The silence that followed the assassin's defeat felt different. It was not a silence of shock, but a silence filled with calculation. The spectators no longer saw a lucky Nulla. They saw a dangerous anomaly. In the corner of the arena, Torvek watched with one eye narrowed, his expression a mixture of admiration and deep-seated fear.
Kairan's newfound fame made him a valuable property for Silas. The arena organizer no longer placed him in ordinary fights. Kairan was now the main attraction. However, that calm was broken when the announcement of Lord Valerius's arrival and his beast echoed throughout the district. Silas, with his greedy eyes, saw an opportunity for an unforgettable show.
"You want to fight the beast?" Silas said to Kairan the day before the nobleman's arrival. "You have to prove you're worthy. Tomorrow, you will face the final test. Your opponents are The Crimson Twins."
Torvek's breath caught in his throat. The name hit his mind. His hand unconsciously gripped Kairan's shoulder, his knuckles turning white. "The Crimson Twins? Silas, you're insane," Torvek's voice was a low, desperate growl. "That's not a fight. It's a death sentence you're selling as entertainment. They don't leave opponents, they only leave ash."
The Crimson Twins. Elara and Kael. Two siblings with a Class-C Twin Fire Sigil. On paper, their Sigils weren't the strongest. But together, they were a walking inferno. Legends in the under-district told of how they once incinerated a squad of Silver Knights without a single scratch. Their power didn't just double; it became exponential, creating an inescapable and inextinguishable firestorm. Facing them alone wasn't just a death sentence; it was the most painful end for anyone who faced them.
"This is a massacre, Silas!" Torvek growled, his voice now trembling with rage.
"No," Silas retorted, his slick smile widening, his eyes glittering with the shadow of silver coins. "This is high-stakes business. The best show of the year. The death of an ordinary Nulla is worthless. But the death of the Arena Ghost at the hands of the Crimson Twins? Ah, the bets will skyrocket." He patted Torvek's shoulder as they were old friends. "And this kid is my best business right now."
That pat felt heavy on Torvek's shoulder, not from physical strength, but from the weight of memories. There was a time when they weren't just friends, but partners. Torvek the "Silver Storm" with his intact Sigil, and Silas the small-time bookie with his cunning brain. Torvek brought victories, Silas managed the profits. They were going to conquer Velmire together. But Silas's greed grew faster than Torvek's victories. The climax was a fixed fight, where Torvek's opponent turned out to be far stronger than promised. Silas made a huge profit from betting against Torvek. Torvek lost his arm, his Sigil cracked, and his glory was snatched away. Silas used that money to buy the arena. The pat was an insult, an eternal reminder of who won and who lost in their real fight.
Standing by them, Kairan was unaware of the betrayal and stood silently.. Their history was not within his knowledge. He had the ability to read a language that was more applicable than words.' Torvek's shoulder was stiff, which he could see after being patted by Silas. He observed the old gladiator's eyes flickering with a fire that extinguished as quickly as it lit up, indicating the deep-seated hatred. He witnessed Silas's smile, which was cruelly satisfying as he saw a victor enjoying the pain of his long-lost opponent. Kairan learned that the most profound wounds in this world are not always healed by a sword, and the strongest chains are often barely discernible. Even so, Kairan accepted Silas's agreement.
The arena appeared to be a furnace on that particular night. The torches on the walls did not only generate heat but also emitted heat from the crowd. It was a struggle to breathe due to the anticipation and bloodlust that filled the air. From the richest of them to the poorest of the beggars everyone on earth knew what was going to happen. Their purpose was not to witness a fight; rather, they were there for the sacrifice. As the twins entered the arena from opposite gates, a tense atmosphere filled the crowd with silence. Each step was like a terrifying synchronization of their movements.' Their chests were infused with heat by the Fire Sigils, their hearts pulsing like two hearts of one demon. They were standing on the sand that seemed to dry and break.
Kairan, standing silently beside them, didn't know the details of the betrayal. Their history was a closed book to him. However, he could read a language more universal than words. He saw the stiffness in Torvek's shoulder when Silas patted it. He saw the flash of buried hatred, extinguished as quickly as it ignited, in the old gladiator's eyes. And he saw the cruel satisfaction in Silas's smile—the satisfaction of a winner enjoying the suffering of his long-vanquished opponent. For Kairan, it was another lesson about this world: the deepest wounds don't always come from a sword, and the strongest chains are often invisible. Nevertheless, Kairan still agreed to Silas's arrangement.
That night, the arena felt like it was inside a furnace. The heat wasn't just from the torches lining the walls, but seemed to radiate from the crowd itself. The air was so thick with anticipation and bloodlust that it was hard to breathe. Every spectator, from the wealthy gamblers to the lowliest beggars, knew what was about to happen. They hadn't come to see a fight; they had come to witness a sacrifice. As the twins stepped into the arena from opposite gates, a tense silence fell over the crowd. They moved with a terrifying synchronization, each step a mirror of the other. A palpable aura of heat spread from the Fire Sigils on their chests, which pulsed in unison like two hearts of a single demon. The sand beneath their feet seemed to dry and crack just from their presence.
