Pestilence was clad in black armour. The plates were forged from some dark alloy that drank light rather than reflected it, etched with faint, twisting patterns that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of the eye. Segmented pauldrons curved sharply over her shoulders like the wings of a carrion bird. The breastplate hugged her form closely, accentuating the curvy figure beneath without compromising mobility. In the center lay the Emperor's crest: a skull wearing a crown, the bone polished to an unnatural sheen, the crown jagged and cruel. The skull's empty sockets stared outward as though judging all who dared look upon it. Greaves and vambraces completed the set, each piece reinforced with subtle ridges that channeled blows away from vital points. A thin black cloak draped from her shoulders, tattered at the edges as though gnawed by unseen teeth. Pestilence had pink long hair, a light shade of pink that fell in loose waves past her waist, stark against the darkness of her armour. Her face held a disinterested look in her eyes, pale violet irises half-lidded, as though the world bored her to the point of exhaustion.

  "Hey Orcie," she said. "Where is your king?"

  The orc felt insulted. His pride on full display, he bared yellowed tusks.

  "How dare you! A lowly mortal like you insult me, Darnos of the orc royal army, commander of the eastern tribe!"

  Orcs were incredibly bigger than humans. They stood taller, broader, heavier. Most reached six to seven feet in height, muscles corded like thick ropes under leathery skin. They were every human's nightmare in the old tales. Though Darnos was an A-class orc, B- and C-class variants were not quite so massive. Orcs valued strength above all. Important positions were filled by the most powerful members of the tribe. The Emperor had planned to rule over the supernatural creatures. They had lived in uneasy peace with humans for generations, borders respected, old pacts honored. But when the Emperor's reign began, war came. The creatures were his latest targets, and the orcs had borne the brunt of recent raids.

  Pestilence's thin and refined eyebrows furrowed. She said, "Guess I have to force it out of you. That's sad." Her facial expression looked gloomy.

  "Do you think I need the pity of such a fragile being?" Darnos lifted his huge blade. "Divine Cleave!"

  The massive sword now emitted a red glow. It swung in a wide arc headed straight for Pestilence. She stared down the giant without fear.

  "Boom!!"

  The surrounding areas were damaged. The slice where Pestilence stood left a large hole in the earth, soil thrown high, roses uprooted and scattered. When the smoke cleared, Pestilence's palm gripped the giant blade. Fingers wrapped around the edge without a single cut.

  "What? She caught my attack?"

  At that moment the orc understood the difference in power. He abandoned his sword and ran. While he ran, Pestilence's lips formed a devilish smile. Swarms of insects began to fly out from her body. They rushed the orc and formed a vortex, halting his advance. While Darnos was confused and scared, a human-sized hole opened in the vortex. She faced him with her smile.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  She raised her hands. The vortex collapsed on them both.

  Later Pestilence sat on a shattered stone bench, absent-minded, legs crossed. The orc stood behind her with his sword now sheathed, like a bodyguard. His eyes were dull, movements mechanical.

  "Hmm," she murmured. "Now there is no need to add a useless human to my army. I have found a better replacement, isn't that right, Orcie?"

  The orc made a zombified grunt and then bowed.

  News spread fast. Pestilence had filled her private army slot. This caused massive uproar, but nobody dared challenge her in the open lest they and their family suffer fates worse than death.

  "Lady Pestilence has filled her vacancy! Read the paper for more!!"

  The newsboy spread the information so that the public knew. When called, he gave them the day's papers with full details while making five silver for the purchase. Business was great.

  Gerik heard this and was engulfed in a fit of rage. He went ballistic. He kicked his table. It splintered against the wall. He flipped over furniture. Chairs crashed. A shelf toppled, books and jars scattering. When the paper boy finally reached his section, Gerik bought a paper. He read it and was livid.

  "I need fresh air."

  Gerik walked out and went to the Iron Anchor. He ordered ale and drank in silence. Two drunk men stopped beside him. One squinted.

  "Isn't that... guy... what's his name again?"

  "Uh, ha!... t-the Puntsman!!" the second said.

  The first snorted. "No, silly. It is the Bustman!"

  Cal spoke from the counter. "Better leave that one. You might get yer head split open if you trouble 'im long enough."

  They both gulped and let Gerik be. Gerik locked eyes with Cal and gave a nod of thanks.

  Gerik was in a tight position. He had just lost his closest chance at revenge. He had come this far and now it was all in vain. He sipped his ale and was about to leave when a lady with short ginger-coloured hair approached him. He ignored her and kept walking. She spoke.

  "I bring business."

  "Not really in the mood."

  "Wait till you hear the pay."

  Seeing Gerik halt his movement and sit back down, she continued. Gerik got a good look at her. She not only had ginger hair, she had huge busts, a slender form, and a firm posterior. She wore a short black-and-white dress with long boots.

  "I need to hire your services for an escort job."

  "Sounds like a bother. You have got the wrong man. I'm a bounty hunter."

  "Well, the offer is still open. I believe you are the right man for this job. I will come by five days from now. If you are interested, let the barkeep know. I will make arrangements with him."

  She turned and left.

  Gerik had a fight. He was going up against Lyra Aetris. Her thread magic was a tough challenge. He wanted to quit the tournament and pursue a new opportunity to end the Emperor, but he was not that kind of man. Gerik always finished what he started. He left the pub.

  The next day the tournament received a massive shock: Pestilence had filled her private army vacancy not with a human contestant from the event, but with a captured A-class blood orc she had personally subdued and enthralled in the Rose District, but the mood of the arena remained as energetic as before.

  Gerik prepared himself and waited in the waiting area. He felt the tournament still had its purposes. He would be able to test his battle strength and even become stronger. Earlier in the day the tournament had seen Potter Fred and Laston York proceed to the next stages. Now one more battle was going to take place before Gerik's battle. It was Prometheus', but due to the two contestants not being available, Gerik's fight was moved up.