Chapter 4: A Warrior’s Resolve

The prison gates slammed shut behind the twenty remaining survivors. The scent of sweat, blood, and damp stone filled the air as exhausted bodies collapsed onto the cold floor. Nile leaned against the wall, his mind still reeling from the chaotic battle. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his muscles ached, and his heartbeat refused to settle.

Ethan sat beside him, arms resting on his knees, his gaze distant. Nile took a moment of silence to gather his thoughts before finally speaking.

"How do you know that after twenty, only five will remain?" Nile asked, his voice hoarse.

Ethan exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "Because I've seen it before," he said. "In the last Arena Event, my brother was one of the last five survivors."

Nile frowned. "What happened to him?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "He fought with everything he had. Made it to the final five. But in the end, there was only one winner." His fists clenched. "The champion gets a wish—anything they desire—from King Greg himself."

Nile's eyes widened. "A wish?"

Ethan nodded. "We don't know if it's magic or just the king's power, but whatever the victor asks for, it's granted. Wealth, freedom, revenge… anything."

Nile swallowed hard. "And what did the last winner wish for?"

Ethan's expression darkened, his voice laced with barely concealed fury. "He wished for King Greg's other five wives."

Nile's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Ethan took a deep breath. "Before that, King Greg had ten wives. That man—last year's champion—was obsessed with power. He wanted what the king had, and Greg, bound by his own rules, granted the request."

Nile shook his head in disbelief. "And your brother?"

"The winner and my brother were the last two standing," Ethan said, his voice hollow. "But the bastard cheated. He pretended to fall, luring my brother into a false sense of victory. Then, in an instant, he struck from behind."

A heavy silence hung between them.

Nile finally spoke. "If the winner can wish for anything, why not ask for the king's death? Or his throne?"

Ethan let out a bitter chuckle. "That's the only rule. You can't wish for King Greg's death or his position."

Nile sighed, rubbing his temples. "So that's why you're here."

Ethan nodded. "I'll win. I'll make a wish to have that man executed. That's my revenge."

A fire sparked in Nile's chest. "Then I'll help you," he said firmly. "I promise."

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "If we make it to the final two, I won't hesitate to kill you."

Nile smirked. "I'd expect nothing less. But if I die, make sure you win."

For the first time, Ethan gave a small smile. "Deal."

Training for Survival

That night, Nile asked Ethan to teach him how to fight—how to survive. Ethan agreed, and they practiced in the dimly lit cell. With no real weapons, they used spoons as makeshift daggers and pork bones as spears.

Ethan demonstrated how to throw with precision, mimicking his spear throw from the previous battle. Nile listened intently, absorbing every lesson.

"Aim for the gaps," Ethan instructed. "The throat, the eyes, under the ribs. A single, well-placed strike is better than a dozen reckless swings."

Nile nodded, gripping the bone in his hand. He felt ridiculous—how could a spoon or a bone compare to a real weapon? But in this arena, survival was all that mattered.

After hours of training, they sat against the stone wall, sharing what little food they had left. The exhaustion weighed heavily on them.

"Tomorrow will be worse," Ethan muttered.

Nile exhaled. "I know."

What they didn't know was that while they trained, the other fifteen survivors were forming alliances. Three groups of five had emerged, each determined to secure their place in the final five.

By the time the gates opened the next day, Nile and Ethan—alone—had no idea what was coming.