Chapter 3: The boy and the arena

Naelis and Kai plan to head to Utawa, but the problem is that it's on the other side of Oro. Oro, being one of the largest cities in the universe, spans almost half the planet.

"There's still a problem," Naelis suddenly speaks up, more determined than ever. "We need to take the tram, get to a central station—the closest one is in Kawava, the neighboring district—then take a holotrain to Utawa's main station. But all of this will cost at least a hundred aurums for both of us. How did Corvian manage? What was he hiding from me?"

"I don't know, but we'll get our answers there. We have to find a way."

"I see one... but you won't like it."

"What is it?"

"The arena."

Kai's face falls. He knows it's their only option, but it's also a quick way to die.

"Are you insane? Neither of us is strong enough to win a fight in the arena!"

"But Kai, it's the only way! Do you have another idea?"

Kai starts stammering, his palms sweating.

"M...mm... But only men are allowed to fight, and you're much stronger than me."

"I know it's terrifying. A lot. But... it's our only choice."

"The next fight is at 2 PM." Tears well up in Kai's eyes, his face unreadable. "For Corvian..."

"For Corvian," she repeats, lowering her head. "It's 10 AM, you still have four hours to train. You need to sign up first, and then you'll have access to a training room. Are we going?"

"...Okay."

They enter the kazou through the same door they left with Hibou and head towards the main breach. The crowd jostles them, and the eerie orange glow from the lights makes Kai uneasy. He has never felt like this before.

They reach the central plaza, and in the distance, a few hundred meters away, the iron dome of the arena looms over the streets. Slipping through narrow alleys, they finally arrive at the massive entrance. A towering iron arch stands above it.

Kai lifts his gaze toward the arch, the worn-out letters carved in Ravian, an ancient language of the planet, seeming to pulse under the heat rising within him.

Dafta vek mochkaris.

Death takes the weak.

His heart clenches. He's heard this phrase before. He searches his memory, and then it hits him. "Death takes the weak" is what the referee announces when a victor survives—after killing all three of their opponents.

He swallows hard and glances at Naelis, barely managing to whisper, "Okay..."

She looks at him, hesitating. "Are we going in?"

Kai nods. "We're going in..."

Inside the dilapidated hall, they can already hear the roar of the crowd, cheering on the grim spectacle. Kai distances himself from everything, preparing to be thrown into the pit like a lamb to the slaughter.

They step up to the reception desk, where an old droid, probably from before the war, waits behind the counter. Its crackling speaker hums before it speaks.

"Are you here to watch or to fight?"

Kai's throat is so dry from swallowing his fear that he barely manages to speak. "O... oui."

Naelis places a hand on his shoulder but says nothing. He can feel that she is almost as afraid as he is. After a short processing delay, the droid speaks again.

"Your finger."

Kai hesitantly extends his hand, and the droid pricks his fingertip. His information appears on several screens, and the droid presses a green button.

"You are registered. Your training room is number 4. Your match is at 2 PM." The droid's head jerks slightly before turning to Naelis. "You, woman, are not allowed in this area. Purchase a ticket to watch or leave."

She exhales, rummages in her pocket, and pulls out a small slip of paper. "I already have one, tin can! I'll use it at 2 PM."

The droid scans the ticket. "You are registered for 2 PM. Leave and return at the designated time."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." She turns to Kai. "Okay, Kai. You can do this, I know you can. You have to—"

A security guard grabs her by the shoulders, pulling her away. "You must leave now. Come back at 2 PM."

As she is dragged out, she shouts, "Strategy, not strength!"

Kai is left alone. The automatic door to the training rooms slides open. A long, dark corridor stretches ahead of him, the flickering yellow lights overhead casting eerie shadows.

He finds room number 4 and walks toward it slowly, sweating, trembling, his breath ragged. His hand shakes as he pushes open the door.

The training room is stark white, with weapons lined up in the center and a single button labeled Summon Training Droids.

Kai glances at the clock on the ceiling. No time to waste. He picks up a war hammer. He has fought with one before—when he was 14, during an attack on his school. He had killed the assailant while trying to escape.

Gripping the hammer tightly, he presses the orange button. A hidden door slides open, so seamlessly blended into the wall that he hadn't even noticed it before. Two humanoid droids step out.

He swings the hammer hard. Too hard. He misses. The droid barely dodges the blow. Kai stumbles forward, losing balance and crashing onto the floor. He clenches his fists, slamming them against the ground in frustration.

Getting angry won't help.

Strategy, not strength.

He changes tactics. He watches them. Studies their movements. Anticipates their attacks. For the next three and a half hours, he forces his mind beyond fear, beyond revenge, beyond death. He focuses only on winning.

At 1:25 PM, an arena officer comes to fetch him. The man is silent, communicating only through hand gestures. Kai follows, walking down the long corridors until they arrive at a waiting room.

Inside, five other fighters sit in tense silence. Some are about to enter the 1:30 PM match; others—his future opponents—wait for their turn.

Kai scans the room, his stomach sinking as his gaze lands on a massive, muscular man sitting in the corner. Please don't let me fight him...

He sits down, forcing himself to breathe evenly. His eyes drift to the boy beside him.

He doesn't know him. But he looks about his age—17, maybe 18. Not a man, not a veteran.

His short, blond hair, slightly tousled, frames his face with an effortless ease that contrasts with the suffocating atmosphere. His jawline is strong, but not too sharp, and his piercing green eyes hold Kai's gaze a second too long.

Kai looks away, unsettled. He doesn't know why, but something about that stare rattles him.

"Hey, I'm Kirvan."

A calm, steady voice. Kai hesitates before answering. "Kai."

Kirvan studies him briefly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "We're the youngest here, aren't we?"

"I guess."

Kai doesn't know what to say. He hates the silence, but Kirvan seems perfectly comfortable in it.

"Well, I don't plan on dying today. And I don't think you do either," Kirvan says, stretching his arms casually. "I'm going to win."

No arrogance. Just certainty.

Kai feels something tighten in his chest. He doesn't understand why, but one thought crosses his mind.

I don't want him to die.

"When's your fight?" Kirvan asks.

"2 PM."

"Ah, so you're next."

A loud buzzer echoes through the room. Kirvan stands up in a fluid motion—tall, lean, but undeniably muscled.

A chill runs down Kai's spine. Why is he feeling this way?

Kirvan glances at him one last time and, with a smirk, says, "See you outside. I'll be waiting."

Then he disappears through the doors.