Black, to Blue, to Gold, to Red.

The Violet stands alone.

In its own flourishing field of blood-stained clovers.

It withholds its watchful eye.

'Till the day may come that it can bring out its untapped power;

It stays stationary, ever unmoving, ever deceitful.

Black, to Blue, to Gold, to Red.

XXX

You never get used to the smell of blood. From the first time you encounter it till whatever age you grow to, blood is always an absolutely nauseating scent, an aroma that had maddening qualities and could drive the average man to insanity should they be subjected to its pungency every single day.
Save for one, motionless boy.

The young, black-haired lad lay flat against the cobbled walls of his confined cell, gripping at dusty earth below him as his head lolled stagnantly, like all muscles in his body were paralyzed. The faint sounds of steel clashing against steel overhead reverberated throughout the entire underground complex, the roar of a crowd mixed in with the sounds of combat provided a truly sickening feel in his stomach.

Then the clanging stopped, the crowd came to a hushed silence for a few moments, allowing a sparse few seconds of peace, before the cheers rolled out once more.

The loud clanging of a fist against the iron bars of his confinement caused him to glance upwards, his head remaining completely idle as he eyed a man dressed in full armour, a cold sneer of his face as he leaned against the bars of the cell.

"It's time again, be a good lad and get up without any resistance this time." the man spat harshly, before taking a few steps to the side in order to begin cranking at a wooden wheel, the veins in his neck popped out as he placed two hands on one handle and forced his bodyweight down onto it, before a loud 'SNAP' was heard as the wheel finally began moving.

The boy did not even move. Eyes were devoid of any life or consciousness as he exhaustedly lifted his head to look at the slowly rising bars of his cell. However, even as the clicking sound of the wheel confirmed the gate had been fully opened, he did not move, he did not lift a finger or make an attempt to stand up.

The armoured man gave a groan of annoyance as a spiteful look plastered across his face, rolling his eyes as he marched towards the boy, arm outstretched as he gripped a tuft of black hair roughly, "For the love of God, can you just comply once? Do as your superior tells you!" He ordered, practically shouting down the young boy's ear as he dragged him by his hair across the rough, dusty ground, "What? Did you finally kick the bucket or something?" The armoured man questioned, more rhetorically, though he lifted the boy up to his face in order to get a good look at him. His eyes were free of any colour whatsoever, almost as if his irises were white themselves, his skin had gone from the healthy, light mocha colour it had been when he first arrived to an almost ashen grey. His once neat, short brown hair had overgrown into unruly, wild spiky mane of black hair. Finally, the boy made some form of motion, he lifted his arm in a useless attempt to get his hair free from the man's grasp, a slight uncomfortable look of pain made its way past a weak, cheeky grin that had spread across his face,

"Can't kill me that easy I'm afraid. Can you let me go now, pretty please?" The boy's request was met with a grunt as the man easily tossed the boy aside with one arm, he was light enough to do so.

"If you can talk, you can walk. Get up and make your way to the elevator, or the Emperor will have both of our heads." The lad smirked with amusement as he shakily stood up on two feet, patting down his tattered brown tunic and torn beige shorts free of dust,

"Hey now, you got my clothes dirty." The man snorted as he looked up and down the boy's skinny frame. Two pieces of rags that were lazily slung over him could hardly be called clothes. Ignoring the boy he continued marching down the torchlit, cobbled passage, with the now more active lad scampering behind him. Finally, they reached a large, wooden square platform that had been embedded into the ground, a spot of sunlight had been allowed to shine down onto it from an open hole just above the platform. Unneeding of command, the boy hopped onto the platform, swinging his arms in circles as he began stretching out his stiff limbs, his back clicking as he leaned backwards, his hands placed on the small of his back to keep him steady.

He stumbled slightly as the platform juttered to a sudden start as it began to rise via pulleys, taking a deep breath to calm himself down, the boy steadied his breathing, turning back to the corridor and glancing down to his escort, who he offered another shit-eating grin to whilst waving playfully.
Safe to say it wasn't well received, as per the hand gesture sent back to him.
Chuckling to himself, the boy exhaled as the corridor disappeared, instead replaced with a cobbled wall as the platform continued to rise closer and closer to sunlight.

And closer and closer to that wretched stench.

Having to withhold a grimace, the boy resisted the urge to vomit as the smell of blood violently assaulted his nose like an SE Vehicle. Four years, one thousand four hundred and sixty times he has had to smell that, and he still wasn't used to it. The platform came to a sudden stop, as he was met with sunlight beaming onto his face from the other side of the meshed bars he was currently facing, the sound of the crowds' cheering was now fully audible and ear-piercing. The sight of hundreds of people cheering for what was about to happen made him want to kill every single person sitting in those stone seats.

