The arena reeked of copper and burnt oil. Another corpse dragged away, leaving a smear of crimson across sand. Jona's turn next.
He sat in his corner of the preparation area, jaw throbbing from Krell's backhand. Healers circled like vultures, hawking patch-jobs for five silver. He had three left. So he'd heal the way Houseless always did: grit teeth, move forward, survive.
"Next match!" The official's voice cut through the noise. "Marcus Veil versus Gren Blackthorn!"
Marcus passed without a word, daggers gleaming in lamplight. No nerves. Just cold purpose.
Jona pushed to his feet, moving to the observation window. Other fighters clustered around, watching with professional hunger. Everyone studying everyone. Looking for weaknesses. Advantages.
Gren Blackthorn entered the pit like a walking fortress. Three hundred pounds of muscle and crude tattoos that pulsed with Strategy mastery. Massive shield. Short sword. Built to crush.
Marcus looked like a child beside him.
The official raised his hand. "Begin!"
Gren charged. Shield up. Smart. Close distance. Use mass.
Marcus vanished.
Not Shadow Slip. Something else. One heartbeat he existed, the next he didn't. No sound. No trace. The air swallowed him whole.
Can't fight what you can't hear. Note to self.
Gren skidded to a stop, head swiveling. Confused.
The crowd went silent. Wrong. Eerie.
Blood sprayed from Gren's thigh.
He roared, spinning, but Marcus was already gone. Another cut appeared. Shoulder. Then ribs. Surgical. Precise. Not killing blows. Bleeding him dry.
Silence mastery at work.
Marcus materialized behind Gren. Blade through the spine, between armor plates. Gren's legs buckled. He crashed face-first into sand, shield clanging.
"I yield," Gren gasped, voice wet.
Ninety seconds. Done.
The official raised Marcus's arm. "Winner: Marcus Veil!"
"Damn," Jona muttered.
Renna appeared at his elbow. "Silence mastery's perfect for killing. Can't defend against what you can't perceive."
Marcus emerged, wiping blades clean. Blood spattered his coat but his breathing stayed steady. Barely broke a sweat.
"Efficiency," he said quietly when Jona caught his eye. "Tournament's not about honor. It's about winning before you bleed too much."
Words to live by.
The bracket board flared. Jona's name glowed: Jona Mozzeri vs. Vessa Kline - Mirror Mastery, Tier 1.
"You're up," Renna said. "Mirror creates illusions. Five copies. One real target. Good luck guessing which."
"Sounds delightful."
[Quest Update: Prove Your Worth 1/3 Complete]
[Next Match: 10 Minutes]
Ten minutes to figure out how to fight five opponents when only one could bleed.
Perfect.
The arena floor was still damp. Blood soaking into sand, turning it dark.
Jona stepped into light and noise. The crowd roared, hungry, electric. He caught movement in a high box seat. Blonde braid. Cold eyes watching like a predator sizing up prey.
Kiarra Priolo.
Later. Deal with her later.
His opponent entered from across the pit.
Vessa Kline. Mid-twenties. Athletic. Short dark hair and sharp features. Light armor. Twin daggers. Eyes that gleamed with predator confidence. She'd done this before. Won before.
The official stepped between them. "Standard rules. Begin on my mark."
Jona drew his sword. Shadows curled around the blade, eager.
Vessa smiled. "Shadow mastery. Heard about you. Killed Jin Priolo." Her voice carried. "Let's see if you're actually skilled or just lucky."
"Lucky and devastatingly handsome," Jona shot back. "It's a burden, really."
Her smile tightened. The crowd laughed.
"Mark!"
Vessa split.
One became five. Perfect copies spreading across the arena, circling from different angles. Each looked completely real. Solid. Armed. Dangerous.
[Threat Analysis: Mirror Mastery - Active]
[Warning: Unable to Distinguish Real Target]
[Strategy: Exploit Environmental Variance]
All five charged.
Jona activated Shadow Shroud.
Darkness wrapped him like living smoke. Not invisible, but close. In the arena's chaotic gas-lamp lighting, he became background noise. A blur easy to miss.
The Vessas hesitated. Synchronization broke. They couldn't pinpoint him.
He moved.
Slashed at the nearest. His blade passed through smoke. Illusion.
Another lunged from his left. He blocked. Smoke again. No weight. No resistance.
"Clever!" Vessa's voice echoed from everywhere. "But hiding won't save you."
All five rushed simultaneously.
Jona couldn't block them all. They hemmed him in, forced him to reveal position. He abandoned the Shroud and dove sideways, rolling across sand.
A dagger sliced his back. Real. Fire exploded across his spine.
[Health: 78%]
[Stamina: -5% from Accumulated Wounds]
He spun blindly, striking. Smoke.
