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The air vibrated with the sounds of violence, screams and cheering almost visible in the thick and heavy gloom, saturated with the scent of blood.

A man raised his head from where he was kneeling in silent prayer, smile on his lips. His muscled form shifted as he rose from the red sand and stepped out into the light, smoke of the braziers parting around him in swirls of red haze and ash.

With a slam, steel gates closed behind him and he walked out into the arena. The crowd went wild.

Lifting his head upwards towards the bloodthirsty mass of people the man screamed in delight and pulled out two curved blades from his hips raising them above his head while basking in the full glory of the arena.

Air shook and crashed over him in waves as people screamed and screeched in rhythm. A cacophony of desperation, excitement and fury that beat like living heart of a monster, thirsty for blood.

At the bottom of the huge caged ring the man slowly turned and took in the crowd of nobles, crooks and slave-owners who were all lining the caged walls of the arena.

Three platforms hugged the cage, three platforms filled with frustrated and desperate men and women who came here in hopes of turning their luck around. Twisted faces raged at him behind the cage, spit flying as they screamed in union.

"KILL! KILL! KILL!"

He smiled.

Standing on blood-soaked sand he took it all in.

There among the masses he saw a woman. Screaming at him as she clutched a small bag of coins in her pale hands, almost bone white from the sheer force of her grip. Small child was crouched by her, clutching her skirt while his mother's bloodshot eyes stared at him, her cheeks wobbling as she yelled.

"Carve him up Woodlander, CARVE HIM UP GOOD!"

His smiled broadened, and everything exploded in excited screams as his opponent entered the arena.

He locked his eyes with his rival who stood on the opposite side of the ring. A short man of stocky and powerful build, with dark eyes and grim face, his hands filled with magical rings.

Do you feel it?

Unspoken, the question passed between them.

The man smiled at the stocky mage as he lowered his blades and stepped into a stance.

What beautiful life this is.

His heart hammered with joy as hundreds of voices chanted his name.

Woodlander, woodlander….!

All of them cheering for the unknown man who spilled blood for a few coins, they revered him in their twisted way, but none of them understood.

This glory, this fire, a short life he might live but he will live it true, and when he comes to the sacred halls of his forefathers he will smile with glee, shoulder to shoulder with all of the men he killed.

And there they will revel in pleasure for eternity, as only true friends and comrades can.

Paradise comes.

The screams climaxed in mad frenzy above him, and last word he heard before everything went quiet for him was that fateful shout.

"BEGIN!"

He dashed forward quickly, as skittering snake on red sands, his breaths flowing in precise rhythm as he closed the distance in a few quick jumps.

Sorcery flashed from the other side of the ring as the mage summoned two shivs of ice, one in each hand. With a flick of his wrist, he sent one flying towards his opponent.

Knives blurred in Woodlanders hands and a spray of ice exploded from where the projectile collided with his blades.

Redirecting the force of impact, he spun in place as his long and wicked blades gleamed in his hands, one heartbeat later he was on the run again, closing the distance with blinding speed.

Next projectile came for his head and he extended his left leg forward while twisting his torso back and downwards, away from deadly bolt of ice that sailed over his head.

His opponent was already chanting so he had no time to right himself, instead he fell to the floor and rolled to the left as ice spears stabbed upward from the ground, emerging from the place where he was standing just a moment ago.

He jumped up from the floor and twisted in the air as shivs of gleaming ice passed him by. Landing on his feet he dashed left and right, expertly avoiding deadly flashes of ice that flew in his direction.

With a savage grin he closed in on his opponent. He coiled like a spring and flew towards the mage, one of his blades stabbing forward.

Sweating and out of breath, his opponent raised his hands while singing words of power.

Wall of ice erupted in front of woodlander and his blade punched into it.

Long crack spread from where his blade pierced the ice wall, yet the cold surface held nonetheless.

Reversing his grip on the blade he savagely yanked it out while jumping to the side just as his opponent fired another spell from the other side of the wall. jumping out of the way, he barely avoided the explosion of ice that blasted by him.

Icy mist seeped from the wall in a freezing whirlwind that slowly froze everything around it.

With no time to go around the wall of ice he faced it directly and stabbed both of his blades into it, pulling he yanked and slashed the blades over the ice with vicious glee as the surface broke and fell apart.

