Chapter 38 #2
The dark stone liquefies into light, and suddenly, there are words.
Names, numbers—point values.
They flicker across the surface, rearranging themselves faster than I can fully process, until they slow just enough to become readable.
There’s three options. Each one is paired with a name I don’t recognize, their level—all a one or two—and their point value.
Two points. Three points. Four points.
All low.
The guide’s voice echoes in my head again.
Higher risk, higher reward.
If I want a different level batch, I can refuse this one.
I’d be an idiot to do so, though.
“These are your potential opponents?” Moe asks as she comes closer, though she’s still behind me.
“Yes.”
Her gaze lingers on the names. “Which one should we go for?”
My eyes move over the options again, weighing them.
They’re all low risk, but there must be a pretty big difference between a level one and a level two. And for the first ever match, I need someone I can beat.
“We take the two-point one,” I say.
Moe looks at me. “Are you sure? They’re all quite low. I think you could beat a four point one, too.”
I shrug. “I’m not sure I can take on a level two yet. Let’s see how it goes with a level one today. Hopefully he accepts my challenge.”
Her fingers tighten slightly around mine as she nods.
I reach my hand toward the obelisk to lock in my choice. The light beneath it pulses, reacting, as if aware of the decision before it’s even made.
I gulp down, dreading what’s next to come.
But there is no other choice, even though it’s disguised as one.
I press my hand against it. The two point opponent.
The ground vanishes beneath us, the sky collapses inward, and everything is pulled into a single point of pressure that crushes down for the briefest second…and then releases.
I stagger forward instinctively as solid ground slams back into place beneath my feet.
Moe is equally as rattled as her nails dig into my hand. She glances around.
“No time to back out now,” she adds with a fake laugh.
“I didn’t expect the battle to be so…immediate.”
It seems my opponent accepted my challenge immediately. I don’t know whether that’s a good or a bad thing.
The air is different here.
It’s sharper… colder. It carries the faint scent of dust and something metallic.
The darkness around parts like a curtain to reveal our new surroundings.
An arena.
Cracked marble stretches in every direction, the surface fractured into jagged lines that split the ground into uneven sections. Some rise higher than others, forming unstable platforms. Others sink just enough to catch a misstep.
Above, the same crimson sky looms, unchanged.
But here, it feels closer. Enclosed. It’s almost like a realm within a realm.
A faint shimmer flickers at the edge of my vision.
I swivel in alarm.
A barrier has formed around the perimeter of the arena. It hums faintly, glowing red at the edges, sealing the space completely.
The message is clear. There’s no way out.
“Moe—” I reach for her hand.
My eyes widen when all I touch is empty air. She’s not beside me.
My head snaps toward the edge of the arena.
She stands just beyond the barrier, one hand pressed against it, her expression tight with alarm.
“I’m here,” she says quickly. “The moment this barrier formed, I was teleported on the other side.”
Her hand flinches back slightly from the surface, as if the barrier warns not to push further.
“I’ll be all right,” I assure her. “Trust me.”
Her lips quirk up. She opens her mouth to speak but then shakes her head.
“Just come back to me,” she murmurs.
“Always.”
A sound draws my attention back to the center of the arena. Someone else is here.
I look back and see him. My opponent.
He stands several paces away, near one of the deeper fractures in the marble.
At first glance, there’s nothing remarkable about him. No imposing presence, no overwhelming aura. Just a frightened male.
He’s young. Maybe around my age, maybe younger.
He’s dressed in worn, mismatched pieces of armor that don’t quite fit together—probably obtained from terminated individuals. He’s holding onto a sharp blade that’s neither a sword nor a lance.
His stance is wrong, though. It’s too stiff, too uncertain, as if he’s never been on a battlefield before.
Not that I have either, but I suppose inexperience recognizes inexperience.
At least he has a weapon. I have…nothing. I should have taken one of the blades we found in our room. But who would have thought the battle would begin so promptly? With no time to prepare—mentally or physically.
His eyes find mine, and I see it immediately.
Fear.
It’s raw, unfiltered, and impossible to hide.
He isn’t ready for this either.
For a moment, neither of us moves. His gaze flicks past me, toward the barrier—toward Moe—then back again. His chest rises and falls with every hurried breath.
“This…this is a mistake,” he says, his voice shaking. “Right? There’s… there’s gotta be some kind of mistake…”
He takes a step back, the heel of his boot catching on the uneven edge of the marble. He stumbles slightly, barely catching himself.
“I don’t—” he tries again, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to do this.”
His words hang in the air, like a mirror to my own self.
My chest tightens.
For a second this doesn’t feel like a fight. It feels like something else entirely. Like two people thrown into the same nightmare, both trying to wake up at the same time.
This isn’t right.
When I was thinking of my opponent, I don’t know what I was picturing, but it certainly wasn’t this. This…frightened male that wants to survive as much as I do.
What satisfaction is there in fighting someone like this?
My thoughts rage inside—uncertainty clouding my judgement.
Moe’s voice cuts right through the crux of those doubts. “Nyk!”
I glance at her, and I see the shake of her head.
She knows what I’m thinking; that I’m already having second thoughts. She’s warning me about the danger of those doubts—warning me about myself.
It only takes that one second of hesitation. The male moves.
His movements are chaotic, borne out of pure panic and desperation. His survival instinct drives him forward. His weapon comes up too fast, his footing uneven as he closes the distance between us in a rush that’s more stumble than attack.
But it’s enough to catch me by surprise.
The strike is askew and off-balance, but it still connects with flesh. Pain flares along my side as his blade cuts alongside my right arm, sharp enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
I stagger back, my foot slipping on the fractured marble beneath me.
The ground drops slightly where I step. For a split second, there’s nothing under my heel.
My balance goes with it.
I fall hard, one knee slamming into the stone as the crack beneath me shifts just enough to throw me off completely. The impact rattles through me, and before I can recover, he’s already on me again.
“Get up!” Moe’s voice breaks through the noise, distant but clear. “Nyk, get up!”