Chapter 1

Across the vast plains of the Gorna kingdom a massive and glorious city stood proud, its walls reaching up towards the sky seemingly endless looking at it from the ground. An enormous gate stood proudly as the entrance to the city decorated with designs of gold, the city's emblem standing out at the top of its gate. Powerful looking guards equipped with armor and weapons made of enchanted mithril decorated with elaborate designs. The people of this mighty city were a proud people who seemed to prosper under the rule of their monarch, King Fenrya. The king ruled fairly and was a kind and gentle man as many people would state. In the city there were little to no homeless or poverty stricken people due to the fact the King offered support to the people who needed it.

However, underneath the city's glory stood a mighty underground arena which seemed impossible to build but it was there. Only the higher nobles and royals of the kingdom and sometimes even other kingdoms were permitted to watch the battles that occurred in the secret underground facility. In the arena's dungeons criminals, war prisoners, and other people were made to fight for the entertainment of rich and arrogant nobles. Despite the hate the fighters seemed to hold for the higher people in the stands they knew they stood no chance against the rule of King Fenrya who had guards trained by only the best of the best. Even without the King's Guards Fenrya himself was known throughout the lands as a brilliant and undefeatable warrior whom many respected, revered, and even feared despite his 'gentle' nature. Among the prisoners or rather fighters of the arena some nobles choose one or two to train themselves to win more money then they would by betting on fights. Fenrya himself did this as well though many would expect the gentle and kind king to treat his fighter with respect. This in fact was quite the opposite as King Fenrya had a cell made specifically for his fighters who were often found dead in the cold, dark, and damp prison cell they were kept in. They were given little food and had no light in the cell at all. The only times Fenrya's fighters got to see the light was when they were in the Arena fighting.

The current fighter for King Fenrya had lasted much longer than the usual who died after a month or two. They had been born in the underground arena from his mother who was a mighty fighter but died when he was around 3 it was the other fighters who cared for him until Fenrya took him at age 16 and trained him. He was now 17 without a proper name and had lived as Fenrya's warrior for an entire year. In the arena the young man who was raised to fight for the snobbish nobles was nicknamed 'Reaper of Fenrya' from the people who watched him fight. Though the fighters of the arena merely called him 'Luck.' The nickname 'Luck' may seem like a strange choice however for the fighters it was best fitting for the young man. The boy who had grown up and survived longer than most in the arena; the one who had survived an entire year as Fenrya's fighter.

In the present Luck sat in the dark cell which he had been placed in so long ago. He sat in silence having nothing but a wooden bucket sat in the left corner and a few pieces of hay in the cell in which he made home. It had been awhile since he'd been in the arena and had already started to have a hard time remembering the light of the torches that lit up the grand space of the arena. Knowing this Luck knew he would have to go and fight very soon. Or at least that's what he thought but time went on and guards stopped coming to give him the little food they did. It was strange as the guards were always on time and never failed to do their duty. Luck knew something was wrong as he could only hear the other prisoners down the long hall though he couldn't see them at all. He often wondered if the fighters who raised him in this place were still alive though even if they weren't he had grown used to accepting the death of someone he knew. In a place such as this nobody knew how long they would live or if the guards would simply decide to kill them as they'd done to others. Other fighters back when he was still in a cell with them often told him stories of the surface and the suns brilliant golden rays and the endless fields of green grass. Luck had always wanted to see the surface outside the arena as it was the only thing he knew. Unlike other fighters he was raised here and accepted death easily. He knew not to talk or utter a word even if he was spoken to directly. He'd been raised in this hellhole and knew nothing else though he had wished he did time and time again.

As Luck reminisced about the past his thoughts were interrupted by a huge bang which made his ears ring. And suddenly light seemed to pour endlessly into the dark and damp corridor where the prison cells that held the arena's fighters were. A figure clad in the color of red and silver landed in the hall along with others who seemed to wear the color silver. The strange people seemed to take one glance at the place and strange emotions were quite visible on their faces though Luck couldn't quite determine what they meant or what they were. He had never seen this before and the sudden light made his eyes hurt though he tried to adjust to the new lighting. The one in red and silver turned to the others and began to speak to them and they seemed to respond respectfully and rushed down the corridor in the opposite direction in which he was. The cell he was placed in was at the very end of the darkest hall devoid of light and other prisoners. He had wanted to call out to question who they were but he was more scared than curious. This sudden change frightened him the thought of being tortured again filled him with what seemed like endless fear. He had been so caught up with his panicking he didn't even notice when the man in red and silver opened the cell door and wandered in towards him. When Luck finally noticed he tried to back more into the corner but failed to do as he was already in the corner as much as he could so instead he covered his head and neck with his arms balling himself up. He had found this position made the beatings less painful. Luck expected something to come down and hit him but instead the man had crouched down placing his right hand on his shoulder.

Slowly he put his hands down and looked at the man who simply smiled in a gentle manner then spoke in a tone which Luck had never heard before until now. He heard words he had never heard before, words he thought he would never hear.

"You're safe now." The strange man in red and silver told Luck with a gentle smile.

Without knowing how to respond Luck felt tears run down his face. He reached up touching his own face then sobbed quietly as the man pulled him into a gentle hug.

The hug lasted so long the guards the strange man had sent away before had returned with a report but waited silently until Luck had fallen asleep. It had been so long since he had slept as he lived in constant fear and the acceptance of death in the terrible environment in which he was raised.