Chapter 23 - Ayden
Everything went exactly as planned.
I headed into the zone our informant had pointed out and left a few not-so-subtle signals trailing behind me—just enough to catch the attention of a pirate ship. They took the bait.
The electromagnetic pulse hit my two-seater without warning. I’d deliberately shut off the shielding systems in advance. A deep hum resonated through the hull, and in an instant, everything shut down. Lights. Engines. Life support. Even the thermal regulators went dead.
Cold crept in like a rising tide. Slow, heavy, suffocating.
Now, my breaths come shorter, struggling to draw in air that’s freezing and stale. My fingers tremble, numb. My body’s fighting, but I know I won’t last long. So much for a vacation. Maybe I should’ve let Vlad take this one.
Then, darkness.
The first phase of our plan went off without a hitch. They fell for it like total amateurs, didn’t see it coming—exactly what we’d hoped. Now the real game begins.
I wish I could say I felt confident. But this half-baked plan is more gamble than strategy, and the stakes are way too high for any mistakes.
Hours later, I’m dropped off at a base with a charming name: “The Red Arena.”
I grit my teeth. I hope with everything I’ve got that this is where they brought Sam. But even if it’s not, the tiny implant hidden in my jacket lining should be enough to lead the Confederation forces right to this hole.
I just hope she’s here. Because not knowing? That would be worse than anything.
The ship docks with a jarring bump. Whoever’s flying clearly skipped flight school. The smugglers drag me out of my cell and haul me toward the exit. My wrists are still cuffed, but I keep my head high.
We walk down the loading ramp.
I scan the surroundings carefully. It’s your standard space station—built from composite materials worn down by time and radiation.
The outer walls are matte gray, streaked with exposed wiring and patchy repairs.
Carbon fiber and polymetal plates cover the most damaged areas, forming a mismatched quilt of armor.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Just another back-alley base like dozens of others.
A thin artificial atmosphere lets you move outside without a suit, though the air’s thick with ozone and industrial fumes. Vents hum constantly, filtering and recycling the breathable air.
I spot my two-seater nearby. It’s been towed and will probably be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
We cross the docking platform—a narrow catwalk suspended above the void, linking several oddly shaped buildings. The metal groans beneath our feet as we head toward the main structure.
At the entrance, a few humans in light armor stand guard, clearly used to this kind of cargo.
A smuggler gives me a shove.
“Move it. You’re about to meet the Boss,” he says.
“Oh wow, what an honor,” I shoot back with full sarcasm.
“Damn right. He doesn’t see just anyone. But your arrival... let’s just say it got some attention. He’s going to interrogate you. And since he’s a Srebat, don’t think for a second you’ll be able to lie to him.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. A Srebat? Could it be Noviosk, the former ruler of Vagantu? Already? If it is, Sam can’t be far.
The smuggler gives me another shove.
“Move. Lord Danuk’s waiting.”
Danuk? Damn it. I was hoping for Noviosk.
I step into a massive open space overlooking a lower area—possibly the arena. At the far end, a Srebat lounges on a throne, casually nibbling on brightly colored beads. A wall nearby displays screens showing brutal fights. So that’s why they call this place the Red Arena. Lovely.
That must be Danuk.
He rises slowly—a towering figure draped in reinforced leather marked with tribal symbols. His golden-yellow eyes glint with cold intelligence. He doesn’t need words to assert dominance.
“What do we have here, interrupting my meal? A frail little human?”
“Brilliant deduction!” I grin. “Yes, I am human. A fine example, if I may say so. You know, we come in all shapes: short, pudgy, tall... You’re lucky—you’ve got one of the premium models today!”
“Silence!”
He glares daggers at me. Tough crowd. Clearly not the funny type. No problem—I’ve got enough humor for both of us.
“What were you doing in Red Arena sector?” he growls.
“I didn’t even know this delightful place had a name until you dragged me here. Very poetic. Did you come up with it yourself?” I ask with a cocky grin.
“Answer me! What were you doing there?”
“Oh… just vacationing. Exploring new places…”
“Lies!” he roars, slamming a brutal punch straight into my jaw.
My head whips sideways, lip splitting as pain ricochets through my skull.
“Ouch…” I mutter through gritted teeth.
I spit out blood, then lift my head slowly, half-lidded. What’d I tell you—no sense of humor.
“I’m waiting,” he growls.
“Well… truth is… I had a date with your sister.”
Wrong answer.
A kick slams into my gut, folding me over in pain. Air whooshes from my lungs, and my knees nearly give out. I fight not to collapse, each breath a stab.
“Last chance,” he warns.
