Amazon Apocalypse Chapter 58 [Cyra Interlude]

Cyra, inside the Samhain Compound on the Mucaria Pocket World.

“The tournament rules are straightforward,” Cyra’s mother told the crowd of young and ambitious C-Grades of the Samhain Clan. Foremost among them was Cyra herself.

Back home, she was the matriarch of the entire Samhain Clan’s main branch. But the Mucaria pocket realm compound was owned by the branch of the clan on Glacia. Their elders were all B-Grades, and Grandma Luthrin was even stronger, so here, Kyrina was nothing more than an honored older sister in the clan. She might not even be afforded that much respect if not for the fact that her husband was an A-Grade and owned the planet the branch family was based in.

“So we fight until they yield. Simple enough,” said a brawny warrior sitting off to Cyra’s left. She was of orcish heritage but had been adopted into the branch family at a young age after her mother died in battle as a guard for the clan. Since then, she had worked hard to prove her worth and was now one of a dozen young women being sent to compete on behalf of the Samhain Clan to claim victory in the upcoming tournament.

“Yes. I want all of you to fight as long and hard as you can. The clan needs one of you to take first place, or we could wind up with a real crisis on our hands as we lose favor in the royal guards in Glacia,” Kyrina explained.

“We will not fail you, mother,” Cyra said.

Others nodded along, a little less seriously. It wasn’t their brothers’ lives on the line, after all.

“Will there be guys in the tournament?” one warrior woman called.

A few laughed, ranging from deep chortles to girlish giggles. They would have taken this more seriously if Kyrina had been a real elder. But Kyrina took the question at face value.

“Plenty. Perhaps some of you will even meet your future husbands there, whether in the arena or in the many afterparties that shall occur between the great houses following every day of fighting. You're all grown women and welcome to court whoever you wish, as long as they're worthy of you. All the most powerful competitors will be there, and you ladies will be expected to be present as well. There, you will be able to network with the sons and daughters of other powerful clans with a competitor in this fight.”

At Kyrina's explanation, most of the other members of the Samhain Clan trickled out. But Cyra met her mother's gaze and knew there was more to say, so she stayed behind.

Cyra frowned. “What of the open admissions? Isn’t the tournament open to everyone? Not just the great clans.”

Kyrina shrugged. “That is true, but we’ve reviewed the open admissions already. There is no one of note competing in the open brackets. You need only concern yourself with the other great clans.”

"I hear there'll be team matches to weed through the open brackets. Perhaps we should watch those to get a feel for our competition?"

Kyrina shook her head. "Few from the open bracket will make it through the team matches, let alone the singles tournament. Your real competition is from the other great clans. Focus your attention there."

Cyra couldn’t help but feel a worm of doubt wiggling within her, but everyone else seemed to accept her mother’s words at face value as they reaffirmed their loyalties to the clan and pledged to fight as long and as hard as their abilities would carry them. Soon, Cyra’s cousins departed, leaving just her and her mother to talk.

“Mother,” Cyra nodded, sensing Kyrina had more to say for her ears alone.

“The others will not fight as hard as you will. To them, I suspect the tournament’s grand prize will be more hindrance than help. Leading the magical auxiliary forces for your brother is the last thing most warrior women would want to do. They would much rather be on the front lines than firing magical artillery from afar.”

Cyra’s expression firmed. “So you’re saying it’s up to me?”

Kyrina stroked her daughter’s hair. “I’m saying your brother’s counting on you. As am I.”

“I will not fail you,” Cyra promised.

“Good. A few more competitors abandoned the way of the warrior to study magic, and they’ll be competing under the names of various vassal clans. The same is true for the male heirs of the Glacia branch of the family.”

“Anyone worth training with?” Cyra asked hopefully. If someone was worth training with, it meant they had as good a chance as she did of winning the whole tournament.

Kyrina sighed. “Unfortunately not. Easy life and riches here have made the youth of the branch families soft. That is why you and Myrina grew up on Themyscira like our ancestors did. It doesn’t take a scholar to see you’ve trained twice as much as any of your peers these last few weeks.”

“I needed to make use of the gifts you and my father brought me. I still have one last dungeon to go through, but I will be ready by the time the tournament begins,” Cyra promised.

***

Cyra went about her remaining training with firm determination. She had promised to win this tournament, and that was exactly what she’d do. She’d met briefly with her brother a few times, and he seemed good enough. His men were loyal, and people looked up to him.

In a lot of ways, he reminded her of Carter, but with a bit less edge to him. Prince Herius had been born of royal blood and a powerful clan. He’d been given command from the moment he could talk and instructed on how to lead by the finest tutors. By comparison, Carter had never sought command but had earned it by having strength when others were lacking and by succeeding where others failed. What he lacked in training he made up for with personal experience.

But thoughts of Carter soured her mood, and she tried to put him out of her mind, only to fail again. She’d tossed and turned in bed for many nights as she remembered her brief time with him. She hadn’t realized how happy she’d been for those few weeks until she was looking back on them now.

Her mind kept returning to what might have been. They could have spent decades together, him building up his little territory on his distant realm and her restoring the Samhain family holdings on Themyscira to their former glory. She could have spent a century working toward B-Grade instead of the mad rush she’d been forced into four this tournament. She would have had time to be a matriarch, a wife, and maybe even a mother.

What a life it might have been. But fate had stolen him from her. Maybe after this tournament and the following campaign with her brother was over, she’d check in on Carter and Myrina. Would they even remember her at that point? Probably not. Carter had probably already forgotten all about that night in the tent and the marriage duel they’d planned.

