Azimuth: The Elden Throne

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/Boom!/

With a muffled explosion, Testros' chest rumbled with power as a drop of blood fell from his lips…

His expression contorted as pain overtook his body, but he kept his cool, controlling his energies, feeling their strength, consistency, density, and purity.

Harmonizing them individually, he gathered them, channeling them towards his heart.

Usually, as he told Dale before, to succeed through this process, dozens of years of training and experience would be needed to raise their control, strength, durability, and more, all for the sake of living through this gruesome, unnatural process, turning what was an impossibility into a streamlined, somewhat smooth process.

But right now, he had no such time, he would not go through all of his past again, to succeed, he needed to make use of the sole trait that came back with him:

His control, the memories of a future him.

He needed a level of control unlike any before. If he wished to do what his heart told him to, success was all.

His preparations were done, he fought dozens of beasts, feeling his weak and pitiful Mana course through his veins with each strike, his Vitality stirring as blood splashed across his face...

This foreign feeling to his flesh had now been somewhat accepted, and amidst the realization of the impact his actions had caused, he knew it was time to put everything he gathered into action.

His body had never handled Mana properly at this age and now, it was being forced to handle these chaotic forces…

In fact, amidst everything that could go wrong, there was an even greater thing standing in his way…

Did he even have enough Mana to finish this process?

/Boom…/

It didn't seem to matter to Testros that the odds were against him as with every minute, his heart rumbled with power, shaking his surroundings as waves of Mana poured inside his pores from the air around him.

/Bleed…/

His eyes began to bleed as his vessels ruptured, his skin swelled as his flesh trembled…

But deep down, his heart seemed to be…

/BOOOM!/

One last explosion, blasting the ground and everything else around him.

"Arg… Huff… Huff…"

/Shine…/

A faint, almost unnoticeable light shone close to the center of his chest, a small seed, the birth of a new body, a new self.

'... I did it… To think it was so simple… Maybe it's because I'm young.'

The current Testros was but 16 years of age, with such a youthful body that trained physically ever since he was a small child in a Mana-Rich environment, the process of drawing mana onto his vessels was smooth and procedural, with little to no resistance.

Of course, if little resistance means his vessels bursting through the process, one can imagine what high resistance entails…

/Shine…/

He raised his sword, taking a deep breath as he felt the Mana around him.

'It's smooth, incredibly so. Its size… I have as much Mana as I had two decades after I opened my own heart, and it hurts little to use it too.'

'And here in the Wall, I can feel an abundance of energy... No wonder the soldiers rarely ever tired while walking on their heavy armor all day... It was thanks to this.'

'There was an entire new world hidden before me... And I can now finally experience it.'

'No wonder he grew so fast, when children are given the means to sour, the energy they take to flap their wings is incomparable to an old crow like me.'

Testros smiled, thinking about the past and eventually, the future he could've lived...

As he began thinking about it, his expression soured.

'Had I awakened this in the past, how strong would I have been after… No matter.' He thought as he shook his head, dismissing such useless thoughts

He quickly moved on to checking himself, feeling his body and the warm blood coursing through his nose.

'My injuries aren't too significant, but I can't let them be. If I can find a potion, it should heal me to a potent enough condition.'

'No time to waste.'

He turned to look at the side, seeing a large tower rise from one of the sides of the Wall.

There, his companions of old remained. People he wished to see and talk with, but at the same time, was unwilling to face.

Their faces were blurry, his memories of them had all vanished, but the smiles he had during that time were still there, engraved deep within his thin memories.

'The Recruit's dormitories…'

For a moment, his body moved towards it, however, with a strong step, he moved to the side, away from the dormitory.

That wasn't his destination. He had higher priorities to attend to. He wouldn't be swayed by a mere illusion... That was what he tried to force himself to believe.

'I'll come to visit if I have some time…'

Although he knew that wasn't going to happen… He was ready to throw his life away, as this time, he wouldn't run away.

His sword was drawn and a portion of his future's power awakened, from here on out…

Testros would begin his plans to change the future!

…

/Meanwhile…/

/Drip… Drip…/

Within a dark cell with almost no light at all seldom for a small candle burning on a hallway before him, a tan-skinned, deeply scarred man bound by chains sat in a corner with his eyes closed, his presence so weak and thin he seemed to blend with his surroundings.

