Order of Fate

Sieg joined the others upon The Record Keeper's side. Immediately, they were escorted down the spiraling staircase which rested upon each edge of the massive arena. From there, they found themselves within a familiar hall. High above them was the ceiling, one engraved with many murals. Then upon the walls were lit torches which simmered silently within the grand hall. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

With calm steps, the figures walked through, their bodies illuminated by a soft orange hue. Behind The Record Keeper now were a total of twelve slaves, each hosting various expressions. Currently, the hall which they walked upon was located directly beneath the spectator seats. 

To all those present it was a familiar sight, especially so for the fact that should they take a certain route then they would be met by the stairway which led them towards the underground tower, where their slave chambers awaited them. 

Today however, they would instead make their way towards the arena ground. Yet before they could, more Record Keepers arrived, each taking a pair of dueling partners with them. Sieg now found himself beside a lean figure with a silent temperament. 

The figure bore no expression and his black eyes merely remained distant, as if he were in a trance, possibly lost in thought. Sieg did not find this strange since he was well aware of Golden 3's odd tendencies. 

None spoke out a single word as they walked side by side, that was until The Record Keeper's steps suddenly halted. Turning to face them, he pointed at a pair of wooden doors not too far from them. 

"You have a few minutes to prepare." 

He said simply. 

Sieg and Golden 3 then nodded. 

Soon after Sieg found himself inside an armory. Before him was what appeared like an endless buffet for any battle junky. It possessed every type of armors Sieg knew of along with an ocean of different weaponry, from curved daggers, long claymores, to exquisitely crafted bows. 

Truly it was a vast arsenal, one designed to accommodate every slave regardless of the varying fighting styles. However, despite the armory having all which a slave could ever hope to need, Sieg was uninterested in it all. 

He merely turned his focus upon the hung armors and soon found what he sought. It was his signature armor. Sieg possessed a rather skinny body, one devoid of much muscle no less, making it the perfect accessory to his lackluster skill in combat. 

In the past Sieg had been bothered by his physique, sourcing it as the biggest hindrance within his path towards greater strength. How could it have not really? After all, within the second stage one's combat prowess was everything. However, the present had long since left the past behind. Many things had changed, most dramatically of which was his own personal power. 

The present him could now stand tall as a fearsome tiger within his generation, one which many would hesitate to trifle with upon a regular day.

All of that had been obtained despite his lackluster physique, for Sieg was not a warrior but a magic practitioner. Of course, all those of the slave role's third stage could make the same claim, yet only a few among them could proclaim themselves as not just a sorcerer but a mage. 

To achieve such a title truly highlighted one as a genius of the magic arts. 

Sieg spared a glance at his clenched fists as he allowed himself to be engulfed by a set of tyrannical emotions. They were his resolve, his vicious desire. 

Throughout his short life, Sieg had experienced the threat of death loom over him like the blade of a guillotine on a multitude of different occasions. He had failed far more times than he had triumphed, yet here he stood, still taking in breath after breath. 

At first, that was all which he had desired. To merely remain alive, to survive and become a loyal dog of Sounra. Just when did that change exactly? The obvious answer was when he first met Reed, yet upon reflection, he realized that some part of him had always desired to know how exactly it felt to be free.

However, despite such a wish, he had never dared to truly believe he could acquire the forbidden privilege known as free will, much less utter such a desire within his mind.

It would simply be a far too bitter thought to bear. 

And yet today… 

To be a slave no more! To be a slave no more! To be a slave no more! 

Today he repeated it without fear, without turmoil or shame, without hesitation, without regret.

Such was his goal, his reason to fight onwards. The moment he reminded himself of that, his fighting spirit raged forth, transforming into a blazing vigor so fierce that one could extract it from his body and hang it upon the sky then watch as even the sun's radiance faltered before it. 

Naturally, doing such a thing was within the realm of impossibility. Not that it mattered, such was how he felt. 

