Each step was a massive drop. The smell of rotting meat blew up from below. Hao could smell the beast before he landed on the first step.

Each step was steep, Hao’s head dipping below the surface, the stage far off and the bell ahead disappearing with just the second leap down the steps. More than a dozen to go. It was more like the mountain slope was carved into a case of stairs.

It was a scene not unfamiliar, brown stone on either side. But it was smooth, even the eventual ceiling that cut off the light from above. So smooth it looked like every section was cut with a single stroke.

For now, I have to focus. Hao released his head; the pulsating pain was trying to leave. He wanted it to. Hao was trying to organize the bits and pieces of nonsense in his mind. It was all there in a clump. He could only see the surface, each piece he had to be peeled away. Most of it he wanted to forget. Seeing it for the nonsense it was. Some of it would affect the first action he takes when he gets the chance. Yet there was stuff for him to learn from it.

Hao was careful in his climb down. The images began to unfold quickly. Hao’s face flickered through five emotions in five stairs and five in five more. From cherishing love to the desire to kill.

After a dozen steps, Hao’s face moved no longer, his eyes wells, the pain in his head gone, but his heart was still beating. He cared little to be slow on the stairs any longer, barreling down the few left.

At the bottom, a yellow stone was the only light. The little light was just enough to see around him. The first sight was a large door of sorts, polished in a make of some metal. Shining bars stretching from top to bottom across the sides. Either side of him was confined, but not bare. Weapons in racks or on the floor gave of reflection of his face, distorted in their shape.

Hao ignored the weapons, looking out past the door. It was hard to see, and there was noise hard to ignore. But his eyes captured one other source of light. Another door similar to the one he was looking through, a set of stairs like the one behind him, a bit of light shining down from the world above. My exit, he presumed.

He could not ignore the sound any longer, a sound of crunch, snapping, and tearing. It was his ‘obstacle course’. Between Hao and the door, a few steps from his exit door, a beast, a creature beyond the mind of a fisher’s son. He had seen few land animals, most being sold by visited merchants, small creatures used as livestock; it’s nothing like a chicken…

The thing had four legs, a flat head and back, its spine visible pressing against its skin, foot to back, it was taller than Hao. Dark fur streaking brown to a short tail. Small eyes and large tusks escaping its face curve out and back, reaching up toward the sky. Its muscles visibly rippled as it moved its legs.

It was leaning forward, bending its head down, its snouted face pressed against another beast, furred as well, similar in look but half its size, still far larger than any human. It rolled it over, dead. Pushing it with its nose to get at another creature, furred but slightly different, lying beneath it. The sound of bones crunching echoed as it ate. It adjusted how it was standing to compensate for its tusk, its feet clapping on the ground.

There were slivers of light coming down from above the beast. A slanted tunnel in the ceiling, fifteen or twenty feet from the ground. A way to deliver food. Hao tried to imagine it wasn’t eating its own young.

Can I get past the thing or do I have to fight it? Hao thought. Could he, did he dare to end a creature if he had to? Somehow, maybe a little—It would differ from taking a human life even on the Island. Hao tried to justify as his hand shivered. He could only do his best to live, to live and prosper.

Hao already knew the answer, blunt and blade weapons in reach of his hands. The answer was reinforced when a powerful gust of wind blew down. The smell of rot and worse pushed against Hao, and Hao’s scent blew to the beast.

The beast looked up and its throat let out a rumble, watching Hao with what seemed to be a smile.

It either thinks I’m its feeder or its food.

It let out several grunting sounds close to laughter, scraping its tusks on the ground. The beast put on the display several times. It watched Hao as it ate, getting impatient as its tusks just blocked its teeth.

Hao looked at the weapons and knew nothing of them. The only thing he had ever swung was a pickaxe. Even fishing poles and harpoons were taken away from him after he failed the Breaktide.

Swords and spears took up more than half, there were also axes and hammers. The only thing I know is they’re weapons.

Hao didn’t feel right as he ran his hand across them. But the feeling implanted in him did not stop him, could not let them, no matter which of the Island’s elder’s words sounded in his head. He had to live; he wanted to prosper.

