The Unseen Enemy

The air in the arena had turned to something viscous. Each breath felt like it carried weight, and Orgar could feel the pulse of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He stood on the precipice of something far darker than anything he had anticipated, far beyond the Skullball that had been their arena's primary focus. No this wasn't just about the game. It was about survival, and something far more sinister.

The Forgotten were not just opponents, they were predators. Their eyes, cold and merciless, looked for weakness with the precision of animals who had lived on the edge of existence for too long. And now, Orgar, Kaela, and Gorgar stood in the heart of that danger, each of them wearing the same grim understanding in their eyes.

Orgar's breath was labored, his chest heaving with the effort to stay calm. His body ached, each muscle sore from the fight, but it was his mind that screamed for release. He could feel the weight of the moment pushing against him. Was this what it had always been leading to? The real test of their strength wasn't the ball, wasn't the game it was the cold truth of what survival meant here.

We didn't sign up for this, Orgar thought bitterly. But it didn't matter. He didn't have a choice anymore. No one did.

Monologue: Orgar's Inner Thoughts

The sound of my breathing echoes in my skull. Why does it feel like I've been here forever, fighting not just for a game, but for my life? Orgar clenched his jaw, looking around the arena. They want us to break. The Council is testing us, pushing us further than anyone could ever anticipate.

His eyes scanned the battlefield as the chaos continued to unfold. Every swing of his weapon, every strike, felt like he was a piece in someone else's game. But that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Survival had become the only thing that mattered. The Skullball was nothing more than a tool, a symbol, a trap.

I've always known that there's more to this than it seems. But now… the truth is right in front of me. The Forgotten they're not just here to fight for the ball. They're here to kill. We're their prey.

The Forgotten: The Hunters

From across the arena, Orgar saw them figures emerging from the shadows, blending with the chaos, their movements eerily deliberate. These weren't the warriors they had faced in previous rounds, these weren't just athletes. No, the Forgotten were hunters.

A hulking man with tattoos creeping up his arms, his chest scarred from too many battles, stepped forward. His eyes locked onto Orgar with a gaze that froze him in place for just a second. Orgar's breath caught in his throat. It was as if this man knew something that Orgar didn't. There was something primal in that stare a reminder that they were all just prey, standing in the middle of a slaughterhouse.

"Look at them," Kaela muttered, her voice barely audible over the noise, her eyes flickering toward the warriors closing in. "They don't care about the game. They care about one thing killing."

Her words, soft but potent, struck a chord deep within Orgar. She was right. These were not just fighters. They were beasts, with bloodlust running through their veins, and the deadly games they played with each other were now their only purpose.

Monologue: Gorgar's Perspective

Meanwhile, Gorgar stood a little farther off, his body coiled with tension, sweat dripping down his forehead, but his trademark grin was nowhere to be seen.

Damned fools. These guys think they can break us? Gorgar's eyes flared with fiery rage as he locked onto a Forgotten warrior approaching from his right. The warrior was heavily armored, his blade long and jagged, reflecting the harsh sunlight. But Gorgar wasn't intimidated no, he was built for this. His shoulders squared, and his fists clenched around his mace, the iron weapon looking more like an extension of his own body than a tool for destruction.

Let them come. I'll smash every last one of them. They think this is about survival? Fine. Let them survive me.

The Real Game Begins: Team Dynamics

Orgar's gaze snapped back to the fight at hand. The ball was rolling toward them, but now it felt less like a goal and more like a lifeline. They had to use it, not to score, but to keep moving, keep their enemies off balance. Their focus was no longer just the game it was survival.

With a swift move, Orgar seized the Skullball, gripping it tightly in his gloved hand. There was no time for hesitation. The Forgotten were closing in. He wasn't sure whether they knew what they were about to do, but he did. Every motion had to be precise. Every move was calculated. Orgar hurled the ball to Gorgar with a single, fluid motion. The moment the ball left his hand, he was already moving.

"Go!" Orgar barked, voice raw with urgency. "Keep them away from the ball! We need to survive!"

Gorgar's grin was back, fierce and determined as ever. "Aye, little brother. We'll show them how real warriors fight."

With a battle cry, Gorgar charged forward, knocking down anything that dared come too close. The Forgotten, like ants under a boot, scattered, but that only made them more dangerous. They circled, waiting for an opening, for a weakness to exploit.

But Kaela, ever the ghost in the storm, was already moving. Orgar barely saw her as she slipped through the shadows, silently, unnoticed, her speed unmatched as she approached the goal of their enemies. Her dagger gleamed in the sunlight, quick and lethal as she struck.

Monologue: Kaela's Reflection

In the midst of it all, Kaela's mind worked faster than her body. She could hear every footstep, see every movement. Not like last time. This isn't just a game anymore. It's a test. A trial by fire.

The Forgotten were relentless, but they were predictable. Their desperation was their greatest flaw. Kaela had trained for this, trained to outthink her enemies before they could act. The Skullball was no longer the game it was the key to victory, the shield, the sword, the only tool in their hands.

She danced around an opponent, her dagger flashing, cutting through the air before it found its mark. I won't hesitate. Not now. I can't.

The Unexpected Twist: The Council's Influence

And then, as the battle seemed to surge toward a desperate crescendo, a horn blew from the far end of the arena. The sounds of clashing weapons and the grunts of the fighters faltered for a second, and Orgar's eyes darted toward the far edge of the battlefield. A dark figure stepped forward one Orgar recognized instantly.

The Council's envoy.

Behind him, the massive gates opened slowly, revealing new figures, clad in darker armor, armed to the teeth. This was no ordinary battalion it was a team of mercenaries, fresh and well-equipped. Orgar's stomach sank as he realized what it meant.

No… they're not here to help. They're here to finish this.

The Council had just made it clear that the real fight had begun, and the goal was no longer survival alone. This was a purge. A slaughter. They wanted to see who could stand, who would break, and who was worth keeping.

End of Chapter 16