Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

THE STAG was like a holy sacrifice.

In the past two years he had spent in Eldoria, Rafel had seen red elks, brown elks, fucking gray elks. But a pure white breed, he'd never seen. Until now. Seeing the mythic creature up close, it was no wonder that it was so rare, like a unicorn—with a gold forehorn. The fact was that certain sects of the skyling peoples worshipped the White Stag as the [Anima Dios].

An animal god.

Like the fox Lady of the Mandarin, and the Mayan Quetzalcoatl.

Israfel had once come across an albino turtle in the rifts of the Atlantean Research Institute, but that miraculous shell could not compare to the pristine pelt on the stag. Gretchen and Olivar seemed quite taken with the creature and since no one else was doing it, Rafel lowered his eyes and withdrew like an arrow's quiver protruding out his back the flag of his Arc.

He was sure the Shadow faction would be wishing he had chosen them. Poor Ravens.

Rafel could almost hear the cheering from the afar amphitheater as he staked the butt of the flag into the ground.

The forest wind whispered in the tall trees and the forked banner rippled in the waning dusk. It made the leaping red phoenix blazoned in the crimson colors almost seem alive. And the feathers glowed on fire. The air buzzed with notifications, where all champions could see.

[Ding!]

[Phoenix Arc gains five points for finding the Jewel of the Hunt.]

[Phoenix Arc gains two points for bonding the White Stag.]

Just then, the candidates of the Blue Faction tore out into the clearing from the northward treeline. The [Pegasus Arc] stomped in their seal blue colors, with the winged horse's insignia blazing on the backs of their jackets and collars. Bolta in the lead, and Mikhail and Aya jogging up behind. The Olympian had long strides. Clearly, Bolta rushed to reach the jewel first.

But on spotting the red champions already with the stag, she sighed heavily and stopped running.

There was no need for hurry now. The candidates for Phoenix Arc had secured the jewel and planted their flag in the stag's lair. She chewed her lip a bit at the swaying red, but was not angry or sad. They were the runner-ups. And that was fine. Bolta slowed her pace as she neared Rafel.

She looked between he and the mounted flag, and chuckled. "Oh well, if I expected anyone to be Athena's champion, it would be you."

She flirted with her blue eyes, and Rafel could feel electricity zap in the air. "—you do have a certain way with gods."

Rafel returned Bolta's secret smile. Aya noticed this chemistry between her Lord Master and the [Fourth Year] female. She kept her thoughts to herself. Mikhail maneuvered past them, moving for Olivar and Gretchen. He asked to pet the stag.

"Hey, can I touch him?"

"It's a her," Olivar soldiered out.

But he beckoned the blue champion close. Bolta and Rafel watched the others arrive. The third faction to find the lair of the White Stag was [Raven Arc], and then the Griffin Golds came in last. The candidates of the Shadow and Gold faction bowed their heads in finding the red flag planted on the small hill. And contrary to their Arc's influence, Rosamunde and Ravenna sent Rafel warm smiles.

The booming roars of those in the amphitheater could be heard in the wind reaching the woods. In their seats, students of all magical species were already summing up the points to access the winner of the Hunt. But even before the board total and gamemaster announcement, everyone already knew the Arc with the game ball.

And the champion of Athena, he who had his name in gold at the top of the leaderboard.

The white stag followed Olivar behind as the twelve candidates were led back out of the nameless woods by a floating luminous ball. With the winning faction, clad in red blazers in front, the participants of the Hunt entered back into the filled amphitheater through the high black gates again.

The giant screens vanished above and the spectators were free to stare down and hail their returning heroes.

Rafel looked around the open dome of the colosseum. Young witches of the [C.A.W] cheered from every faction corner of the vast stadium, but all the Reds gave him a standing ovation. They clapped and yelled and screamed. Their chants were a rage. A thunder.

Beside him, Gretchen was flaming red in the face, blushing hard. And Olivar lifted his hands to the open twilight sky and basked in the praises.

Typical D'shenko.

"PHOENIX! ARC! PHOENIX! ARC! PHOENIX! ARC!"

A [Fourth Year] Red in a crimson turban led the ovation. "SAY WHAT?"

"PHOENIX ARC!"

"PHOENIX WHAT?"

"PHOENIX! ARC! PHOENIX! ARC!"

They boomed the words until it vibrated the sands under the heels of the hunters. Bolta nudged Rafel, and her finger crooked around his pinky. She sent him a gorgeous smile. "All hail the crimson champion."

Rafel nodded. "Thanks." He said. Coming from the daughter of Zeus, it was quite the compliment.

The hanging leaderboard moved to the center of the arena, as majestic steps flowed out by an enchantment. The steps were made of pure gold light and gingerly, the gamemaster climbed them up to a high perch in the rotund amphitheater where all eyes could see him. Gazes lifted and the thundering chanting began to fizz out.

In the same throne a Roman Emperor might take at a Spartan ludus, Dr. Nicara Shetty, headmistress of the elite witch academy waved her upturned thumb high in the air.

PAAAAAH!!!

The games horns blasted. And a nice quiet fell over the entire seated crowd.