Having fired his spirit up, Sieg soon snapped out of his racing thoughts and reached out for a particular set of armor situated not far from where he stood. He then began equipping it with great familiarity. Calling it an armor was rather inaccurate though, since in actuality what he equipped was but a short maroon robe.

Its fabric was rough and thick, composed of many layers and cascading down onto his knees. From afar it resembled a bulky long sleeved battle tunic with slit sides. Covering his legs was a pants forged of thick fabric and matching in the robe's color. 

His feet were grasped by leather boots while all around him were straps of leather belts which made the robe press tightly to his body. Lastly his two arms possessed a pair of leather vambraces which clung tightly to his wrists. 

Sieg examined himself one final time with a satisfied look before exiting the armory. Just a minute later, he found himself before one of the divided battlefields. His opponent had yet to arrive so The Record Keeper took it upon himself to go retrieve him. 

It was not long before The Record Keeper returned, Golden 3 at his side. Upon witnessing him, Sieg's expression shifted as his eyebrows creased. 

Still embodying the temperament of a calm lake, Golden 3 walked into the battlefield with silent steps. All the while Sieg's eyes followed him closely. 

Unlike Sieg, Golden 3 did not shy away from grasping all which he could equip. He currently had a standard set of light armor donned, yet strapped all around him were leather belts which all hosted a myriad of different weapons.

Upon his thighs rested two curved short swords, on his waist were numerous throwing knives, while on his calves rested a set of daggers. Then on his back was a thin long sword of lustrous steel whilst his hands grasped upon a tall halberd. 

That was not the most eye-catching however, instead what Sieg lingered upon was the leather strap which traveled diagonally from his left shoulder to his right waist. Upon it were not the expected sight, instead of daggers or further weaponry, Golden 3 had equipped a grand total of ten wands, each with a red gem etched onto their base. 

Truly it was an unsettling scene. 

Yep, troublesome. 

Sieg thought, his brows yet to unfurrow. 

After a moment he sighed and any signs of apprehension escaped him, replaced by an aloof demeanor. 

While it was true that his opponent was strong, perhaps just barely short in combat prowess and magic efficiency than The 10 Swords, Sieg himself was no weakling. While he was not fond of the idea, he also would not shy away from clashing with one of The 10 Swords head on. 

It would surely be a difficult fight, the most arduous within his entire time upon the soldier role's second and third stages, yet even then he knew that he could win. A costly victory to be certain, but a victory nonetheless. 

Such was the depths which his confidence traversed, and furthermore, Sieg had yet to meet an opponent within this stage which could counter his strategy. 

That of overwhelming force. 

As he thought so, Sieg's fingers twitched slightly upon realizing that The Record Keeper had already distanced himself. He then raised a hand up in the air, allowing it to hang for a moment before at last rushing it down and declaring with a booming voice. 

"Commence!" 

Just like so, Sieg did not hesitate to ignite his Inner-Mana. Like a raging storm it came to life within him, its pressure engulfing his flesh, muscles, and even bones for a split second before Sieg successfully took grasp of it and directed its flow towards a certain direction. 

As he did such, his hands rose into the air, pointing directly at Golden 3. When that movement was done, his simmering Inner-Mana had already arrived within his arms. Immediately a vicious heat assaulted them, yet Sieg felt no discomfort or pain. It was merely hot. 

His fingers twitched yet again as the Inner-Mana rushed to their tips. The hot air around him turned even more scorching as small sparks began manifesting in the space just beyond Sieg's fingers, then those sparks erupted forth into fierce yellow flames. 

Within just three seconds Sieg had skillfully manipulated his Inner-Mana and brought forth an infernal fury onto the tangible world. It was a fury which took the shape of two raging orbs of flame before they suddenly shot forth at a rapid speed. 

The orbs stretched as they soared forth, transforming into two bright yellow infernal javelins which scorched the air around them. 

Their target was obvious, Sieg's opponent, Golden 3.

BOOM!

BOOM!

A second later the vicious spears struck true, scattering forth the flame's abyssal fury in all directions.