The arena floor shook beneath the thunder of bodies colliding. The Call of the Gauntlet had erupted into madness—steel flashing, fire raining, beasts tearing loose from magical bindings.Leonotis ducked just as a gout of flame scorched the sand where his head had been. The heat licked his cheek, leaving the hairs singed. He stumbled sideways into the press of fighters, blade barely up in time to parry a spear thrust."Low!" he shouted.But his voice was lost in the storm.He caught sight of her—her stone axe gleaming as she bellowed in her best "dwarf" growl and bowled over a man twice her size. She swung again, scattering foes like dry leaves in a gale. Then the tide of battle surged, and Leonotis lost her in the crush."Stay alive," he whispered to himself, tightening his grip.
A massive lizard-like beast, its scales glowing faintly green, lunged across the sand, summoned by a shaman whose arms were painted with blood. The creature snapped its jaws shut around a screaming mercenary, shaking him like a rag before tossing the broken body aside.Leonotis gagged. The smell of iron and smoke filled his nostrils."Move!" a masked sorcerer shrieked, hurling a wave of force that sent Leonotis sprawling. He rolled, instinct carrying him clear as a hammer smashed the ground where he'd fallen. Sand burst upward.He scrambled to his feet, blade raised. A scarred brute with a war hammer grinned down at him."You're a little one," the man growled. "I'll squash you first."Leonotis swallowed, forcing calm. "Try me."The hammer came down like thunder. Leonotis sidestepped, feeling the shockwave rattle through his bones. He darted in, slicing across the man's arm. Blood sprayed. The brute roared and swung again, but Leonotis was already gone, weaving between fighters. He couldn't afford to linger.Everywhere he turned, the sand became a graveyard.
Across the arena, Low was a storm unto herself. Her cursed strength surged, her axe biting deep. She swung low, sending a warrior sprawling, then lifted her boot and crushed his chest with a sickening crack."Who else wants a taste of Grom's axe?!" she bellowed in her fake gravelly tone.A pair of twin assassins answered, darting toward her with curved blades. They moved like shadows, fast and coordinated.Low grinned. "Finally."The first came low. She caught his blade on the haft of her axe and drove her fist into his jaw. Bone crunched, and the man flew backward. The second tried to drive a dagger into her side. Her cursed reflexes surged—she caught his wrist and squeezed until the dagger clattered into the sand."You're fast," she said, voice a growl, "but I'm faster."She headbutted him, beard slipping slightly from the impact, and the assassin dropped, unconscious.Her heart pounded. Adrenaline sang in her blood. But as she raised her axe again, she realized—Leonotis was nowhere in sight."Damn it, Leonotis," she muttered. "Don't get killed."
Leonotis darted between a trio of fighters locked in combat. The crowd screamed above, a mix of cheers and jeers, the sound crashing down like waves.Then he saw them.The hunters.They hadn't joined the fray. Instead, they lingered at the edge of the chaos, watching what they thought was a young girl with knife-like eyes. Chains glinted in their hands. They were waiting for him to tire.Leonotis cursed under his breath.Before he could move, a sudden shadow fell across him.A monstrous boar, summoned by another shaman, charged through the melee, tusks gleaming with bloody runes. Its eyes glowed red as it barreled straight toward him.Leonotis froze. Then instinct screamed, and he leapt sideways just as the boar plowed into a cluster of fighters, sending them flying like dolls. The beast wheeled back, snorting, steam rising from its nostrils."Of course," Leonotis muttered. "Because the men with chains weren't enough."He raised his sword, bracing himself as the monster pawed the ground.
Low's axe was slick with blood, her lungs burning from exertion. She paused only for a second, scanning the arena. Fighters fell, beasts roared, spells crackled—but no Leonotis.Then she spotted the giant boar charging. And in front of it—him."Leonotis!" she roared. But the battle swallowed her voice.She shoved her way through the throng, every swing of her axe carving a bloody path. But the distance was too great. He'd have to face it alone.
Leonotis felt the earth tremble as the boar charged again. He sprinted, heart hammering, sand spraying beneath his boots. At the last second, he slid beneath the beast's belly, slicing upward with all his strength. His blade cut deep, spilling blood across the sand.The boar screamed, a sound that rattled his teeth. It spun, wounded but furious, and lowered its tusks."Great," Leonotis panted. "Now I'm just making it angrier."A spear whistled past his shoulder, burying itself in the boar's flank. It bellowed in pain. Leonotis turned—another fighter, a lean woman with a scowl across her face, had thrown it.She met his eyes briefly. "Don't thank me. I was aiming to kill you.""Comforting," he muttered.The boar charged again, fury in every step.
From the stands, the crowd howled for more blood. The free-for-all had only just begun, but already the sand was painted red.Low fought her way closer, but every step brought another challenger. She growled, slamming one fighter's head into the sand and hurling another aside."Hold on, Leonotis," she muttered. "Hold on."
Leonotis raised his sword again, sweat stinging his eyes, the monster's roar filling his ears. Around him, the arena burned with chaos—steel, magic, and screams.And above it all, one thought blazed in his mind: Survive.