“Wow… hurtful. You mean she didn’t mention me?”
Another blow sends me reeling, but the guards catch me before I hit the ground. Damn, this Srebat punches like a freight hauler.
“You’ve got guts. Good. That might help you survive. Or at least die more slowly.”
“I’ll go with option one,” I say through clenched teeth, forcing a grin.
Danuk lets out a low, humorless chuckle.
“We’ll see.”
He turns to his men.
“Take him to the others. Let’s see if his mouth holds up in the Arena.”
Two armed guards approach, ready to escort me to whatever fate awaits. I stand upright, barely, but proud. I didn’t give up a single piece of information. That’s a win.
Now everything hinges on a fragile hope—that Sam is really here. I can’t imagine her being forced to fight in a place like this. I have to find a way to escape or at least sneak around the base to find her.
I try to memorize our path, but this place is a maze. Every corridor looks the same. Except the one we’re in now.
One side of the hallway is lined with a translucent wall behind which rows of hydroponic crops grow. Hundreds of identical plants with glowing pink leaves bask under harsh artificial light.
“Nice!” I smirk. “Your boss doesn’t strike me as a vegan, but judging by all this lettuce, he’s hiding it well!”
One of the guards glances at me but doesn’t slow down.
“Keep joking. We’ll see if you’re still funny after you spit your teeth out in the Arena.”
We stop in front of a heavy composite door. One guard places his palm on a biometric reader. A beep, and the opaque surface dissolves into a shimmering field, revealing a vast training hall.
Inside, fighters are spread out. Some pound on suspended polymer dummies; others practice combos. The air is thick with sweat, tension, and silence—punctuated only by grunts and punches.
“Here’s your playground,” the guard says. “Fights start in four days. But hey, no promises you’ll make it that long. We pulled one corpse out just this morning.”
He gives me a light shove, inviting me to dive into the fun.
Some heads turn toward me. I instantly notice the variety of species—Humans, yes, but also Neroots, Varnaks, and even a Penubian.
I have no idea how the fights are set up, but I hope there’s at least some fairness. That skinny Neroot doesn’t stand a chance against the Srebat sitting alone in the back, silently observing.
Wait… a Srebat? My instincts tug me toward him.
He doesn’t move, but his gaze tracks me—piercing, predatory. Then I see them: his polar blue irises. Famous.
I freeze in front of him.
“Your name,” I snap.
He stands slowly, a nasty grin on his face.
“I’m the guy who’s going to feed you your own teeth,” he replies coolly.
He steps forward, his gait heavy, but there’s a slight limp—an injury he’s still recovering from. It’s him. No doubt. The Gekkar Creek medic said Nov was still healing a leg injury.
“You’re Noviosk,” I growl.
“The one and only. And you are?”
My brain short-circuits. I’m staring at the monster who caused Logan’s death—the former kingpin of Vagantu’s slave trade. I hate him with every atom in my body.
“My name’s Ayden,” I snarl as I launch myself at him.
I leap, fist cocked, rage pulsing in my veins. But Noviosk isn’t surprised. He sidesteps, grabs my arm, and slams me to the ground with brutal efficiency.
I lose my breath but roll and scramble back up.
Around us, the other fighters pause, caught off guard by the sudden clash.
“I don’t want to kill you,” he says.
“I don’t believe you! You let Logan die!”
He sighs, sounding genuinely weary.
“I didn’t kill him myself. But I didn’t stop it either. If you want a fight, I understand. But you’ll die. And I’d rather not add to Sam’s grief.”
My chest tightens. He knows Sam.
“She’s here?” I ask, my voice sharp.
“Unfortunately,” he confirms. “They’ve got her working on Zebulon production. That drug.”
My mind is a total mess. That Srebat is my worst enemy. Not only did he run the largest slave trafficking network in the entire Eastern Quadrant, but he’s also responsible for Logan’s death. I hate him with every fiber of my being.
And yet… he genuinely seems protective of Sam. That’s exactly what the doctor back in Gekkar Creek had already told us. I don’t know what kind of relationship they have, but there’s this bitter knot twisting in my gut, something that feels an awful lot like jealousy.
Still, Sam’s safety comes first. If Noviosk can protect her, then I’ll have to deal with him. Even if the thought makes me sick.
One thing’s for sure: it’ll take both of us to keep her safe.
And the Srebat seems to have come to the same conclusion.
“Listen, Human… You and I are never gonna be friends. But I’m offering a temporary alliance. One guy already tried to get to her last night. I took care of it, but I’m not sure I can protect her every single minute. I’ll need to sleep too.”
“The corpse… that was you?”