First Blood, Focused Gaze

Veridia Chronicles: The Dragon Spark

Saga I: The Unlikely Candidate Arc 1: Echoes of Glory, Whispers of Power

Chapter 13: First Blood, Focused Gaze

Kai approached the scarred gatekeeper, his heart hammering a nervous rhythm against his ribs. The man's eyes, like chips of obsidian, flicked over Kai, assessing him with a practiced, dismissive gaze. He was lean, wiry, and didn't scream "fighter" in the way some of the more muscle-bound hopefuls lurking at the edges did.

"You lost, kid?" the gatekeeper rumbled, his voice like gravel.

"Here to fight," Kai said, trying to keep his voice steady, pitching it lower than usual. He focused on the "Basic Anima Concealment" skill, trying to project an aura of bland normalcy, or at least, of someone who wasn't an immediate threat or a particularly interesting target.

The gatekeeper snorted. "You and half the district. Got any credits for the entry pot? Or you fighting for scraps and a prayer?"

"Fighting for the pot," Kai lied. He didn't have credits for an entry fee, but he couldn't appear that desperate. He needed to project some level of capability. "Winner takes all, right?"

The man gave a grim chuckle. "Winner takes what the House doesn't skim. And what the loser doesn't try to take back in the alleys later. You look like fresh meat. Sure you want this?"

"I'm sure," Kai said, meeting the man's gaze. He let a tiny flicker of the amber in his own eyes show, just a hint of something not quite normal, hoping it read as determination rather than… whatever monstrous thing it truly was.

The gatekeeper seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, then shrugged. "Your funeral. Next slot's against a Duster named Razor. He likes to collect teeth. Get in the staging cage. If you win, come see me. If you lose… well, try not to bleed too much on the good dirt."

Kai nodded, his mouth dry. He was led to a small, rusty cage near one of the arena entrances. The fight currently underway ended with a sickening thud and a roar from the crowd. One fighter was dragged out, unconscious or worse. The other, breathing heavily, raised his arms in a temporary, savage victory before being ushered away.

Then, it was his turn. The gate to his cage creaked open. "Kai versus Razor!" a disembodied voice boomed over a crackling loudspeaker system, met with a smattering of jeers and a few expectant shouts.

His opponent, Razor, was a wiry man with a manic grin and filed, pointed teeth – living up to his name. He wore minimal protection and moved with a twitchy, unpredictable energy. He looked like a cornered animal, all desperate aggression.

The moment the fight began, Razor lunged, a rusty shiv appearing in his hand as if from nowhere. Kai, relying on his System-enhanced Agility and Perception, sidestepped the clumsy attack, the shiv whistling past his ear. The crowd roared its approval for the near miss.

Kai didn't have time to think, only to react. His training was non-existent, but the System's combat-oriented "suggestions" had been subtly seeping into his subconscious during his daily physical conditioning. [Evade. Assess threat vectors. Identify opening.]

He dodged another wild swing, then another. Razor was fast, but sloppy, relying on intimidation and ferocity. Kai focused on evasion, letting his enhanced reflexes carry him, trying to gauge Razor's pattern. He needed to end this quickly, decisively, without revealing too much of his true capabilities. No overt Anima manifestations if he could help it.

He landed a quick, hard jab to Razor's side, his Strength making the impact far more significant than his lean frame would suggest. Razor grunted, surprised, his grin faltering for a moment.

It was then, as he circled Razor, looking for another opening, that Kai felt it. A prickling sensation on the back of his neck, a focused intensity that was entirely different from the diffuse bloodlust of the crowd. Someone was watching him. Not just watching the fight, but watching him, specifically, with an unnerving, analytical stillness.

He risked a micro-second glance towards the darker, less crowded periphery of The Pit, near a shadowed archway that might have once been a transit tunnel exit. He couldn't make out any distinct figures in the gloom, but the feeling of a heavy, penetrating gaze persisted, unwavering. It wasn't the casual observation of a spectator; it felt like scrutiny, like assessment.

The paranoia he'd carried about the package owners flared, cold and sharp. Was it them? Had they somehow tracked him here? Or was it someone else? Apex? Some other interested party?

The distraction almost cost him. Razor, seeing an opening, lunged again, his shiv aimed at Kai's gut. Kai reacted purely on instinct, his body moving faster than his conscious thought. He twisted, the shiv slicing through his worn shirt, drawing a thin line of blood along his ribs, but missing anything vital. The System flashed: [Minor Laceration Sustained. Vitality Check: Passed. Minimal impact.]

The pain, though shallow, and the sudden, intense focus of that unseen observer, ignited something cold and dangerous within Kai. He needed to end this. Now.