*Clang! *Clang! *Splat!
A chorus of screams tore savagely through the thick, smoke-laced air—rage, pain, terror, and a grotesque excitement collided all at once, forming a brutal, chaotic symphony.
*Crash! *Splurt! *Bang! *Bang! *BANG!
Adult slaves hurled themselves into battle with wild abandon, every strike they dealt bursting with primal desperation, each blow not just to harm but to survive another second in this blood-soaked arena.
"D-Die!"
"Yaargh!"
*Boom! *Boom! *BANG!
The atmosphere vibrated with cries as men and women surged forward, weapons gripped in trembling yet determined hands.
Plasma pistols cracked the air open with bursts of thunder, while massive swords, rusted cleavers, makeshift spears, and crude hammers rose and fell like waves in a storm.
Flesh, carapace, and armor alike were seared apart by energy beams, tearing through muscle and bone with a sickening hiss that echoed alongside the splatter of blood—red, purple, and otherworldly hues painting the arena's floor.
"N-No don't kill me please! I have a dau—"
*SPLURT!
The desperate plea ended in an instant.
A sickening crunch followed as a Rinari's skull split apart beneath the force of a massive axe, the top half of his head flung away like discarded meat.
*Bang! *Bang! *CRASH! *CRUNCH!
Pain, anguish, hatred—they all danced together in the howls that surrounded them, a grim anthem to senseless brutality.
And in the heart of it, rampaging like a wild god of war, a towering four-armed slave cleaved and sliced his way through the bodies with all four of his gleaming swords.
He moved like a whirlwind, each limb acting independently yet in perfect harmony, leaving only carnage in his wake.
But then he met his match.
*CRASH!
A thunderous crash rang out as the four-armed behemoth collided with another monstrous figure, whose body was adorned with scars like battle medals and a thick beard that ran across his massive chest.
It was Biyo.
With a guttural growl, Biyo shoved his opponent backward using raw, brutal strength, then spun his axe in a wide arc that cleaved clean through the other slave's neck.
*HISS!!!
A spray of thick, purple blood burst across Biyo's face, but he didn't flinch.
Instead, he laughed.
"Hahahaha!"
The thunder of his laughter rose above the screams as he slammed a fist against his chest with pride.
*thud! *thud! *thud!
"Come at me! ALL of you!"
With a roar that echoed like a beast unchained, Biyo leapt into the thickest cluster of violence.
Around him, steel clashed with steel, blasters cracked, and energy bolts zipped dangerously close.
Sparks flashed as metal struck metal, and bodies fell like broken puppets.
*zzzZAP! *zzzZAP! *Crunch!
Biyo welcomed it all.
"I live for moments like this!" he howled, both of his axes swinging with terrifying speed and power.
Every swing sent blood flying, every step he took left a trail of severed limbs and shattered bones.
Slaves tried to run, to hide, to fight—but none could stop Biyo's rampage.
"W-What the hell is that monster!?" a terrified slave shouted, eyes wide in horror.
The civilians of Zeraf erupted into gleeful cheers, rising to their feet as they admired the display of raw, savage power.
Warriors, in their culture, were honored above all—and Biyo was putting on a spectacle.
"Now THAT is a real warrior!"
"Haha! Look at him go! He's like a beast with those axes!"
Their praise thundered from the stands, building to a crescendo of awe and admiration.
===
But across the arena—in the children's zone—the atmosphere was completely different.
The air was thick with fear, not fire.
Unlike the adults who fought with fury and adrenaline, the children stood frozen.
"Boo! What are they doing!?"
"Move you squirts! Fight already!"
A wave of boos surged like a crashing tide from the stands.
Disappointment and disgust painted the faces of the spectators, who thirsted for violence but were instead met with stillness.
The children—barely old enough to hold their weapons properly—stood paralyzed.
Their tiny hands gripped the hilts of swords or the barrels of energy pistols with trembling fingers.
They looked at each other, searching for courage, but finding only mirrors of their own terror.
Wide eyes shimmered with tears.
Chests rose and fell with labored breaths.
No one dared to move.
In the center, Jinn and his friends stood back to back, forming a tight formation.
Each of them kept watch in a different direction, but not one dared strike.
"Hey, no teaming you idiots!" a spectator screamed, hurling a half-eaten tomato down at them.
It struck Orin squarely on the side of her head,
*splat!
splattering red pulp across her cheek.
"Shut up, fucker! Why don't you try being a slave for once!?" Orin snapped, her eyes burning with defiance as she glared at the man who threw it.
"Stay together… stay together…" Kain muttered repeatedly, gripping his energy gun so tightly his knuckles turned white.
His chest heaved, his body shaking from nerves.
Time passed—a whole minute—and still no one attacked.
No child wanted to be the first to kill.
Fear rooted them to the ground like statues.
Then—
*BANG!!!
a deafening bang shattered the tense silence.
One of the children dropped like a ragdoll, blood spraying in a crimson arc as their head was blown clean off.
Gasps filled the air.
The devices attached to their necks began to beep.
"Ah! I almost forgot!"
The announcer spoke cheerily, grinning like it was all part of a game.
He pointed toward the field.
"Every thirty seconds, if you don't eliminate someone, the system will randomly select a neck device to detonate!"
"You've got to be shitting me," Verhedyn hissed, eyes sharp as he turned to Jinn.
"What now!?"
"No use waiting," Jinn growled. His eyes narrowed into slits.
"Spread out. Stay close enough to regroup if something happens."
"He's right," Hector said firmly. "I'll stay near Vox, Kain, and Verhedyn. The rest of you, stay with Jinn."
The group exchanged nods before scattering in organized formation, their breath shallow and fast.
===
*Thud! *Thud! *Thud!
Jinn darted eastward, his feet pounding against the stone.
Not long after, another child ran at him with a wide swing of a heavy sword, eyes full of panic and rage.
The blade came down in a blur, but Jinn sidestepped smoothly, his movement instinctual.
With a swift motion, he slammed his foot into the back of the attacker's knee.
*Crunch!
"Agh!"
The child collapsed to one knee, dropping their weapon.
"W-Wait—please!" the child cried, throwing up his hands in surrender, his voice breaking.
Jinn moved like lightning, lunging forward—but just as the tip of his sword neared the child's chest, he froze.
"Tch."
Instead of delivering a killing blow, he shifted his grip and struck the child across the temple with the pommel.
The boy crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
From above, Venedix watched intently.
Her eyes narrowed.
Her lips curled in disdain.
"Tsk! Foolish child," she muttered.
The metallic chime of her twin swords echoed as she stood from her seat and began striding toward the announcer.
"What is sister Venedix doing now?" one of her siblings asked, her head tilted with curiosity.
"Dunno. Don't care," the other brother replied, polishing his sword with deliberate indifference.
"Mhm," another sibling chimed in. "Interesting… this is the first time she's interfered in a ritual."
===
The announcer's face paled as he saw Venedix approach.
"Y-Yes, my lady?" he stammered, bowing low in submission.
Without a word, Venedix leaned in and whispered into his ear.
His eyes widened.
"M-My lady… isn't that a bit—"
*SLAP!
The blow sent him to his knees.
"Don't make me repeat myself, fool. Do it."
Her icy voice froze him to the core.
"Y-Yes, my lady! F-For-forgive me…!"
He scurried to the microphone, cleared his throat nervously.
"Ahem! C-Change of rules, folks! Haha…"
The crowd fell silent.
"Those who fail to kill at least five by the end of the countdown… will die. The devices on their necks will detonate. No second chances!"
Jinn's jaw clenched.
"Tch… Great. Things just got messier."