The sudden rush of sound from the auction room was overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to the sight that greeted him. The main platform was raised above a sea of faces. The platform gave off a dark presence to Aidan as shadows danced on the walls from the flickering torchlight nearby.

Aidan found himself thrust onto the auction platform. He blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes as a spotlight was shone on his face. Aidan’s gaze swept across the crowd, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew what this was—an auction for slaves, a place where his life was going to be sold without a second thought.

The room was packed with all sorts, some well dressed, some with raggedy clothes. But Aidan quickly noticed that there were a lot of what appeared to be wealthy spectators, their faces twisted in anticipation as they eyed him like a piece of meat. Some leaned forward, whispering to each other, while others shouted out bids, their voices filled with greed.

Aidan turned his attention away from the crowd before him and quickly drew in a breath. He struggled to swallow as he caught sight of something—or someone—in the shadows near the edge of the platform.

Kaelira.

She was chained and unconscious, her body slumped against the cold metal bars of the cage holding her. Her usually vibrant face was pale, and a thin trickle of blood marred her temple. Aidan’s chest felt heavy as a wave of despair crashed over him. She looked fragile, more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.

“No…” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. His mind raced, trying to figure out how he could get to her, how he could protect her. He tried casting again. but pain shot through his skull, reminding him that he was powerless as the chains around his wrist smacked painfully into his chest, causing him to wince. His magic was locked away, and his strength was all but gone from lack of food and imprisonment.

The auctioneer’s voice cut through his thoughts like a blade. “And next, we have a special lot—a warrior with a fire in his eyes! A perfect addition to any arena! Who will start the bidding?”

The crowd roared to life, and the bidding war began. Aidan stood rigid, his heart heavy as the numbers climbed higher and higher. Each bid was a reminder that he was nothing more than a commodity, something to be owned and used for entertainment.

Aidan bit his cheek as the rage inside him grew. Each new bid only pushed his hatred for these people and this world higher. He couldn’t understand how his brother had chosen to come here. Aidan cursed his luck. This world was no better than Earth. The rage he had thought was gone came back all at once. He flexed his muscles against the chains, but they didn’t move.

Just as Aidan itched to react, his body shivered as he struggled not to react; amidst the chaos, a voice rose above the rest—a calm, authoritative voice that silenced the room. “Five thousand gold pieces.”

The crowd fell quiet as all eyes turned toward the speaker. Aidan followed their gaze and saw a man standing near the back, his presence commanding respect from those around him. He was richly dressed, his robes of deep crimson embroidered with gold, and his fingers adorned with rings that glittered in the torchlight. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes locked onto Aidan’s with an intensity that made Aidan shiver. His rage slowly ebbed away as it was replaced with a new emotion.

Fear.

Aidan’s heart raced, a cold sweat breaking out as the man’s piercing gaze held him captive. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but there was nowhere to go. This man-made all of Aidan’s alarm bells ring. He knew that this was someone powerful. Somehow, he could feel the waves of mana rolling off the man. Aidan shook his head as he tried to clear his mind.

This man was just another who would use him. Aidan knew that despite the fear he felt at the moment. His gut was twisting and turning. Telling him not to trust the man.

The auctioneer’s eyes widened in surprise at the generous bid, but he quickly hid the surprise. Aidan noticed that the Auctioneer was panicking. He watched as the man swallowed before continuing with the Auction. “Five thousand gold pieces! Do I hear more?”

The room remained deathly silent. No one dared to challenge the bid. The auctioneer glanced around, letting out a sigh before he slammed his gavel down with finality. “Sold!”

The man who had won the bid stepped forward, his gaze never leaving Aidan. He moved with the grace of someone accustomed to getting what he wanted, and as he approached, the crowd parted for him without a word. His two guards fell in behind him silently.

Just as he reached the platform, Aidan noticed the man was studying Aidan. Neither of them spoke as sweat ran down Aidan’s face. He fought the urge to wipe it away as the man finally spoke.

