An hour remained before the first fight would begin. Thamuz and all his companions prepared themselves, heading towards the Shamonak arena. They traveled in a luxurious carriage, hired by Armesto thanks to his great wealth as the organizer of the Shamonak fights. They arrived at the outskirts of the combat arena, and the air was palpable with anticipation.

They disembarked from the carriage with elegance. Tawnylon helped Aolani down while Thamuz dismounted with an agile leap. Armesto and his family descended slowly, one by one. The majesty of the place was impressive, and the buzz of the crowd heightened the excitement of the moment.

"Doesn't this bring back good memories, Tawnylon?" Armesto asked, with a nostalgic smile.

"Some good, some bad," Tawnylon replied, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions.

They walked towards the entrance, only to be stopped by imposing guards who extended their palms towards them.

"Tickets!" the guards demanded, their voices firm.

"Tickets? What are you talking about?" Aolani questioned, confused.

"To see the Shamonak to death, you need tickets," the guards explained, without losing their composure.

Armesto stepped forward and positioned himself in front of them.

"They are with me," he said with authority.

The guards' eyes widened in surprise, and they withdrew their palms, kneeling and lowering their heads in the presence of Armesto.

"Forgive us, sir, we didn't know," they said, in a respectful tone.

"It's fine, stand up, let us pass, and I'll forget all about this," Armesto replied, condescendingly.

Thamuz watched as Armesto spoke with the guards. He looked around, noticing the crowd entering the arena. Some carried flags and banners with the faces of unknown fighters, clearly fans supporting their favorites.

"Incredible," Thamuz murmured to himself.

Armesto turned and signaled for him to come closer. Thamuz obeyed, approaching him.

"Look, Thamuz, since you'll be a fighter, you can't come with us. You'll have to go with these guards to the fighters' quarters where you'll prepare," Armesto said, placing a hand on Thamuz's shoulder.

"Alright, get the seats that give you the best view of my fight," Thamuz said, excitedly.

"Of course we will, I'll get the best seats in the arena," Armesto assured.

Thamuz went to his parents and gave them one last hug. Tawnylon and Aolani waved goodbye as they entered the arena with Armesto and his family. The guards, intrigued by Thamuz's peculiar appearance, walked alongside him. His height nearly matched theirs, and his prominent horns and blackened skin drew attention.

"I've never seen one like this," one guard whispered to another.

"Me neither, I think he's the special guest the king mentioned," his companion replied.

Thamuz observed the paths they passed through. They were enormous cells housing creatures and abominable beings.

"What is this place?" Thamuz asked.

"This is where the king keeps his most fearsome beasts. From Mhonktans to Bhayumans. He keeps them here as part of his collection or for his shows. You're lucky to be facing beings like us," a guard explained.

"I see. Are there more cells with regular people too?" Thamuz asked, curious.

"Yes, you'll see them further ahead," the guards responded.

They continued walking until they reached a space with smaller cells. Thamuz saw beings similar to his parents, in a deplorable state, with skin clinging to their bones.

"Wait here, they'll come to paint you for the fight soon," the guards said before leaving.

Thamuz sat on a wooden chair in the center of the space. The shouts and cheers of the crowd could be heard in the distance.

"I think this is an entrance to the arena," he said to himself.

A voice emerged from his right:

"Hey friend, do you have any food?" asked a gaunt prisoner.

"No, I don't have anything. I'd give you something if I had it," Thamuz replied.

"I see. It's always like this with the new fighters. They come in with nothing and leave with riches and abundance. What rubbish," the man commented bitterly.

"Riches?" Thamuz said, surprised. "I thought it was just about fighting."

"That's what I thought in my first fight too. I won and was flooded with abundance until I lost a fight and lost everything," the man recounted.

Thamuz reflected on his words, staring at the prisoner before returning his gaze forward, sighing.

"If what you say is true, I'll buy food for you all. After all, I think I'll be coming here more often," Thamuz said.

"Bring something for me too," another voice said.

"Me too," more voices started to resonate.

"Silence!" a guard's voice was heard, making everyone fall silent immediately.

The creak of a door interrupted the silence. Thamuz looked back and saw a woman covered in a worn red robe, limping with a brown bowl containing a thick liquid.