Real Vessa laughed somewhere behind. "You're fighting ghosts, shadow-boy. Mirror always wins."
Jona backed toward the wall, mind racing. Five copies. One real. Perfect mimicry. Impossible to predict.
Think. What's different?
He watched them circle. Same movements. Same expressions. Flawless.
But shadows didn't lie.
Gas lamps overhead cast harsh light. Each Vessa had a shadow. But illusions couldn't interact with environment perfectly. Their shadows were off. Angles wrong by fractions.
Except one.
Right side. Shadow matched the light source exactly.
Jona grinned. "Found you."
He threw a knife.
Not at Vessa. At the gas lamp above her.
Glass shattered. Oil spilled, igniting. WHOOSH. Flames erupted, bathing that section in sudden darkness as the lamp died.
The illusions flickered. Positions shifted. No longer synchronized.
Real Vessa stumbled backward, shielding her eyes from the light change.
[Shadow Shroud: Enhanced in Darkness]
[New Perk Unlocked: Dark Stalker - +5% Evasion in Low Light]
Jona used Shadow Slip.
Three heartbeats of formless black. He phased through reality, crossing the distance instantly, reforming directly behind her.
She sensed him. Mirror mastery gave enhanced perception. She spun, daggers raised.
Too slow.
His sword was already swinging. She blocked with one blade, but he'd anticipated. His other hand moved, pulling a throwing knife.
He buried it in her shoulder.
Vessa screamed. Concentration shattered. Illusions vanished like smoke. Only her remained. Wounded. Bleeding. Furious.
"Mirrors reflect truth," Jona said, twisting the knife. "Yours shows a loser."
She tried to stab him. He caught her wrist, wrenched sideways. Bone cracked. The dagger fell.
He kicked her legs out. She hit sand hard.
His sword pressed her throat.
For a heartbeat, he saw Jin beneath him. Felt the crowbar's weight. Remembered the hollow satisfaction of ending an arrogant life.
Another kill. Another step toward becoming what I hate.
"Yield," he said quietly. "Don't make me a monster."
Vessa stared. Hate and disbelief warred in her eyes. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"I yield."
The crowd exploded. Cheers shaking dust from ceiling.
[Combat Complete]
[Victory: Jona Mozzeri]
[XP Gained: +100]
[Shadow Grind Progress: 3/5]
[Achievement Unlocked: Illusion Breaker]
[Bonus: +10% Resistance to Mental Effects]
[Quest Progress: Prove Your Worth 2/3]
[Status: Fatigued - Stamina Debuff Active]
[Available Cure: Minor Health Potion (3 Silver) or Rest Quest]
The official raised his arm. "Winner: Jona Mozzeri!"
Jona sheathed his sword and limped toward the exit. Every step hurt. Body accumulating damage. One more fight. Just one more.
Then sanctuary.
Then breathing room.
***
The tunnel was darker than before.
Jona leaned against stone, catching his breath. The crowd's roar faded. Ahead, the preparation area buzzed with life.
Footsteps echoed. Measured. Deliberate.
His hand moved to his sword.
A figure emerged from shadow ahead. Blonde braid. Cold eyes. Armor catching dim lamplight.
Kiarra Priolo.
She stood fifteen feet away, arms crossed, blocking his path. No weapon drawn. Didn't need one. Will mastery could crush him without her moving.
"Two wins against my brother's betters," she said. Voice controlled, but something simmered beneath. "Luck or something darker?"
"I prefer 'devastatingly handsome and tactically brilliant,'" Jona said. "But I'll take what I can get."
Her jaw tightened. "You killed my brother."
"He tried to kill me first. Self-defense." Jona kept his tone light, muscles tensing. "Besides, Jin was an arrogant prick who murdered Houseless for sport. The world's better off."
"He was family."
"He was a monster wearing justice like a mask." Jona's voice hardened. "How many 'rats' did he crush before I defended myself? Your House claims righteousness while grinding the weak beneath your boots. Maybe Jin's death was karma."
Kiarra's eyes flashed. For a moment, Will pressure built in the air. Suffocating. Then it eased.
"Justice requires order," she said, but conviction wavered. "The strong protect the weak. Houses maintain balance."
"Right. And murdering teenagers in warehouses? That's protection?"
"He shouldn't have..." She stopped. Turned away slightly. "You're a killer now. Same as him."
"No." Jona's voice cut like his blade. "I killed to survive. He killed for fun. There's a difference. I pulled my blade from Vessa's throat when she yielded. Would Jin have shown mercy?"
Silence stretched. Tournament roar filled the gap.
Kiarra looked back. "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"A monster. A psychopath drunk on stolen power." She tilted her head. "But you're just surviving. Like every other Houseless rat scraping by."