“You have spirit,” the man said, his voice low but firm. “But spirit alone won’t save you or her.” He nodded toward Kaelira’s cage, his expression still unreadable. “Yes, I know she is with you. Your eyes gave that away with the pain you showed, even as briefly as it was. I own you now. And I guess, by extension, she is mine as well. I’ll make you a deal, human. You’ll fight for me in the arena. Your life and hers depend on your performance and ability to win.”

Aidan’s jaw tightened as the man’s words sank in. “If I win, she lives?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

The man nodded. “Simple, isn’t it? Hmm. If you win, she lives. But if you lose… well, let’s just say her fate will be sealed. I have clients that will pay handsomely to spend some time with her. Even as she is now.”

Aidan’s heart thumped painfully as his mind processed the man’s words. He looked over at Kaelira, still unconscious and chained, and felt a surge of determination. Aidan knew he had no choice but to fight. He couldn’t let her die because of him.

Aidan looked back to see the man’s lips curve up. He met the man’s gaze, swallowing hard before responding. “I’ll fight,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But only if you promise she stays safe.”

The man gave Aidan one last piercing look before turning on his heel. “Prepare yourself,” he said over his shoulder. “Your first fight is soon.”

Aidan found himself roughly pulled from the auction stage before being pushed through a series of dark tunnels and narrow passageways. The air grew colder as they descended deeper into the maze of tunnels. Aidan lost track of how much time had passed as they took turn after turn. He struggled to understand how anyone could know where they were going. The number of tunnels they had gone past was mind-numbing.

The walls around him were lined with damp stone, the occasional torch casting flickering shadows that danced menacingly as he was marched onward. Aidan turned a corner, stumbling as he was pushed up a long set of stone stairs. The muffled sounds of a crowd above grew louder; the distant roar could only signal one thing. He was now under the arena.

He was led through a labyrinth of underground chambers, past caged beasts snarling in the darkness and fellow prisoners waiting in silent despair. The clanking of chains and the dull thud of iron gates closing behind them echoed through the narrow corridors. Each turn brought him closer to the noise of the crowd, which became a deafening roar as they neared the surface.

Finally, after hours of walking, they emerged into a vast, dimly lit space beneath the arena. The stench of sweat, blood, and fear hung thick in the air. It had a tangy taste to Aidan as he stopped breathing through his nose to avoid the urge to dry heave.

This was the underbelly of the arena pit, the place where the hope of freedom came to die. Aidan’s heart pounded in his chest as the guards paused, giving him one last chance to survey the gloom before they forced him onward.

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The floor beneath him trembled slightly with the anticipation of the crowd above as they screamed for blood. Aidan stumbled as he was dragged toward a heavy wooden gate, reinforced with iron and worn from years of service.

With a groan, the gate creaked open, and the noise from the arena exploded into the chamber, the roar of thousands of voices crashing against him like a tidal wave, causing him to wince. One of his escorts pulled his arms up and removed the two sets of cuffs from his arms. Aidan barely had time to understand what was happening before he found himself thrust into the arena proper.

The roar of the crowd shook the walls as he stumbled into the pit, the bright sunlight blinding him for a moment. He shielded his eyes, trying to look around, taking in the massive, circular expanse surrounded by tiered seating packed with bloodthirsty spectators.

Aidan’s stomach churned with a mix of fear and anger as he realized what he was up against. The arena was designed for one thing—brutal, merciless combat. The walls were high, trapping him in with no chance of escape, and the sand underfoot was stained dark with the blood of the many previous battles.

Aidan noticed his opponent standing directly across the arena in front of him. They had the look of a seasoned gladiator with a build like a mountain and a face scarred from Aidan could only guess were countless fights. The man wore a vicious grin as he sized up Aidan, clearly relishing the chance to break a new contender.

