Bryn awoke to the rhythmic thumping of the crowd, one that she could hear but not see. A small cramped cell with no obvious windows or doors surrounded her. Just a small hole in the ground, just big enough for someone to climb down through.

Screams and cheering could be heard faintly drifting up through the hole. In the corner of the cell, Jaylon casually leaned against the wall.

“I’ve already told the others. This is your last chance. Tell me how to get to Reikner,” he said flatly. Bryn had felt from the very beginning he’d become mentally unstable, his mood swinging all over the place, even from sentence to sentence.

“Last chance. Or what?” she ran her fingers through the dirt on the ground. She could feel the earth’s very energy flow through her. A strange and new sensation, an immense power.

“Or…” Jaylon nodded toward the hole in the ground. Whoever and whatever was down there chanting. Preparing.

“Yeah. I’ve had about enough of you. I’ll take my chances with whatever’s down there,” she said, peeking down the hole. A ladder descended into the darkness.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I know you’re not the one who’s going to break anyway. But. I’ll still extend the same offer to you as the rest. If at any point you want out. You change your mind and decide to tell me everything and anything you know about The Structure and Reikner. I’ll pull you out. Protect you,” Jaylon said.

“Protect me? Oh, now I know you’re screwing with me,” she said, taking a step toward the hole. Jaylon quickly blocked her path. Placing a gun to her temple.

“You have my word. I’ll protect you all if you provide me with what I need,” his hand was shaking. He didn’t seem like the type to get overly nervous. Tremors perhaps?

Bryn glanced up at the gun.

“You have a funny way of protecting people,” she pushed the barrel of the gun away with two fingers.

It looked like the only way out was down. Jaylon stepped aside, allowing Bryn to descend the ladder.

“Any tips? Advice? The least you could do is give me a heads up for what I’m getting myself into.”

Jaylon considered many different things. In the end. This is what he said, “Let the monster inside of you out. If you’ve ever wondered what you’re truly capable of. I promise you. This is the place to find out.”

She nodded before climbing down the ladder and through a small cramped dark tunnel.

The atmosphere below became thick and suffocating. The air was heavy with a noxious mix of sweat, blood, and something else that Bryn couldn’t quite place.

Eventually, the tunnel opened up, and the ladder led her down into an underground ring.

The ring itself had a macabre sight, a circular pit of packed dirt, surrounded by a towering fence made of dark, rusted metal. The fence was covered in razor-sharp spikes, on one side blood stained the posts. It seemed someone tried to unsuccessfully escape.

The lighting dimmed, casting deep shadows that obscured the grotesque forms of the crowd. A motley crew of strange creatures, their faces twisted with excitement and bloodlust. Their eyes gleamed in the flickering light, as they jostled and shoved each other to get a better view of the carnage.

Everywhere she looked, an overwhelming sense of danger and malevolence crept over her skin. This underground fight ring was a place of nightmares, a world of horrors that she couldn’t wait to escape from. Let the monster out. Bryn thought. In a place like this, it might be the only way to survive.

The ladder retracted itself. Looking around she couldn’t see the others, but there were many other passages in the ceiling. Dorian, Skye, and Myka were most likely still in the cells above.

For a second, she thought she saw Zavia in the crowd. The person had similar characteristics, flawless features with dark green eyes. He stood next to a woman of similar fashion. Her hair hung down to her waist. The more she looked at them, the more she realized they almost looked like dolls. They must be Zavia’s Kin, the Coradez.

Before Bryn could get a good look at anyone else, the lights cut out.

“Do. We. Have a special treat for you. The Spaceman has gifted us. Yes. With not one. Not two. But four warriors from the structure,” a mysterious voice announced across the ring. The voice sounded odd, struggling to produce each and every word, and the very act of speaking caused it pain.

The crowd murmured with excitement.

“P-put your bets in. For this evening. Her opponent will be last week’s champion!” the voice exclaimed. The crowd erupted in cheers.

When the lights turned back on. A giant man stood opposite Bryn.

“The darling of the Teranians!” the announcer said. The man looked eerily similar to the barbarian that had gutted one of Bryn’s fellow recruits. He came from the same area as Toyatsu. The same group that attacked them the moment they stepped foot outside The Structure.

Let the monster out. She thought again.