/Step…/

Eventually, the silence was broken by footsteps in the distance, together with the echoes of a door opening, its old, dusty hinges grinding and creaking as it threatened to break.

"..."

'It's time.' Dale thought deeply as he moved his body around

It had been around half an hour since he was sent to the Memory of the Coliseum slave, and all this time, he was forced to remain in this dirty, bloodstained cell with nothing to do apart from thinking and meditating, which in a sense, helped in immensely, he really needed some time to sort through his thoughts.

The cell itself wasn't small, it was around 8 by 9 meters wide, and over 3 meters tall, obviously meant to house a dozen or more slaves at once.

Everywhere he looked, small metal hooks could be seen embedded on the walls, some even bloodied, those were the remains of dozens of slaves that one day lived here with him.

At least, that was the story he knew.

Whenever a new slave arrived, they would be hooked onto one of those chains, and to an ordinary person, removing one of those hooks would be nigh impossible, he knew from experience those hooks were connected to a metal fence embedded on the wall, with the stone around them being a rudimentary form of cement surrounding it.

Besides, even if they freed themselves from them, what next? There was still the metallic door before him, the only way in and out of this place.

He could still see the world through a window covered in metal bars on the wall next to the door, that was where the light was coming from.

/Stop…/

The footsteps stopped before his cell, he could tell how many there were and how heavy they were from the sounds of their boots hitting the ground.

"Number 13." One of them said as they hit a small baton against the metal bars, causing a clicking sound to echo throughout the entire room and beyond

/Rise…/

/Clink…/

Dale got up from his corner, and with each step he took, the chains bound to his neck chattered, eventually tensing up as he stood before the metal bars, still a meter away from it.

The chains weren't even long enough to cover the entire room…

/Shine…/

One of the men raised a lantern on their waists, shedding light onto the dark room.

"This him? Looks worse than I thought." The one on the right, wearing a mix of leathery clothes and metallic straps asked with some disappointment as he squinted his eyes

"That's him alright, ripped apart a man yesterday, winning seven consecutive times."

"I wouldn't recommend standing near him if he has a weapon." The other one replied as he lowered his lantern

They spoke in a strange, foreign tone, but one Dale recognized, not solely through himself, but from fragments of something embedded deep inside his mind…

"He's the one, get ready, I don't want to end like the guys in block 3." The same guard said as he moved away from the cell

"Don't even mention that to me, it horrifies me even hearing about it…"

"Hey, number 13, it's your call, your 8th fight, don't mess it up, there's a lot at stake here, I even bet some on you, give it your all." The guard on the right said as he tapped on the cell's walls, chuckling to himself as he did so

"You're almost there 'hunch', 9 consecutive wins and you can rid yourself of these 'loins' and become an actual gladiator."

"And if you can 'drink sunlight' despite all of that… Then maybe we'll see something good coming out from this 'frung' hole after all…"

His slangs, on the other hand, were hard for Dale to make sense of...

Just when he was about to leave, Dale tapped on the metal bars with the tip of his fingers.

"Wait."

"Hm? You can actually speak! I thought you were like one of those 'stuck tongues'." The guard replied with some amusement as he turned to Dale

"So? What is it?"

His tone had changed, becoming deeper and harsher, it seemed he was ready to punish the slave if he were to waste his time.

"Do you wish to make some money?"

"Oh? A 'kikot' talking about money, that's a new one... Alright, entertain me."

Dale took a deep breath, saying:

"... I'll accept a Death Match, the 'Eagle Challenge'… And win."

"W-Wh…"

"Shh… If your friend hears you, trouble could rise." Dale said as he raised his finger to his lips, although the guard could barely see him without raising his lantern to him

"A-Ahem… I mean… Why?"

The guard was quick to catch up, seeing that things were taking an interesting turn, he remained in place, his arms crossed as he looked at Dale's outline through the metal bars.

"If I do not entertain the Sovereigns, they'll kill me, this is the only way for me to live."

'When I was first here, I chose the ordinary challenge, which only led to a series of unfortunate events... I imagine the original one also chose this challenge to survive.'

'There was no way he would've lived otherwise.'

"... Tsk, even then... What of it?"