"Don't take too long painting him," the guard said, closing the door forcefully.

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The woman approached Thamuz, dipping her fingers in the bowl while reciting unintelligible words. Thamuz noticed she had several bruises and a black eye, her lips swollen and scars on her cheeks.

"What happened to you?" Thamuz asked.

The woman paused and stopped reciting.

"I was punished for not obeying," she replied sadly.

"Who did it?" Thamuz asked again.

"The king's torturers. They always beat me for the slightest thing, even for breathing too loudly," she recounted, melancholically.

Thamuz saw the sadness on her face and looked away towards the light entering the place.

"Let's talk about something else. Do you have family?" Thamuz questioned, trying to change the subject.

The woman looked around and leaned towards Thamuz's ear, whispering almost in a murmur.

"I have a son who is alone in my cell. He's only five years old and doesn't even know why he's locked up."

"How cruel. I'm only six years old; I can't imagine what it would feel like to be locked up at such a young age," Thamuz whispered empathetically.

"Six years old? You look like a full-grown adult," the woman exclaimed, noticeably surprised by Thamuz's revelation.

"That's what my parents tell me too. I look and act older. Even people outside are surprised by my appearance," Thamuz recounted.

"I see. But what is someone as young as you doing in these fights? Aren't you scared or nervous?" she asked.

"Scared? No. Nervous? A little. It's my first fight. I just hope to make a good impression," Thamuz replied.

"You're brave, I can see that. I hope I can meet you again if you survive," the woman said, finishing painting Thamuz.

Thamuz stood up from his chair, moving towards the sunlight and looking at his body. He had several red paint marks, some forming circles and others claws.

"What do these paintings mean?" he asked.

"They symbolize power, intimidation, bravery, and determination. They've been used since the ancient Shamonak fights. They also help to differentiate you from your opponent," the woman explained.

"I like how they look. Thank you very much," Thamuz said, extending his hand towards her.

"You're welcome," she responded, shaking his hand.

A giant ramp began to unfold, rumbling loudly as it hit the ground. The sunlight poured into the room more intensely, momentarily blinding Thamuz.

"It's your time, fighter. Give it your best," said one of the prisoners.

Thamuz looked at the prisoner and thanked him. He walked slowly towards the light and stepped onto the ramp, reaching the top. The light no longer blinded him, but something made his eyes widen in amazement: a gigantic arena, with thousands of spectators watching and cheering for him.

"So this is the Shamonak a muerte arena," Thamuz said to himself.

He advanced to the central part of the arena, seeing a red circle next to a much larger blue line. Tawnylon and the others were in the highest part of the arena, with a great view of Thamuz, who waved to them.

"Look, there's your son. He's waving at us," said Armesto, sinking into a chair.

Tawnylon and Aolani noticed and waved back at Thamuz, then sat down with Armesto and his family.

"He looks very enthusiastic, as if he isn't afraid," Aolani said.

"I never saw him afraid when I was teaching him about Shamonak," added Tawnylon.

Tawnylon looked to his side and saw someone. It was Zarakel, dressed in fine gray robes, without his armor, showing his muscular body and prominent horns. He was in special stands, reclining on a golden couch with embedded gems, burning some herbs and then inhaling them.

"Look who's over there," pointed Tawnylon.

"It looks like he's enjoying it a lot," Aolani noted.

Another ramp began to open, releasing dense black smoke with a distinct smell of death. Thamuz saw this, placing his palms on his forehead and squinting.

"Who will come out of there now?" he wondered to himself.

A deafening roar was heard, revealing a huge creature. It was a Yhamak about two meters and ten centimeters tall. Its long arms were covered with spikes, it was completely bald, and its horns looked like knives. Its jaw was heavily armored, and its green eyes looked like the most potent poison.

"What a beast," Thamuz said.

Aolani looked at the creature with concern, turning her head to Armesto.

"What is that thing?" she asked.

"That thing is called Bhogtan. It was a Yhamak like us who practiced Shamonak, until he decided to experiment with dubious substances to increase his combat effectiveness. They mutated him into that horrible thing. He has a record of twenty wins and zero losses, killing seven of his opponents," Armesto responded.

