Lorety stood confidently at one end of the arena, her toned body glistening with sweat as she grasped the long spear, its sharp, stone-like edge gleaming in the dim light. Her breasts, barely contained by her simple garb, heaved with anticipation.
On the opposite side, Flonda stood tense, her grip tightening around the hilt of a massive sword. Her muscular frame contrasted with the subtle nervousness in her wide brown eyes, and the weight of her weapon made her broad shoulders seem even more imposing. Despite her brutish strength, there was a vulnerability in the way she held herself, as though she already knew the outcome.
Both women stood still, locked in each other's gaze, waiting for the signal. When it finally came—a booming horn that echoed through the entire building—the fight began.
Lorety moved first, no hesitation in her steps, while Flonda, who looked like she had planned to move, suddenly froze. The crowd erupted in a frenzy, their cheers amplifying the tension. The first clash was so fast that Voldrak's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of pity crossing his face for Flonda.
Lorety's spear slid across Flonda's sword with deadly precision. Flonda batted it aside, using all her strength, but Lorety quickly redirected the spear, as if that was the intended move all along. Before Flonda could react, the spear cut a shallow line across her shoulder, not deep, but enough to send a shock of pain through her body.
"If it had gone deeper, Flonda might have had a chance," Voldrak overheard a man next to him comment. Surprised, he glanced at the speaker—a well-dressed man who seemed completely out of place. He looked nothing like a fighter or a slave, more like someone who belonged on the highest platform, reserved for the elite.
"Flonda is weaker. She can fight, but she'll lose," the man said confidently. Voldrak had to agree. He watched as Lorety struck again, slicing through Flonda's chest, tearing the cloth that covered her body.
Flonda's chest, full and exposed, bounced with each movement. Her nipples were erect—not from pleasure, but from the adrenaline coursing through her as she struggled to stay in the fight.
"Give up!" Lorety snarled with a cruel smirk. "Bow your head, and maybe one day you'll win your freedom!"
Flonda, despite the pain, fired back immediately, her voice strong. "A couple of slashes mean nothing!" she yelled, refusing to show weakness. Lorety just shook her head, her long black hair swirling in the air as she stared at Flonda, now half-naked, her body on full display but with no concern for modesty.
"Maybe losing a few fingers will change your mind," Lorety sneered as she lunged forward again.
The crowd roared even louder, the noise almost deafening. Voldrak's expression remained neutral, though he could tell how the fight would end. It was obvious that Lorety was toying with Flonda.
"The essence she's taken is purer than the strength gained through blood," Voldrak thought, shifting his attention away from the fight and toward the man in white robes beside him.
"I assume you're here because you have something to say?" Voldrak asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
"You know what's coming," the man said, more a statement than a question.
Voldrak nodded, though he had no clue. He listened as the man continued.
"You'll die. No slave has ever survived. Your brother was wrong to sell you, but losing an arm would've been enough to secure his title as family leader. It's not too late to—"
"I'll fight," Voldrak cut him off, his tone final. He turned his full attention back to the match, just in time to see Flonda, in a last desperate move, tear a deep wound across Lorety's forehead. The price for that attack was high: Flonda's arm had been pierced clean through the elbow by the spear, and blood poured from the wound.
Flonda was on the verge of collapse, her left arm nearly useless, but Lorety wasn't unscathed. Blood trickled down the side of her face, but she was far from done.
"I was going to toy with you, but you're better off dead!" Lorety spat, charging in for the final blow. But before she could strike, Flonda dropped to her knees and shouted.
"I SURRENDER!" Her voice echoed through the arena, a small smirk tugging at her lips as she watched Lorety's face redden with anger, knowing she'd been denied the kill.
"Flonda loses. Her freedom is forfeit, and she bears the mark of a slave!" The announcer's voice boomed across the arena.
Voldrak watched as a strange red light descended on Flonda, glowing symbols appearing on her body, sinking into her skin until no trace of them remained.
"If you want to be a slave so badly, you'll be mine!" Lorety snarled before storming off, leaving the arena behind.
Flonda was quickly attended to, her arm barely hanging on, as the next names were called for the fights. The remaining bouts passed quickly, none of them as intense or interesting as Lorety and Flonda's.
Finally, Voldrak stood alone, the last fighter remaining. He had just wondered where his opponent would come from when he realized he wasn't going to be facing a human. Moments later, he found himself staring at the reason no slave had ever survived.
His heart pounded, but he refused to show fear.
'Maybe I was a little overconfident!' he thought, but on the other hand, he also confirmed that the base realm he knew as an immortal was completely different from the one he now saw.