The guards escorted Kerrigan down crowded streets teeming with demons. Zalfon had stayed behind as he was still in charge of the gate, having suggested for her to come see him if she survived. Around her, demons shuffled about in drab clothing, their sandals scraping against the grey cobblestone. The crowd parted instinctively as she and her escorts passed, granting them a wide berth. Glances were stolen, wary and fleeting, but none dared meet her gaze or that of her guards.

The demons were varied. Many had grey, elf-like features, their sharp, angular faces devoid of color or vitality. Some bore horns like her escorts, small and curved, sprouting from the sides of their heads. Others had tails too—some long and whip-like, others thick and muscular—swishing lazily as they moved. A few shared a different skin tones or hair colors—black, brown, blue, and golden—though none seemed quite as pale as her own. Their eyes, luminous and unsettling, ranged from shades of gold to deep crimson, glowing faintly in the dim light of the stronghold.

Kerrigan’s gaze flitted from face to face, noting the subtle differences. Hornless demons shuffled with stooped shoulders, their movements subdued, almost subservient. Those with horns stood straighter, their strides longer, more purposeful. A hierarchy was emerging in her mind, one defined not just by demeanor but by physical traits.

She spotted one demon who stood apart from the others, his dark red skin gleaming under the sickly green light emanating from the city’s flickering torches. His chthonian black armor shimmered like liquid obsidian; intricate golden runes etched along its surface. Large, bat-like, leathery wings folded against his back, their edges tipped with spiky bone. He moved with a grace that was almost predatory, exuding authority. Kerrigan’s guards bowed their heads as they passed him. Someone important, she noted.

The streets and buildings mirrored their occupants. The buildings were all constructed from the same grey bricks. It seemed as if the society didn’t value color, art, or any kind of aesthetic but pure utility. The ground underfoot was smooth, cobbled together with precision-cut stone. The air was alive with murmurs—voices low and conspiratorial, carrying just enough to set Kerrigan on edge.

Her attention snapped to a demon with green skin and bright purple hair, standing at the corner of a narrow alley. For a moment, she could’ve sworn he was human, his proportions and dress eerily familiar to an old military greatcoat. The illusion shattered when she noticed his elongated fingers, tipped with razor-sharp claws, and the faint glow of his eyes. The idea struck her: perhaps these demons, like ants or bees, had traits developed for specific roles, as if each caste were designed for a particular purpose.

The thought sent a chill down her spine. Where do I fit into this? she wondered, glancing at her tail, which swayed idly behind her. A nervous habit she wasn’t even aware she had developed.

“So, what’s with the big red guy”, she asked the guard on her left. Instead of answering the guard just used the butt of his spear to move her along. “Don’t all talk at once”, she murmured.

As they continued, the streets grew narrower, the buildings closer together. The crowd thinned but didn’t disappear entirely. Kerrigan’s ears picked up snippets of conversations in the strange, rough language she now understood instinctively. Deals being struck, arguments over debts, or just mundane gossip. Souls, it seemed, were not just currency but the very fabric of this society. One horned lady, it seemed, was bragging to another horned shopkeeper about her son recently making Patrician. Though Kerrigan could translate what she was saying, she didn’t understand what a Patrician was.

She couldn’t help but steal another glance at her guards. They moved with military precision, their matte black scale armour reflecting just enough light to outline their muscular forms. They carried their spears rested against their shoulders and their shields slung over their backs. Despite their stoicism, she caught the faintest tension in their posture. Escorting her, it seemed, was no mundane task.

It wasn’t long before they reached their destination. A large circular complex, like the roman Colosseum. She could here a crowd cheering from here. Her guards led her not though the main entrance, but another that led down underneath the structure via a long tunnel, easy wide enough for her and her escorts to walk side by side.

She was expecting cages under the area to hold slaves, or gladiators or something. She’d been to Rome and had taken the Colosseum Tour, but she was led to a large chamber that looked like it had a door going up into the area, and it had a few large open rooms attached and a few closed off doors. One looked like a change room with lockers, the other rooms filled with racks of all kinds of weapons. Swords of all kinds, maces, spears axes, staves, some more exotic things she had no idea what they were called but looked familiar. All medieval period looking and all of them made from the same black material.

Another chthonian armoured demon, with a fist sized ruby gem embedded into his chest piece entered from a door to her right. This demon was huge. A foot taller than her and like the big red guy they had passed, this one also had wings. He had blue skin and horns a foot long. A red rune etched, double edged two-hander sword, adorned his hip.

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“Greetings Knight Lord Balto”, the guard bowed to the newcomer. “This is Kerrigan. She claims to be newly Ascended. Squire Zalfon has sponsored her for the trial. An Out-realmer apparently…Human”.

“Zalfon huh, that sneaky upstart…Interesting”, said Balto eyeing her carefully. “We haven’t had an Out-realmer pass through here for over a hundred cycles, and never a human one before”, he mused thoughtfully. You’ve the look of a Knight about you, yet you don’t feel like a Knight. I guess we’ll see” …Thanks boys, you can go now”, he waved the Guards away dismissing them.

