"Find the fire…"
"Find the fire…"
The voice pounded in his head, insistent like the heartbeat before battle.
Cain sat with his back against the cold wall of the wagon. He opened his eyes and drew a deep breath.
The wagon had stopped.
Outside, beyond the thin curtain, came a roar—low, furious, wild. The crowd wasn't just shouting—they were howling for blood.
Beside him, unmoving, sat nine other fighters. Their faces were like stone, their eyes hollow, as if they had already died and were only waiting for the final blow to fall. Ombre had broken them before the battle had even begun.
Cain had no intention of joining them.
The curtain was yanked aside. In the opening stood Vigfuss, grinning like a predator:
"Out you go, dead men."
Cain was the first to jump down onto the arena's rust-red sand, stained with old blood, and stopped.
Before him stretched a vast circular field, like the open maw of some beast. Tens of thousands of spectators stomped their feet in a unified rhythm, chanting:
"FIGHT!""FIGHT!""FIGHT!"
Cain slowly scanned those already standing in the arena. Around thirty of them—some in armor, others in rags. All doomed. He could see it in their faces, their twitching fingers, their trembling lips.
But three stood apart.
The first—a warrior with golden hair swept upward and thick sideburns. He stood with confidence, even curiosity, as if death were an old friend.
The second was tall and thin, with distant eyes devoid of fear, as if he were simply bored.
And the third…
The third smiled—a mirror of Vigfuss, predatory and hungry, like a beast that had caught the scent of blood.
They radiated a different energy—not prey, but hunters.
Vigfuss stepped up beside Cain, inhaling the air with delight.
"Gods, I've missed my city…" he sighed, drunk on the roar of the crowd.
With a single powerful leap, he landed atop the tall black pedestal at the arena's center, spreading his arms wide:
"SILENCE!"
His voice hit the air like a hammer. The stands fell silent.
Vigfuss stood tall, looming like a pagan god. Slowly, he spoke:
"Today is a great day! Today, the gods decide the fate of their envoys!"
He spread his arms, pointing to a high balcony above the arena, veiled in silk drapes:
"Luceler, envoy of Velox—the god of Time.Yuzuki, chosen of Gekko—the Moon god.Osher, servant of Kofion—the lord of Memory."
He paused and smirked:
"And I, Vigfuss, son of the Beast, of the Great Altair—god of Battle."
He relished the silence before speaking again.
"Ten mortals for each envoy! Forty souls in this arena! And only ONE will survive!"
His voice dropped, heavier:
"The gods are watching. The gods are judging."
He raised a hand toward the highest balcony, hidden in shadow and trimmed with gold and dark silk.
No faces could be seen. Only four silhouettes. But their presence was tangible—a weight in the air, a chill on the skin, a primal fear.
Kofion. Gekko. Velox. Altair.
Even the wind stilled within the arena.
Cain slowly raised his head. The gods were there. He couldn't see their faces, but he could feel their gaze, heavy and all-penetrating, as if they were looking directly into his soul.
Vigfuss continued:
"Before you die, each of you may speak one phrase. One truth or lie that will outlive you."
The crowd hushed as the fighters began to speak, one by one:
"I curse the gods for my fate!""Let my name be forgotten. Let even I forget.""Forgive me… I didn't know what I was signing…""Kill me first…"
But one said something different. The man with the sideburns raised his eyes to the sky and spoke with a smirk:
"I didn't come here to die. I came to live forever."
The screech of metal broke the dirge of the doomed.
Massive gates beneath the gods' balcony slowly opened, spilling golden light.
Two figures emerged.
Osher. And beside him—Ko'oni.
They walked at a steady, confident pace toward the envoy's balcony.
Two were already waiting there.
To the left—Yuzuki. Motionless, like a sculpture carved from moonstone. Clad in a translucent silver gown, her long pink hair arranged in an elaborate style. Her gaze was distant, like the night sky.
To the right—Luceler. A man with rough skin the color of scorched brick. A short gray beard, a heavy ash-colored cloak. His eyes—white voids, without pupils or emotion.
"You're late again, Osher," Luceler's voice was calm.
Osher chuckled lightly."Luceler. As punctual and dull as ever."
Ko'oni stood between two forces so intense they seemed to press the air into stone. Her breath quickened. The very air around her thickened.
"Punctuality is respect for Time," Luceler replied coolly. "But you respect neither it, nor anyone else."
"Let's settle this debate with today's battle," Osher leaned toward him. "Then maybe we can start a new one."He turned to Yuzuki."How's your brother, Moon Maiden? Give him my thanks. Thanks to him, Vigfuss was my loyal hound for a whole month."
Yuzuki gave no reply. Her gaze remained fixed on the arena.
Osher followed her eyes—downward. To Cain. It was his turn to speak his last words.
He said nothing.
He looked straight into the envoy's box. At Ko'oni. She looked back. In her eyes shimmered anxiety, fear… and a quiet, stubborn hope.
Vigfuss clapped his hands—sharp and deafening—breaking their silent exchange.
"PHASE ONE! FIGHT UNTIL TEN REMAIN!"
The crowd erupted.
The predator—the one with the smile like Vigfuss—lunged without hesitation at the nearest victim. A sudden grab—and the man's head crashed into the sand with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed in a fountain.
Panic exploded across the arena. The condemned scattered, screaming, colliding, striking out in blind fury or trying to flee the inevitable. The clash of cheap steel, the screams, the crunch of bones—everything melded into a bloody chaos.
Cain leapt aside, drawing his sword in one motion. His eyes swept the battlefield, calculating.
But from the left—a flicker of movement. A strike—fast, aimed at his temple.
Instinct moved before thought. A sidestep, a spin, a slash. Steel sliced across the attacker's arm, leaving a deep gash.
It was him. The grinning predator.
He paused, looked at the wound with curiosity, ran a finger along it, and licked his own blood with visible delight.
"Time to die," he growled. His eyes burned with savage glee.
And he lunged at Cain again.
In that moment, Ko'oni gasped—softly, but enough to feel her own fingers tremble.