She completed the last dungeon she was meant to fight through alongside a party of elites, all of comparable status to herself. Despite their backgrounds, she found them somewhat lacking. Though what they lacked in personal ability, they made up for with plenty of powerful items and rare skills that let them smash their way through the waves of monsters the dungeon threw at them. Cyra claimed the title she gained during the fighting as her dungeon reward.

Once she was done, she popped the experience pearl she was meant to consume once it was done. Between the dungeon’s experience and the new title, she’d reached level 192. She was now even stronger than her mother, though in a lot of ways she felt like she’d traded the thousands of little experiences she was supposed to have for this sudden and rapid surge in power.

She returned to the Samhain family compound with all haste so she could use the time dilation during the last few days of the tournament. Her mother was the first to greet her.

“You have a few free days. You should relax and adjust," Kyrina said.

“Train, then?” Cyra asked.

“No, you’ve done more than enough of that. Center yourself. Prepare your mind. You always loved getting new swords, right? Take advantage of your time here in the Mucaria pocket realm. There are a lot of enchanters here selling quality weapons. Here, your father gave me some spending money for the trip here. I’ll give you some.”

Kyrina transferred five hundred thousand contribution points to Cyra’s golden medallion.

“Am I buying enough to outfit an army?” Cyra asked. The idea wasn’t entirely out of the question. Who knew what kind of lousy equipment the Dragon Lodge planned to arm their magical auxiliary forces with? They could be the best students they had, all from wealthy backgrounds, or they could be dropouts armed with homemade wands.

“No, I heard there’s a new armor shop in the city. Doomblade’s Armory, I think it’s called. Apparently, they are selling some truly spectacular equipment. A merchant got us one set of the armor sold there before they closed their doors the first time, and that's about how much we paid for the set by the time it ended up in our hands. Check it out if you have the time. It will help clear your mind. Too much fighting is bad for your mentality, you know.”

Cyra sighed. “If I see it, I’ll look at this Doomblade’s Armory place. But I make no promises.”

At her mother’s insistence, she took the day off to walk the streets of the Mucaria pocket realm and clear her head.

She soon found herself walking to the restaurant where she and Carter had gotten arrested after she punched that annoying girl from the Phantomfist clan. If she still lived, maybe Cyra would get the chance to fight her again in the arena. After all, it was her fault that Cyra had gotten caught up in family politics. If she hadn’t gotten arrested, her family wouldn’t have known where she was.

“One table,” she asked.

“For...?” the waitress asked

“Just me,” Cyra replied.

The waitress shrugged and gave her a table, and Cyra took a seat, ordered six main courses, and sat down to listen in on the conversations all around her while she ate. To her alarm, she realized she was only one row down from where she’d sat with Carter when they’d come here together. Sitting there alone, she could almost feel like she could hear his voice somewhere in the distance. She tried to concentrate on the sound to see if it was in her head or not, but the others around her drowned the sounds right out of her mind.

“You hear the news? Apparently, Professor Tharandul was killed recently,” asked a young woman. She looked to be Cyra’s own age, but felt younger. All the young adults who grew up here seemed much younger than they actually were. Cyra was beginning to believe what her mother said about all the little luxuries of life here making people grow up slower than she was used to.

“He was killed! What? How?” asked her companion, another young woman of similar age. The two leaned over their food, gossiping in hushed whispers.

“From what I hear, someone killed him on a quest. Things have to get pretty bad if the System sends somebody after you.”

“I don’t believe it. I had Tharandul as a professor when I was in the junior academy. He was so nice!”

“Well, apparently, he was caught doing experiments on living people and looking into forbidden soul manipulation techniques! There’s a whole bunch of people who came forward with evidence, including people he’d experimented on! They all have the same story. Some super handsome and heroic hero showed up, defeated Professor Tharandul, and freed them all!”

“Oh my gosh! I wish a hero could show up on a quest to pay off my loans. I had to borrow ten thousand contribution points for the next semester..."

From there, the conversation veered off to things Cyra cared little about. A few other people were talking about the dead professor though. As far as Cyra could tell, it was the month’s gossip. But evil magical healers were nothing new to her. Magic users on Themyscira never had the best reputation, which often fed on itself. Because lots of people thought magic users were evil, most who dared move there were pretty evil and often associated with the Serpent Lodge.

After finishing the sixth main dish and staring awhile at the empty seat across from her, she got her deserts to go and left to roam the city. Her mood had taken a turn for the worst.

She walked around, poking her head in various armor shops. They all sold things she should have found impressive, but her mind kept going back to the set of equipment Carter had made for her, which she’d given up when she’d parted ways with him. None of them seemed to hold a candle to that set.

“I heard there was a new store in town. Doomblade’s Armory, I heard? Where is that?” Cyra asked a cashier.

“Ah, that place...” the woman behind the counter rolled her eyes. “Everyone’s been asking about it. Good luck. It’s down the street, and there’s a line out the door to get in. People have been standing out front since before it opened. Honestly, I don’t even know how they make any money selling their goods for what they do. They must be ancient artifacts dug up from some old crypt or something. I hear the stuff they’re selling today comes with curses, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Cyra found the shop. It was on an unimpressive street corner, and from afar, the only thing that stood out to her about the place was the massive line. She stared for a while before deciding no armor was worth standing in the street all day, especially not in her current mood.

“Some other time...” Cyra grumbled before turning for home.


<Note>
So, I know we already had one Cyra interlude, but this one felt like a natural place for another. Also, Jessica Threet is always finished way before Jack when doing the audio, so doing a few more female POV scenes might speed audio release rates.