But training had taught her to be brave, and strong. Protect those in need. Honor, integrity, and companionship were not words one would use to describe a monster.

Her opponent, his people. Had horrifically killed many of her comrades and friends. At this moment, she removed mercy from her vocabulary.

The man approached slowly. Towering over her by a foot or more. Scars covered his entire body. The frame of a true warrior, dense muscles, and focused unnerving eyes.

“Haven’t seen the likes of you before,” he twisted his head sideways. “Finally came out of your precious little structure? This gonna be fun, welcome to the world sweetheart,” he said, dragging a long scythe along the ground.

“I can pull you out at any time, just give the word,” Jaylon’s voice entered her head. “Oh. right. I forgot to mention. I implanted a little tracking and comms device in your neck.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Bryn ran her fingers below her left ear, underneath she traced a subtle scar and what felt like a thin metal disc just beneath the surface of her skin.

“Well?” he asked, waiting for a response as the man got closer, but Bryn stood her ground.

“Very well. Suit yourself.”

She knelt down, running her fingers through the dirt. Waiting.

He made the first move, he moved much faster than she expected. Slamming down the blade, only an inch away from clipping off her entire ear. She barrel rolled out of the way.

Since they left The Structure Bryn had spent much of her time questioning their training. Gymnastics, calisthenics, mostly movement training. But it wasn’t so that they could fight hand-to-hand combat. Reikner’s voice entered her head.

I’m teaching you to move intuitively. Regardless of what your Brilliance ends up being, this will teach you how to control the flow of energy. Your Brilliance is you, there is no separation, remember that.

Before the barbarian could make another step, his feet were cemented in the ground.

“Neat trick,” he grunted, pulling one of his legs free, then the other. Except each time he took a step the same thing kept happening. His feet kept getting cemented.

Bryn could feel the earth around her. She still had much to learn, it felt like an extension of herself, or learning a skill. Like learning to ride a bike or to play the guitar. She felt like she could control the earth at will.

She watched the man quickly begin to tire, desperately pulling his legs from the ground over and over.

Bryn understood how the darkness of this world could so easily infect those around it. Even in herself, this man’s life was now in her hands. The question wasn’t whether he’d suffer, the question was how much.

The crowd started to boo. Not enough carnage for them.

“Fine. You want more. You want more?!” Bryn found herself yelling, pumping up the crowd.

She summoned the earth to wrap around his scythe, wrenching it from his hand, and bringing it to her.

She could barely hold the blade with a single hand, it must have weighed at least eighty pounds. Bryn transformed the ground around him into quicksand. Allowing him to sink down to shoulder level.

“May you never walk this earth again, and may Kaia have mercy on your soul, ” Bryn dragged the scythe as she approached.

He fought with every ounce of strength, but couldn’t move an inch. The closer she got. The more he looked like a wild animal. The man screamed, and shouted, biting, and spitting.

Like a beast caught in a cage.

Then with a single slash of the scythe, Bryn beheaded the man.

Silence.

Quickly followed by a roar of approval. The crowd chanted her name.

“Well done! A truly impressive showing.” the announcer said.

“Yes, well done,” Jaylon said, except it wasn’t from the comms device. He stood directly behind her, and before she could react. Metallic cuffs were slapped around her wrists and a collar was placed on her neck.

“I wouldn’t struggle too hard,” Jaylon waved a small remote in her face, then mimicked a bomb going off. “Now come, let’s see how the others do.” Jaylon guided her outside the arena’s metal fence and up a few stairs. He has his own private booth. Clearly, this wasn’t the spaceman’s first time.

Another ladder descended from the ceiling.

Dorian.

----------------------------------------

His eyes immediately drifted over toward Bryn and Jaylon. She’s alive and by the looks of it relatively unharmed. A sense of relief washed over him.

“Our next fighter. Also hails from The Structure. Who shall be his opponent? Hm,” the announcer made a weird clicking noise, while he thought deeply.

“What about Calupica? Hmm no. Venetica? Wait. Oh. I know… Haitea… Yes…Excellent,” his voice boomed throughout the arena, and not a single soul cheered.

Dorian heard murmurs amongst the crowd.

“That poor bastard,” someone said.

“This isn’t even going to be a fight,” another whispered to the person next to him.

Dorian did his best to keep his composure, but couldn’t help but take this as a bad omen. Amidst a crowd literally begging for death and carnage, whoever his opponent should be, was too dangerous. Even for them.