"Oh, by Azhamat! By Azhamat!" Aolani exclaimed in her mind.

"I don't know why Zarakel sent one of his best fighters for Thamuz's first fight. He must really be desperate to see him fall," said Armesto, looking at Tawnylon.

Tawnylon was coldly observing Thamuz's opponent, calculating the situation.

"His entire body is a weapon, from his arms to his head. I'd go for his chest; it's the least protected part," he murmured to himself.

A guard blew the trumpet, making the entire audience fall silent. A tall, skinny figure, with a cloak covering his entire body, appeared with a scroll that he began to read.

"Welcome everyone to the ninetieth Shamonak to death, sponsored by our acclaimed and eternal king, Zarakel," the figure said, pointing his hand towards Zarakel.

The audience applauded Zarakel, cheering him with gratitude. Zarakel raised his hand in thanks and showed a slight smile.

"This fight will not be like any other. It will be something special, something our king has suggested. There will be five rounds, five fighters, for one person: the son of the former Shamonak champion, Tawnylon. Presenting...," he paused his speech for a moment, looking at the scroll, "Thamuz?"

Everyone fell silent. Only Tawnylon and Aolani had the courage to support him and shout his name, while the others looked at them strangely.

"What a weird name, kid," said the figure.

"My father gave it to me," Thamuz responded.

"And now, the favorite of all, Bhogtan, the creature of the dusk. With twenty wins and zero losses, he stands victorious against his new opponent. Will he be a worthy opponent for his fury and madness? Will he be just a new toy for him? You will see all that now."

The figure closed the scroll and left the arena while the audience shouted with excitement for the upcoming fight. The sunlight indicated it was morning. Trumpets began to play, with the crowd chanting words unknown to Thamuz, while Bhogtan performed a kind of dance, reciting the same words.

"Admesh, aidan, bahkten, ushadar, gritennen, bakatan, yhamataw, bishamarr, yhakutan shamonak YA!" Bhogtan exclaimed with great voices as he danced.

"It's been a long time since I've seen the Shamonak preparation dance," Tawnylon said, watching with luminous eyes.

"Me neither," added Armesto.

The trumpets stopped playing, and Zarakel stood up, carrying some herbs and placing them in front of him.

"May Yhamataw and Azhamat decide the outcome of this fight!" he exclaimed loudly, crushing the herbs in his hands.

The trumpets gave a final sound, indicating that the fight had begun. Bhogtan immediately assumed a low position, resembling an animal's pose, while Thamuz slightly lowered his back, positioning his hands in front of him, watching Bhogtan's movements intently.

"I'll kill you. I'll break you. I'll make you suffer. I'll rip out your spine and whip you with it. I'll tear all the skin off your body," Bhogtan said with a sadistic voice.

Thamuz kept watching him closely, walking slowly around him, until Bhogtan decided to make the first move and ran frantically towards him.

"I'll kill you!" he shouted loudly.

Thamuz observed the way Bhogtan approached. He saw that his chest was unprotected and took the opportunity to dodge his charge, using an open-palm strike so strong that it caused a sonic impact on Bhogtan's chest, immediately knocking the wind out of him and breaking his ribs.

Bhogtan stood motionless, saliva flowing from his mouth, staring at Thamuz. Thamuz took advantage of his palm being only a few centimeters from Bhogtan's chest and grabbed his skin, throwing him with great force backward. Bhogtan's head slammed against the ground, making a horrible sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing.

The entire audience fell silent, even Zarakel, who watched with wide eyes what Thamuz had done. He had defeated one of his best fighters with just two moves.

"That's how it's done, son!" Tawnylon exclaimed with overwhelming joy, hugging Aolani tightly.

Everyone in the arena began shouting Thamuz's name, cheering and raising their arms in admiration. Thamuz raised his right arm towards the sky, shouting with emotion.

"My first Shamonak fight!"

The hooded figure returned to the center of the arena and, with an imposing voice, announced:

"The winner of the first fight is Thamuz!"

The audience erupted in cheers. Thamuz, still panting from the effort, looked around, feeling the euphoria and adrenaline coursing through his body.

From his position, Zarakel watched attentively. A malicious smile appeared on his face as he contemplated the scene.

"Just like his father," he murmured to himself.