The murmurs hadn't fully settled when Master lifted his hand again.
The response was immediate. Silence fell across the arena as if pulled down by force, every voice smothered beneath expectation. Dozens of eyes turned toward him, gleaming under warm light, eager in a way that had nothing to do with curiosity and everything to do with hunger.
He stood at the edge of the open pit, posture straight, composed as ever.
"For the first round," he began, his voice smooth, carrying without effort, "we will begin with something… familiar. Something reliable. Something that has never failed to satisfy."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Everpolmar."
The name alone rippled through the audience. Some leaned forward, others exchanged knowing looks, and a few even chuckled quietly, already anticipating what was about to unfold.
Below, metal groaned.
Something shifted behind the iron gates—heavy, deliberate, alive.
The next group of fighters was brought forward.
They weren't children. Not like Klen and the others.
These were grown men. Some carried scars across their faces and arms, others stood stiff with fear they couldn't hide. A few tried to steady themselves, gripping what little composure they had left.
Weapons were laid out in front of them.
"Choose," one of the guards barked, shoving them forward.
The men hesitated, then reached—hands trembling as they picked up swords, axes, spears. Whatever gave them even the illusion of a chance.
No one spoke.
No one argued.
They were pushed into the pit.
The gates slammed shut behind them with a final, echoing clang.
For a moment, nothing happened.
The arena held its breath.
Then—
A low, rumbling growl rolled through the pit, deep enough to vibrate through the stone itself.
It emerged slowly, stepping into the light as if it already owned the space.
The Everpolmar.
Its body was massive—thick like a bear's, muscles layered and dense, shifting under its skin with every movement. But its head… its head belonged to something far more predatory.
A lion.
A heavy mane framed its face, dark and wild, flowing down its neck like a crown of violence. Its jaws opened slightly, revealing rows of teeth built not for hunting—but for tearing.
And yet, despite its size—
It moved lightly.
Too lightly.
The first fighter barely had time to raise his weapon.
The beast lunged.
There was no buildup. No warning.
Just impact.
The man disappeared beneath it, his body crushed under sheer weight as a sickening crack echoed through the arena. Another tried to swing from the side—his blade never landed. A claw tore through him, clean and effortless, splitting flesh like it meant nothing.
Screams erupted.
Short. Cut off. Final.
Blood sprayed across the stone.
The Everpolmar didn't slow. Didn't hesitate. It moved from one to the next with terrifying precision, its speed completely at odds with its size.
Within moments—
It was over.
Bodies lay scattered across the pit, broken and still, the ground soaked in fresh red.
Above, the crowd reacted.
Not with horror.
With delight.
Applause broke out, followed by laughter and excited murmurs. Some leaned back in satisfaction, others whispered to one another as if discussing a performance they had just enjoyed.
Behind the barrier, the remaining fighters could only hear.
The sounds carried clearly.
Every scream. Every impact. Every wet, final sound that followed.
Eira's hands trembled uncontrollably, her grip on the spear loosening for a moment before she forced it tight again.
"…That… that wasn't even a fight," she whispered, her voice shaking. "They didn't stand a chance… they didn't even get a moment to breathe. How are we supposed to—how do we survive something like that?"
Marna exhaled slowly, her jaw clenched so tightly it almost hurt.
"We survive because we don't freeze like they did," she said, her voice low but firm. "Panicking is what gets you killed in the first second. You hesitate once—and you're already dead. So stop thinking about dying and start thinking about how you're going to kill it."
Eira swallowed hard, her breathing uneven.
"I—I'm trying, but… did you see that thing? It's not normal. It's too fast, too strong… I don't even know where to hit it—"
"Knew you'd say that."
Klen's voice cut through quietly.
They both looked at him.
He hadn't moved much, but his gaze was steady—focused in a way that felt almost detached.
"You're looking at it like it's unbeatable," he said, his tone calm but sharp. "It's not. It bleeds. It reacts. It moves with purpose. That means it has patterns."
Eira hesitated.
"…patterns?"
"It went for the closest target first," Klen continued. "Then the ones that moved the most. It doesn't just lash out—it chooses. That means we can guide it."
He stepped closer to her slightly, just enough to pull her attention fully.
"Listen carefully," he added, quieter now. "You don't need to overpower it. You don't need to match it. You just need to last long enough to create an opening. That's it."
Her grip tightened on the spear.
"…and you're sure that's enough?"
Klen met her eyes.
"It has to be," he said. "Because we don't get a second chance."
A pause.
Then, softer—
"You've made it this far, Eira. Don't fall apart now."
Something in her expression shifted.
Not confidence.
But steadiness.
"…alright," she said, exhaling slowly. "I'll… I'll trust you."
Marna snorted lightly under her breath.
"Good. Because we're all stuck with each other now. So don't die before I get to complain about it later."
Weapons were brought out.
Klen stepped forward first, scanning quickly before reaching down—not for the longsword, but for something smaller.
A short sword.
He tested its weight with a single motion.
Faster.
More controlled.
"Going light?" Marna asked, raising a brow as she grabbed a bow and slung a quiver over her shoulder, a dagger sliding into place at her side.
"I need speed," Klen replied simply. "That thing isn't giving us time to recover from heavy swings."
