Chapter 61: Shadows in the Arena

Bel slept soundly until the next day.
Through the night, Lema had not closed his eyes once.
He held Bel close, caressing her, and even pressed light kisses on her sleeping body.
At first, they were just gentle kisses.
But as time passed, his mouth lingered longer, sucking harder.

Bel’s body healed quickly, erasing every trace Lema left behind.
So, he simply marked her again, biting and sucking until red traces bloomed anew.
When they first joined bodies, Lema had panicked over even a single bruise, begging Bel to scold or whip him for it.
But now?
Now he deliberately carved marks as though he wanted them displayed.

Ridiculous.
Audacious.
Especially since by morning they would all vanish anyway.
Yet Bel, though aware of everything, let Lema have his way.

Perhaps, for Lema, this act bordered on worship.
And to Bel, the feeling was not unpleasant.
Besides, it was bothersome to open her eyes just to stop him.

Without a summoner, Bel often spent her time like this—sleeping endlessly.
If she stayed awake too long, hunger gnawed at her.
Left unchecked, she would devour some random man, only to grow bored and fall asleep again.
Dragging things out inevitably led to hitting her limit.
And then—chaos followed.

But now…
Lema Valkite was playing a far better role than expected.
At first, Bel had thought to keep him close only until the time came to devour him.
But for the moment, simply keeping him near was satisfying enough.
There was no urge to kill and eat him.

***

Morning.
Sunlight spilled through the large windows of the fine room Lema had secured.
Bel opened her eyes—and met Lema’s gaze.

Golden light scattered over the man’s shining blond hair.
His steady eyes held Bel’s without wavering.
Truly, the image of a holy knight of Light.
What on earth had Luxlon—or Lucilonia, whichever it was—been thinking, dismissing someone like this?
What a waste.

“Lema.”
“Yes, my lord.”

Though Lema had not slept all night, Bel thought she would skip his morning training to rest.
But no—he had gone out at dawn, exercised as usual, washed, eaten outside, and returned.

Bel sat up.
Fresh green eyes followed her movement.
“What are you staring at?”
“My lord, your body…”
“Hm?”
“I thought to wash you while you slept… but it seems there was no need.”

“Ah…”
This body of hers was the culmination of all the knowledge and techniques of the Pranagenis humans.
Though shaped after human flesh and following its biological systems, it was nothing like a mere mortal body.
It purged what was unnecessary on its own.
No waste ever accumulated.
Sweat and other fluids dried and vanished quickly.

“It naturally restores itself over time, always returning to its optimal state.”
“…Is that so?”

Lema’s gaze lingered on Bel’s neck—and beneath the open collar.
He had claimed he only wanted to wash her, and likely meant it, but Bel knew what he truly wanted to ask.

The marks.
The ones he had so stubbornly carved last night—gone without a trace.
Even though she hadn’t healed them herself.

Lema smiled, staring fixedly at her, but then looked away with the same expression.
He changed the subject instead, offering something wrapped in paper.
“My lord, would you try this?”

It was the fried bread with sausage he had bought yesterday.
“That again?”
“No. I made this one fresh this morning, with better ingredients.”

Bel accepted it.
It certainly looked and smelled different—golden, not brown, with steam rising as if just fried.
She took a bite.
“…It’s good.”

As Bel finally enjoyed a proper snack, Lema explained their schedule.
“In three days, you only need to attend the preliminary round of the gladiatorial tournament. Until then, there is nothing urgent to do…”

He hesitated, then smiled faintly, his cheeks tinged red.
“Is there anything you would like to do in the meantime?”

Something Bel wanted?
That was absurd. Without a summoner, she had no desires of her own.
Left unchecked, she would simply sleep again.

“…Find a summoner.”
“Except that.”

Bel gave him a long look.
Lema’s voice was steady, his tone firm as always.
“My lord, the very first thing you ever taught me was this: without faith, I was a man without will or purpose. You scolded me and gave me a new life. Yet now, you cling only to summoners? Is that all?”

“…Unlike you, Lema, I am not human. I have no will of my own.”

That was why she fed on a summoner’s will, fulfilling it in their stead.
Lema gazed at her quietly.
As Bel could never easily read a human’s face, Lema could not easily read Bel’s blank one.

“Then…”
After some thought, Lema reached out his hand.
Bel placed her fingers upon it.
Lema pressed his forehead and lips to them before rising.
“Would you walk around the tournament grounds with me?”
“Why?”
“Because it is my wish.”

…So be it.
He had brought a gift worth pleasing her with today.
“Alright.”

Thus, Bel accompanied Lema through the bustling streets.
Crowds filled the markets—gladiators, tourists, vendors.
Noise, food, games, and stalls overflowed.

“Lema, what’s that?”
“Yesterday we only saw food stands. These sell toys, games, prizes.”
“Games?”
“I’ll show you.”

Lema threw darts at a booth, winning a cheap candy.
Bel copied him, and to her own amusement, won an ugly doll instead.
“You only roll dice well.”
“That’s unfair, my lord…”

Despite his earnest attempt, Lema wasn’t particularly skilled at such things.
Beyond stalls, there were even gambling houses.
With the big tournament ahead, bets were being placed on the fighters.

“…My lord, shall we place a wager as well?”

The holy knight had fallen far indeed.
He did not stop at suggestion, but actually bet money—on Bel’s behalf, too.
“I wrote it under your name, my lord.”
“…Must I?”
“Ah—no, you just write the name of the one you think will win. I forgot to explain.”
“I see. I wrote yours.”

At that, Lema’s face shone with a radiant smile.
Truly, light itself.

And so, following him, three days passed in the blink of an eye.

***

Three days later.
The preliminaries.

The gladiatorial tournament had multiple arenas.
So many people had gathered that the organizers split events by lot.

“I drew Arena One.”
“I’m in Arena Five.”

Before parting, Lema gave Bel a solemn reminder—half request.
“My lord, please go easy.”
“…I know.”

But then Bel added, deadpan:
“…If a man shows up, I can’t promise anything.”
“…Well… that much is none of my concern.”

Sending Lema off, Bel headed toward Arena Five.
On the way, she passed several being carried out on stretchers.

“Ugh… hhhhk…”
“…Ghhhk…”

Their insides had been completely torn apart.