Taking a deep breath once more, he allowed his body to go lax, eyes narrowing as he eyed the centre of the grounds he was about to run straight into. This had been his way of life for the past four years, his home you could probably say. His territory.

And he absolutely detested it.

But The Fighting Pits were all he knew at this point.

The slow, metallic creaking of the gate set of alarms in every single part of the boy's consciousness, his own muscles tensed up as if they were attempting to pull him back into the secluded, claustrophobic space of the elevator shaft. Blocking out all reflexes, the boy marched boldly onto the field of war. This was met with a horrendous cheer from the bloodthirsty viewers of his advertised fight, taking the time to give a sharp glare to each joyous face in the crowd, his eyes finally met with the 'Man of the Hour'. The Emperor, adorned in purple robes and a pompous sneer fixated upon his pale face, lounged lazily on his Throne of Ivory. At either side of him was a dark-skinned female attendant, who fanned him in the heat of the summer midday. And lining the ends of The Emperor's viewing box were the slave masters, or 'Trainers', those who went out and actually captured people in order to be taken here to The Fighting Pits in order to win valuable riches, bets, fame and fortune through their 'Champions'.

And unfortunately, this boy was one of them. Eyeing his own slave master, a short, stocky man who was dressed head-to-toe in the finest chainmail armour, grin spread widely across his face as he matched the boy's own direct glare.

The Pits themselves were not a pretty sight to behold, the arena he stood in was conjured up via magic, supplies were provided at the all sides of the arena, whilst the actual grounds themselves was simply a flat, dusty plain, stretching out maybe one kilometer in circumference, but other than that, there were no notable features of The Pits.

The crowds' cheering was halted briefly as the sound of the elevator on the opposing side coming to a halt reverberated throughout the arena, the slow cranking of the gate lifting providing a sense of drama and tension as the figure slowly made its way out of the darkness. Murmurs and gasps were all that came from the crowd as an extremely large, built and scarred middle-aged man came lumbering out of the cage, no clothes except a pair of shorts to cover him up and thus revealing his chiselled, hulking figure. Cackles began erupting from the crowd at the sight of the mismatch presented before them, a young, frail-looking boy, who looked no older than eight years old - versus this large, imposing unit of a man who looked like he'd be able to snap the boy in half with just his pinky finger.

"Oi, Antinous," one of the Noble's standing in The Emperor's box nudged the boy's slave master, a look of mild amusement on his face as he worked to hide his smile, "surely you must be crazy, selecting this boy for this kind of fight, you were informed beforehand of who my champion was going to be." The newly dubbed 'Antinous' simply gave a high-pitched chuckle at a frequency that was enough to make anyone around him sick,

"Oh yes, I was informed. But don't let appearances fool you, Eurymachus.' Eurymachus huffed, shaking his head in disbelief as he allowed himself to relax. His champion would have a simple time beating this boy to a pulp.

The crowds' silence gave leeway for a man to step up in The Emperor's box, a wand in hand that had a glowing tip pointed towards his mouth,

"Ladies and Gentleman! I hope you have all enjoyed viewing the fights here today in the glorious Koilotes, this last fight is the main card of the entire night, the champions' of the two highest nobleman that The Emperor has to offer, Hikaru and Rushi!" A loud cheer was heard after the mention of the latter champion, Rushi, the hulking man beat his chest at the influence of the crowd's cheering, roaring in appreciation as he raised his hands as if demanding more. 'Hikaru' gave a light chuckle as he placed his hands into his pockets, nearly tearing the fabric of his shorts as he awaited for the praise to be over, this was something he was VERY used to, constantly the underdog of each fight he partook in. It was fine by him, he didn't really care, for some odd reason he didn't want to be cheered on and supported by a crowd of psychopathic maniacs with a want for seeing the guts of an eight year old spilled.

"Hail thee to The Emperor!"

A synchronized "Hail thee to the Emperor!" sounded out throughout the crowd, Hikaru grimacing at the sound of it. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand that man receiving so much love from so many people due to his dark, deceitful actions. Sitting there above his Throne of Lies, he was no ruler, he was a King of Thieves. Speaking of the devil, the incarnate himself took to the stand, plucking the wand out of the presenter's grasp as he cleared his throat, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly, before finally speaking into the microphone.

"This fight, will surely be one to remember, the clash of two champions belonging to my best men. Though, I do question whether this will be a fight or a slaughter!" The man couldn't resist laughing during his last few words as he clutched his head. Antinous seemed irked at The Emperor's public teasing, but he daren't speak a word against him, "Anyway, moving on. This fight is the fated 'Final Fight', the day they've trained for, whoever is to win this shall win their freedom! So, I say let the fight… BEGIN!" he grinned as he brought his hand down commandingly, signifying the start of the match.

