Zaria Dove

Obliterate

He suddenly lunged at me, grabbing my throat and pushing me against the wall. "If you haven't noticed, I am not here to harm you! But that doesn't mean that I can't," he growled, his teeth clenched.

"The wounded are more like to get infected to the virus than those who come into physical contact with an infected one. If you want to get sick, go ahead. But my orders are to keep you stable until we find a suitable match." With that, he let go of my throat.

Realizing that fighting back was pointless, I gave in. As he examined the wound on my forehead, he took out a small spray bottle and applied it to my skin, causing it to itch and burn. Surprisingly, the bleeding stopped.

He then handed me some syrup and flashed a smile. "You can't seriously be thinking of escaping through this heavily fortified door," he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not doing it to escape!" I locked eyes with him, determination burning in my gaze. "I have a message that needs to be delivered." The realization hit him, and his face turned pale as if he had seen a ghost.

"Obliterate," I whispered, it was the code for the tournament.

"You're playing with fire..." He started, but I cut him off with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you scared?" A mischievous smile formed on my lips.

"Women aren't allowed to participate in the Vice Chalice!" His voice was emotionless.

"Because you're afraid they might actually win!" I smirked, confident in my abilities.

"You won't succeed!" He retorted.

"Leave that to me!" I declared, standing up from my seat.

He stood up as well, his eyes fixed on me.

Before he could make his exit, I stopped him dead in his tracks. "If I win, I'd very much like my freedom!"

He turned around and walked away, his response a simple acknowledgment. "Alright then! I'll be back tomorrow."

A quiet murmur spread throughout the prison, the silence shattered by whispers. They had never seen someone challenge the established order, especially not a girl.

Meanwhile, the same guard whom I had challenged arrived at the royal chambers to inform the president about my audacious challenge.

Upon hearing the news, President Asher and his wife burst into uncontrollable laughter, while the guard remained serious, devoid of any amusement.

"I can't decide what's more amusing," the president chuckled. "The fact that a girl dares to challenge us, or the fact that she's challenging a healer!"

"Should I disregard her, then?" The guard cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure.

"No! Let her come," the president replied, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

"But sir..." The guard started, but he was quickly silenced.

"Are you daring to question my decision, Mr. Hale?" The president's gaze bore into him.

"No, sir, absolutely not!" The guard bowed, his voice filled with submission.

President Asher snapped his fingers near his ear, causing a vibrant blue light to swirl around it. "Lieutenant Myers! Assign the most skilled trainers to Mr. Enzo Hale. He has five months to be trained to perfection!" The president's command reverberated through the room.

As he departed, the president's wife couldn't help but express her concerns. "Did you really give her permission to participate?" Her worry was evident in her voice. "Do you even realize the consequences of this?"

The President chuckled, pouring himself a drink. "Hey, don't worry. She doesn't stand a chance. She won't even make it past the first round."

"But what if she does?" His wife asked, her concern growing.

"Let's think about that for a moment," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Even if she somehow gets through the first and second rounds, she won't survive the third." They both burst into laughter, their amusement tinged with a hint of malice.

Vice Chalice, a deadly tournament that happens every five years in the middle of summer, was looming ahead. It consisted of three rounds, with the first one called Resistance, which had four phases.

In this round, thousands of contestants faced various challenges and attacks to test their ability to resist. Only a hundred would move on to the next stage.

After the first round, the remaining hundred would face a tough test. Only fifty would be chosen to proceed to the second round, named Survival. The details of this round, as well as the third and final round called Offense, were kept secret.

As I think about participating in this tournament, I realize that I'm stepping into the unknown. I have no idea what awaits me in the second and third rounds. However, despite the uncertainty, I am determined to succeed. I have sworn to put an end to this everlasting darkness, and I will make it happen.

Vice Chalice has gained quite a reputation, long before Type C arrived on earth. The story goes that the chances of anyone winning were almost nonexistent. But against all odds, there were three winners, and interestingly, all three were men.

As I look back on my journey, I can't help but wonder if I'll be able to make history. I knew I was alone in my fight for the rights of the helpless against a savage nation.

Determined to make a difference, I dedicated myself to intense training. I made sure to fuel my body with enough food to sustain my strength, and then I would practice tirelessly.

Remember that water line that resembled a sewer? That's our source of hydration. Although the water isn't exactly refreshing, it does provide some relief to our parched throats.

There was an empty cage, serving as my training partner with its sturdy bars. Every day, after finishing my lunch, I would unleash my fury on those bars. My fists would get bruised, and my feet would ache from countless strikes. But with each passing day, even the wound on my belly began to heal.

Enzo probably deserves credit for the pills he gave me to treat the wound on my forehead. Despite his help, I couldn't bring myself to show any kindness towards him. Losing Jarred turned my heart to stone, and besides, he's my opponent. "You're just creating a useless mess," he would often say to me.