the drawn, tired faces in both the stands AND on the arena floor, Mikael doesn’t see the eagerness that Zadicus is espousing. He doesn’t see a people thirsty for more bloodshed. They’ve already had their fair share of that, especially when many of them clearly hadn’t wanted to be here today in the first place.

Watching Mikael walk around and stick his sword into the chests of hundreds of their defenseless loved ones, neighbors, and friends… none of them have the stomach for it. So maybe they have the stomach for something else. Maybe now is the time to see if he can go about this another way.

It would have been simpler to just do as Zadicus said. Would have been simpler to stick to the plan. But Mikael finds himself drawing a line in the sand all the same.

“No.”

His voice reverberates with the power of the Soul Engine. He does not yet. He does not quite shout. But every single person in the Colosseum hears what Mikael says all the same. Zadicus most of all. The scarred man’s eyes widen and then narrow as his lips curl into a dissatisfied frown.

“No? What do you mean, no?”

Lifting his sword and pointing it in the bastard’s direction, Mikael snarls behind his mask.

“Are you not already entertained enough, Lord Quinn? Is this really how the Lord of Alether behaves?! Like a mad man and a tyrant, abusing his authority to the detriment of his subjects?!”

Somehow, he felt like he’d stolen that first line from somewhere. But no matter. See, Mikael has come to a realization in this moment. The dead men in his head… they’re all killers, yes. Soldiers, warriors, brigands, murderers. But some of them were more of that. Some of them were leaders. And those leaders had to give speeches.

The memories of speeches before battle are far sparser than the memories of battle itself. Indeed, only a few fleeting snippets here and there. But Mikael tries to draw on that well of knowledge all the same, spinning around with his sword still lifted high.

“Does this man speak for you, People of Alether?! Is more bloodshed really what you wish to see?! Or has there been enough killing on this day?! The sand is stained with blood. The fighting is DONE. Am I your champion or aren’t I?!”

There’s a brief beat of pregnant silence at that, and then…

“No more bloodshed!”

“Enough killing!”

“End the fighting!”

“Set the living free!”

The words carry on the wind as protests and impassioned pleas explode out from the stands. Zadicus’ decision to force over half of the city’s population to attend his event has backfired. After all, if he’d simply filled the stands with those who WANTED to be here, Mikael imagined he would have a lot less discontentment to work with.

Then again, given how angry the people of Alether were with their Lord by this point, the stands might not have even been half full without Zadicus’ seat-filling measures. Either way, the deed is done. The city guard is stretched thing trying to police this event as it is. There simply aren’t enough of them to try and arrest and silence every single person speaking up at the moment.

As their words slowly echo across the Colosseum, Mikael silently turns back towards the Lord’s Podium where Zadicus looks positively incensed by this point. Still, surely the man has to see sense now. Surely even someone as small-minded as the Lord of Alether has proven to be MUST bow down to the pressure of an entire city, right?

“ENOUGH!”

Amplified by magic once more, Zadicus’ voice rockets throughout the Colosseum, cutting off the cries and impassioned pleas. As the crowds fall silent, Mikael frowns. Damn it, he’d hoped that Zadicus had less of a hold on his people at this point then that. And yet… fear was a powerful deterrent. It was hard for the people of Alether to stand up to the despot who had ruled over them for so many years. They needed a leader. An example to follow.

Mikael supposed he would have to be that example. As Zadicus glares down at him, Mikael doesn’t hesitate to throw the bastard’s words back in his face.

“Enough is right, Lord Quinn! There has been enough bloodshed! If you want more innocents to die today, come down here and do it YOURSELF!”

There’s a palpable sense of anticipation at that. The crowd might have spoken up, but there’s strength in numbers. And even then, most of them weren’t speaking directly against Zadicus. Not like Mikael was now. He could feel the eyes of tens of thousands of people on him. In this moment, he was standing up to their tyrant of a Lord in a way no one had done before.