The boar's death cry split the arena. Leonotis stood panting, sword slick with blood as the beast collapsed in the sand, its bulk shaking the ground.For a moment, silence radiated around him. Dozens of fighters had turned to stare—not at the monster, but at him. The boy-turned-girl, hair braided, tunic torn, blade still glowing faintly from his strike."Did you see that?" someone shouted from the sidelines."She cut down the shaman's beast!""No—look how young she is. That's no ordinary girl."The whispers grew, the crowd's roar swelling like a tide. Leonotis felt the heat of a hundred eyes. He swallowed hard, forcing his expression into something cold, unreadable. You're Lia. You're forgettable. You're nothing, he reminded himself. But after that display, forgettable was no longer an option.A burly mercenary lunged at him, seizing the moment. Leonotis deflected the man's sword with a sharp parry, twisting his wrist, and drove his hilt into the man's temple. The mercenary dropped like a stone. The crowd roared louder."Not bad for a girl!" someone heckled.Leonotis gritted his teeth. Stay in control.
Across the battlefield, Low swung her stone axe in a mighty arc that cleaved a shield in two. She bellowed in her best dwarven growl."Grom the Skull-Crusher strikes again!" she shouted, planting her foot on her opponent's chest and kicking him flat."By the Orisha, he's unstoppable!" a fighter gasped before scrambling out of her way.Low puffed out her chest. "Yeah, that's right, and I've plenty of crushing left in me!"She swung again, spinning her axe overhead with reckless joy. Her curse-fed muscles sang with strength, every blow denting armor and shattering weapons. Fighters began to circle away from her, whispering the name "Grom" with wary respect.Perfect, she thought, even as sweat poured down her back. They'll never suspect a small girl under all this beard and grime.
King Rega leaned forward on his gilded throne, eyes alight with interest. Below, the chaos dwindled as corpses and unconscious fighters littered the sand. Yet two figures remained standing tall amidst the wreckage:The "girl" with the impossible sword skill.And the "dwarf" who fought like a storm given flesh.Rega's lips curled into a smirk. "So there's some skill in the arena."His bodyguard Kenya was at his side. "Did you see anyone who might be the green aseborn?"Rega chuckled, slow and deep. "Not yet. Let them rise. The higher they climb, the easier it'll be to catch him. Besides…" His eyes glinted with malice. "…it serves my plan if he thinks he has a chance."
Leonotis staggered back into the thinning circle of survivors. The ground was painted red, the air hot with sweat and smoke. Only a few dozen remained now. Low was one of them, her axe balanced across her shoulders, grinning like a madman beneath her fake beard. Their eyes met for just a second—long enough to know they had both survived. Relief flickered in his chest.
A horn blast split the air. "Enough!" boomed a herald's voice from above. "The free-for-all ends! Survivors, step forward!" Leonotis exhaled shakily, wiping blood from his face. Low spat into the sand and adjusted her beard. "Hah. Was just getting warmed up." They joined the other fighters at the center of the arena, a ragged band of men, women, and monsters who had weathered the storm.
A small army of attendants poured in to collect the dead—yet anyone watching from the arena seats could see it in their faces: the attendants themselves were undead.
The herald raised her staff. "By decree of King Rega, the survivors shall be divided! Each will face new trials—new brackets! By strength, by cunning, by blood, the worthy shall ascend!" Murmurs rippled through the crowd of fighters. Brackets meant separation. Leonotis's stomach sank. He shot a glance at Low. "Brackets?" he whispered. She scowled beneath her beard. "I don't like it."
The herald continued, "You! The girl with the blade—Lia, was it? Step forth." Leonotis froze, heat flooding his ears. He forced his legs to move, stepping into the open. The crowd roared again, chanting her false name.
The herald's eyes shifted. "And you—the dwarf who calls himself Grom. Step forth!" Low stomped forward, gripping her axe. She puffed her chest and deepened her voice. "Aye, I'm here!" The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter.
The herald waited for the noise to subside, then brought her staff down with a crack. "By strength, by cunning, by blood, the worthy shall ascend! You two, Lia and Grom, shall join the B bracket! The champions of guile and deception shall clash until only one remains!"
Low looked at Leonotis, her grin stretching beneath the beard. "Deception? I think he's chosen wisely."
Leonotis felt a rush of unexpected relief.
They stepped back together. The herald continued to call out names, splitting the others into A and B brackets. The noise of the coliseum pressed down around them.
Low nudged him with her elbow. "Looks like we're sticking together for now."
"You're too confident," Leonotis murmured.
She smirked. "And you're too pretty for your own good, Lia."
He glared at her, but before he could retort, guards pushed them and the rest of the B bracket fighters into the same tunnel. The roar of the crowd followed like a storm, the king's laughter faint but clear above it all. Low adjusted her axe on her shoulder, giving Leonotis a crooked wink as they were shoved along. The stone swallowed them both.
Above, King Rega raised a jeweled goblet, voice carrying across the coliseum."Let the games begin in earnest," he declared, his smirk widening. "Their fates are already mine."The crowd screamed approval, stomping and clapping until the very walls seemed to quake.And somewhere deep in the shadows, bounty hunters and mercenaries traded knowing looks.The boy and the cursed girl had survived the free-for-all. And now the one on one battles were about to begin.