The air beneath the arena was thick with copper and sweat. Concrete walls sweated condensation, echoing every shout and strike from above like ghosts pounding on the ceiling. The sub-levels were a labyrinth of holding corridors—thirty cramped waiting rooms where slaves were stashed like spare blades, ready to be drawn and thrown into the pit.
Matt sat with Kai in Room 7. The cell wasn't much more than a stone bench, an iron gate, and a single bulb swaying from a wire overhead. Kai leaned against the wall, arms slack, his eyes unfocused. His lips parted as though he were halfway through a word that never formed. Every so often he scratched absently at his arm, muttering the same word like a prayer: "Chain… Chain…"
Matt's gut twisted. He crouched in front of him, steadying Kai's chin with two fingers. "Stay with me, alright? Just breathe."
Kai's gaze flickered toward him for a heartbeat, then slid away again. Matt kept his hand there anyway, as much for himself as for Kai.
The iron door screeched open, and the boy strolled in. Seventeen, maybe eighteen, with sharp features and the careless swagger of someone who knew power bent around him. Two guards shadowed him, rifles slung loose.
"So," he said, eyeing Matt, "you volunteered. Brave. Or stupid."
Matt rose slowly, body coiled but controlled. "He's not fit to fight like this." He gestured to Kai. "You want him to carry you past the sub-levels? To floor fifty? Then you'll need him clear. Chain won't get you there."
The boy chuckled, amused by the challenge. "Why would I bother? Addicts are easier to manage. They follow orders."
Matt stepped closer, voice low and steady. "Not like this. He'll follow, yes—but he won't fight. Not the way you need him to. He'll break in the pit. You want him useful, you give him the antidote."
The boy tilted his head, as if weighing a coin. "Bold words from a man who's mine now." He smirked. "What's your angle?"
"No angle," Matt said flatly. "You want power, I get it. I've seen ambition. But if you want to reach floor fifty, you don't need a puppet. You need a partner." He nodded toward Kai, slumped against the wall. "He's the only one in this pit who can give you that."
The boy barked out a laugh. "Partner, huh? They all start like that. Then the city eats them." He crossed his arms, studying Matt as if he were some rare insect pinned beneath glass. "You've got nerve. I'll give you that."
Matt didn't blink. "My name's Matt. And what's yours?"
"Drake," the boy said finally. "Remember it. You'll be fighting under it." He turned toward the guards. "Prepare a dose. If he collapses, it's your head, Matt."
Relief surged through Matt, though he kept his expression locked tight. He nodded once. "He won't collapse."
Drake's grin sharpened. "Then maybe, just maybe, you two will be the ones to drag me out of these stinking sub-levels. No one else has managed it. Slaves burn out before the real climb even begins."
The guards moved to fetch the antidote. Matt sank back down beside Kai, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Hear that? You're getting your mind back. Just hold on."
Kai blinked sluggishly, eyes swimming, still lost in the fog. But Matt could feel it—somewhere inside, the real Kai was waiting. And Matt wasn't about to let the city keep him buried.
The guards came back with a vial no bigger than Matt's thumb, the liquid inside a faint, bitter green. One of them muttered something about wasting good stock, but Drake waved him off.
"Do it. Let's see if your gamble pays off."
Matt took the vial himself. He wasn't about to let these vultures jab Kai with whatever filth they felt like. He crouched down, hand steady, voice softer than he thought it could be.
"Kai… this'll hurt for a second. But it's going to clear your head."
Kai didn't respond. His eyes were glassy, skin clammy. The only sound was the shallow rasp of his breathing. Matt slid the needle in cleanly, pressing the antidote into his veins.
At first, nothing. Then Kai jerked, body arching against the wall. His hands clawed at the bench as if he were drowning. Matt caught his shoulders, holding him steady.
"Easy—breathe, Kai. Ride it out."
The change was slow, almost cruel. His pupils shrank, the dull glaze in his eyes burning away like fog under sunlight. His breath came harder, sharper. He blinked. Once. Twice. As if realizing he hadn't in days.
Matt tightened his grip, searching his face. "That's it. Come back."
Kai's gaze finally locked onto him. Confused, heavy with exhaustion, but focused. His lips parted, voice rough like gravel.
"Your… name…" He swallowed, tried again. "Mm… Mattethis?"
Matt froze. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Mattethis. It's me."
Kai blinked again, slower this time, as if savoring the simple act. A faint, crooked smile pulled at his mouth. "Thought I… lost it." His head lolled against the wall, the smile fading into a tired frown. "Everything's… fuzzy."
Matt swallowed hard. He brushed sweat-damp hair back from Kai's forehead. "You didn't lose anything. You're here. You're alive. And I'm not letting you go."
For the first time since he'd seen him chained, Kai didn't ask for the drug. He just closed his eyes, breathing steady, like the storm inside him had eased—if only for a moment.
Drake leaned against the bars, arms crossed, watching with a wolfish grin. "Not bad. He's still a mess, but at least he looks human again. You'd better hope he fights as good as you claim, Mattethis."
Matt didn't look up. He kept his hand on Kai's shoulder, anchoring him. "He will. You'll see."
Kai's fingers twitched, curling weakly around Matt's wrist, as if testing the world's solidity. His lips moved, barely audible. "Not… alone?"
Matt's throat tightened. "Not alone."
Above them, the crowd roared as another fight ended. The gate creaked, signaling it would be their turn soon.
Matt helped Kai sit upright, meeting his unsteady gaze. "We'll walk in together. And we'll walk out together."
This time, Kai didn't laugh or beg for Chain. He just nodded once, slow but sure, and blinked.
Under Drake's banner.
They'll survive and get to floor 50.