Raya didn't know how long he'd been unconscious.
The ringing in his ears faded first.
Then the cold, damp stone pressed against his cheek, and a foul stench, rotting flesh mixed with rusted iron, filled his lungs. When he pushed himself up, chains clinked lightly around his ankles.
His cell was barely the size of a goat pen. Bones littered the corners, brittle and yellowed. Scratch marks decorated the walls, some shallow, some deep enough to suggest the last owner hadn't died quietly.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, Raya stiffened in fear.
A group of demons appeared, pushing open the iron gate of the bandits' cell.
They yanked the men out by their collars. The bandits screamed, clawing at the ground.
"Where are you taking us!?" one cried.
A demon laughed. "Entertainment."
The gate slammed shut behind them. Their screams faded somewhere down the winding passage.
Raya swallowed hard, 'Entertainment?'
Ten minutes crawled by.
Then the demons returned.
One pointed a claw at Raya. "Next batch. Bring him."
Cold hands hauled him up and dragged him forward. His legs felt too light, too numb, like they didn't belong to him.
They marched him through a tunnel lit by dim, flickering blue flames. As the passage widened, a roar rose from outside, deep, thunderous and eager.
Raya's stomach turned, 'That's a crowd'
The demons shoved him through a massive gate.
Light exploded across his eyes.
He found himself standing in an arena, a wide, circular pit surrounded by towering stands made of black stone. Hundreds of demons leaned over the railings, yelling, jeering, spitting. The air vibrated with their hunger for violence.
In the center of the arena lay the bandits… or what was left of them. Torn limbs, blood soaking into sand, a jawbone without a body attached to it.
Raya gagged, almost choking.
All around him, other humans and demi-humans were chained together, shaking. They had been taken before him, survivors from older batches.
A demon overseer shouted, "Next combatant!"
A trembling young demi-human was pushed forward. The arena gate opposite them rumbled open.
Out stepped a monster.
An ox-like demi-human, easily eight feet tall, muscles stacked like slabs of stone, fur matted with dried blood. His horns curved forward like hooked blades. He carried no weapon, because he didn't need one.
The crowd screamed his name.
"GRAAAX! GRAAAX! GRAAAX!"
The boy charged with a desperate cry.
GRAAX's hand caught his skull mid-run.
A single squeeze—
Crunch.
The crowd roared.
One by one, the prisoners were sent out. One by one, they died.
Slashed.
Crushed.
Torn apart.
Raya watched them fall until his legs shook so badly he couldn't feel the floor beneath him. Each death hammered the same truth deeper:
'There is no mercy here or survival'
"Next," the demon guard said with a grin. "The small one."
They tossed Raya a battered wooden shield and a rust-eaten sword that looked more like scrap than metal.
Raya stared at them,"You expect me to fight that… thing?"
"Not for long," the demon replied, laughing.
The gate behind him shut.
The one before him opened.
GRAAX stepped out, cracking his neck lazily. His eyes locked on Raya with wolfish boredom, like he was already thinking about the next kill.
Raya's hands trembled, every instinct screamed 'run'.
But there was nowhere to run to.
GRAAX moved first, a blur of brute strength. His fist collided with Raya's shield, shattering it like dry wood. The impact sent him tumbling across the sand.
Pain burst through his ribs, he gasped for air, also trying to crawl back up.
The sword slipped from his grip.
GRAAX didn't rush. He stalked forward slowly, savoring the moment.
Raya pushed himself to his feet. His vision swam, his left arm hung useless and numb.
Then the monster swung again.
Raya barely dodged, but not fully.
A ripping sensation.
A hot splash.
With a scream that almost didn't sound human.
He staggered, staring at the stump where his left arm had been, still screaming in pain.
The world tilted.
The arena blurred.
The demons cheered wildly.
Raya's mind cracked open.
'Why…?'
'Why always me?'
'His parents burned alive before he could even remember their voices.
The girl he loved died naked on a cold floor, thrown out like trash.
He was beaten, humiliated, dragged, caged, starved'
'Why am I still alive if everything I love is meant to die?'
He screamed, not in fear or pain, he wouldn't go down without drawing blood from his opponent.
His legs moved before he thought.
His remaining hand clamped around the rusted sword.
His vision burned red.
His heartbeat roared like thunder.
Raya charged.
GRAAX swung his massive arm…
…but Raya slid under it, sand spraying around him.
He drove the sword upward with every ounce of hatred and despair in him.
It stabbed into flesh.
GRAAX roared.
Raya didn't stop.
He slammed the sword again, again and again.
Each strike a piece of his grief.
Each strike a memory of what he'd lost.
Each strike a demand to live one more second.
GRAAX finally fell to one knee.
Raya climbed onto him, screaming, slashing wildly like a rabid animal. Blood soaked him. His own blood mixed with the champion's.
Then…
With a final, deranged yell, he drove the sword through GRAAX's throat.
The colossus crashed face-first into the sand.
Silence hit the arena like a shockwave.
Demons froze and prisoners stared in disbelief.
Raya stood on top of the dead champion, drenched in blood, swaying as though a breeze could topple him.
He blinked slowly...then collapsed.