CHAPTER 72 — The Rising of the Plague
The arena was silent.
Not the silence of respect. Not that of anticipation. A silence of stone, of tightened throats, of gazes that did not know where to rest. The thousands of spectators held their breath, as if the air itself was afraid to disturb the moment.
Cynthia and Aku stood face to face.
She stood straight. Fists clenched. Gaze fixed. Her black uniform, immaculate, clung to her skin under the white daylight. She showed nothing. No fear. No hesitation.
He stood with his head down, arms hanging. His black hair fell over his eyes. His shoulders were slumped, as if he carried an invisible weight.
Zayn, seated in the fighters' area, felt his heart beat too fast. His fingers drummed on his knee. He couldn't stay still.
"Yojuro."
"What?"
"I don't really know Aku. How strong is he?"
Yojuro did not answer right away. He watched the arena, eyes half-closed, hands folded on his knees.
"His clan is ancient. Very ancient."
"Clan?"
"Aku comes from a lineage of hybrid Djinn warriors. Their miracle is hereditary. It cannot be learned — it is inherited."
Zayn turned to him.
"And what does that miracle do?"
Yojuro looked at him. His eyes were calm, but there was a strange gleam at the back — like a knowledge he wished he didn't have.
"The Rising of the Plague."
"What does that mean?"
"It's a transformation. A curse. A beast that sleeps in the blood of his clan."
Zayn opened his mouth, but the referee raised his hand.
"Match 6 — Cynthia versus Aku."
He lowered his hand.
"Begin."
---
Cynthia attacked first.
She lunged, her inertia amplifying her speed. Her fist cut through the air, aiming for Aku's chest. She didn't want to kill him. She wanted to put him out of combat, cleanly, quickly.
He did not move.
The blow struck him square in the chest. He stepped back, but did not fall. He raised his head.
His eyes had changed. They were darker. Deeper.
"Sorry."
"What?"
"I'm sorry, Cynthia."
His body twisted.
His skin tore open. Not like a wound — like a chrysalis opening. Black, hard muscles emerged from beneath his flesh, swelling his chest, his arms, his shoulders. His spine bent, his face lengthened, his teeth sharpened. Black horns pierced his skull, twisted, irregular, like branches of a dead tree.
A red and black aura enveloped him, like burning smoke. The air around him grew heavier. The spectators felt a pressure on their chests.
The Rising of the Plague.
Zayn half-rose.
"What is…"
Yojuro placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Sit down."
"But Cynthia…"
"Sit down."
Zayn obeyed. His eyes did not leave the arena.
Yojuro spoke, without taking his gaze off the fight.
"The Rising of the Plague is a hereditary miracle. It cannot be learned. It awakens. Aku's blood contains an ancient beast — an ogre that slept in his clan's veins for generations. When it activates, the user loses control. Not completely. But enough."
"Can he control it?"
"Not completely."
In the arena, Cynthia stepped back. She had seen terrifying things. But never had one of her comrades transformed into a monster before her.
"Aku… can you hear me?"
The ogre did not answer. It looked at her. Its eyes were red, gleaming, without emotion.
Cynthia attacked again.
She struck the ogre's chest. Nothing. She struck its head. Nothing. She struck its shoulder. Nothing. Her blows bounced off the black skin, hard as rock.
"Aku!"
She struck a third time.
The ogre moved.
Its massive, clawed hand came down on Cynthia's arm. She had no time to react. She had no time to retreat.
The ogre squeezed.
The sound was dry. A crack. The sound of wood breaking, of a branch giving way.
Cynthia's arm twisted. The bone tore through her skin, emerging, white and gleaming, under the daylight. Blood spurted, hot, thick, flowing over the ogre's arm.
She screamed.
"AAAAAH!"
Her voice echoed through the entire arena. Spectators rose. Some looked away. Others watched, fascinated.
The ogre did not let go.
"Aku… stop…"
The ogre looked at her. Its red eyes showed nothing. No recognition. No pity. Just an ancient void, a forgotten hunger.
It grabbed her by the head.
Its thick fingers encircled her skull. A pressure. A slowness. A nearly deliberate gesture.
Cynthia could no longer scream. Her voice was trapped in her throat.
It squeezed.
The sound was dull, wet, irreversible.
Cynthia's body collapsed.
Silence.
The ogre stood still for a moment, motionless. Then its body contracted. The black skin retracted. The horns disappeared. The red aura faded.
Aku was on his knees, trembling, his hands covered in blood.
He looked at his hands. He looked at the body.
"Sorry… Cynthia…"
His voice was broken, barely a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
He wasn't crying. He couldn't. He looked at his hands. He looked at the body.
The referee stepped forward. He looked at Cynthia, motionless, then raised his hand.
"Aku wins."
The medics entered the arena, fast, silent. They lifted Cynthia, placed her on a stretcher. Her arm hung limp, the bone still visible. Her head was tilted, like a broken doll.
In the bleachers, Râ crossed his arms. He smiled.
"Interesting."
The White Lady, seated beside him, rose. Her face was calm, but her eyes were grave.
"I have work to do."
She descended the steps, followed by the medics.
Zayn did not move. He stared at the blood on the stone. He stared at Cynthia, being carried away. He stared at Aku, on his knees, trembling.
Yojuro, beside him, said nothing.
"Yojuro…"
"I know."
"Will she survive?"
Yojuro did not answer. He watched the White Lady descend the steps.
"She said she had work to do."
"And?"
"Then she'll do her work."
Zayn closed his eyes. He heard the medics move away. He heard the crowd murmur. He heard the wind, light, on the stone.
He opened his eyes.
In the arena, Aku was still on his knees. He did not move. He did not speak. He stared at the blood on his hands.
He stared at Cynthia's body, being carried away.
He was not crying. But his shoulders trembled.
And somewhere in the bleachers, a child's voice cried out:
"Cynthia!"
It was Haruka.
She didn't know. She didn't understand.
But she was shouting her name.
The silence of the arena was louder than all the screams.
---