The air in the arena felt heavier than ever before. It wasn't just the oppressive heat or the weight of their exhaustion. No, this was something far more dangerous. Orgar could feel it in his bones the scent of treachery was thick in the air, lingering like the smell of smoke before a storm. They had come here to compete, to prove themselves. But now, they were being thrust into something far darker.
Standing in the shadow of the arena's towering walls, Orgar's hands tightened around the hilt of his weapon. His knuckles were white, and his breath came in shallow bursts. The game had changed. It was no longer a matter of winning or losing it was a matter of survival.
Beside him, Gorgar wiped blood from his brow, the trail leaving a streak of crimson across his face. His usual cocky grin had been replaced with a grim expression, but there was still a fire in his eyes. He was ready for anything.
Kaela stood a few feet away, her gaze fixed on the far-off horizon. Her posture was tense, muscles coiled like a spring, but her face was unreadable. She had always been the quiet one, the mysterious figure who held her cards close to her chest. But today, there was something else in her eyes something raw. Something that told Orgar she wasn't just fighting for glory anymore. She was fighting for something deeper.
Orgar's eyes moved to the other side of the arena, where the gates were beginning to creak open. Behind them, the shadows of the Forgotten the condemned warriors from the dungeons of Morath loomed. These men had nothing left to lose. They were no longer players in the game of Skullball they were predators, trained for one thing: to kill.
A voice echoed over the loudspeakers, distorted but commanding.
"The Death Round begins. Survive, and you will have earned your place. Fail, and your fate will be sealed."
There was no fanfare. No cheers. The crowd that had once roared with excitement now fell into an eerie silence, watching as the fight for their lives began.
The Beginning of the End
The moment the horn blew, chaos erupted. Orgar didn't hesitate. He charged forward, his mind sharpened by the instincts honed through years of training. The Skullball was no longer just a symbol of skill it was his lifeline. He had to keep it moving. Keep it out of the hands of the Forgotten, no matter the cost.
His first opponent lunged at him with a rusted spear, the jagged edge gleaming in the harsh sunlight. Orgar ducked, the spear grazing his shoulder. A sharp pain shot through him, but he didn't falter. He grabbed the shaft of the spear and twisted, using the momentum to hurl his opponent into the dirt. The man grunted, but Orgar didn't wait to see if he'd rise. He was already moving.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Gorgar charging into battle, his brute strength taking down anyone who dared approach him. His brother fought with the fury of a cornered beast, every blow delivered with ruthless precision. There was no mercy in Gorgar. Not today.
Kaela was a blur of motion, weaving through the chaos like a shadow. Her movements were quick, fluid unnatural, even. She wasn't just dodging attacks; she was anticipating them, her every action calculated to perfection. Orgar caught a glimpse of her striking down an opponent with a precise, deadly strike to the throat. No wasted movement. No hesitation.
They had trained for this. The bond they shared, their understanding of each other's strengths and weaknesses, had been forged over countless matches, countless fights. But nothing had prepared them for what they were facing today.
The Forgotten
The Forgotten didn't fight like the usual Skullball teams. They were more than just athletes they were survivors. Brutal, merciless, driven by the need to escape the prison of their lives. And they were everywhere.
A man with a scarred face lunged at Orgar, swinging a massive two handed axe. Orgar ducked, barely avoiding the blade as it sliced through the air. The sound was deafening. The weapon was designed to crush, to cleave through armor and flesh alike. Orgar spun to the side, his own weapon a sharp, curved dagger flashing as he struck at the man's exposed ribs.
But the Forgotten weren't just skilled with weapons. They were predators.
One of them, a hulking figure covered in tattoos, grabbed Orgar by the throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying ease. Orgar gasped for air, his vision fading. His body instinctively struggled, trying to free himself, but the man's grip was unrelenting.
Gorgar appeared out of nowhere, slamming into the giant's back with all his might. The man grunted, releasing his hold on Orgar, but he didn't go down. Instead, he turned, his eyes glowing with the cold fury of a man who had long since given up on hope.
Orgar barely managed to catch his breath, his fingers scraping the dirt as he scrambled to his feet. He saw Gorgar fighting the brute, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the larger man overwhelmed his brother.
In that moment, the Skullball appeared before him rolling toward him, as if fate itself was placing it in his hands.
The Real Game Begins
Orgar didn't think. He just moved. His fingers closed around the ball, and with a single, fluid motion, he launched it across the arena. The ball flew through the air like a comet, heading straight toward Kaela, who had already positioned herself perfectly. She caught it with ease, her body twisting as she hurled it toward the enemy goal.
The Forgotten barely had time to react. Orgar's team had become more than just players they had become a force to be reckoned with.
But the battle was far from over.
The giant warrior who had nearly crushed Orgar was back on his feet, charging toward them. This time, however, Orgar and his team were ready. With Gorgar's brute force holding the enemy back, and Kaela's speed keeping them off balance, Orgar found the opening he needed.
In one swift motion, he closed the distance, his dagger flashing in the sunlight as he drove it into the giant's side. The man howled in pain, but it wasn't enough to stop him.
Not yet.
The Final Stand
The battle dragged on for what felt like hours. Orgar's body screamed in protest, but his mind was sharp, focused on one singular goal: to survive. To win.
And just when it seemed like they were at their breaking point, the arena seemed to shift. The other Forgotten began to fall. One by one, they dropped to the ground, their bodies broken, their spirits shattered.
It wasn't over yet.
Orgar could see the Council's envoy standing at the edge of the arena, watching them with cold, calculating eyes. His face betrayed nothing. But Orgar knew one thing they would not be allowed to leave.
And the real fight was just beginning.
End of Chapter 15