Eira stepped forward last, hesitating for a brief moment before choosing a double-edged spear. She lifted it, spinning it once, awkward at first—but she adjusted her grip quickly.
"…I'll keep distance," she murmured. "At least… I'll try."
"Don't try," Marna said. "Do it. Or you'll end up like the ones down there."
Eira gave a small nod.
"…right."
A guard nearby watched them with clear amusement.
"…three kids," he muttered, shaking his head. "They're not even worth the trouble."
He smirked, unlocking their restraints.
"Go on then," he added, almost lazily. "Entertain them while you can."
They were pushed into the pit.
The moment their feet touched the ground, the smell hit them.
Blood.
Thick, suffocating.
The bodies were still there.
Some barely recognizable.
Eira's breath caught for a moment, her eyes flickering over the carnage before she forced herself to look away.
Marna's grip tightened.
Klen looked forward.
Toward the gate.
A low growl rumbled from behind it.
Closer now.
Waiting.
"Marna," Klen said quietly, not taking his eyes off the gate. "You're our support. Keep your distance, keep firing, and don't stop unless you absolutely have to. Even if it doesn't hurt it—keep it distracted."
Marna nodded, already drawing an arrow.
"Got it. I'll make sure it never ignores me."
Klen turned slightly toward Eira.
"You stay with me," he said. "Don't rush in blindly. Watch how it moves, and strike when it commits to something. Not before."
Eira took a breath, steadying herself.
"…okay. I'll follow your lead."
The gate began to open.
Slow.
Heavy.
The sound of metal grinding against stone echoed through the pit.
The Everpolmar stepped out.
Its eyes locked onto them instantly.
It roared.
The sound hit like a physical force.
Klen lowered his stance.
"Stay sharp," he muttered. "This is where it starts."
The beast moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Klen dashed forward first.
Straight toward it.
He needed its attention.
He needed its focus.
He closed the distance quickly—then jumped, driving his foot toward its face.
The beast reacted instantly.
Its jaws snapped upward, aiming to catch him mid-air.
Klen twisted just in time, the teeth missing him by inches.
"Now!" he shouted.
From behind—
Eira struck.
Her spear drove into the beast's back with force.
It roared, twisting violently.
A massive claw swung—
And hit her.
Hard.
Eira was sent flying, her body tumbling across the ground before she forced the spear into the stone, dragging it to stop herself.
Her arms shook from the impact.
"…that… that was way stronger than I thought," she muttered, breath uneven. "And faster too… we can't take hits like that again."
Klen landed, already moving again.
But—
He didn't draw his sword.
He stepped in close.
Too close.
Fighting bare-handed.
Watching.
Learning.
An arrow cut through the air.
It struck the beast's arm.
Then another.
And another.
Marna stood at a distance, firing steadily, her expression focused.
"Come on… react already," she muttered. "You can't just ignore everything—"
The beast turned.
Its gaze locked onto her.
"…oh, great."
It charged.
Marna's breath hitched—but she didn't step back.
Instead, she drew faster.
Firing again and again.
"Come on then!" she shouted. "If you want me, you're going to have to earn it!"
The arrows sank into its flesh—
But it didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
It was on her.
Too fast.
Too close.
No time—
Then—
Klen slammed into her.
Hard.
Throwing her out of the way.
And took the hit.
The claw tore across his chest.
Deep.
Clean.
Blood burst outward.
His body was thrown back, slamming into the arena wall with a heavy impact.
"KLEN!"
Marna's voice cracked.
Eira's scream followed immediately after.
Marna scrambled to her feet, fury flashing across her face as she drew and fired again—faster now, more aggressive.
Eira moved at the same time, leaping forward and hurling her spear with everything she had.
The beast didn't fall.
Didn't even slow.
But they didn't stop either.
They kept attacking.
Relentless.
Driven.
Klen lay against the wall.
His vision blurred.
Blood dripped from his head.
From his chest.
Everything felt distant.
Heavy.
"…not enough…" he muttered under his breath. "I'm still… not enough…"
His gaze shifted.
Marna and Eira were still fighting.
Still standing.
And he—
Wasn't.
Lyra's face surfaced in his mind.
Bound.
Bruised.
Waiting.
His teeth clenched.
"…I can't fail here," he whispered, voice trembling with something deeper than pain. "Not when she's still out there… not when she's still suffering because I wasn't strong enough to stop this in the first place."
His fingers dug into the ground.
"I won't stay weak," he said, more firmly now. "I don't care what it takes—I'm not letting this end here."
He pushed himself up.
His legs gave out.
He fell again.
"…get up," he growled, slamming his fist into the ground. "Get up, dammit!"
Again.
He forced himself.
Dragged his body upward.
This time—
He stayed standing.
Barely.
His hand reached for the sword.
Gripped it.
Tight.
Then—
He moved.
He dashed forward again.
Straight toward the beast.
Above—
The crowd erupted into cheers, laughter spilling freely as they leaned forward, completely absorbed in the chaos below.
To them—
This was entertainment.
Nothing more.
And among them—
Master watched.
Still.
Composed.
His gaze fixed entirely on one person.
Klen.
"…yes," he murmured softly, a faint smile forming. "That's it… struggle, break, push past it… show me exactly what you're worth."
A pause.
His eyes gleamed.
"…you might just be perfect for it."