From the get go, the ground under Rushi's right foot caved as he sped towards Hikaru at a speed unimaginable to most humans, the wind whistling as he closed in on him at a high speed, eliciting high and loud shouts from the crowd as he closed in on Hikaru, who simply remained stationary.

"Oh, what's this? You know, if your champion doesn't move, he will be completely destroyed by my Rushi." Eurymachus boasted, jabbing at Antinous, who smiled and did not speak a word, simply standing with his hands behind his back in a professional manner as he barely even spared a glimpse at Eurymachus.

"We shall see."

And indeed they did as Rushi cocked back a fist whilst speeding towards Hikaru as he prepared for a direct punch to the face. Hikaru stood there, unmoving as he waited, and waited, and waited…

CRACK

The crowd went into uproar as the fist connected with Hikaru's jaw, a sickening crack sounding as he felt his jaw dislocating from his skull, his teeth blown to smithereens and fragments of enamel as he felt the unbelievable force behind Rushi's punch sweep him off his feet and send him flying into the brick wall of the arena, a cloud of dust blowing out from beneath his limp form as he became embedded in the wall. Eurymachus grinned as Rushi stomped towards Hikaru, who had apparently returned to his state of paralysis as he made no attempt to move from his spot in the wall, "They should really call this match off already" Eurymachus noted triumphantly as the boy below was being turned to absolute mush as the sound of Rushi's fists echoed over the sound of the spectators roaring wildly.

But they didn't, and the torture continued for much longer. Punch after punch after punch after punch, fists planted into his gut, causing an upchuck of blood to come flying out of Hikaru's mouth, his jaw hung limply, unhinged and giving him the look of a dead man if it weren't for his black eyes piercing through Rushi's own, glazed white eyes. Rushi clasped Hikaru by the head and tore him from the wall, tossing him across the arena far enough that he crashed into the floor of The Pit, rolling across the ground pathetically as he lay, more limp than a ragdoll. A cloud of dust rolled over him as Rushi gave a low, animalistic growl as he trudged slowly towards him in order to create dramatic effect, staring into Hikaru's own black eyes, filled with rage as to having been pit against a child like this.

Ah, Hikaru understood. His pride was hurt.

The wide, cheeky, toothless grin the black-haired boy gave was enough to send the bald, middle aged man into rage, roaring and beating his chest once more,

Oh? When did you take over?
About five seconds ago. It's been ages since I had my turn!

Rushi ran wildly towards Hikaru and grabbed him by the head once more, wrapping a hand around his torso and yanking sporadically in opposite directions, before a satisfying tear sounded and Hikaru's head separated from his body. Blood gushed out of his neck as his head rolled across the floor, tongue hanging out of his mouth as Rushi cried a fierce battle cry, spiking his corpse like a ball as he slammed the ground with his fists.

From the booth, Eurymachus cackled wildly, covering his face as he banged his fist against the balcony much in the same fashion as his champion, "Serves you right, Antinous! Putting a child into the big leagues like that, how humiliating! I doubt he's ever had any fights before this, eh?" Eurymachus glared at Antinous with a victorious look, before the look evaporated and his cheeks trembled and tainted red. Antinous was smiling, as if he didn't realise what had happened on the field. "What, what are you smiling about? Have you gone into such shock that you've gone braindead?"

"No." The sound of The Emperor's voice immediately shut Eurymachus up as he turned slowly to look at The Emperor, "It's not over yet." he said, though he talked as if he were entranced, eyes widened as he stared down at the field, unbelieving of what his eyes were showing him. Eurymachus offered a confused look, before looking back down at The Pit and nearly choking.

Rushi was still celebrating laughing as he smacked his chest and abdomen, the crowd cheering with him, though, Rushi failed to notice when the spectators fell into a shocked silence, the only audible sound that was heard was the champion smacking his hand against his body. It took a couple of seconds before Rushi realised they'd stopped celebrating, grunting in confusion he followed the gaze of the spectators, turning around to look at whatever it is they were looking at, before his jaw dropped comically.

Tendrils of solid, black magic and spurted from Hikaru's severed head and re-attached onto his body, slowly pulling the two together as if magnetically attracted. When the head and neck met, a flash of purple magic radiated from his body as he robotically rose to his feet, sputtering as he felt his bones reattach and his neck clicking back into place.

"Holy CRAP that hurt like a son of a gun!" Hikaru laughed as he rubbed the back of head soothingly, wincing as he felt fragments of his skull sealing back together, magic still emanating off his body as he sighed with relief, "But, unfortunately, that's barely enough to keep me down. Sorry bud, you're gonna have to try harder!" Hikaru offered another grin, this time, his teeth were all intact and glistening like pearls.

What are you doing?
Getting the crowd excited, c'mon, they'll love me!