Trying to shame the Lord of the City into submission hadn’t worked. To be fair, appealing to Zadicus’ better nature while also hoping to pressure him with the voices of his citizens had always been a long shot. The man was clearly a narcissist and a half, and so stuck in his ways it wasn’t even funny. He was so dead set on this Grand Melee solving all his problems that he hadn’t even realized he’d already ruined it by this point by throwing the equivalent of a temper tantrum and failing to get Mikael to do his bidding.

Even if Mikael died here and now, the Grand Melee will have had the opposite effect that Zadicus Quinn intended. Far from suppressing dissent, it will only ignite more of it. But all the same, Mikael had no intention of dying here. Instead, he was aiming for something… else with his latest words. One last attempt at manipulating the small-minded Lord into doing what he wanted.

For a moment, Mikael wonders if Zadicus will take him up on his offer. Or just throw the entire City Guard at him to get rid of the problem. Either would have thrown a wrench into Mikael’s plan. It would have been harder to get what he wanted out of Zadicus if their confrontation took place right there on the arena floor.

Meanwhile, facing down what might have been hundreds of guards… well, Mikael suspects with the Soul Engine he could have eventually mowed through them. Or maybe they would have skewered him with so many blades he wouldn’t have been able to move anymore, burying him in a veritable mountain of bodies.

In the end though, Zadicus turns out to be predictable. In the end, at long last… he gives Mikael exactly what he wants.

“So be it. Bula.”

Immediately, the half-orc steps forward, eyes wide with feverish excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Showing his prowess with summoning magic, Zadicus reaches out and brings forth her massive battle axe from seemingly nothing, dropping it from the air into her waiting palms. Then, he flicks his hand out towards the arena floor.

“Go down there and kill everyone still on the arena floor. Have fun with it, I couldn’t care less.”

He very clearly could have cared a LOT less, but it was all part of the pageantry. Of course, even Bula is fucking with Zadicus’ showmanship today. The half-orc snorts, her eyes darting between the Lord of Alether and the Colosseum Floor.

“This a fight, boss?”

Looking at her, the scarred man scowls for a moment.

“Yes, Bula. It’s a fight. Now get down there.”

Letting out a crow of victory, the half-orc flings herself from the Lord’s Podium. It was a drop that would have killed a human for sure, or at least broken half the bones in their legs. But Bula lands in a crouch without issue, before straightening up and racing forward.

Mikael is already moving to meet her of course, putting himself in between her and the hundreds of living souls huddled against the arena walls. Not that he thought Bula was planning on going after them first anyways. No, while he saw no recognition in her face yet, she only had eyes for him at the moment. In fact, as they get closer, she even lets out a bark of laughter and repeats herself from their second meeting.

“Thanks for this. I-!”

However, she’s cut off when her first swing with her axe is stopped dead in its tracks by Mikael reaching up and grabbing the weapon in the middle of its shaft between her hands. Bula’s eyes widen at his strength, and then widen further when he cuts his sword right across her side, digging the blade deep into her flesh and making her choke on her own blood.

The exchange lasts a second, and the half-orc stumbles forward when Mikael releases her axe and steps past her, flicking some of the blood from his sword out onto the sand. They both turn to face each other, Bula’s wound already healing rapidly. But then, Mikael had anticipated as much. Half-orcs were hardy types. Not just the strength, stamina, and speed of ten men, but rapid regeneration that meant most wounds closed in moments instead of weeks.

Meeting Bula’s eyes through the slits in his mask, Mikael smiles a hidden smile.

“No, Bula. Thank you.”

He sees her eyes widen in recognition then, even as he launches himself forward and forces HER on the defensive. This right here? A battle between him and Zadicus’ Chief Enforcer? He couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity if he tried. In the end, Zadicus Quinn had played right into Mikael’s hands. Now he just had to take advantage of the bastard’s stupidity.

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A/N: Hopefully Avina forgives him for going off-script but Mikael has a new plan! A better plan! With Blackjack and Hookers!

Hopefully it works out for him~

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The Soul Engine: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/74638/the-soul-engine-isekaifantasy