Then, from the same gate where losers usually exited, Kairan stepped in. No magical aura accompanied him, no dazzling light. He was just a shadow stepping into the furnace. The hot air created by the twins seemed not to affect him. The crowd, previously tense, now erupted in jeers and pitiful laughter. "The bait has appeared!" someone shouted. "Fresh meat!" another chimed in. But Kairan didn't hear them. His eyes were not fixed on the fire or the smirking twins. His gaze was straight ahead, focused on something only he could see: the fragile red magical thread that connected his two opponents.
One of the twins, Kael, laughed mockingly. "Look at this, Elara. They sent us a victim who doesn't even have a Sigil to burn."
Elara, his sister, smirked. A small flame danced on her fingertips. "At least this will be quick. Any last requests, Nulla?"
Kairan stopped in the middle of the arena, his gaze shifting from one twin to the other, his expression cold and empty. After a moment of silence that made their smirks falter slightly, he answered in a flat voice, "You're too noisy."
The bell tolled. Instantly, the twins moved like mirror images. One to the left, one to the right. They didn't attack Kairan directly. Instead, they unleashed streams of fire onto the floor around him, creating a blazing ring of fire, narrowing his space to move.
Kairan stood inside the fiery prison, the heat already searing his skin. He could see the red magical path connecting the two, a bridge of energy pulsing in perfect rhythm. That was their key. The key he had to destroy.
One of the twins—Kairan couldn't tell which—launched the first fireball. Kairan dodged, but the heat licked his arm, leaving a sharp pain. A second attack came from the other direction almost simultaneously. He rolled in the sand, avoiding the main attack, but its sparks hit his back. His thin cloth tunic began to burn, forcing him to rip it off.
The crowd cheered wildly. They loved this. The agile Nulla was now trapped, slowly being roasted.
Kairan knew he couldn't just dodge. He had to break their rhythm. He saw some metal debris from a previous fight lying near the wall of fire. Quickly, he kicked one of the metal plates, sending it spinning into the air.
As he expected, one of the twins instinctively shot a jet of fire at the plate, shattering it into hot fragments. But it was enough. The split-second distraction created a small tremor in their magical bridge.
That's when Kairan charged, not towards one of the twins, but straight at the wall of fire. He covered his face with his arm and broke through. The excruciating pain burned his skin as he passed, but he managed to get out of the circle.
Now he was outside, panting, with a serious burn on his arm. But he had changed the battlefield. The twins had to turn, and now they could no longer easily corner him.
The fight turned into a brutal game of cat and mouse. Kairan used every corner, every piece of debris, every shadow in the arena as cover. He suffered more burns, every movement accompanied by searing pain. Blood began to drip from a wound on his leg as he stumbled over a piece of hot metal.
He knew he wouldn't last long. His body was screaming. He needed one chance.
He saw a water drain covered by an iron grate on one side of the arena, where dirty water usually flowed. A desperate idea formed.
Enduring the pain, he baited one of the twins to chase him towards the drain. The twin, already getting frustrated, launched a massive burst of fire. Kairan leaped aside at the last moment, letting the torrent of fire hit the iron grate with full force.
The metal heated up until it was glowing red.
Then, Kairan did the unexpected. He turned and ran towards the other twin, forcing them to back away in the opposite direction of their sibling. The distance between them now widened. Their magical bridge stretched to its limit.
"Now!" Kairan shouted, not to anyone, but to himself.
He took a deep breath, ignoring his burning lungs, and ran back towards the glowing grate. With a desperate kick, he slammed into the hot metal. The grate broke and fell into the channel, releasing a burst of hot steam and a foul stench.
The distraction itself was not enough. But the thick smoke billowing from the channel created a visual screen between the twins. For a moment, they couldn't see each other. Their synchronization, which depended on visual and magical contact, finally broke.
Kairan felt a violent tremor in their magical path. This was his chance.
Bursting through the smoke, he ignored the first twin and attacked the second—the one closer to him. Without the support of their sibling, their magic became slower and weaker. Kairan gave no time to react. A hard elbow to the jaw, followed by a kick that crushed ribs, sent the twin to the ground.
Feeling their magical connection sever, the first twin turned in panic, but it was too late. Kairan, now moving on his last reserves of strength, was already upon them. The fight ended with the sound of breaking bone.
Kairan stood panting over the two unconscious bodies. Half his body was scorched with burns, blood dripped from various wounds, and every breath felt like inhaling broken glass. He could barely stand. But he had won.
It was then that a slow, arrogant applause was heard from the main balcony.
Lord Valerius stood, his cold eyes looking at the severely injured Kairan. He wasn't impressed by Kairan's strategy. He was amused by his endurance.
"Magnificent," Valerius said, his voice cold. "A cockroach is surprisingly hard to squash." He smiled cruelly. "You have proven yourself worthy. You are worthy of being a toy for my pet."
He gestured to the gatekeepers. "Release the Gravemaw. Let's see how long these leftovers can last."
The iron gate at the far end of the arena began to creak open. Kairan, with his body screaming in pain, forced himself to stand tall. His eyes were not on the darkness behind the gate, but on the smiling nobleman on the balcony.
There, the real beast had long been sitting on the seat of honor. And the show was just about to begin.