Dalab was still buzzing, the whole arena practically vibrating with excitement. Everyone's eyes were locked on Shean from Zela — Jim — as he faced off against the Zim. It was a moment for the history books… until it wasn't.
Because out of nowhere, Jim collapsed. Just boom — hit the ground like a dropped sack of potatoes. Gulutel was already down, the one-winged Miteon was crumpled like a cheap tent, and now Jim too? The crowd gasped so loud you could've sworn the arena roof lifted an inch.
But Mua — the ancient spirit trapped inside the Zim — had bigger fish to fry. Possessing that human shell, Mua wasn't there to pick on gladiators. No, Mua had his eyes set on the big prize: Hennekas. With a roar that shook the sand, Mua broke right through the invisible barrier — something no one thought was even possible — and charged. Spectators screamed. Drinks were dropped. Some of the Oxeds flew into the stands trying to get out of the way.
Hennekas didn't flinch, though. The guy just watched, calculating. Right as Mua got dangerously close, something unseen yanked the spirit right out of the Zim's body like bad wiring pulled from a wall. The human shell collapsed, lifeless, like an abandoned marionette. Dalab was left stunned.
Technically, the gladiators had lost. But hey, they were still alive, and in a bloodthirsty city like Dalab, that counted for something. They were dragged back to prison, beaten and unconscious. Jim was a wreck. He didn't even twitch when they picked him up.
The Queen, still wearing her heavy crown and a suspicious look, made a quick call:
"Bring Shean to my chambers," she ordered to one of her men, voice cold as steel.
Hennekas — wise old fox that he was — leaned over and murmured something in her ear. Something like:
"Keep him close. Keep him locked. You have no idea what he really is."
The Queen didn't argue. She didn't exactly trust Hennekas, but she trusted survival.
Later that night, the Queen paced her golden chamber, glancing at the unconscious boy laid across her grand bed. Questions swirled through her mind like a storm. Who was this kid? Why did Hennekas care? Why did destiny seem to bend around him like smoke?
She knew what she had to do.
No guards. No witnesses. No stupid advisors.
She locked the doors, bolted the windows, sealed the room. Dalab's queen, feared and worshiped by millions, stripped off her royal robes — bare as the moon. Her body shimmered with Setrum power, old magic humming under her skin.
Jim, limp and vulnerable, was stripped too.
The Queen laid herself across his chest, her small but firm breasts pressing against his skin, and began chanting in a language older than Dalab itself — the lost tongue of the Setrums.
"Show yourself to me," she whispered, almost a prayer.
Her hand slid down between her own thighs, finding herself slick with need — not for pleasure, but for power. With a soft moan, she circled her fingers against her clit, building the heat, stoking the energy she needed.
Her body shivered as she came, small but electric, the orgasm unlocking the door between her world and the truth hidden inside Jim. Panting softly, she touched her wet fingers to his forehead, pressing the ancient sigil of Setrum into his skin.
The moment their energies connected, the world around her fell away. The chamber vanished.
The gold. The guards. Dalab itself.
Gone. And in that instant — she saw him. All of him. Not just a boy from Zela. Not just a lucky gladiator. But something infinitely older, infinitely more dangerous — and infinitely more important — than anything she had prepared for.
Now it wasn't about fun anymore. It was about power. Raw, ancient power humming between her fingers.
She had a thousand options swirling in her mind, but one truth stood above the rest — she held a Night Rider in her arms. A creature of fate. A weapon wrapped in flesh.
With him, she could govern beyond Dalab. With him, she could seize back her Setrum power, tear down the old order and build a new empire atop the ashes. With him, she could win the trust of Senedro, make the proud cities bow at her feet. And she knew — not many had figured it out. Not even Hennekas. Only the Setrums.
But they were few now, far away... and were still caught by the old pact.
Most importantly —
With Jim Slevann, the Scepter of the End wasn't a legend anymore.
It was real, and it was within her grasp.
Good. Hennekas was gone, riding out of Dalab on Ziz.
The city was hers now. The game was hers now. It was time to do exploits the world would never forget. And Jim? Jim was hers.
She whispered old spells over his bare body, ancient words thick with power. When he would walk again in Senedro, he would not hear any Setrum call, no foreign voice would break her hold. He belonged to her alone — soul, body, and destiny.