Chapter 8 – The Underground Arena Revisited

The underground arena was just as Kael remembered—dark, loud, and filled with the stench of sweat and blood.

He moved through the crowd unnoticed, hood drawn low. The place was a battlefield of its own, ruled by gamblers, desperate fighters, and those who sought entertainment in violence. But Kael wasn't here for money or survival this time. He was here to sharpen his instincts.

The fights were brutal. The opponents were relentless.

Kael fought—and lost.

His first match was against a towering brawler with iron fists. The man broke through Kael's guard, sending him crashing to the dirt. His body screamed in pain, but he gritted his teeth and stood again.

Pain was a teacher.

His second match was against a swordsman, fast and precise. Kael managed to hold his own, countering with technique, but he lacked speed. A misstep cost him the fight.

Defeat was a lesson.

But Kael didn't stop. He kept fighting. Losing. Learning. Adjusting.

Each loss revealed a weakness. Each battle forced him to adapt. He studied his opponents, memorized their habits, dissected their styles. He took the hits, felt the impact, and adjusted his footwork, his counters, his movement.

Then—his first victory.

A duel against a reckless fighter. Kael read his attacks, sidestepped at the perfect moment, and struck with ruthless precision. One hit, then another. His opponent collapsed.

The next fight, another win. Then another.

By the end of the night, Kael had fought nearly a dozen matches, walking away with bruises, cuts—but also with refined instincts and a sharpened edge.

This was what he needed.

He counted his winnings, enough to sustain him for a while. But that wasn't what mattered.

Kael clenched his fist.

Now, he was ready.

The underground ruins—the place where power could be found—that was his next destination.