I lie centered on a cold, rugged countertop, my body limp as the wound in my chest refuses to stop bleeding. Pain courses through me, unbearable and unrelenting. A creeping coldness seeps into my bones.
Surrounding me are six Saxumidian earth magicians. Three of them focus intently on the gaping wound in my chest while the other three tend to the countless injuries scattered across my body.
The Kingdom of Saxumidian prides itself as the home of earth magic, boasting some of the finest healers in all of Fangea. But I know better than to think their efforts come from any kindness. They aren't saving me out of mercy—they want me ready for the next spectacle. The crowd craves blood, and they want their "Dark Deity" in peak condition to deliver it.
My vision blurs in and out. Consciousness slips further and further away. For the briefest moment, I wish it would pull me under completely.
I hate it here.
-----
Two days later, I manage to stand.
The wounds that once marred my body are gone, save for the most brutal of them all. A jagged scar now cuts across my chest, a crude and permanent reminder of the elf's blade. It burns as I trace its rough edges with my fingers, its presence a stark testament to the strength and skill of my opponent. This world spares no room for the weak.
Above it, my timer reads: 69 days.
A grim smile creeps across my face. Against all odds, I survived. Somehow, I conquered what felt impossible. The pain, the fury, the fight—it's all imprinted on this scar.
The faint echo of boots snaps me out of my thoughts. Two guards approach, their heavy footfalls resonating through the cold stone halls. One unlocks the cell door, the other grabs me roughly by the arm, hauling me to my feet. I don't resist. I've learned there's no point.
They lead me to a familiar room.
The lifespan crystal glows faintly, its radiance cold and unfeeling. Beside it stands a hooded figure, their face obscured as always. The guards prod me forward.
"You know the drill. Deposit your time. Fifty days," one of them says flatly.
I bite back the urge to argue. It's futile. My hand meets the hooded figure's, and I feel the drain instantly. My timer ticks down, leaving me with exactly fifty days. I shudder as the sensation fades, but the emptiness lingers. No matter how many times I do this, I don't think I'll ever get used to the feeling of surrendering my lifespan.
The next stop is just as familiar: the office of Warden Jacques.
The door swings open, revealing the warden seated comfortably at his desk, his rotund frame practically spilling over the chair. Candlelight dances off the gold tooth in his crooked grin.
"Solice! Good to see you, buddy!" His voice oozes mockery, each word grating against my nerves.
I remain silent, but Jacques presses on, undeterred. "You know, I lost a lot of money on your first round with that luko. Didn't think you had it in you! But, oh, you made me a fortune in the second round!" He pauses, waiting for a reaction. None comes.
"Man, that dwarf went down like a sack of rocks, and that heartwarming moment with the inuman? Priceless entertainment!" He laughs, a shrill, disgusting sound.
"Shut up," I cut him off, my voice flat, eyes unfocused. "Where's Tsuki?"
Jacques narrows his eyes at me, but the grin never leaves his face. "Well, aren't you a bundle of joy? Your swordsman friend is fine. He's being held elsewhere. Don't you worry about him."
He leans forward, his chair creaking under his weight. "Your next game will be your last. Win it, and you and your little friend walk free. Isn't that exciting?"
His words spark something faint within me—hope. But hope is a fickle thing in this world, and I can't afford to trust it.
"And that's not all," Jacques continues, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial. "King Saxumidian himself has taken quite the liking to you. He has a special offer, just for you."
I stay silent, waiting for the inevitable twist.
"If you win this next round, the king will offer you a seat as one of his advisors. Imagine it! No more fighting, no more scrabbling for lifespan. You'll sit beside the greatest king in all of Fangea, feared and respected. The world will bow to the man who tamed the Dark Deity."
The bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. Jacques mistakes my silence for consideration.
"I know you'll win this next one, buddy. Oh, and just between us, I already know who your next opponent is. Can't tell you yet, though. Gotta keep the suspense alive!" He laughs again, patting me on the back with enough force to make me stumble.
"Think about it, boy. A chance like this doesn't come around twice." He waves a hand dismissively, and the guards usher me out.
The door slams shut behind me with a resounding thud, the echo stretching down the long, empty corridor.
I don't know if I'll survive the next fight. But if I do, it won't be for Jacques, or the king, or their disgusting spectacle. It will be for Tsuki. For me.
And for every scar this damned place has left on me.