The lights burned brightly all around him. The sounds of laughter and cheering echoed all around him, something which aggravated him to no end and made his headache worse. He was lying on his back and the feeling of the hard wood against his back wasn't very pleasant. At the back of his head, something urged him to get up, that he had to do something before he got killed.
He ignored it. He didn't really see the point of getting up or trying to fight. After all, wasn't he dragged here against his will? Forced to play this sick game for the amusement of others? They knew of his weakness, and that there was nothing he could do against it. His protection was gone; all he had with him was a toy knife and this impractical outfit. Maybe being killed here was a good end.
"Target found. Proceeding to terminate threat."
Through forced eyes, he could see her. She stared down at him, golden eyes deprived of emotion. He couldn't see anything but her face and the sword she had leveled at his neck. His vision was all but gone; all he could see was the inky blackness that surrounded the two of them.
With a smile, he refused to show her any fear. Maybe he was going to die here, and maybe he would die with regrets, but he wouldn't let her get the satisfaction of seeing any fear on his face, "Do it...." He grabbed the sword and slid it closer to his neck. He shivered slightly at the cold steel, but he wouldn't die a coward. He would leave this world on his terms
As he closed his eyes, he felt a weight release off his shoulders. Maybe death was the release that he had been craving for, for so long. If so, maybe fate put him here, at this place. Finally, he would be free.
".....get up...."
The voice was faint. It didn't come from his attacker, that much was certain. It sounded higher pitched and more frantic, a far cry from the last voice he had heard. Was it the voice of an angel come to welcome him?
"...Get up!"
More forceful this time. He found his vision clearing slightly, a slight comfort to him. With the light, he could see the red stain on his chest, no doubt due to his attacker. It didn't matter if the voice was urging him to get up or save himself. He was too weak, too injured to do anything. The only choice he had left was to accept death and-
"I said get up, you IDIOT!"
Instinct immediately took over. Just as his opponent raised the sword to slash at his throat, he rolled back and dodged the strike. Following the momentum, he wielded the knife in his signature reverse grip and slashed at her, straining the sword's durability when she moved to block him. He felt his strength returning to him and all the thoughts of death leave.
"It looks like the hero has recovered from his injury!" An excited voice shouted out, followed by more cheering, "Can he muster enough will to save princess Karon? Let's found out!"
The darkness receded, and in its place was a stage brightly lit gigantic stagelights. All around him, he could see the props of a play such as holographic tree's and even a gigantic tower with a lone occupant. He stared down at his clothes, a blue and impractically frilly prince costume, and grimaced in disgust. He really would've accepted death if it meant getting away from this horrendous outfit.
"Irish, don't be such a drama queen!" Karon yelled at him from the tower prop, arms flailing in the air comically as she berated her would be date, "I know you don't like being dragged to do a play, but come on! You don't have to be such a spoilsport about it! At least try to make it look like you're a prince trying to save me!"
The crowd laughed in response to her yelling. Irish looked down and a small redness spread across his cheeks, "Shut up! I told you I don't do well with crowds!" He yelled back at her, "And why do I have to play as the rescuer? Can't you just use your IS to get out of there?" He was also mad that his gynophobia was acting up again. He wasn't allowed to use the skullsuit for the performance.
"It's a play! I'm not supposed to be rescuing myself, the prince is! Come on, it shouldn't be that hard for you to pretend you want to rescue, at least!"
Irish just sighed. There was never any way to argue with her. Why did he ever start going out with her? She was loud, annoying, and would never let him win a single argument. He wasn't a masochist or anything.
"Alright, fine," He lowered his stance and focused, "But after this we're going where I want to go! I'm tired of going to maid cafe's and goldfish scooping." As he charged his opponent, who looked like she was about to collapse from laughter, he heard her voice reply to him.
"Just say you want to kiss me already! It can't be that hard!"