Mirikon
patreon
Dark Fate, Chapter 220
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 19:37:18 +0000 UTCChapter 220 – Trial by Combat
“LADIES, GENTLEMEN, BOTH, AND NEITHER, NOW FOR THE MAIN EVENT!”
The voice rang out through the speakers as the Mistress of Ceremonies for the Ceres Grand Arena waved from her box overlooking the sand below. The crowd was packed today, more than it had been in a while, at least for a Trial Day. Oh, the Sport Days usually had a good crowd, at least two-thirds of the seats filled, as the contenders there were always looking to put on a show, and there were repeat contenders, allowing people to follow favorites and form fandoms and the like. Plus, the gambling, which was always a hit.
Trial Days were devoted to Trials by Combat, which tended to be less entertaining, overall. The Sport Days were more like gladiatorial bouts or boxing matches. The fights were real, but some degree of showmanship and entertainment was expected. For the Trials by Combat, one side or the other typically was at a disadvantage, and both sides were focused primarily on winning, not making a show for the crowd. So, Trial Days were usually about half full in the stands.
However, word had gone out that today was going to be something different. The ‘main event’ as the Mistress of Ceremonies called it, was going to be the first ever Level 3 duel for this arena. A duel to the death, with no quarter asked or given, and it was a Judicial Duel, at that!
“Our next fight was organized by Emperor Zayn Greene personally! You all remember the events of two weeks ago, when a Giant Kraken was sent to attack our new comrades in Panama, as a devious ploy to try and shatter our alliance. The Emperor declared that Russian ships would be barred from the Panama Canal until the conspirators were found, and brought to Ceresan justice.
“Well, folks, today we have a special treat for you! Thanks to the aid of foreign contractors, the culprits behind the terrorist attack on Ceresan subjects have been caught, and are now to stand trial before you all today! What’s more, the Emperor has decreed that all one hundred and fifty-eight accused shall stand trial together! THAT’S RIGHT, PEOPLE! This duel to the death will be ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-EIGHT TO ONE!”
There was a moment of shocked silence, and then the crowd in the stands went wild. The livestream had to put commenters on a five-minute delay between posts to keep them from overloading the streams. Pay-per-view numbers were skyrocketing, so people could see the fight live.
“Now, let’s meet our criminally accused! First, we have the one hundred and fifty-six members of the Russian Federal Security Service’s Special Projects branch, and their leader, Frantsev Vasil Vyacheslavovich! Yes, the very same Frantsev Vasil who purchased the [Mystic Monster Maker] used in the Giant Kraken attack!”
The crowd howled as one hundred and fifty-seven people were teleported into the arena. They were all dressed in normal clothes, but had, at least, been armed with an assortment of melee weapons. Knives, clubs, swords, and so forth. They looked distinctly unhappy to be here, which was hardly surprising.
“But that’s not all, folks! We have a ‘special guest’ amongst the accused tonight! The person who authorized the terrorist attack on Ceres, without any declaration of war, President Putin Vladimir Vladimirovich!”
There was another moment of shocked silence as the crowd processed what the Mistress of Ceremonies just said. Surely that was some kind of joke, right? And then, the last ‘defendant’ was teleported in, and dispelled all doubt.
The President actually had some armor on, unlike the others in the Arena. Expensive, probably the best that could be found on the System Shop for a Level 20 Fighter. He was armed with a sword and shield, but whether he actually knew how to use them was anyone’s guess.
And the crowd went wild. It was only natural, after all. They were witnessing history, here, and they knew it. After all, when was the last time the sitting leader of a country actually got hauled before a court, any court, and was actually faced real consequences for their actions?
The Russian leader was less enthusiastic about his situation, naturally. He snarled, and tried to say something, but the crowd drowned him out. More importantly, the Mistress of Ceremonies wasn’t about to waste time on a dead man’s words.
“And, representing the Ceresan Empire, and all the people who were put at risk by the terrorist attack, we have none other than our very own Emperor, Zayn Greene, taking to the sands of the arena himself! You heard me right, folks! The Emperor will fight to the death in the Arena for justice and the pride of the Ceresan people!”
Another flash of light, as the Emperor was teleported into the Arena, in his full demonic glory. He was armed with his normal scythe and black armor. He raised one hand in salute to the Imperial Crest above the Arena, the downward pointed sword overlaid with a pentagram sporting demon wings. The same symbol that was his personal mark.
Then, the Emperor’s attention turned to the Russian President. With one hand, he pointed his scythe at the man, and the other drew a slashing motion across his throat. The message was simple, and clear. He intended to serve as the other leader’s executioner today. The crowd cheered.
“Now, before the fight begins, any last words from the two leaders?”
A magic sigil floated in the air in front of both the President and the Emperor. The President took a breath, and went for the belligerent approach. “You can’t do this! Do you know how many treaties you’re breaking? I demand you return me to Russian soil this instant!”
The Emperor just smiled, and said, “I haven’t broken a single treaty. Because the Ceresan Empire has signed no treaties. Whatever pacts, compacts, treaties, or international organizations you are thinking about, Ceres is not a part of them. Their rules and restrictions do not apply to the Ceresan Empire, and the Empire does not recognize their jurisdiction.”