"Speak clearly, what do you gain by talking to me? If you think I can change anything, think otherwise, you're only giving me a reason to retake my bets…"

Before the man could continue speaking, Dale interrupted him.

"No, I'm telling you to double down on them."

/Thud!/

"How?"

The guard hit the metal bars with his fists, staring intently at Dale as he tried to find any semblance of weakness in his expression and tone.

He seemed more than interested now, he was invested.

Dale had just learned something new, this guard hated losing money, or at least something similar to that...

"... My fight is inevitable, regardless of who I talk to or do, and it's clear that once the fight's theme changes, everyone will pull off their Bets and throw them elsewhere... If they can that is."

"This will be a great chance for the Sovereigns to take money from all the fools who bet before as you can't pull what you already gave them, although you can put it elsewhere…"

"However, you can also double it down."

It was hard to read the guard's expression with the cloth on his face, but he didn't seem upset, just pensive.

"You have the balls to call me a fool… But I'm all ears, I don't like losing money."

"... The guards in the armory, they're holding a betting scheme." Dale declared out loud without hesitation

"Ha… So even someone like you heard those rumors… Bunch of crooks they are..."

"But what of it? Does it change anything?"

"... They're altering the distribution of equipment to the combatants so their specific bets have a higher chance of occurring. And obviously, this likely includes my inevitable demise once I accept the Eagle Challenge."

"What would be the hardest Bet of them all to predict?" Dale asked as he raised his hands to the guard trying to form gestures to make his arguments more convincing

"The Hardest one?... It would be you winning."

"No, that's not it… The hardest one would be me taking down some of them before falling together with the other ones. A total wipeout. A draw... A 'Heroic Fall'."

"A Heroic Fall… Yes, that is indeed the case. But that's ridiculous to assume, when was the last time we witnessed one such wipeout?"

"... And what if I told you one of the fighters is a 'Cursed one'?"

"! T-That… Changes things."

'If it's a Cursed one… He's likely fighting to clear his name…'

'And regardless of who wins this time, he'll die as even if he lives, he'll take his own life to clear his name for the sake of his family.'

'If the guards arm the fighters and make a deal with the Cursed one… There is a very high chance that…'

"Okay… But so far, you've only given me reasons to bet against you."

"Good, now I'll give you a reason to bet on me." Dale said as he smiled in the dark

/Step…/

"Oi! What are you doing there? Taking a piss on them again?! Get a move on!" The other guard exclaimed from the end of the hallway

"He's coming, we don't have much time left." Dale said out loud as he pushed himself a bit further, trying to hold onto the bars

"I only need you to do one thing, make sure that I get a decent spear so I can fight, if you can get me one and when I win, then you'll likely be the only person to have put some money on my victory."

"Think about everyone and those guards' plans... You have some time to confirm my words, once you do, consider what would be the most profitable."

"To follow those bastards and gain the scraps of their food, or to go against the tide and gain everything alone."

"I leave with my life and you with the money, that's all there is to it. But I can't guarantee myself without a proper weapon."

'Not without revealing too much.'

"..."

The guard remained still, thinking, but he didn't have much time to do so as Dale gestured to his left.

Understanding what he meant, he soon turned around, saying:

"... And where else am I supposed to piss here?!"

"TSK! You're the one contributing to this place smelling like those whorehouses! Come on, let's get him out of there before my lungs turn black."

"..."

Dale returned to his corner in the cell, sitting down as he waited for the man's choice.

'This is the first step into changing the future of these memories... I'm glad he didn't ask many things, I did right by taking the initiative.'

'But he isn't dumb, he'll likely question those things and above all, realize that I shouldn't know even half of everything I said as combat slaves like me only know how to fight and not the details of everything else. Though it raises the question how the original slave learned of the Eagle Challenge...'

'However, that won't change anything, what will he gain by trying to expose those? It's much better to just keep quiet, just as he and everyone else did to the guards manipulating the results of the matches through the equipment distributed to the fighters.'

'With this body, it's not too hard to win fighting against ordinary people, but I can't look at such a narrow future when there's so much to experience in this memory.'

'This is only the first day, I still have a few left to unfold.'

In the silence of the dark cell, Dale closed his eyes. Meditating.

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Notes