A fire raced up Markus’s ankle to his calf, and he had to shift his large frame to keep from falling to the dirt floor of the fighter ring. Spots from the pain appeared in his vision. Markus blinked and put all his focus on his attacker. That yavit brown-scaled Fazha had fracture something in his ankle in that last charge.
The Fazha showed a wide grin of triumphant. His pointed teeth glinting in the harsh yellow light from the high cavern ceiling above that lit up the two of them and the surging crowd around them. His opponent must have noticed Markus’s hesitation, knowing that last attack and dodge had done damage.
Markus grimaced back as he checked in with himself. He was getting tired, and the break would only make things worse. If Markus didn’t end this fight soon, the smirking Fazha would really have something to gloat about.
That wasn’t going to happen, not if Markus had anything to say about it. So he took a deep breath and shut out all the noise––the frenzied crowd all along the fighter’s circle––only his opponent mattered right now. So he dug deep for what he needed to take down the towering Fazha.
Markus plunged into the darkest fathoms of himself where he found his center. The place where others might claim a calm stillness could be discovered, but for Markus Nador there was something far more dark and destructive waiting for him, and it had yet to let him down.
Some might label the blackness at his core as unresolved anger, or blinding rage, but Markus only knew it by how he channeled it––unfettered violence. It had always served him well in just about any situation, challenge, or danger he had come across in the last several decades of his life. And he channeled all his focus now to touch the cold blackness within––and it touched him back.
Markus grinned wickedly, welcoming the crashing chill of ruthlessness that rushed through his body to dull his pain and fire his brain into action. Within moments, a plan snapped into place.
It was then that a flicker of realization passed over the Fazha fighter’s face that something had changed within the last few seconds, but it was too late. Markus was already in motion.
He stumbled. Hard. And as predicted, the other fighter took the bait. A debilitating blow sung toward Markus’s head. Only he no longer remained in the path of the hurling fist. Markus had ducked low, putting most of his weight on his good leg, while coming in strong with his left fist to punch the Fazha’s now exposed mid-section.
Markus’s fist hit hard scale. Pain raced up his arm from the contact, but he ignored it. Instead, he hit again and again. Fast and hard. The Fazha stumbled back, and Markus followed. He kept striking anywhere left exposed. Chest. Stomach. Ribs. He finished with a face shot that caused the Fazha to let out a high-pitched scream right before he dropped to the dirt floor of the fighting circle.
The crowd went crazy as Markus stood over the body of his opponent. He knew the Fazha wasn’t going to get up. Markus had targeted the Fazha’s third eye that was squeezed between two much larger eyes as his last shot. It was the biggest weakness of the skinets. One good hit there, and they’d be out for hours. Markus stood over the reptilian Fazha for a long moment just to make sure. The skinet was out cold.
He turned and limped from the only open space in the packed underground cavern, ignoring the screaming Ethians and other Fazha just outside a laser green circle that depicted the edges of the fighting arena. Markus’s attention focused on the grinning face of his friend waiting for him just outside the circle.
“You almost lost that one, you know,” Nathias said as Markus stepped past the thin green boundary.
Markus’s scoffed at his friend. “I needed it to look good. Can’t make every win look easy.”
Nathias chuckled. “Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that. You can’t win them all, Markus.”
He threw his friend a not-unfriendly glare. “Watch me.”
Nathias stepped back, raising his hands. “Hey, just trying to be realistic. The Fazha, especially the skinet there, aren’t easy for an Ethian to take down. You’re lucky you haven’t had a loss yet.”
“Why the yavit do you think I’ve been training so hard? So I won’t lose.” Markus yelled back to his friend as he pushed his way through the thick crowd.
He had. Markus prided himself in his ability to fight. He’d been fighting since he was a kid. First, it started as play fights with friends. Eventually, he grew up and joined the Vanguard, and learned what true fighting was. Then he took the plunge into an even more exclusive club of fighters––the Protectorate College. But even his training with the best of the best hadn’t prepared him for skirmishes with Fazha.
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That’s why he was here in the underground city of Cresta. This was where the real fighting happened in Ethia. It was also a place where Markus could truly test himself and allow himself the freedom to really let go. So he had signed himself up, even though the boss who ran the fights had looked at him like he was crazy.
“Ethians don’t participate in the circle for a reason,” Fruek, a fellow Ethian who ran the fights had told him.
“No. One just runs it,” Markus retorted.
Freuk scoffed, “These Fazha beasts aren’t capable of doing anything but follow orders.