Then an elderly man entered the ring. He looked as if Zavia had aged another hundred years.

Unlike the others from Coradez, his skin wasn’t flawless. It looked cracked and weather-beaten. There were creases and wrinkles riddled across his face from a long and difficult life. Admittedly his gentle eyes threw Dorian off, and then. He bowed. Sincerely and respectfully.

“I am sorry for this young man. Your float along destiny’s river has reached its end,” Haitea said. As he stretched, every joint in his body cracked and popped.

Dorian held a single image in his head. Myka. He knew she would be up next. He had to win this fight and limit his own injuries. When she entered the ring, Dorian would need enough strength to free them all. A near-impossible task.

“I will give you one piece of advice… Do not let me draw an ounce of blood from your body. If you can manage to defeat me before that happens, you stand a chance. If not, I pray you will not suffer,” Haitea said.

The old man spoke as if he didn’t have a choice in the matter. That it somehow wasn’t going to be him fighting.

Haitea disappeared before Dorian’s eyes, then appeared inches from his throat, swinging the side of his hand hard for the base of Dorian’s neck. But he covered his entire body with a thin but sturdy air pocket, using it like a suit of armor. Redirecting Haitea’s hand and knocking him back.

He then turned his slashes outward. Condensing the air so finely it sliced clean through the ground and metal fence behind Haitea.

The old man made a last-minute ditch effort to dive away from the attack. But it managed to cut deep into his left shoulder. Rendering the arm is completely useless. Haitea tried to make another move, but Dorian slashed his other arm. He now understood what power looked like, what they were truly capable of. For the first time since leaving The Structure, Dorian felt hopeful. The man no longer had any use of his arms. The fight was over.

“What an honor to have faced you,” Dorian said, bowing back. He turned to go but then the old man started to cackle. Louder and louder, erupting into a frenzy.

“Oh. My. You’re quite strong. I’ll give you that. But you should have finished me off when you had the chance.”

Dorian paused. The man’s arms were useless. There’s no way he still wanted to fight.

“I may have misspoke. Not intentionally I assure you. I simply did not foresee this happening. It’s also not wise to draw an ounce of blood from my body either,” his face became twisted, mischievous.

Doran watched the very humanity disappear behind his dark green eyes. Haitea’s own blood started to be absorbed back into his skin. He moved his arms freely and effortlessly as if they’d never been damaged. His wind had cut open the skin, but it sutured itself back together.

The man disappeared in a blur, approaching him at lightning speed. Dorian summoned all the wind slashes that he could, but Haitea leaped over them with expert gymnastic moves. The man moved with a precision Dorian hadn’t previously seen.

He shuffled a couple of steps back, but the old man delivered a right hook, cracking his ribs.

Dorian gasped for air. Haitea Roundhouse kicked him in the temple. He could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from his temple. His ears were ringing and his vision blurred. The crowd may have been cheering, or booing, he couldn’t tell, completely disoriented.

He felt his body being lifted high up into the air, higher and higher until dropped. His spine cracked as it made a direct impact on Haitea’s knee. In an instant, both of his legs went numb. He slumped and hit the arena floor hard.

Dorian could do little else but desperately crawl away. But where? The arena had no safe space or refuge. No shelter. He had but one option.

“Just say the word. Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll put a stop to this,” Jaylon’s voice came through clearly, cutting through all the noise. “If you decide to take the stubborn path. I must warn you. The opponent Myka is facing is well… Let’s just say you dying here and now. It will be a blessing. Save you from seeing your beloved torn to pieces right before your eyes.”

Dorian crawled to the edge of the fence, propping himself up. He locked eyes with Heinrich and looked right into the soul of the devil. He couldn’t help but look around the arena, filled with hate. Whatever shred of compassion he had for this world and for The Structure completely faded. Nothing and no one deserved it.

Except for Myka. The thought of having her feet touch down in this dirt-filled hell hole. Only to have her life taken by one of these monsters. Having her take her last breath in a place like this– No.

Dorian couldn’t even finish the thought.

As Haitea approached once again, to finish the job. The wind and air started to kick up around him. Dorian held a single belief in his mind; None of you deserve to breathe. None of you deserve to live. I’ll steal the air right from your lungs if I have to.