Olivar nearly ripped his eyes from the perch when the previously unknown gamesmaster—for purity of the Hunt's sake—removed her black cowl and unveiled to the amphitheater her face. And it was beautiful. It was also the scorching hot face that had nearly cost Israfel and his team their place at the winning gold. It was the face of temptation.

Lady Ivoria Sephora Grimm was gamesmaster.

"—At least she got some clothes on." Gretchen scoffed. Obviously the vampiress hadn't forgiven the Ivy professor 'for giving' her blue vag.

Gretchen's annoyance was more in fact that she hadn't gotten to kiss those soft lips than actual anger at being tempted off course. Instead of looking at Dr. Ivy; with the cool flared gown, nice cowgirl boots, and pretty azaleas in her hair, Rafel focused on the leaderboard and reading the names listed and ranked according to individual points scored.

He was top of the leaderboard; his name in bright, realistic gold.

[Israfel Bludthïrste: Champion of Athena.]

[Witch Faction: The Phoenix Arc.]

[Bolta Olympian: Silver Runner-up.]

[Witch Faction: Pegasus Arc.]

Rafel was impressed and proud—though he'd never tell her that, to see Bolta's name in second place. Gretchen and Rosa tied at third place. Ravenna came fourth. And Olivar, fifth. Rafel didn't care for the rest. It was a mild comfort to all blues to see the names of the Gold faction candidates scrambling for last place.

The only two points the [Griffin Arc] had managed to secure was held by Percival, in taming a Nemean lion.

On her high perch, the noble lady, baroness, and professor of [Potions and Poisons]: began to speak in a clean, distinguished voice. Her tone was mellow, and her eyes were doe. Most of the boys just focused on the image of her tits—which they had seen naked before. Dr. Ivy began,

"The Great Hunt of Athena is ended, the opening round of the Spring Games. And I am pleased to announce as winner of the Hunt—"

"Go Reds!" Someone whistled.

"Oh shut it, fucko." Erika chastised under her breath. None was more enraged at the nominal performance of her Arc than the Student President. An utter waste of time, in her regard.

The Griffin Arc: last year's winners, were sorry last.

Dr. Ivy cleared her throat in the [Mic Glyph] and continued. "Ahem! I am pleased to announce this season's winner of the Hunt, champions of amicable Athena, as PHOENIX ARC!!!" Banners and flags of royal red went up in all corners of the amphitheater, even the sides populated by other factions. Dr. Ivy spoke around the tremors.

"The crimson champions carry the Hunt's jewel this year by an aggregate of forty two points. And going home with the antlered charm of Athena at this year's Games is Master Israfel Blüdthïrste."

"Israfel! Israfel! Israfel!" The whole stadium broke in thunder, and the students weren't quitting. "Israfel! Israfel!"

Bolta nudged him again. "How does it feel to see name up there, eh?"

"Nostalgic," Rafel replied without thinking twice. It was a near demonstration to the accolades he got in Hel's arena—only blood wasn't on the sands and the spectators were not naked and horned; at least some of them. While Olivar ate up the fans catcalls like he was the one with his name shining up on there, on the gold plaque, Rafel calmly smiled to let his Rack know he appreciated the gesture.

He heard Bolta's voice close up. "You should know, First Year, I have a thing for champions."

Rafel whispered back. "A family thing?"

"Well yeah," Bolta chuckled, "considering Heracles and Apollonia, I guess. How come I've never thought of that before? Anyway, I'm having a little party over at my place. Drop by, and we can feel like real champions together."

"Your place?"

"Yeah. Daddy don't like me among mortals." Bolta made air quotes and a funny face.

Rafel gazed down at the beautiful, tan daughter of Zeus. Amidst the romp of a shaking colosseum, it seemed like they were the only two hunters on the sands. Rafel saw a flash of blue lightning in his peripheral vision. She was feeling what he was. He looked down her strong arms to her camo pants where the material crumpled at the juncture of her thighs.

The foxy triangle of her black thong showed out the back. Rafel inhaled deeply, as if to smell her on the fucking wind.

Bolta uneasily rocked on her heels.

"So will you be at the party?"

Rafel grinned sadistically. "You bet your ass."

And he did stare at that ass as she walked away from the arena, blushing on her way. Rafel didn't know how long he stood under the leaderboard, but the echoes and faces of a thousand young witches, vampires, mermaids, elf, and werewolves were seared into his temples long after.

[DING!] Peitho notified him.

[HUNTSMAN rank attained.]

[DEITY: Athena Domina.]

On the way back though, in the vestibule leading out to the arena, he heard the student president try to placate her own teammates with words of comfort. He tried to hide his smile from Percival and Brunhilda—but not really. Erika said, "we still have other chances to take the lead. You know? Like mud wrestling, archery, bull fighting. .

.and you're a great matadora, Bruna. We'll be fine. One loss at the Hunt isn't the end of the Spring Games.

In fact, drinks are on me tonight at Spinazolla's. I won't let fucking Athena ruin the rest of spring fest. Now, get your fucking shoulders up and let me see some fucking smiles." To her credit, the pep talk worked. It worked like magic.

Erika didn't mention the [Swashbuckling] on that list because she had no doubt Israfel would claim all the points on that one. As a secret member of the [Children of the Crow] society, she knew that the Apollyon had being on the sands longer than many students of the [C.A.W] had lived. In all his reincarnations.