As Rian slowly limped towards the Gnasher pipe in hand he hissed "My turn,"
He scrambled up the monster's trapped arm and reached the top, standing shakily on its shoulders. He reversed his grip on the pipe and hammered the sharpened end directly into the glowing tally mark on the monster's collarbone.
*CRUNCH*
The pipe sank deep. Violet sparks sprayed Rian's face, stinging like hot needles. The Gnasher gave one final, violent shudder, its jaw clicking one last time before its muscles went slack.
[Abomination ranked doorborn killed]
The brief silence that followed was shattered as the crowd erupted in a fresh wave of frenzied cheers, their thirst for entertainment reaching a new, terrifying height now that the "rat" had finally drawn blood. The sound was no longer just a roar; it was a rhythmic, savage thrumming of thousands of feet against stone, a celebration of the visceral mess Rian had made in the center of the pit. To them, his struggle wasn't a tragedy, it was the best show they'd seen all day.
Rian collapsed on top of the carcass, his forehead resting against the cold plum-colored skin. He felt the vibration of their shouting in his very marrow, a sickening reminder that he was just a plaything in a much larger, much crueler game.
Rian looked up at the Jester, his eyes bloodshot and weary, the manic chanting of the ghosts still ringing in his ears. He gestured weakly toward the golden door that stood at the edge of the arena, its light flickering in the wake of the crowd's energy.
"So..." Rian panted, spitting a mouthful of grey dust and blood onto the sand. "Door's open... right?
The Jester, still perched on his chain, began to clap, a slow, mocking sound that somehow carried over the roar of the stadium
"Oh, bravo! Truly! The way you used the dirt? Inspired! You really are a natural-born bottom-feeder, aren't you?" The Jester somersaulted off the chain, drifting toward the golden door. He landed lightly and bowed, his long fingers tracing the frame. "A deal is a deal, little Seeker. The door is shy, but it loves a winner. But you see my crowd here isn't fully satiated yet, so could you do me a small favor?"
Rian's eye twitched, his body was battered from the previous battle, yet he still couldn't help but shiver. Adrenaline was coursing through him keeping him mobile and clear.
"What else do I need to do?"
The Jester's mask tilted to the side, the painted-on eyes seeming to glow with a frantic, flickering light. "Oh, don't look at me like that! It's not for me, it's for them!" He gestured wildly to the stands, where the hooded spectators were now chanting BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD either they wanted more entertainment or really liked the color red.
"They've seen the rat bite, but now they want to see if the rat can hunt," the Jester giggled, snapping his fingers.
The golden door, which had been a hair's breadth from opening, suddenly slammed shut with a boom that echoed like a cannon shot. The warm light died, replaced by a harsh, sickly violet glare that centered on the far end of the arena.
"A favor, you say?" Rian rasped, his hand tightening around the bent, bloody iron pipe. His shoulder was screaming, but the adrenaline acted like a cauterizing iron, numbing the worst of the pain and replacing it with a jittery, high-strung focus. "My favors usually cost a lot more than a piece of scrap metal and a 'good job.'"
"Then consider this an investment!" the Jester shrieked.
From the shadows of the western gate, a sound emerged that made the Gnasher's roar seem like a whimper. It was a long, mournful howl that vibrated through the floorboards and up into Rian's teeth.
Then came the heavy, uneven footfalls.
Stepping into the light was a nightmare draped in tattered fur and muscle. It stood nearly ten feet tall, a humanoid wolf whose proportions were hideously wrong. Its forearms were thick as tree trunks, ending in claws that scraped the ash-sand, while its torso was lean and corded with silver-grey muscle. It wasn't just an Abomination; a single glance at the creature's chest revealed two jagged, glowing tally marks.
"A Blight-rank! Starved Lycan." the Jester cheered, dancing a little jig in the air. "He's a bit of a celebrity. Try not to die in the first ten seconds, Rian. It would be such a waste of a perfectly good setup!"
The Lycan didn't click or chatter like the previous beast. It breathed in deep, wet lungfuls of air, its yellow eyes locking onto Rian with a terrifying, predatory intelligence. It didn't lunge immediately; it began to prowl in a wide circle, its snout twitching as it tasted the scent of Rian's blood.
Rian felt a cold sweat break out across his neck, clashing with the heat of the adrenaline. A single-mark Gnasher had nearly ended him. This thing looked like it could eat him in one bite.
'There's no way I can beat this, especially without a proper weapon,' Rian thought, his eyes darting from the towering Lycan back to the Jester. 'If he wants a show, maybe I can persuade him to actually fund it.'
"Are you kidding me?" Rian stammered, his voice rising over the rhythmic thrum of the crowd. "I barely survived an Abomination, and now you want me to kill a Blight-ranked creature with a bent pipe? I'd be dead in moments, and if you ask me, that would be a pretty boring fight."
The Jester paused, mid-twirl. He drifted closer, his masked face inches from Rian's. "Boring? Boring? Oh, we can't have that."
He reached into the air, his hand disappearing into a fold of violet smoke, and pulled. With a sound like tearing silk, he tossed a bundle toward Rian's feet.
"A little advance on your winnings, then! But careful, little rat... a sharper blade means I expect much more beautiful blood."
Rian dropped the pipe and grabbed the hilt. It was a straight-edged shortsword, the steel a dull, matte grey that didn't reflect the violet light. The grip was bound in rough black leather, and though it was simple, it was heavier than I expected, after all he has never held a blade before.
The Lycan cracked its knuckles and rolled its neck, a movement so eerily human it unnerved Rian.
"Show us entertainment, little Seeker!" the Jester bellowed, his voice amplified by the stadium's unnatural acoustics.
His words acted like a starter's pistol. A chain reaction set off, the crowd erupted into a deafening, bloodthirsty roar that vibrated through the floorboards and in response… the Lycan lunged.