Chapter 4: The fight

Almost 20 minutes of waiting, and the bell rings in the arena. The announcer declares the winner, but Kai couldn't hear it. Then comes the victory phrase: "Dafta vek mochkaris."

Anxiety rises within Kai—not for his own fight, but for Kirvan. A wave of heat rushes through him. What if he's dead? I don't want him to die!

A loud, heavy alarm blares through the hall, and all four candidates rise. Kai trembles, his vision is blurry, and he feels sweat dripping from his hair down his face and onto his neck. A guard approaches and points his assault rifle at him, pushing him toward the large door leading to the arena. The four of them line up in front of the door, with Kai at the very back. The atmosphere is suffocating, and already, they can hear the roaring crowd. Then, the door opens, and they march into the arena in single file.

The atmosphere is more than just heavy—the air is thick with the stench of dried blood. The boots Kai was provided with crush the gravel, slipping slightly on the sand, while fresh blood sticks to the soles. Every sound echoes in his head. This is real. I'm here. And I will have to fight.

A sandy and gravelly battlefield, flat at the center of the iron dome. The lighting is orange, and the crowd roars in excitement. Stones of various sizes are scattered throughout the arena, which is the size of a graviball field.

Four small iron platforms are positioned at the four corners of the arena, equidistant from the center, where a pile of melee weapons awaits. Swords, maces, whips—every kind of weapon imaginable. The four guards, keeping their weapons trained on them, direct each of them toward a platform. The perfectly circular arena sits about five meters below the stands, where the audience cheers for the final fight of the day.

Kai finally takes a closer look at his opponents, whom he hadn't even noticed before. One is a massive wall of muscle—bald but with a long, braided red beard. The second is small and frail, just like Kai, and also looks like he doesn't want to be here. The third is another heavily built fighter, wearing a yellow band over his right eye and bearing a massive scar over the other. He must have fought here before.

Kai trembles, and against his will, tears stream down his cheeks as he steps onto the platform. The announcer declares that any contestant who leaves their platform before the match begins will be shot by a sniper. The guards who brought them here exit through metal gates, locking them behind with three heavy turns.

Suddenly, the lights turn red, and a countdown begins:

5...

Kai clenches his fists and, despite not being religious, begins praying to Marvos, the Ravian god of war.

4...

He grits his teeth and prepares for the worst. The tears keep falling.

3...

He wants to apologize to his mother for not coming home at noon as he had promised.

2...

His thoughts spiral between his own impending death and the possible death of Kirvan, which disturbs him more than he understands.

1...

He desperately searches the crowd for Naelis, but he cannot see her.

"To arms!"

A shrill sound pierces the air, and the lights return to normal.

Strategy, not strength.

Kai bolts toward the walls, running in the opposite direction of his opponents, who rush to the center for weapons. Panicked, he presses against the wall, watching the chaos unfold.

The giant with the red beard grabs a thick iron chain, at the end of which swings a massive, spiked iron ball. Without hesitation, he swings the chain back over his shoulder and hurls the spiked ball forward, smashing it into the head of the frail man. Blood gushes from the gaping hole where his face used to be, one of the spikes lodged deep in his skull. The sickening crunch echoes through the arena.

The crowd erupts—screaming, stomping, clapping in sheer delight at the spectacle of a man's head being obliterated.

Kai looks away. The sight is horrifying. Even though he has always been comfortable with blood, he cannot stomach this. His head spins, his vision blurs, his brain feels like it's smashing against the inside of his skull.

Then, movement—a man with a yellow band rushes at him, sword in hand.

For a moment, time stops. Suddenly, he snaps back into reality. Adrenaline surges through his veins, and he runs, following the circular wall, his pursuer close behind. The ground shifts beneath his feet—the sand making every step unsteady. Behind him, mixed with the frenzied cries of the audience, he hears the ragged breath of the man chasing him.

A whistle—a blade slicing through the air, missing his neck by mere centimeters.

I'm going to die.

Then—a roar.

The red-bearded giant charges at his opponent, drawing his attention away. They clash, giving Kai a chance. He dashes toward the center, where the weapons are.

He crouches to grab a mace, only to come face-to-face with the headless corpse of the frail man. A shudder of revulsion runs through him. His stomach churns, but he forces himself to focus. He grips the mace with his left hand and rises—only for it to slip from his grasp and crash to the ground with a heavy thud.

The two colossuses stop fighting and glance at each other. Then, as if on cue, they both charge at him.

The red-bearded giant swings his spiked iron ball—but misses.

I don't have their strength. I need to take it away from them by any means necessary.

Kai weaves between them and slams the mace into the back of the giant's knee. A sickening crack rings out as the bone snaps, and the giant collapses under his own weight.

The man with the yellow band sees his opportunity—without hesitation, he slashes his blade across the red-bearded giant's throat, ending him instantly.

Blood pools beneath the corpse.

Kai turns, now facing his final opponent.

"Well, maggot, ready to eat dirt?"

Kai doesn't answer. He starts circling his adversary, dodging every attack. He tries to strike at the knee again but fails.

The man backs up, gains momentum, and slams his sword into the ground, narrowly missing Kai. While he struggles to yank the blade out of the sand, Kai brings his mace crashing down on his neck. The blow is so hard the man cannot even scream.

But he's not finished. In a desperate counterattack, the man slashes deep into Kai's left arm. Kai screams—a guttural, agonized cry, merging with the euphoric roars of the crowd. Then—a heavy thud. A body collapses. Kai trembles. His breath is ragged. His arm is drenched in blood, dripping down his elbow, forearm, wrist, the back of his hand, his fingers, then falling in droplets to the ground. The man in front of him twitches—his fingers tightening around his weapon one last time. Then—stillness. He will never rise again.

Silence.

Just one heartbeat. His own. Then—a scream. Then another. A wall of sound crashes over him. They are cheering. The crowd is jumping, stomping, roaring—but Kai cannot see Naelis through the chaos. His vision is hazy, his mind shattered.

He glances at the three corpses sprawled across the sand. The guards re-enter through the gates. The announcer's voice booms across the arena:

"Dafta vek mochkaris! Ladies and gentlemen, the final victor of this glorious day—Kai Kortanaa!"

The guards reach Kai, grab him by the arms—pain explodes in his wounded limb, but he's too weak to scream.

They drag him toward a small, reinforced door he hadn't noticed before. Three heavy locks click open.

They evacuate him from the arena.

"I'm alive... This isn't possible... I'm alive..."