Aidan’s heart raced as he struggled to focus. He had no weapon or armour—only his wits and will to survive. And magic. Aidan flexed his hand as the now familiar feeling of the magic pulsed. It was just him and the gladiator now, and he knew he had to fight if he wanted to see Kaelira again.

Above them, a gong sounded, signalling the start of the fight.

The gladiator wasted no time. He charged at Aidan with a roar, his massive fists swinging with deadly force. Aidan rolled and barely dodged the first strike, the wind from the blow whipping his hair around. Getting his feet back under him, Aidan stumbled back, trying to distance himself, but the gladiator was relentless, pressing his attack with a vicious smile.

Aidan knew he couldn’t match the gladiator’s strength, running through options. HE hoped he was faster and could outmaneuver him. He ducked under another swing, then darted to the side, using the gladiator’s momentum against him. The larger man stumbled slightly, giving Aidan a brief opening.

Without thinking, Aidan lunged forward, aiming a punch at the gladiator’s ribs. The impact was solid, but it felt like hitting a brick wall. The gladiator barely flinched as he swung his hand around, catching Aidan with a backhanded blow to his ribs that sent him sprawling into the sand.

Pain exploded in Aidan’s side as he struggled to catch his breath. The crowd roared with approval, their blood lust fueling the gladiator’s confidence. Aidan groaned, forcing himself to his feet, his vision swimming with each step.

The gladiator laughed, a deep, cruel sound that echoed across the arena. “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, advancing on Aidan with slow, deliberate steps. “Come on, little man. At least put up a better fight. That was only one hit.”

Aidan’s mind raced. He needed to do something—anything—to turn the tide. He couldn’t afford to lose, not when Kaelira’s life was on the line. Desperation clawed at him, and he felt a flicker of something deep within, something primal and powerful.

“Focus…” he muttered to himself, trying to tap into the energy the mysterious woman had told him about. But the power eluded him, slipping through his grasp like sand. Aidan grunted as his frustration grew, but there was no time to dwell on it.

The gladiator was almost on top of him again, and Aidan knew he had to act. He waited until the last possible moment, then dropped to the ground, sweeping his leg out in a desperate attempt to trip the larger man.

For a second, it worked—partially. The gladiator stumbled, his balance thrown off just enough for Aidan to scramble back to his feet. Without hesitation, Aidan launched himself at the gladiator’s back, wrapping his arms around the man’s thick neck in a choke hold.

The gladiator roared in fury, thrashing wildly to throw Aidan off. But Aidan held on with every ounce of strength he had, his arms trembling from the effort. The gladiator staggered, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to free himself.

For a moment, Aidan felt like he might win. The gladiator’s struggles weakened, his movements slowing as he began to lose consciousness. But just as victory was within reach, the gladiator’s hand grabbed Aidan’s arm, and with a final burst of strength, he pried Aidan loose and flung him to the ground.

Aidan hit the sand hard, pain shooting through his body as he gasped for air. The gladiator loomed over him, his eyes blazing with rage. “You’re dead!” he bellowed, raising his fist for the final blow.

Aidan rolled to the side, avoiding the crushing blow by a hair’s breadth. The gladiator’s fist slammed into the ground, sending up a spray of sand.

Before the gladiator could recover, Aidan leapt to his feet, his body moving on instinct.

He kicked the back of the gladiator’s knee, causing the larger man to buckle. Aidan followed up with a flurry of punches to the gladiator’s head, each one fueled by the determination to survive.

The gladiator’s defences finally crumbled, and with one last, desperate push, Aidan pulled open the man’s mouth.

The gladiator’s face flashed with fear as he struggled. His hands pulled at Aidan with desperation. “Please… No….” pleaded the gladiator.

“Fuck you. [Firebolt] [Firebolt]” Spat Aidan as he screamed with rage. “[Firebolt]”

Three balls of fire burned the gladiator’s head from the inside out. Putrid-smelling smoke rose as the gladiator’s body fell to the ground.