Taking a step back he readied himself and then plunged headfirst into the weakened section of the wall, ice cracked around him and he burst on the other side, icy mist falling into the gloom around him.

As the glacial wall behind him crashed and toppled the Woodlander wasted no time in shaking off the shards of ice from his shoulders, instead he dashed forward towards his opponent who was already furiously chanting while his hands shaped the icy globe in front of his chest.

The wizard's eyes meet his, he was almost finished with the incantation yet he was not fast enough. Before he could finish his spell, the Woodlander hurled one of his blades burying it into his stomach.

The mage grunted in surprise and lifted his gaze from the curved sword in his body just to see the second blade pass through the icy sphere in his hands and slam into his chest. Cold, frosty blade speared his heart as the incantation broke apart. And then the Woodlander was upon him.

He took hold of the blades that were still buried inside the mage and lifted both daggers and the man above his head, letting blood trickle down on his savage grin as crowd screamed in pleasure.

Red haze slowly lifted from his mind as hot blood dripped into his eyes.

Reality violently crashed on Woodlander as he became aware of frenzied cries around him. The world shook and danced as droplets of blood hit his face.

Still holding onto his blades, he heaved and tossed the body to the side where it fell and settled on the sandy floor.

Woodlander raised his two weapons skywards in delight, one blade still warm and the other unnaturally cold.

The air was filled with maddened voices, screaming everywhere around him as he smiled in knowledge that he was the only one sane in here.

His ice-cold blade shivered in high pitched metal sound as cold fog poured over it, as if in conformation of his thoughts.

Feeling the mages soul in his blade he welcomed it like an old friend as it did the same in return.

My friend, once again together, we will leave for my ancestor's halls when the time comes.

Turning around to face the mad mob that screamed like monkeys in a cage, he bellowed.

"WHO AM I?"

And the mob screamed back.

"CARSTEN ! CARSTEN ! CARSTEN !"

He screamed in ecstasy. In pleasure and rage, both pain and exhilaration flew from his throat as his voice drowned all others.

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Carsten it echoed, Woodlander, master of the blades, the victor.

And the money flowed, bloody and stained but flow it did.

……………………

Up on the third Level of the underground arena Edward watched the fight.

"Did you see that?"

He asked Samuel in delighted tone.

Samuel replied.

"Yes Sir, it was a rather splendid display of skill."

Edward waved his hand dismissingly.

“Not the fight Samuel, did you see what happened with the blade… no, of course you didn't."

He "tsked" disapprovingly.

"Pay close attention next time, what happened down there had a taste of Fates ugly little fingers in it. You need to start noticing details like that; after all you never know what that sneaky bitch is planning next."

Samuel bowed his head in approval.

"Yes my Lord, I will try my very best."

Edward turned to ring once more.

"Still, shame for that Woodlander, he has a well-developed body, such nice tendons. Not to mention those muscles. A real killer that one, just imagine the potential of such materials.

But I guess it doesn't really matter, others will do just fine, that mage for example was quite good too. Yes, I think I know just what do with his flesh."

Samuel turned to his master.

"If you want me to, I could go and bring you the Woodlander, you just need to say the word."

Edward just frowned and shook his head dismissively.

"No need, it doesn't really make much difference for what I have in plan and besides, the man earned his victory, you don't punish people for being triumphant Samuel.”

"Yes, my lord."

"And while we are at the subject of triumph, how many bodies do we have right now?"

Samuel looked towards the blood-soaked sand and replyed.

"Eight, my lord. If we can count on ser Willy to do his part of the job."

This seemed to improve Edwards's mood as he cheerfully turned to his servant.

"Oh, I'm sure he did, you should be happy Samuel, those corpses are going to benefit us greatly.

But anyway, there is little sense in us staying here if Willy keeps doing his job. After all, the two of us have better things to do, so how about we leave the dirty work to Willy, hmm?"

Rising from his seat Edward turned towards the exit and suddenly stopped. Slowly, he turned towards the arena as he felt his nerves tingling, like a current that buzzed beneath his skin. With a frown he peered towards the dark entry point on the bloody sands.

