Night fell heavy over the city, wrapping the grand arena in shadows. The cheers and chants of the day were gone, replaced by the distant echo of guards' boots on cobblestone streets.
Rondan moved swiftly through the lower tunnels, his cloak drawn tight against the chill. The air was damp here, carrying the scent of old stone and something faintly metallic—blood, long dried.
The entrance to the east catacombs was little more than a jagged archway hidden behind a collapsed storeroom. He slipped inside, the torch in his hand casting a trembling circle of light across walls etched with faded carvings.
Some of the carvings were just patterns… but others looked eerily similar to the rune on his chest.
"You came."
Leina's voice drifted from the darkness ahead. She emerged from the shadows, holding her own torch, her silver eyes reflecting the flame.
Rondan stepped closer. "You said you'd tell me what's at stake."
Leina glanced down the narrow corridor before speaking. "The mark you carry—it's not a blessing. It's a claim. Those who bear it are bound to the will of the one who placed it… and that one is here, in the tournament, hidden among the fighters."
Rondan's jaw clenched. "Then I'll find him."
Her gaze sharpened. "You think it's that simple? The mark feeds you power, yes, but it feeds on you in return. Every fight, every drop of blood you spill—it takes a piece of you. Until there's nothing left but the mark itself."
Before Rondan could answer, a sudden metallic clang echoed from deeper in the catacombs. The sound was followed by a slow, deliberate scraping, like claws dragging over stone.
Leina's torch flickered. "We're not alone."
From the darkness ahead, two faint lights appeared—glowing eyes, cold and predatory. The air grew heavier, and a deep, unnatural growl filled the tunnel.
Rondan gripped his sword. "Friend of yours?"
Leina shook her head, stepping back. "No. That's one of the keepers. They hunt anyone who learns too much."
The thing in the dark stepped forward, its massive frame revealed—armor fused to rotting flesh, a curved halberd in its grip, and on its chest… the same burning rune.
The catacombs suddenly felt smaller.
"Run," Leina hissed.
The keeper roared, and the chase began.