You're disgusting me with your act, you enjoy these Pits?

Well, come on, I don't ENJOY them, but fighting is fun, right?

This act of bloodshed for amusement is sickening. Stop now.

Oh c'mon, you've had your turn to be in control. It's mine now!

Rushi clearly did not what he saw, veins bulging in his neck as his teeth gritted together so hard they could shatter. He slammed the ground with his fists once more as he roared an even more animalistic roar. Foot embedded into the ground again, and with another burst of speed, he flew towards Hikaru.

Meanwhile, the more invigorated, more excited Hikaru frowned as he watched Rushi speed towards him, using the exact same tactic he had last time. "This again?" he sighed in dismay, shrugging his shoulders in an 'oh well' gesture, "Guess that's that then." he sighed, taking a step forwards, before leaning down to evade as Rushi sloppily threw a fist out at him. Following Rushi's example, Hikaru forced power underneath his feet the moment Rushi passed over him, grinning sadistically as an intense power hummed through his fist. Sending his punch flying up into Rushi's toned abdomen, he felt his fist penetrate skin, and meet Rushi's insides as the middle-aged man gave a strangled choke. He struggled around for a little while longer, squirming about on the end of Hikaru's arm, before finally going limp and hanging over the eight year old's small frame. Blood seeped through Hikaru's sleeve as his arm became drenched with Rushi's blood, smiling sweetly, he brought his arm down and allowed the body to slide off of his arm. He squatted down beside the corpse and poked the man's cold face, "Thanks for the fight, old man!" He giggled manically, staring down at his arm that was beginning to form a hardened layer of blood, gripping his fist a couple of times as he bit his lip with excitement.

Suddenly, his breath caught in his throat as he felt nausea overtake him, his mind seemingly switching out for another as the sight of blood no longer made him excited. No, in fact the moment he opened his eyes and saw his arm caked with blood, his felt his stomach flip as he fell to his knees and hurled a stream of vomit.

The crowd was silent, the Noble's were silent. The Emperor was silent. Only Antinous's light chuckling was audible as he practically felt the money raining down upon him. Eurymachus gave a cry of dismay as he fell to his knees as pounded the floor like a child throwing a tantrum. The Emperor arose, almost falling back into his chair due to utter shock as the crowd watched him, still in silence.

"W-Well then," He spoke into his wand, "H-Hikaru… Champion of Antinous, I c-congratulate you on your… um… victory,"

Oh god, just the sound of The Emperor's voice praising him made Hikaru throw up even more.

"Well… as founder of The P-Pits, Hikaru, I hereby g-grant you your free-"

The Emperor couldn't finish his sentence before an overwhelming light, as if sent from Heaven, overtook the entire arena.

XXXXX

When Hikaru awoke, he could barely move, having just thrown up as well had left him completely exhausted. A high-pitched ringing in his ear prevented him from even being able to hear the screams of spectators as the few survivors fled the scene.

Wait, survivors?

Hikaru almost threw up again as his vision began to return, bodies and corpses littered the stands, few even piled up at the edges of the arena, having fallen in, and… fire.

Fire.

Fire.

Hikaru screamed as he covered his head with his hands, burying his head into the dirt of the grounds as memories began drilling themselves back into his head. The sight of his village, the sight of his people… flying away. His mother, who had been grounded.

"Why do you suffer, little one?" Hikaru's eyes widened as his head shot up from beneath his hands, going up to glare at whoever had spoken, his eyes softened as they met with a young man. He couldn't be over twenty years old, and he had a gentle expression on his face. But there was something wrong, he could feel it, the aura he irradiated, it was sickeningly powerful and evil. Quivering, Hikaru was barely able to maintain eye contact.

"Y-You… you did this, didn't you?" Hikaru didn't know how to feel, The Pits were gone, his home for the last four years had disappeared. Call it some form of Stockholm Syndrome, but he almost felt empty his prison was gone, a part of him rejoiced, whilst another despaired.

The man answered his question with a question,

"You were the one who released that strange magic earlier, weren't you?" Hikaru could only offer an expression that was a mix of fear and confusion. The man frowned, before raising a hand and looking down at Hikaru's wrist, bringing his hand down onto it as the boy's wrist was cut away from his arm. Having felt worse, Hikaru grimaced slightly, but still kept the look of pure horror on his face as he stared up at the man, his legs were paralyzed, he couldn't move. What was going to happen to him? Was this man going to kill him?"

His wrist spurted the black tendrils once more as they reattached to his arm, eliciting a pleased look from the man, "Incredible, so it does still exist."

"W-What?" The black-haired man offered a smile to the boy, which, despite the aura, vibe and… fire, was oddly comforting.

"Forgive me, I should probably explain. My name is Zeref, I'm going to make you my candidate."