"Careful," Jona said. "Almost sounded like empathy."
Her expression hardened. "Don't mistake observation for mercy. You're still a target. Fifty thousand gold doesn't expire. One more match. Then Fennec's walls protect you. But eventually you'll leave. Grow confident. Make mistakes. And when you do, I'll be waiting."
"Looking forward to it."
She studied him. "Justice isn't always clear. My mother taught me that power without purpose breeds corruption. But lately..." She trailed off. Shook her head. "You'll fall eventually. They all do."
She walked past, close enough he caught steel-scent and determination. Then gone, footsteps fading.
Jona exhaled shakily. Hands trembling.
[Social Event: Kiarra Priolo - Relationship Status: Hostile (Wavering)]
[Note: Philosophical Doubts Detected]
Interesting.
***
The preparation area swallowed him in familiar chaos.
Renna grabbed his arm. "Breaking lamps? Could've burned the arena!"
"But I didn't," Jona said. "And I won."
"Barely." She shoved a canteen at him. "Drink. You look like death."
Marcus appeared, expression neutral, eyes sharp. "Smart. Environmental exploitation broke her focus. Well done."
"Learned from watching you."
The crowd erupted. Everyone rushed to the observation window.
Jona pushed through. In the arena, Lomenol stood over a crumpled body. His warhammer dripped red. The fight had lasted maybe thirty seconds. One swing. Bones shattered. Opponent dead before hitting sand.
The big man walked away, whistling.
"See that?" Renna whispered. "Rigged for spectacle. They're building brackets to test us. Evaluate potential. We're just assets."
"Assets?" Jona frowned.
Marcus pulled them aside, voice low. "Tournament's controlled. Under Houses watch. Arrange matchups to test specific traits. Boss Ren's not the only one recruiting. They're profiling us."
Jona's mind raced. "So my fights..."
"Were tests," Marcus finished. "Krell for brute force handling. Vessa for adaptability. They're building your file. Seeing what you're capable of."
"When I win three..."
"You prove you're worth permanent recruitment," Renna said. "But it's not charity. Fennec expects work. Missions. Jobs. You become an asset."
"Better than being hunted."
"Is it?" Marcus's bitterness showed raw. "We're Houseless. Rejected by Great Houses. Scraping by on Under House scraps. We tell ourselves it's freedom, but really? We're just slaves to different masters. My family was House Vex servants. When I awakened Silence, they tried binding me with contracts. Make me assassinate for life. I ran."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It made me see clearly. Houses rely on tradition. Hierarchy. We've got nothing to lose. That's our advantage."
"Nothing to lose," Jona echoed. He thought of Jin. Krell. Vessa's yield. "Is that what we are? Just killers grinding brackets?"
"No." Renna's voice was firm. "We're survivors, Jona. That means we choose our chains. Fennec's better than Priolo bounty hunters. For now."
The bracket board updated. Jona's name appeared. Third match. Tomorrow. Opponent: "The Shade". No other information.
Ominous.
[Quest Update: Final Match Tomorrow Noon]
[Opponent: Unknown Threat Level]
[Warning: Rest Recommended]
"Get sleep," Renna advised. "Tomorrow's going to hurt."
Another yield. Another life I could've taken but didn't. How many more kills before survival turns me into Jin? How many before the gold heart Mom always saw in me turns black?
No. House Mozzeri protected its own. I'll rebuild that. Not through cruelty. Through strength that chooses mercy when it can afford it.
Jona headed for the barracks corridor. Empty. Quiet. Most fighters stayed in the preparation area. He preferred solitude.
His back burned. Jaw ached. Exhaustion pulled at bones. But his mind churned. Marcus's words echoed.
We choose our chains.
Was sanctuary just another cage? A prettier one with better food, but still controlled by someone else's agenda?
Build something better. House Mozzeri rises again. Not as slaves. As equals who protect each other.
Footsteps behind him. Fast.
Jona spun, hand flying to his sword.
Too slow.
A figure slammed him against the wall. Ribs screamed. A blade pressed his throat, cold steel biting skin.
"Fifty thousand gold," a voice hissed. Masked. Leather armor. Professional. Bounty hunter. "Worth every coin."
The blade pressed harder. Blood trickled warm down his neck.
[WARNING: CRITICAL THREAT]
[Health: 75% to 62%]
[Recommend: Shadow Slip - 5 Seconds Remaining on Cooldown]
Jona's vision narrowed. Heart hammered. Shadows coiled instinctively around his hands, responding to desperation. The darkness in the corridor deepened. Hungry.
The hunter's grip tightened. "Nothing personal, kid. Just business."
The blade began to cut deeper.
Shadows surged. One chance to survive.
Or die in the dark.