“He must be paying you a lot to get insulted while working,” Markus threw to the two towering Kem Fazha standing guard over their much shorter charge.
The two pale yellow giants didn’t so much as flinch as they stood several heads taller than most of the Fazha and Ethians gathered. It was like Markus hadn’t even spoken as they stood watching for danger against their employer with the one large red eye filling up most of their faces.
“They’re too dumb to know when they are insulted,” Fruek grinned, the white scar cutting across the fight boss’s face a blemish, clearly marking him an outcast like most of the Ethians in Cresta City, because most respectable Ethians would have gotten a treatment to fix it.
Markus just shrugged, suspecting the Kems weren’t nearly as dumb as their handler thought they were, but it wasn’t his business. “I still want to fight.”
“You’ll get yourself killed.” Fruek tried again to dissuade him.
Markus just gave the fighting boss a bored looked.
Fruek had given a heavy sigh and a long shake of his head before handing Markus a data pad. “Make your mark then. If you die, it’s on you.”
Markus signed his consent and walked away without a word. That had been almost two years ago, and so far he hadn’t broken his winning streak. He’d become a sensation in the underground fights. No one could believe an Ethian could hold out so long against the Fazha––any Fazha. Sure, most of Fazha species might be a bit dumb and slow, but most were also big––much bigger than the average Ethian. What they lacked in brains, they made up for in sheer mass and brutality.
Markus wasn’t stupid, of course. He’d done his research on all his potential opponents before signing up for fights. How they each fought, and especially their weaknesses. Markus learned more about the different species of Fazha the last few years than he ever did in all his Ethian education, and it had served him well. That and training for more hours in the day than he slept for months on end. He relished it all. It was a challenge, and quite frankly, he had nothing else better to do these days. Though sometimes the fights did leave him in less than desirable physical shape like now.
Markus found an alcove that wasn’t full of spectators so he could take a minute to catch his breath. He leaned a hand up against the wall, and pushed back the pain from his ankle. It didn’t like him walking on it. He stood with eyes closed and breathed through the pain. He needed to find a Remaker so he could get the yavit thing healed. He had another fight in two days. He didn’t want to miss it.
“You alright?” Nathias said as he finally managed to catch up.
Nathias had been a good friend since childhood, but he’d been more and more scarce of late. Markus was surprised to see him here at all. When they last parted ways several months ago, Nathias had claimed he’d be busy for awhile and not be able to stop by. Markus had thought it was code for “sorry, but I can’t be seen around you anymore.” All Markus’s other friends and acquaintances had done that a while ago. He supposed it was just a matter of time that his best friend would follow suit.
Markus turned to give Nathias a reassuring look. “I’m fine. Just need a minute. Why are you even here? I thought you were on some long assignment or something.”
Nathias turned to put his back to the wall, leaning against the hard stone of the cavern, and then spoke casually––almost too casually. “Have you checked your messages lately?”
Markus narrowed his eyes with suspicion. He knew his friend’s body language enough to know something was going on. “Why?” Markus growled, he never liked playing games and wished his friend would just say whatever he had come here to say.
Nathias nonchalantly shrugged, but Markus knew it to be an act. “No reason. Just thought that maybe you might be missing something important while you’ve been busy getting your ass kicked down here.”
“Did you not see the end of that fight?” Markus’s voice full of irritation.
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
Nathias banged the back of his head up against the hard stone of the cavern wall. “We really going to do this again? It’s been months since I’ve been here. I thought you would just be happy to see me.”
“Not if you are going to criticize my life choices. You can go back to whatever important task the Vanguard’s assigned you. I don’t need that kind of friend.”
“Markus, I’m not––” Nathias stopped and blew out a long breath. He took a minute before continuing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I was starting all that up again. I’m just concerned about you. Everyone is.”
Markus shook his head. “No, they just want me to do what they think I should be doing. I thought you were on my side.”
“I am on your side.”
“Then why do you keep bringing this up?”
Nathias threw up his hands as if in defeat. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a King’s son, and you are living in this filthy city and your only real plan in life is to find the biggest nastiest thing that walks and beat it down.”
Markus shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? I like what I do, and I’m good at it.”
“No one is saying you aren’t. You proved that by blowing through the Protectorate Program in less time than most, and graduating with some of the highest scores on record. But that’s the thing, you completed the program two years ago. You should have taken on a charge by now, or at least invested your time into teaching at the College. Instead, you’ve been here doing this.” Nathias gestured to the thundering crowd as two fighters began the next round in the arena.