The Emperor took a step forward, scythe resting against his shoulder. “You are here because you thought that you could hide behind international organizations and conventions, which would shield you from the consequences of your actions. Which is why you thought it was fine to send a Tier 3 monster to attack the citizens of Panama.
“You treated the people of the Ceresan Empire as pawns in your game. Oh, I know why you did it. You have been divorced from the idea of actually having real consequences for your actions for so long, the idea is actually alien to you. After all, things like the United Nations have proven spectacularly incapable of actually holding the most powerful nations, and those under their protection, to account for any atrocities they commit.
“However, your mistake was in assuming that the Ceresan Empire was bound by those conventions, those rules. We are not. The Ceresan Empire will not play the games of whining to the world about how this country or that country is being mean to us, or trying futilely to get redress for grievances from countries while the architects of those grievances suffer no consequences. No, the Ceresan Empire will ensure that justice is done upon those who attack the people of the Empire.”
And then, the Emperor moved. It was fast. Too fast for most people’s eyes to see. One moment, he had been standing there, facing the gathered accused (or victims, really), and the next he was behind Frantsev, walking at a seemingly normal pace, with blood dripping from the blade of his scythe.
Frantsev tried to turn, but as he did so, a thin red line spread from his head all the way down his torso. A line of blood. And then, the man fell to the ground, perfectly split down the middle like a pig at the market.
And that’s when the screaming began.
Panic gripped the condemned. Some tried to fight, most tried to flee, even though it was in vain. A few were frozen, struck dumb with terror at the sight of a person so easily, instantly killed. Not just killed, but killed in a way that defied their entire frame of reference, still rooted in the Pre-System world as it was.
Guns, they understood. A sniper’s shot ending a life instantly was something they could accept. A man suddenly being cut in two, so precisely that it took a moment for the pieces to fall apart? That was the stuff of science fiction and fantasy! Not the real world!
Of course, that failure to adjust to the changing reality was why they were here. They had tried to treat the Ceresan Empire like they treated any other country. They had forgotten that the Empire did not have the same restraints as other countries did. They expected potential sanctions, or maybe a retaliatory strike. Not this kind of up close and personal violence. This wasn’t how modern nations acted!
The Timestruck Demon Lord ignored the attacks against him. Whether they were weapons or spells, they all simply stopped dead, not even managing to scratch his armor. The only effect any of the spells had was blowing his hair about with the heat of a fireball going off in his face. None of it worked.
The whole time, he walked. Slower, now, so that the condemned could see death coming for them. The first targets were those who were trying desperately to flee, even though the barriers kept them locked inside the Arena. The Demon Lord’s scythe tore through their bellies, spilling their guts upon the Arena floor. [Hold Back] kept them alive for a moment, with 1 HP, but they died seconds later as bleed effects kicked in, stealing that last point of health away.
His gaze turned to the ones desperately, manically attacking him. The Emperor let go of his scythe, allowing it to float in the air next to him. And then he answered the attacks with his fists and feet. There was none of the grace or discipline of a Monk or someone with the [Martial Arts] skill. It was just a simple beating.
The screams of terror began to change to screams of pain. Bones shattered under his fists. One woman tried to kick him, but he caught her ankle, and began using her as a flail. She only lasted three hits before her lifeless body broke apart, but that had been enough to kill three more of her comrades.
Hellfire sprang from the Demon Lord’s fingers, and those few who were still frozen in terror screamed as the flames burned their bodies and souls. The scythe was back in his hands, now, and more bodies hit the floor. The screams and the cries of the condemned fell silent, one by one. Until only one remained.
“Y-you can’t do this!” The Russian President screamed, backing away from the Demon Lord stalking towards him. “There are treaties! International laws! I am the President of the Russian Federation!”
The Demon Lord laughed. It was a laugh full of cruel mirth at the man’s words. “Treaties only matter to those who signed them. As for international law? How many times have the superpowers ignored it in favor of what suited their own interests? You may be the President of the Russian Federation, but I am the Emperor of the Ceresan Empire, and we do not play games with the lives of our people, here! I may spend my people’s lives, but I will never waste them, or spend them frivolously. That is what it means to be a leader, not a gutless parasite enriching oneself off the populace.”
The scythe swung up, catching the President under the ribs. The tip of the blade pierced his shoulder as the haft came to rest under his ribcage. The President coughed up blood as he was lifted into the air, only alive thanks to [Hold Back]. Which meant that he was alive long enough to see as the Emperor swung his scythe, bringing the President’s skull down upon the sands with such force that it shattered like a grapefruit dropped from a rooftop onto cement.
There was a moment of silence, as the Demon Lord used a blast of hellfire to clean the blood and viscera from his weapon. Then, turning to the crowd, he caused a crown of hellfire to come into being over his head. In a clear voice, he called out to the people, not just in the stands, but those watching the broadcasts as well.
“This trial by combat is over. The guilty have met with Ceresan Justice. Let all those who would attack the Empire take heed! We are not the countries of the World Before. We will not allow attacks upon our people to go unanswered, and we will hold those who give the orders accountable, uncaring of their position, or the politics involved. May Russia’s new leadership learn from this experience.”
And the people cheered.
Comments
Robert Gardner
TFTC. Well it is a nice Fantasy
Some BS Deity
There is really only one thing to learn from this. Politicians are awful at adapting to sudden changes in their political stage.