Aidan stumbled back, his breath ragged, as his eyes locked onto the gladiator’s lifeless body. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he wondered if this was just another nightmare. But the smell—burnt flesh, acrid and nauseating—grounded him in the reality of his actions.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. “I… I didn’t mean…” The words died on his lips. There was no excuse, no justification that could erase the charred remains before him.

The crowd’s roar faded into the background, a distant hum as Aidan’s gaze fell to his hands—his own hands, which had unleashed such destruction. A tremor ran through him, and he clenched his fists, trying to suppress the rising tide of nausea.

He stared down at the smoking, charred remains of his opponent, his mind struggling to process what he had just done. The man’s lifeless eyes were wide open, frozen in an expression of agony and shock. Aidan’s hands shook as he unclenched his fists, the acrid taste of bile rising in his throat.

“I… I killed him,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. His knees buckled, and he stumbled back, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest. The reality of what he’d done crashed down on him, cold and unforgiving.

He fell to his knees in the blood-soaked sand, his breath hitching as a wave of nausea and horror washed over him. The gladiator’s face, twisted in pain, seemed to burn itself into Aidan’s mind, searing into his memory with a ferocity that made him recoil. The firebolts that had ended the man’s life had come from him—from his own hands.

“No… no, no, no,” Aidan muttered, shaking his head as if trying to deny the truth. He felt the magic drain from his body, leaving him cold and empty. The crowd’s cheers turned into a deafening, oppressive roar, the noise pressing down on him, suffocating him. Aidan’s chest tightened as the weight of what he’d done settled in, heavier than any chain they had placed on him.

The realization hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. He had just killed a man—a living, breathing person. Not just any man, but someone who had fought for his life, just like Aidan was now. The brutality of it all, the sheer savagery of the act, twisted inside him like a knife.

A scream tore from his throat, raw and anguished, as he finally let out the torrent of emotions he had been holding back. The sound echoed across the arena, momentarily silencing the crowd. It was a scream of rage, of fear, of self-loathing—a scream that reverberated deep within him, threatening to shatter the last fragments of his sanity.

He clutched his head, trying to block out the image of the dead gladiator, trying to stop the flood of memories that were rushing in. He saw the man’s final moments, the panic in his eyes, the desperate struggle for life. And then he saw Kaelira, chained and unconscious, her life hanging by a thread because of him.

“I had to…” Aidan choked out, his voice breaking. “I had no choice… I had to…”

But the words felt hollow, empty. The justification that had fueled his actions now seemed like a flimsy shield against the overwhelming guilt and horror. He had fought to survive, to save Kaelira, but at what cost? The line between necessity and savagery had blurred, and Aidan wasn’t sure if he could ever find his way back.

The gong sounded again, signalling the end of the fight, but Aidan barely noticed. His vision blurred with tears he refused to shed, and his body trembled with the weight of what he had done. He was alive, but a part of him felt dead inside, crushed under the enormity of the violence he had unleashed.

As the gate opened and the arena attendants rushed in, Aidan didn’t resist when rough hands grabbed him, hauling him to his feet. The cold metal of the cuffs snapped back around his wrists, but he barely felt it. He was too numb, too lost in the storm of his emotions to care.

They dragged him back toward the dark corridors leading to his cell, but Aidan’s thoughts were far from the arena and the present. All he could see was the lifeless body of the man he had just killed and the terrible knowledge that he had become something monstrous to survive.

The cell door closed behind him with a final, echoing thud, and darkness enveloped him once more. Aidan sank to the floor, curling into himself, the cold stone pressing against his cheek. For the first time, the darkness felt like a refuge, a place where he could hide from the horrors he had unleashed.

But no matter how much he tried to push the images away, they lingered, haunting him, reminding him that there was no escape from the brutality of this world—or from what he had become.

He closed his eyes, the tears finally slipping free, and let the darkness take him.