The arena at Rajir's edge was a rough half-circle of stone and dust, banners of the Guild snapping in dry wind. Stands overflowed—parents with kids on shoulders, merchants still in aprons, miners with grit under nails. For them, this wasn't just sport; it was a glimpse of the people who might one day carry the name Seeker.
Kai stepped through the gate into heat and noise. His travel jacket clung with sweat, but his stride was steady. His goal was simple: earn passage. His persistent question was: am I enough off the mountain?
A Guild official in green lifted a scroll; his voice carried.
"By sanction of the Seeker Association, the Rajir competition begins. Victory here grants passage to New Relhi. From there, a convoy to Chun for the true Seeker Exam."
The roar that followed shook dust from stone. New Relhi—those far lights Kai had watched from his window—suddenly felt close enough to touch.
"Show us your strength. Show us your will. Show us if you can carry the name Seeker."
The gong struck.
Sand leapt under the first clash—two brawlers, aura sparking, one down hard and coughing red. A blade-dancer carved cheers out of the air. Kai watched silently, breath even. This wasn't the monastery's quiet rhythm. It was chaos. Alive.
His name was called.
Across from him: a broad-shouldered man with scarred forearms and a sneer. "Pretty boy monk. You'll last three breaths."
Kai exhaled, settled his feet.
A thousand strikes. A thousand days. One breath at a time.
The gong thundered.
The man charged, aura flaring. The fist came wide for Kai's jaw.
Kai stepped in and punched once. No flourish.
Air cracked.
The man flew and hit the sand with a final, dull thud. Silence broke into shouting.
"He didn't even move his feet!"
"One strike—!"
"That's Muti—!"
Kai lowered his hand slowly. He'd checked himself twice and still ended it. So this is my measure here.
"Kai Xander... advances," the official called.
Cheers rolled. Doubt rolled with them. Kai bowed, a habit more than pride, and turned toward the gate—only to freeze at the next announcement.
"Second challenger—Toran of Yatra! Disciple of the Iron Chain School!"
The crowd drowned the name in thunder.
Toran grinned. "This is King in the Lair, monk. You won—you're the king. You fight until you fall."
Kai blinked. "Eh? Seriously? No one told me that."
Laughter spiked from the stands.
He rolled his shoulders. "Guess I just... can't lose."
The gong cut the grin off both faces.
Toran's heel axed toward Kai's head. Block—bone-deep shock, three steps sliding furrows in the sand. Toran linked elbows to knees to hammerfists, each strike chained clean into the next.
Kai let his body answer. Forearms redirected. Hips slipped lines. Aura ran warm and tight under skin—Martial Muti kept small and honest.
Fist met fist. Knee met knee. Sand shook.
Toran drove a headbutt. Kai caught his shoulders, turned the angle, slung him across the floor. Toran rolled up bleeding and smiling wider.
Crimson aura condensed along his limbs. He surged—harder, faster. A sweeping low kick into an Iron Dragon Heel—crowd gasped at the blade-clean line of it.
Kai stepped in. Red met gold. Sparks burst.
"He stopped the Dragon—!"
Toran's elbow cut for Kai's skull. Twist. Kai's palm grazed ribs and pulsed a warm bloom.
"Agni Mudra."
Toran staggered, coughed red, laughed through it. "Ahhh—!"
Kai vaulted, turned midair, and dropped a Bodhi-style axe kick. Sand exploded. Toran barely rolled clear.
The chain frayed. Openings showed. Kai flowed through the last flurry and set his palm.
"Bodhi Palm."
Golden lotus-fire bloomed. Toran's body skidded, then stilled.
The gong. The roar. A chant starting to catch.
"Kai! Kai! Kai!"
He stood breathing hard, face calm, ribs hot. Inside: a small, stunned laugh. I really do have to fight them all.
The lair wasn't empty.
The gong boomed again.
A stocky fighter strode in, braids bound back, fists scarred. She stomped once; dust leapt.
"Sheva of Rajir! Practitioner of Earth Muti—the Stone Pulse!"
"Bury him!" someone screamed.
Kai flexed bruised arms and managed a crooked grin. "What's next—the whole arena?"
"Exactly," Sheva said.
Her stomp split the floor. Stone spikes punched up. Kai vaulted one; another clipped his ribs and spun him through grit.
He tasted iron. Grinned anyway. "Heavier than Toran's chain. Stubborn."
Sheva pressed both palms to earth. The arena convulsed. Sand hardened and rose—a crude stone guardian with faint brown light in its chest.
Kai blinked. "She... made a person."
The construct's fist crashed down. He slipped out; the second clipped his shoulder and slung him sideways. Sheva stomped again; cracks in the construct knit closed.
Kai lit both hands. "Agni Mudra!"
Golden fire split the chest—then rubble pulled itself back, reforming.
He narrowed his eyes. Not the body. The tether.
He let the fight fall quiet inside, and the lines appeared—thin threads of aura veining from Sheva's heels into the guardian's heart.
"Found you."
"Hanuman Step."
He blinked to Sheva's flank. Palms flashed.
"Bodhi Palm—"
—again, again, a flurry like prayer. Her guard cracked; the threads stuttered; the construct froze mid-swing and webbed with fissures.
Kai set one more clean strike.
Lotus-fire bloomed.
Stone collapsed. Sheva dropped to a knee, breath gone.
The gong answered.
Disbelief broke into awe.
"She shattered Stone Pulse—!"
"The king still stands—!"
Kai staggered two steps, ribs on fire, dust in his mouth. He walked to Sheva and offered a hand.
The arena quieted.
She stared, then took it. He hauled her up and held until attendants reached her.
"You hit harder than anyone I've met," he said, voice rough but true.
"Don't... thank me," she managed, half-smile. "You earned it."
He nodded and let her go.
The official lifted his arm the crowd settled.
"By decree of the Association: Kai Xander of Bodhira has cleared the Rajir trial. As King in the Lair, he earns passage to New Relhi—and from there, to Chun for the Seeker Exam."
Coins clinked. Children shouted his name. Kai only breathed out and looked past the dust to where night would bring that faint gold on the horizon.
His hands tightened once, not from pain.
Resolve held.
This is only the beginning.