blood and broken bones

The arena was soaked in silence, thick with the coppery scent of blood and the stench of sweat and death. Shadows stretched like claws over the jagged stone floor, still slick with the remnants of the last battle. The crowd—the twisted amalgamation of forgotten souls, abandoned dreams, and nightmares long left behind—waited, their collective breath baited, craving the next brutal spectacle.

Kyon stood at the edge, a dark silhouette against the abyssal glow that pulsed faintly beneath the arena floor. His eyes, cold and unreadable, scanned the combatants summoned from the pitiless shadows. These two were different from the last—each carved from pain and vengeance, forged in fires of abandonment far older and more vicious.

First was Riven—a man whose broken body told a story of relentless cruelty. His left arm hung at an impossible angle, fingers curled like dead branches, yet his eyes burned with a savage fire. Scars mapped his chest, each one a testament to survival against odds that would have shattered anyone else. He wielded a crude blade, jagged and blackened, forged from the shattered memories of those long dead.

His opponent was Selka, a twisted form draped in remnants of childhood. Her skin was pale and stretched thin, veins like dark rivers tracing unnatural paths beneath. A crown of thorns, made of barbed wire and shattered glass, crowned her head. In her hands, a pair of razor-sharp needles, humming with venom drawn from forgotten nightmares.

The bell rang—a sharp, discordant clang that cracked through the tense stillness.

They charged.

Riven lunged first, his blade slashing through the air with brutal intent. The jagged edge tore at the space between them, sparks flying as Selka twisted with unnatural grace, her needles darting out like vipers. One needle found flesh, sinking into Riven's right thigh with a sickening hiss. Black blood oozed from the wound, sizzling as it touched the stone floor.

Riven grunted, pain twisting his face, but he pressed forward, swinging his blade in a wide arc that grazed Selka's ribs. She staggered but smiled—a cruel, twisted smile that sent shivers through the bones of every observer.

"You're slow," Selka hissed, voice dripping venom. "Too weighed down by your failures."

Riven snarled, wiping blood from his lip with a trembling hand. "I'm still standing. That's more than you can say."

The clash was sudden, violent. Riven swung again, his blade biting into Selka's side with a grinding scrape. She howled, jerking back, but not before driving a needle deep into his shoulder.

Pain exploded through Riven's body like wildfire, muscles spasming as poison coiled in his veins. His breath came ragged, vision blurring at the edges.

The arena trembled as Selka advanced, relentless. Her needles stabbed, cutting not just flesh but tendons and nerves, tearing the mechanics of Riven's broken form apart. He roared, gripping her wrist with his good hand, wrenching one needle free before crushing it beneath his palm.

In that moment of desperation, Riven shoved Selka hard, sending her sprawling against the cold stone walls. He lunged, blade flashing—a brutal, desperate strike aimed to end the fight.

But Selka twisted, catching the blade on her needles, sparks flying as metal scraped against metal.

Blood sprayed in thick arcs as the fight spiraled into chaos. Both combatants bore fresh wounds, open and bleeding, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Their bodies moved with painful determination, each step a negotiation between agony and will.

Kyon watched with growing interest.

This fight was a perfect microcosm of the OtherSide itself—fractured, brutal, and merciless.

Suddenly, Selka let out a guttural scream and pulled from her belt a small vial filled with swirling black liquid.

"Let's end this," she spat, shattering the vial against the ground between them.

A dark mist erupted, curling like smoke, creeping toward Riven like a living thing. It seeped into his skin, burning with icy fire.

Riven screamed, eyes wild with terror and rage.

But then the impossible happened.

With a guttural roar, Riven's body convulsed, muscles spasming violently as the poison met something inside him—a deep, primal core of raw abandonment energy. The wound began to close, black ichor rising to seal the shredded flesh.

Selka's smile faltered. "No..."

Riven's eyes snapped open, glowing a furious red.

The poison had awakened something inside him.

He charged again, faster, stronger—an unstoppable force fueled by raw desperation.

Selka tried to dodge, but her movements were slowed, weighted by fatigue and the poison's backfire.

Riven caught her wrist in a brutal grip, snapping the needle in two and driving his jagged blade into her abdomen.

Selka's scream was drowned in a rush of blood as she crumpled to the floor, trembling and broken.

Riven stood over her, chest heaving with labored breaths.

"Forget what you were," he growled, voice low and brutal. "Here, we are what the OtherSide makes us."

Selka's eyes glazed, dimming, and she finally went still.

The crowd erupted in savage cheers, the raw, carnal delight of death and survival filling the air.

Kyon stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Strength is born of abandonment. Pain fuels power. You have both. You have survived."

Riven's gaze snapped to Kyon.

"Who's next?" he demanded, voice harsh, shaking with adrenaline and fury.

From the shadows, the next combatant emerged—a figure draped in ragged cloaks, face obscured but eyes burning like cold fire.