Hao took several weapons, multiple spears, and swords, along with the hammer and the smallest of the axes. Before he entered, he sharpened the shaft of one spear and slid many of the spears through the bars of the gate. A few spears are on lying the floor. His hands were more than full. Swords tied to his waistband and back.

The creature stood on the other side of the room, its ass scraping the wall as it watched Hao just off kilter from any of the open bars. If he was just in front, I would throw spears through the door. Or has he already eaten the person who tried such a trick?

Hao reached for a rope that hung down either side of the gate, the other gate mirrored the ropes.

Hao pulled it. The gate went up halfway, then came crashing down.

The beast lifted its head, gore and filth on its lip just to slam its tusk on the ground; mimicking the gate slamming the ground. It grunted, scraping its tusk on the ground.

If I don’t have to, I won’t. Hao took a deep breath and pulled the rope again, wearing weapon bounds to his clothing, his hands full, half-dozen spears at his feet.

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He stepped underneath, kicking the spears out around the arena, the gate slammed behind him; the crash of tusk did not sound.

Hao turned to look in the beady eye of the beast, in the round, filth-covered cage.

The beast stared at Hao, then let out a squeaking roar.

Hao placed the spear with a sharpened shaft against the bars.

His hand that held the spear now only held the small axe, which he threw toward the creature; his aim was off, close enough as the target was large. Agile for its size. The axe simply bounced from its hide.

The beast stepped to the side closer to the wall, running toward a Hao following the wall’s curve.

Hao did the same running, the sprint of his life. Having to turn around the curve of the round room the entire way, keep as far from the beast as possible. He had to leap over the two corpses the beast was previously enjoying as he completed half a lap. The smell of blood was piercing, pooling on the floor from holes crushed in flesh, bones inside on display. Much of the small beast’s muscle yet remained.

Hao made it to the door opposite where he entered, standing at the exit, the gate rope in his hand. He pulled, preparing to step through. The slamming of hooves closer than a moment ago. As he bent forward to slide beneath, he saw a hole in the wall behind the rope, a small spot; the black badge he had would fit perfectly.

Hao scrambled, grabbing around his person, swords falling from him; is it in my bag? He thought.

Turning his head to the beast approaching. A piece of the small beast flattened beneath its hooved foot. A few more steps and Hao would touch its tusk — then mouth; I would be gone.

Hao had to run, his exit right in front of him. The sprint continued. Hao kicked the ax he threw as he passed it, clattering as it bounced forward, hitting the wall a few paces ahead of him. The steps of the beast chasing him shook the ax even more.

He was back at the gate he just entered the cage from. Hao took notice of the same hole, a slot in the wall nearby, the black badge fit in. Pushing out of his mind, he grabbed the ax on the ground, placing it in his mouth; ignoring the grim it collected. Then reached for the shaft-sharpened spear, the room shaking as the slamming of hooves got closer. The spear nearly fell before being gripped.

Hao, weapons in hands and mouth, ran again. Only half distance this time. Stopping in front of the smaller beast’s corpse. He shoved the sharpened shaft into the body, pressing it deep into the stiff flesh. It pointed up to Hao’s neck. He did not have to wait for the stomping to be closed.

Jumping to the side, Hao ran toward the center. Toward the closest spear, not far off near the creature’s hind leg.

Hao was just reaching for the spear when he heard the crack of thunder and a cry that shook the room.

Bleeart! Both high and low, the sound echoing.

Hao turned his head just in time to see the spray of splinters and blood. The action was regrettable. But the execution was far better than he had expected.

The spear was in two pieces, flying into the air. On the ground, the small beasts got mangled. The big beast itself had flesh dangling from its front shoulder. Hao only wanted the spear to stick and slow it, but it seemed like it tore all the way through, and then broke in half. The force of the creature shattered the wood while it found its way through its flesh.

It thrashed and roared. Hao did not want to cause the creature pain, but had to continue.

He reached for the spear, throwing it at the creature. It barely cut through its hide. If it drew blood, Hao could not see it.

Hao ran forward. Already near its back leg, with the beast distracted, he took a sword in his right hand and, left the hammer in his left. With his body weight behind it, he sprinted at the hind leg, lunging his right arm with the sword in.

