The waiting line stretched far in both directions, front and back. Kael had already been standing there for over twenty minutes, but he was in no rush. The line was packed with men and women of all shapes and sizes, yet each one looked to be in excellent condition. Every so often, someone would shove or push for position, eager to reach the front and sign up.
This was the sign-up area for a well-known fighting club within the city—a place often seen as a ticket to a better life. Everyone in the line was a mortal. The club itself had been officially established by the noble family, and for the noble family. Its purpose was clear: to scout for promising mortals who could be hired as guards or, in rare cases, trained further in hopes that they might one day awaken.
Occasionally, the noble family would send a Luminaire to quietly observe the top fighters in the club. No one ever knew when one might appear, so the participants had no choice but to keep fighting in case today was the day they were being watched.
But the club was not only about scouting. It was built for spectacle. A form of entertainment for the mortals, and also a favorite pastime for the city's upper circles. Both Luminaires and wealthy citizens gathered to watch the bloodsport, placing bets and wagers like it was nothing more than a grand game.
After all, as long as the people are entertained, they rarely stop to question the hand pulling the strings behind the curtain.
"Next!"
The clerk called out without looking up.
Kael stepped forward without hesitation.
"Place your palm on the sphere and sign the contract."
Kael glanced at the glass sphere. Inside, a small red beetle zipped around, pulsing faintly with each flutter of its wings.
He scoffed.
'Heartened Mote? Hmph. The mote itself is fairly simple. It's often used by Luminaires in support roles. It reacts to vitals like heart rate, breathing, and tension. With enough training, someone can read those movements and interpret them.'
'Looks like the clerk is using it as a lie detector, maybe…'
His expression turned slightly firm, as he weighed his options but before long he placed his hand on the sphere and signed the contract.
"Thank you. Just enter the door to the right and someone will lead you to a room."
The clerk pointed to his right as he spoke. Kael gave a silent nod and began walking in that direction.
'Right. This place also serves as a last-ditch effort for the homeless to find shelter and a few meals. All they have to do is fight regularly.'
The club was heavily funded by the noble family. It made sense, they had every reason to invest in strengthening their ranks. Pouring money into a place like this encouraged more people to sign up, show off their skills, and potentially become useful. In doing so, it also helped reduce crime and disloyalty, keeping the desperate under their roof and under constant watch.
As soon as Kael stepped through the door, he was greeted by a young woman who led him to a room where meals were being served and briefly explained how things worked around the club.
Kael gave a quick glance around the sleeping quarters. They were simple, holding only the essentials, three beds and a small table that could be used for eating, writing, reading, or whatever else one needed. Each room also had its own bathroom and shower. For someone coming from the streets, it was undeniably an upgrade.
"Neat."
The woman smiled slightly at Kael's remark before speaking.
"Your first fight's in an hour. Make yourself at home while you wait. I'll come get you when it's time since it's your first. Just stay here and relax until then. The bed on the right is the only free one, so make sure to use that one."
Kael nodded to her before walking over to the bed and sitting down. The woman bowed politely, then stepped out and closed the door behind her.
He laid down on the bed, legs crossed, absentmindedly fiddling with his knife as he stared up at the ceiling.
Sigh…
'How troublesome. I didn't expect to be forced to stay in the city this long… and spending more gold coins at the inn isn't exactly profitable. But this will work too. I'll get to hone my skills—and maybe gain a few connections. There's no better source of information than the Velthorian citizens themselves.'
His brow furrowed slightly.
'However… that Heartened Mote though…'
Swoosh.
Before he could finish the thought, the door to his room swung open with a loud bang.
"Ughhh."
A young man, maybe a few years younger than Kael, walked in. He kicked the door shut behind him and stumbled over to the bed beside Kael, collapsing face-first onto it with a heavy groan.
"I so would have gotten him if it weren't for that stupid rule. 'Unethical punches'—yeah, right. Like that matters in a real fight."
The young man grumbled to himself, completely unaware that Kael was lying in the bed beside him, quietly watching.
Time passed as the young man continued rambling to himself. Kael just lay there, watching in silence. Eventually, the young man shifted, turning his head, and the moment his eyes landed on Kael, they widened slightly in surprise.
He jolted upright in bed, startled, and looked down at Kael.
"Who... who are you?"
"Ah, I'm Kael. Nice to meet you."
Kael sat up and reached out a hand, offering a casual handshake.
The young man stared for a second, clearly caught off guard, before shaking Kael's hand and rubbing the back of his head with an embarrassed smile.