Through the iron bars that encased the arena he could barely trace out a ghastly form of the next combatant, its two dark eyes looking at him. Edward stepped down closer to the cage and looked into the shadows where a thin wiry hand reached out of the closed gates and grabbed the bars of closed gates.

Something strange was going on, Edward mused as he locked eyes with the person in the shadows.

"And now Lords and Ladies, the fight that you were all been waiting for! Our first contestant travelled from across the world just to test his skills against best fighters the empire can provide, I introduce to you the champion of Eastern Kingdoms, TARIQ THE HERO OF BLADES!"

Crowd screamed as the gates opened, and from the left side of the ring a tall, tanned man walked out. Wearing loose clothes of reddish hue, he blended quite well into the sandy surface of the ring. In his arms he held a long unadorned saber with no apparent scabbard.

"Samuel, is there something special about this fight?"

Turning towards the ring, Samuel answered.

"Yes, my lord. I don't suppose you remember it clearly due to the state you've been in the last few times we were here, but every month they stage at least one fight with more notorious fighters gathered from across the empire.”

Before Edward could speak the announcing voice boomed across the ring again.

"And from the other side of the ring! I present to you, the Monster of Northern Cities, reigning champion of death tournaments of Nazar, I give you…. the CHAINED ONE!"

Screams and sounds of clanging metal filled the arena as fans took out old chains and banged them loudly against the cage. Nobility and peasants alike screamed furiously at each other, calling out for blood.

Looking back down into the ring Edward saw the gates open on each side of battleground, and from one entrance a thin, pale woman walked out of the shadows and into the arena.

Greasy plastered hair covered her head, partially hiding her eerily beautiful, but gaunt and malnourished face as she walked into the sands. Dirty rags dropped from her torso and iron shackles rattled on her raw and wounded hands that dragged behind her a length of heavy chain.

Edward noticed that although she was tall and thin there was a deceptive strength hiding under her sickly skin, which shifted and moved as stringy wires of sinew and muscle moved beneath it.

Her opponent seemed to notice the same thing too because he immediately stepped into stance by lowering the saber and pointing it down and in front of him as the girl stopped to stand before him, with her arms dropped harmlessly to her sides.

Slowly he shifted his body to the right and pushed the tip of his saber down into the sand.

Silence descended on the ring as they stood there motionless. the difference in their appearance was so obvious that it was hard to look at it. His lean and muscular body wrapped in expensive tunic and armed with a gleaming blade, and her scrawny figure that was dirty and ragged just like her clothes, with rusty chains as her only weapon.

The man watched her with grim eyes, sweat slowly dripping down his black, well-trimmed beard and mustaches.

He searched her body well, looking for any kind of movement that could reveal a weakness or an opening, so intently was he staring at her that when she finally moved, he flinched.

A casual motion, unhurried. The girl turned her gaze up, towards the crowd. She wasn't looking at him.

Up in his private loge Edward looked down into the ring, staring intently at two dark pupils that watched him from behind few slick strands of greasy hair.

A moment passed between them as something clicked and a connection was formed.

For the girl the World shifted, becoming a little bit clearer, a little bit sharper as her heart pumped in rhythm to his and magic seeped into her bones.

"BEGIN!"

Silent words passed across Edwards's lips as he whispered, just for her.

Kill him.

The crowd screamed and she turned her gaze back to her opponent who stood motionless, his blade touching the ground.

She turned while still looking at him over her shoulder, and started to gracefully walk around him.

Following her lead, the man moved in the opposite direction, tip of his sword gouging a thin line in the sand.

There was no sound as she moved, and no unnecessary movement from him as they circled each other. Their shifting feet danced gracefully as the line in the sand between them expanded to form a full, perfect circle.

In the exact moment that they found themselves at their starting positions she sprang into motion.

Three loud thumps echoed as her bare feet touched the sand, scattering it in the air from the sheer force of her movement, spinning through the air in a flying pirouette she slammed and stopped in front of him just as his blade passed in front of her face.

Dashing back, the man twisted his blade and pushed it upwards, spraying handful of sand straight into her face.

As sand struck her face, he took a graceful step forward and his saber danced, twisting and turning as if thousand silvers snakes whirled in front of him.

