The announcer's voice cracked through the stone-walled pit, bouncing between iron bars and sweat-soaked sand. "Room Seven! Two fresh picks! Against the veterans from Eighteen—two grown men who've seen blood before!"
The crowd rose to their feet, jeering and tossing chips of broken stone down at the fighters.
The match began.
Kai vanished in a shimmer of residual step, momentum snapping him like a slingstone to the rear of the enemy on the left. The man barely had time to flinch before Flicker, shaped into a jagged knife, punched through the back of his neck. Bone crunched, hot spray coating Kai's hand. The man staggered forward, choking on his own blood.
On the opposite side, Matt's shadow peeled off the wall like a living smear. Shadow step dragged him out of the darkness, blade flashing, and he drove it deep under the ribs of the second fighter. The strike came low, angled, and cruel. The man bellowed, trying to grab Matt, but Matt shoved harder, twisting the knife until the sound broke into a guttural wheeze.
The crowd erupted—chants, whistles, fists hammering against the bars.
"You good, Kai?" Matt called, breath sharp.
Kai stood frozen, staring at the man collapsing at his feet. His pulse rattled in his ears. He hadn't just hit someone. He'd killed. His blade was still buried, his hand shaking with the thrum of it.
The announcer shouted, dragging attention back. "Not done! Not done! Our veterans are still breathing!"
And they were.
The first man, though spurting blood, swung backward with an elbow. Kai ducked barely in time. His body reacted before his mind did, residual step flickering him sideways, just outside the man's arc. He kicked low, knocking the leg out from under the fighter, then tore Flicker free in a wet, ragged motion.
The second enemy grabbed Matt's wrist with startling strength, forcing the knife an inch out of his chest. His free hand smashed into Matt's face, rattling teeth. Matt reeled, blood flying from his lip. The older man surged, trying to reverse the grapple, but Matt twisted into shadow again, sliding behind him and ripping across the hamstring. The man roared, stumbling, yet refused to drop.
Kai blinked, horror still clinging like sweat. He stabbed again, but his grip was weak. The blade slid along bone, not deep enough to finish. His target turned, eyes red, spitting blood through clenched teeth. "You little—"
The fist came fast. Kai residual-stepped, barely avoiding the knuckles, reappearing half a pace behind. His stomach turned as if his own body hated him. He thrust again, harder this time. The knife drove deep under the jaw, snapping through soft tissue until the man gurgled and collapsed.
Kai staggered back, chest heaving. His breath felt dirty, poisoned.
Matt wasn't faring better. His opponent, hamstrung but wild, spun like a wounded bull. He slammed into Matt, driving him against the arena wall. Shadow peeled from Matt's body again, dragging him a meter sideways, but the man's hand caught his shirt. They fell together, grappling, rolling across blood-stained sand.
"Matt!" Kai croaked, his voice raw.
"Handle your side," Matt barked back. He jammed the knife again, this time under the collarbone. His enemy howled, huge hand clamping on Matt's throat. Matt's legs kicked, vision blurring.
Kai residual-stepped forward, grabbed Flicker tighter, and dove. The blade tore across the man's back, leaving a line of crimson. It wasn't enough. The man swung an arm like a club, knocking Kai sideways. Pain exploded across Kai's ribs.
The crowd loved it. Their noise turned into a steady rhythm of chants: "Bleed! Bleed! Bleed!"
Kai rolled, coughing. His body wanted to shut down, but DM whispered in his head: Move. Again. Faster.
He pushed residual step harder than before, flickering behind the man and stabbing again, deeper, until Flicker scraped spine. The man faltered, grip on Matt's throat loosening. Matt surged upward, knife plunging straight into the side of the neck. The two strikes combined finally dropped him, his body convulsing before going still.
Silence spread across the pit, just for a second, before the eruption.
The announcer howled into the roar. "What an opening! The boys from Seven take the round! The crowd loves fresh blood!"
Matt staggered upright, breathing heavy, face swollen where the punch had landed. He reached out a hand. "Kai."
Kai didn't move. His knife-hand trembled violently, Flicker still humming with its twisted life. His knees wanted to fold. His stomach heaved, bile souring the back of his throat.
Matt grabbed him by the collar and shook. "Look at me. You're alive. We're alive. That's what matters right now."
Kai's lips parted, but no words came. His gaze darted to the corpses. Blood soaked the sand beneath them, pooling in slow rivers. Their eyes were still open, still furious even in death.
The gate screeched open, slavers pulling the bodies out with hooks. One sneered at Kai. "Not bad for new meat. Maybe you'll last more than a week."
The crowd kept cheering, but beneath the roar, Kai only heard his own heartbeat—ragged, guilt-ridden, and loud enough to drown everything else.
Matt steadied him by the shoulder. "Come on. Round one's done. You've got more in you."
Kai swallowed, forcing Flicker back into shadow. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. His chest felt hollow.
But he nodded.
Because he had to.
"Thanks Matt.. I don't think I would've been able to do this alone"
Matt didn't respond.
We were lead back to room seven and were greeted by Drake.