The guards bowed and left without a word, leaving Kerrigan alone with the towering demon. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. Kerrigan’s instincts told her to remain silent, even though questions burned in her mind.

“Where you from kid?”, Balto finally asked his tone a bit more casual now the guards were gone.

“Um, Australia”, she replied.

“Is that a planet?”

“No, it’s a country. The planet is called Earth”

“Earth… That sounds familiar. Is that the one with the humans, that orbits the binary stars?”

“Ah, no. Earth only has one star” she corrected. Did he just suggest there is more than one Human world, the thought of multiple human worlds made her head spin.

“Oh, right now I remember”. he clicked is claws together in a very human gesture. “Earth, Terra. That a nice place. Heard of a guy named Leonardo Da Vinci. He was one of mine”, he added proudly.

Kerrigan blinked. “Yeah, everyone knows who Da Vinci is. He died like 500 years ago, though. What do you mean he was one of yours?”

“500 years huh…” he shrugged again. “Time works a bit differently here than out there in the Many Realms. I contracted him when I was a Knight. His soul for knowledge. He had a powerful soul, ‘Mids’ quality at least. That helped me a great deal to get to Knight Lord”

Kerrigan didn’t know what to say to that.

“You a warrior Kerrigan?” Balto asked hopefully, glancing the gate leading to the Arena

“I guess. I was in the Army. A Combat Engineer. I made Sergeant last year”

“A soldier, then. Good,” he said, his tone approving. “Pick a weapon. Any you like”, pointing at rooms full of weapons.

Kerrigan hesitated, glancing at the racks. “Ah, we use guns and explosives now. Nobody uses swords anymore.”

“Those the things that shoot lasers?”

“No bullets, made of metal. You know what lasers are, but you still use swords and shields?”

“Of course. There are all kinds of powerful and imaginative weapons out in the Many Realms. The Legion doesn’t use them though. For three very good reasons. One, we don’t have the materials to build that technology hear. Two, we can’t bring too much stuff back from the Many Realms, it costs too much energy and it’s not worth it. And three, most importantly, excluding through contract, we can’t absorb soul energy from a defeated enemy without using our claws, or weapons forged from the horn, claw, or the powdered remains the defeated, such as our bound weapons.” He tapped the hilt of his sword. “Else what would be the point?”

“I see. So, there is no EF88 Austeyr sitting on one of those racks waiting for me then” she said dejectedly, “Or a claymore or two”

“Not sure what that is, but it sounds like something we definitely wouldn’t have. Are you used to anything else more… stabby?” he said, miming stabbing a knife into a foe.

I’m going to regret this, she thought glancing at her foot. She sighed in resignation, “Got an axe?”

Balto chuckled. “Plenty. And we’ll find you something to wear, too. You probably noticed no one else is walking around bare as you.”

Her face reddened and she nodded, “That would be helpful, yeah”

***

Kerrigan walked out of the changeroom dressed in clothes much like the grey demons outside wore. No fancy armour, unfortunately, but at least she wasn’t naked. When she asked about that, Balto had informed her that demons are provided their armour by their Liege. If Knight or Knight Lord accepted her, then, she would be provided amour.

She was also told that an Ascended fresh out of the sundered plains, of almost always of Plebian Rank—the lowest caste, besides the Rabid—would fight once against another Plebian Ascended. The victor would go on to join the Legion as a Legionnaire, the loser soul energy would be devoured, with only their core soul being sucked back to the Pit of Rebirth to start again… or they could pass on the opportunity and join the ranks of the Plebeians outside. She was told that, as she was of at least Squire Rank, a Low-Noble, she would be stuck here fighting until someone offered her a contract, or until she was defeated.

Balto handed her a long handled, double-headed battle axe, its blade lacking the runes his weapon had. “This should suit you. It’s heavy but balanced”. He noticed her looking at the runes on his sword. “They are the mark of a bonded weapon. You will have to have your own weapon made eventually. It’s not a pleasant experience, mind. Something you may not have to endure, though. This is just a common blank, a Legionnaire’s weapon. Still good enough for you now, though…. Give it a few swings,” he said, stepping back to give her room.

Kerrigan hefted the weapon. It was heavier than she expected, but her new body—her demonic strength—made it manageable. She tested its weight with a few practice swings, feeling the sharpness of the edge as it hummed through the air.

“Good,” Balto said, nodding his approval. “I’ll let them know you’re ready.” He made some kind of gesture that burned red words into the air that quickly faded. A gong sounded in the arena, and the crowd cheered loudly in anticipation.

Balto fixed her with a piercing gaze. “Some advice if you’ll take it. Surviving this contest isn’t enough for you. You need to make a show of it. Once they know you’re an Out-realmer, you will have a harder time signing a contract. Your best chance is now,” he said hurriedly. “Oh, and one more thing… Never fight fair, and don’t show mercy, because there will be none for you.”

Kerrigan smirked, gripping the axe tightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She raced up the ramp, the doors flew open. She had entered the arena.