The tip pierced the parting skin; he could feel the muscle fiber popping as he pushed in. The sword stopped halfway. The sword was still, but the pommel moved. It was trying to swing its rump at Hao.

Hao leaped back, the pummel closed in on him, the sword stuck in the beast’s flesh.

Hao’s feet slid across the grim-covered floor as he jumped back. He took a stance for one of the techniques in Water Breaking Fist. A sword on his back, a hammer in his hand, a grim-covered ax handle in his mouth.

Hao took a deep breath. A palm technique with the pommel just an arm’s length away. Hao turned his body, the hide and fur of the creature close to his face.

He rushed his body forward, no longer sliding back, his palm colliding with the pommel carrying a river of force, the sword grinding against bone began to bend. Hao’s head was jostled by the beast’s abdomen.

Hao was flung back and lifted off his feet.

Kleeert! The Beast cried out again. Along with a bang, the beast slamming against the wall sounded.

Outside, the young man with the knife was facing another opponent when they froze. The entire crowd stood. “An earthquake.” to most of it was an obvious answer. The second elder wore a curious face, hidden by the light of the sun gathering around her. I hope you can surprise me, boy. She thought, getting bored with watching people ‘prove themselves’ by crudely cutting at each other.

Hao sat up gasping for air, his back stinging from his landing, the source stone pushing its way in, more bruised than the hand that slammed the pommel. He had little time to collect himself. The beast facing his direction. Hao leaped to his feet, the ax that fell from his mouth being grabbed and held tight by his hand. The hammer remained one more sword on his back.

One limping step. Then treating itself ruthlessly, the creature ran, a sprint slower than before, but fast enough to keep the out-of-breath Hao from getting away.

Hao could only back up as the beast closed on him, his vision filled with small floating lights. He touched the wall, a toothy snout closing in.

The ax left Hao’s hand, aiming to hit the eye. Just above, but good enough, the beast winced in its sprint, blood dripping from the lid to the eye.

Tusks slammed either side of Hao, one before the other. The gates sang with vibrations from the impact. The teeth just missing, the snout turning a little to the side, Hao pulling the sword off his back, swinging one for the first time. It barely scratched the skin.

The snout turned toward Hao. Teeth coming in; tusks scraping the wall, Hao changed grip and slammed the blade down into the snout. It winced again, Breeee! It cried. Making Hao’s ears vibrate.

It pulled back for just a second, the sword blade stuck deep in the flesh. Panic in its one eye, not blinded by blood.

Hao raised his hands above his head, both gripping the round-headed hammer. The snout came in again. Like he was swinging a pick, Hao swung down toward the sword.

The sound of metal and bone breaking overlapped, the blade driven through the nose and mouth, blood sprayed out. Red filling its nose and mouth.

The hammer vibrated in Hao’s hand, now warm to the touch, bending back towards his arm. The sword’s handle gone flat.

The creature made no noise. It walked backward, shaking its head before falling over. Hao noticed the several pools and trial of blood, hearing the creatures try to breathe.

“I should not have pity for you,” Hao said, his voice rough and strained. He walked over to the pile of swords at the exit, dropping his bag there, bending to grab a sword, the sturdiest looking one.

Returning to the creature “I should not” he placed his hand on its head. He closed his eyes, feeling the being he was touching, one soon to be no more.

Hao had seen death, even his own, more than he wished to. Even saw himself kill, but nothing like this. This was too violent. There was pain here. It disgusted him; he was disgusted with himself. He let the feeling drown him, then pass.

Hao took a stance, the sturdy sword in his left hand, his right on its pommel, a deep breath through his nose. It stung with the scent of blood. Placing his tongue on the roof of his mouth, his jaw set lightly.

He aimed well, the sword’s tip at the center of the creature’s flat head. One strike.

The creature twitched for a moment. Then the strained breathing stopped. Silence in a cage of blood. Hao fixed his robe and put on his bag. Placing the black badge he got from the vase, he pulled the rope, and the gate lifted; with haste, he took the badge back and stepped underneath, climbing the slope of stairs.