Emerald, oblivious to the gravity of his situation, continued to wander the Coliseum with a bright face. Noticing the glances at his black coat, he stole a simple robe to better conceal himself.
As he walked, he ran directly into Genna. "Ohh boy, thank goodness you're doing good," she sighed, clinging to his arm.
"Madam Genna, you can't be seen clinging to a mere human like me out of all the people present here. Rumors can travel fast, and they're easy to munch on," Emerald warned her, referring to her clingy nature.
Genna took a quick glance around. Her face flushed, and her heart pounded. "The desire to aim for a rumor is too petty for me, who is a woman so eager for a man like you, Emerald," she slowly spelled out his name for the first time, giving it the weight of centuries.
She began to pull away, her movements betraying an underlying, almost surreal grief. Emerald questioned her words: "You, who is a princess, you who is a being instilled with time on your heart, how do you, my highness, think that I may please you with the heart of mine?"
Genna, already turned away and unwilling to face him after such a clumsy reveal, mumbled, "I took a gamble over your life. I do intend to have you as my heart after the event. You will be mine."
"What if my heart doesn't want to?" he challenged. Genna walked away as if she hadn't heard him. Emerald stood questioning his decisions. The initial game he'd played, fueled by teenage curiosity, was beginning to crumble. He felt the true fear of regret, understanding the First Emperor's earlier warning.
Emerald began to move, but his soul stood still. His walk was lifeless, and even the voice of the First Emperor was silent. His selfish intent to preserve everything he held dear had led him to a precipice. His anxiety was gone; the crowd meant nothing. As he moved, Patrick caught him off guard. "Sir Emerald, been doing good, I guess. Is it okay if we proceed?" Emerald simply nodded, not fully processing the words.
Patrick led the way into the Hypogeum, where other candidates were preparing. All looked calm and confident. Patrick took a seat as the other candidates moved out of the armory area. The room fell silent. Emerald wandered the armory, desperately looking for something to ease his heart. He wished he could skip this part of his life.
"Do you have any idea why you're wearing that?" Patrick asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, pretty much," Emerald replied, a grunt in his throat.
"Oh, then how much is this 'pretty much'?"
"I'm supposed to fight someone on the Coliseum."
"Do you know who you're fighting?" Patrick pressured him.
"Any idea what you are fighting for?". Emerald kept the answer to himself in silence.
With a deep sigh, Patrick laid out the truth. "A few years ago, Genna reached the age of marriage. She chose to delay it, as she didn't like anyone present at the time."
"But now she does," Emerald cut in.
"What was that?" Patrick asked.
"A few moments ago, Genna confessed her feelings, and I think it's wrong for her to be so clingy over a human." Emerald felt a weight lift from his shoulders just by saying it.
Patrick laughed. "There's an original vampire family that lives on the American continent, called the Krasinski. A brat from that family proposed to her, Clinton Krasinski. As you can guess, she rejected it. To avoid aggression between the royal and original families, Zedic set up a trial to choose a worthy guy for Genna. If she wins at least once, she's free. But if Clinton wins three times, the take is his. This is the third round, and you're fighting to be the guy who can protect and cherish her for all eternity. You'll be fighting the final round. That Krasinski brat has been the opponent all along."
"So I'm the third proposal, huh?" Emerald chuckled, trying to mask his desire for acceptance.
"Two of them died," Patrick quoted grimly.
"Why do you think I'm an exception?"
"Huh?"
"If I'm going to die, you wouldn't have told me all this. I bet you didn't talk to the other two who came before me. Why is that?" Emerald pressed for an answer.
To his surprise, Patrick pulled out a paper, wrote something, and handed it to Emerald. Emerald gasped, reading it. "Don't read aloud. The truth is, Genna died when she was 16. Even though I wasn't there to view it, a friend of mine was, and he's the one who told me to tell you this. And the cloak you're wearing is a symbol of victory." Emerald folded the paper and handed it back. Patrick took it and set it ablaze.
"Whose this friend, Patrick?"
"You'll meet him when it's time, and it's best to keep it a secret," Patrick assured him.
The gallery was overflowing. Eyes were fixed on the field, awaiting the special guest from the outside world.
The first match began: Clinton Krasinski versus Litlin Cheviera, a warrior from the Norwegian Viking lineage. Litlin exuded strength, gripping his drawn sword. Clinton stood empty-handed, his long, messy hair falling to his shoulder, a blue shade on his red cloak. He smiled at Litlin.
The whistle blew. The next thing everyone saw was Litlin standing without a head. His head lay helpless on the ground, followed by his body. The crowd erupted in a wave of excitement, their voices filling every corner of the Coliseum.
"Patrick, what just happened? Are the people sick?" Emerald asked, horrified.
"That's the guy I told you about. He took Litlin's head without a sweat. The fact that you couldn't even see it move, I'm still wondering how you're going to stand there," Patrick joked, before adding, "And for the 'sick' part, this kind of entertainment was first invented by you humans. You still do it, too, just in crafty mannerisms called 'freedom and peace'."
(To be continued)