Slowly, she took one calculated step forward and sparks exploded from the chains that traced the movement of her hands as she moved them in delicate curves in front of her. One easy step forward and two backwards as the blade passed by her, cutting off pieces of filthy rags that she wore.

The man suddenly twisted and bounced backwards, crouching and sweeping his blade at her feet as she easily jumped up and slashed with the chains above his head.

While still in the air and with the blade passing beneath her she stomped her left leg down onto the flat of the blade, slamming it into the sand, and then kicked with her right leg towards the man.

He narrowly evaded the attack by twisting his head to the left and letting her heel pass above his right shoulder, gust of air and sand blew into his face, caried by the inertia of the kick.

Dragging his blade from under her in one swift motion he savagely slashed at her hip but the steel edge of his blade met resistance and sparks flashed from whipping chains.

Following the parry, the girl twisted around in an unnatural display of agility and bounced off of the ground, her left leg flying toward him in sweeping motion.

Jumping back out of the way of chains wrapped around his opponent’s foot he repositioned and went on the counter attack.

Steel flashed and blurred as he stabbed and slashed at the girl that somehow always managed to gracefully slip out of his reach.

Following after her he focused on her arms and legs, but all that met his blade was hard recoil of heavy iron chains that tangled around his blades, notching and slowing them down.

With sweat dripping from his brow, he firmly gripped his sword with two hands and changed his stance.

Using the full weight of his body in each swing of his blade he now attacked with renewed vigor. His attacks, although stronger and quicker, still blew past his opponent who somehow seemed to slow down by moving her body in complex pattern that let her move minimally while still avoiding his attack.

One horizontal slash, riposte and a wicked swirl aimed at her gut availed him nothing as she danced around his blows.

Suddenly his blade connected with hard iron chain and bounced back, out of balance, which forced him to retreat a few steps back.

Dust settled on his shaking shoulders as his opponent stilled and eyed him dispassionately.

He knew he was dead.

Not even out of breath she stared calmly at him and he knew it was over.

She smiled sadly at him.

Tear rolled across his cheek as he returned the smile, he would never again see the burning sands, the silver horses charging through the golden shores of his Kingdom would never again carry him home.

His young brother would never learn the way of the sword and his sisters would never get those porcelain dolls he bought them.

All of this, his life spent for nothing, far from home. All for a debt incurred and the prestige of his family.

One deep breath and his heart stilled, eyes forward and blade raised. Sand shifted beneath his feet as he crouched and flexed his muscles.

Silent prayer crossed his mind before his final attack.

His green eyes met her dark brown irises and he found both compassion and finality there.

With a grunt he pushed himself upward and with blinding speed he stabbed forward, one perfect motion. His blade extended ahead in a bright flash, perfectly aligned it glided straight for her heart.

She didn't doge and she didn't parry, for his lounge was too fast.

She spread her hands instead, elbows out and opened palms inward, towards her sternum.

Point of his cold notched saber was piercing the first layer of her dirty shirt when she slammed her palms on the flat of the blade, stopping it dead.

One palm in front of the other punched into the weakened blade with irresistible force, the steel twisted and shattered beneath the points of impact, metal shards dropping onto the ground.

Breath escaped his lips as tremors passed over what remained of his blade and into his hand. He tried to pull back but found that he couldn't.

Her fingers, cold and hard as steel dug into his hand and bones crunched as he was pulled forward.

Lightning-fast she pulled him forward and positioned herself to his side where she punched him with her opened palm into the elbow of his outstretched hand.

Pain erupted in his head and with a loud crack his broken hand bent inward, twisted in an unnatural angle.

With another kick his knee buckled backwards in a bloody broken mess, he collapsed forward but his fall was suddenly arrested when her knee detonated in his mid-section, broken bones shattered and punctured his lungs, preventing him from drawing air.

He was lifted from the ground by the force of the kick, spinning horizontally in the air. Everything around him slowed down to a crawl as his face rotated to her direction. Last thing he saw were here dark eyes before her overhand punch slammed into his neck.

Loud crack echoed as tendons and bone snapped and his corpse, carried by momentum of her punch slammed headfirst into the sand.

The rest of the body, attached to the head by broken flesh and stretched skin followed a moment later, sprawling itself over the head.

AS the dust settled, someone’s heartbroken shriek pierced through the mad screeching of the crowd but was soon drowned in the noise.