"Oh. I see. You must be our new roommate. I'm Darian. Nice to meet you."
Now that Kael got a better look, Darian was a young man with short blond hair and green eyes touched with gold. He would have been quite handsome if not for the bruises and scratches covering his face.
"Yeah, and by the way, Talia sleeps here too. She doesn't spend much time in the room except to sleep. Normally they wouldn't mix men and women, but with how many people are signing up to fight lately, the rooms are overcrowded."
They exchanged in small talk as time passed by, and soon it was interrupted by a knock on the door. Darian was about to stand up and open but Kael stopped him and went to open the door by himself.
Kael was met by a young woman that bowed slightly as he opened the door.
"Kael follow me, i'll lead you to your first fight."
Kael tossed his trench coat onto the bed and leaned his cane against the bed frame. As he turned to head for the door, a hand gently grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
"Wait. Your first fight? Like... ever?"
Darian looked at him with genuine concern.
Just as Kael was about to answer, Darian turned to the young woman, his tone suddenly sharp and serious.
"Who is he fighting?"
The woman answered without hesitation. It wasn't a secret.
"Lucian."
"Lucian?"
Darian's voice spiked with disbelief.
"How is that fair for his first fight?"
He was on his feet now, standing in front of the young woman with wide eyes, nearly shouting.
"Sir, you know it's completely random who you fight at this stage."
The woman's voice was calm and composed, unaffected by Darian's sudden outburst.
"I know… I know, but still."
Darian sighed, then turned to Kael with a more serious tone.
"Kael, Lucian's kind of a rising star around here, so just be careful, alright?"
Kael gave him a doubtful look but nodded firmly in response.
The fighting club was divided into three stages. Stage One being the highest, Stage Three the lowest. Everyone started at Stage Three and had to work their way up through effort and performance. Because it was the entry level, Stage Three received the least attention and oversight. Opponents were matched through a simple ticket draw.
'Seems my luck is as bad as ever.'
Even so, Kael wasn't discouraged by the idea of facing a so-called rising star.
The woman led Kael through a series of winding corridors. The building was enormous and surprisingly well-decorated for a facility ranked only as Stage Three. It was clear the noble family placed great value on appearances. Every polished tile and ornate light fixture served as a reminder of the wealth and prestige they could offer to those who proved themselves. It was a subtle message. Fight well enough, and you will live a better life.
Eventually, they stepped into a vast open hall. The space stretched wide, with several smaller arenas scattered throughout. Each arena had a single judge stationed at its edge, ready to oversee the matches.
The judges were not Luminaires or high officials. They were simply mortals who had studied the rules thoroughly. For those who did not want to fight, this was another way to earn a place within the club. But these roles were far fewer in number and highly sought after.
Soon, they reached an arena tucked away in the far left corner of the hall. Inside stood a lone man and a judge, both waiting.
"This is where you'll fight. After the match, speak to the judge about your next bout. You're free to return to your sleeping quarters afterward or stay and watch the other fights if you'd like," the woman explained.
"Alright."
With that, she turned and walked off, disappearing back into the corridors to resume her tasks. Kael did not linger. He stepped into the arena without hesitation.
The judge, a middle-aged man with a tired face and sharp eyes, raised his voice as Kael entered.
"Today, Lucian Torren, with twenty-three wins out of twenty-three matches, will face off against..."
'Impressive.'
Kael glanced toward Lucian while the judge continued with the mandatory introductions.
These announcements were not particularly important at stage three since no one placed bets on the lower tiers, but they were still required. Occasionally, scouts visited to observe future prospects. To draw attention to the lower ranks, the club allowed early bets on fighters. These wagers would remain and multiply in value if the fighter climbed the ranks. It worked as a sort of long-term investment.
Kael's eyes moved back to Lucian, who was calmly wrapping white cloth around his knuckles. This was the only safety measure allowed at this stage, just enough to prevent the bones from breaking completely, but nowhere near enough to stop bruises or fractures.
Lucian looked to be in his late twenties. His black hair was tied neatly behind his head, and his sharp, dark eyes studied Kael with the cold, practiced focus of someone who had seen countless fights, and walked away from every one of them.
A faint scar ran from the edge of his mouth down to his chin
"... First-timer, Kael Sinclaire, with zero fights fought so far."
Kael scoffed under his breath. He didn't like having his name announced for everyone to hear, but he had already made the decision to join the fight club. This was simply one of the consequences of that choice.