Looking down into the ring at his master's new Guardian, Samuel spoke.

"My Lord, should i…"

Edward smiled with a glimmer in his eye.

"Go get the Arena master, or whoever is in charge of this shithole."

"Sir."

Not bothering to face him Edward continued.

"Just look at the sorry state she is in… they damaged my property, Samuel. Bring me the slave master who owns her too, I will take care of him personally.”

Turning towards Samuel he casually continued.

“After that you will go back to the palace and bring two squads of royal guards back here, make the arrests, kill a few people, but no nobles' do you understand.

In due time I might need this place to be operational again, but for now, aside from customers I don’t require everyone here to be alive and breathing by the time you are done."

"I understand my lord."

"Good, I will go down there and make sure that she is unhurt, in the meantime you are to proceed as instructed."

Without a word Samuel bowed, turned and went to do as told.

..………………..…..

She was Chains. She had no other name; it was never given to her.

Her entire life consisted only of blood and violence, with death keeping her alive.

She was without meaning, masterless, purposeless. They told her so, and they were right.

All her life she was kept shackled and enslaved, simply surviving, fighting…killing.

She had no name. No reason to live except for one thing, something so elusive, so unclear that even she didn’t understand it. A hope, shifting inside her, flowing through her veins and pulling her forward ever so slowly with no apparent logic no reason. A hope for what? She didn’t know.

It was like an invisible force that tugged at her whole being, making her survive, making her move, searching. All her life, just searching, looking for hope.

Until today, when He looked down at her in the Arena. All the pain, the suffering, bleakness of life. It was all worth it, just to see him, feel him, like a fire warming her in the cold.

She could barely look away from him.

Even now she kept her gaze locked to his face as he gave orders to the men around them.

He was like a sun, like water and food, a substance that she needed. Everything she went through suddenly made sense. All the suffering had a meaning now.

She was made for him, she was made to serve. It was a truth that echoed inside her very being. And now that she was here, she would let nothing change that. He was her way, her reason for existence.

With reluctance, she looked away and frowned in frustration, knowing that she was currently failing in her duties.

There was a good reason for that of course, it was because she was hungry and tired. But that couldn't be helped; it wasn't her fault that she didn't taste anything for past three days.

Exhaustion weighted her down, and the fight left her weaker usual. Her opponent was one of the best she fought so far, and it took a good deal of her strength to accomplish her Master's order.

But all excuses aside, she still felt like she was failing somewhere when she lowered her eyes at the twitching body of the slave master that brought her here. She felt extremely unhappy.

It was she who was supposed to deal out death for her Master, not the other way around.

Her Master subtly waved his hand and another tremor passed through the body kneeling in front of them.

The torture was going on for two hours already, and while the former slave master screamed at the beginning, he quickly lost that ability as his vocal cords broke from the strain. In time he could only shake in pain and agony as his limbs slowly turned black.

Looking down at the shivering body before her she took note of the black vial lying close by, now empty of the liquid that her master forced on the slave master. She didn't know what her Master concocted to inflict such torture on the man but it definitely worked well, with slave master’s half-corpse now barely resembling a human being.

Looking at the sorry sight of a half rotting lump of flesh below her she was of an opinion that it wouldn't be long before the man died.

She smelled that stench before, it was a sickly flavor of infection and she knew from experience that whoever carried it died in next few days in terrible agony.

They stayed there for a time while the men at her Masters command took care of the corpses and the prisoners.

Eventually all of the bodies: dead, alive or in between were taken away, and they finally went outside.

Clear air burned uncomfortably in her throat as she gazed in wonder at bright stone buildings around them.

"EDWARD!"

Someone yelled from the distance and she twisted in the direction of the huge golden man that approached them.

She eyed him warily, he was bigger and stronger than anyone she killed so far but he yelled at her Master so she had to find a way to kill him if it came to a fight. But as the man came closer and closer, and his towering form started to loom over her, it suddenly dawned on her that she might have overestimated her abilities.

Nevertheless, she tried to step in between the man and her Master but was stopped by a gentle tug of her master's hand.

He pulled her at his side where she stayed by his shoulder as he turned to the approaching giant.

"Dorian, I'm glad you are here."