Talent’s POV

As Talent watched from the balcony above the chamber he clenched his fists and ground his teeth until his jaw ached. A number against three ordinary slaves was hardly a fair fight. A number would be lucky to survive a battle against one person; this one had done well to last so long, but something bothered Talent. He knew this boy, knew what he was capable of, and he was no ordinary number.

Three-sixteen could outrun him, the boy had escaped a sealed room on a bound crystal cruiser that should not have responded to him at all. Talent didn’t know how it happened, but he’d even seen Three-sixteen kill a magistrate. The boy was far more capable than he let on and Talent wondered why he was holding back. He had nothing to lose here and everything to gain, yet he let a group of ungrateful slaves bring him to the brink of death.

Whatever the case, Talent knew the boy could do better than this. His opponents were a group of slaves he’d saved, and they behaved just as the Raven King had predicted they would—except for the shorter girl, she tried to help. Unfortunately, she only got herself killed.

A member of the leadership council grumbled next to him, earning Talent's attention. He turned to regard the man and noted how he looked—dissatisfied, bored, unmoved—as he looked down at the arena. “I knew this was a waste of time. At least I’ll get to—”

“Don’t be so sure,” the Raven. king cut in. “There’s a spark of survival in that boy, and if I’m right it won’t be extinguished by a challenge such as this.”

His words were simple, but they settled the growing murmurs from the council, bringing silence to the room. It lasted only a moment as the deep lurker appeared, but those words lingered in Talent's mind, their implication unclear.

Talent ignored the thought for now, focusing his attention on the fight below. He didn’t see how he could come back from this, but he still found himself hoping the boy could find a way to turn the fight around.

As Talent continued to watch the lurker tear through the man they called Timid Dim’it, his stomach turned with discomfort. He’d seen death matches before, but nothing like this, nothing so cruel and barbaric. Watching the poor bastard beg for his life was bad enough, but that creature saw him only as a thing to play with and torment. Talent wondered how anyone could be so cruel and how many times they'd done this before.

The crowd booed, apparently growing bored with such lopsided battles. Some threw food and other objects down at the center of the arena, calling for blood and satisfaction. Those who cried out for mercy and death were also silenced by a deafening roar as the lurker tore off Dim'it's arm and ripped his spin out of his back. If he hadn’t been a mage he might not have survived that injury, but he felt every moment of agony, evidenced by the grotesque howls of pain he produced.

Three-sixteen still lay motionless on the ground while the lurker focused its attention on its next prey. The taller girl, screamed and grabbed her gun when she noticed the thing was coming for her, but bullets were useless against its granadite-like outer carapace.

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Talent wanted to close his eyes and cover his ears, but he didn’t want to appear weak or squeamish in front of the high ranking ravens. Their opinion of him was already low enough.

The girl died screaming as she tried to hold off the beast with nothing more than her tiny gun and a feeble attempt at defense. Her words were incoherent as she rambled through a barrage of screams, begging and pleading for mercy.

Three-sixteen still lay motionless, but his wounds were healing and nearly closed.

The same man who’d spoken earlier stood up and leaned over the balcony as if to get a closer look. His jaw fell open, and he mumbled, “It’s slow, but it’s almost like—”

The king again interrupted, “No, this is different. Even if it were the same, I fear that would only lead the boy to an eternity of torment.”

Several of the council members shifted uncomfortably, but one, a frail and so sickly that he looked more dead than alive, spoke. “Immortality is the pinnacle of freedom. Without death, what is there to fear?”

The Raven King chuckled quietly, but he did not answer. Instead he explained, “The boy’s body can only take so much. Eventually whatever power he’s hiding in there will devour him whole. Until then, though, he could make a good raven.”

Talent had no idea what they were talking about as he watched the creature place its face close to Three-sixteen’s body and sniff. Three-sixteen didn't move, but his muscles tensed up and twitched ever so slightly under his clothes.

The lurker reared back, raising two bone-like spikes.

The creature had no intention of toying with the boy; it was clear the beast would kill him instantly.

As the spikes drove down a strange noise, like static and a high pitched ringing sound, disoriented Talent. In the space of a blink, the room was sideways, empty, upside down, full, then back as it was originally, but the lurker was turned inside out with several of its own long spikes piercing through its own body. Its blood pooled out around it as it slowly thrashed on the ground, desperately trying to free itself.

Three-sixteen sat up slowly, looking at his surroundings like he wasn't sure where he was or what was happening. His eyes were strangely frightening, even to Talent. The boy looked as though he ruled over all. He glanced briefly at the dying monster beside him and didn’t even blink as it thrashed in its own blood then expired with a weak whimper.

After a moment of staring blankly, Three-sixteen seemed to remember himself and a suffocating pressure drained from the atmosphere. The whole colosseum seemed to take a breath of relief, but no one cheered.

Silence fell over the crowd and none were brave enough to speak.

Three-sixteen stumbled to his feet then turned and left the arena through the same door he entered.

The whole situation felt strange. Talent wasn’t sure what happened to Three-sixteen in those short seconds where his perception seemed to distort. All he knew for certain was that Three-sixteen was no mere number. Ideas rolled around in his mind, but they seemed too far fetched, too ridiculous to believe.

The other ravens were whispering among themselves again as if in a panic or disbelief. Talent assumed they must have seen or experienced something similar to himself as he tried to process what exactly he just witnessed.

Finally one of the council members asked, “What the hell just happened?” He turned to the king, or where the king had been, then shouted, “Where the fuck did he go?”

It didn’t take long for panic to grip the crowd as everyone seemed confused after what they’d experienced.

The announcer, likely struggling to process the situation, began speaking slowly. “We… we have a new raven it seems. A boy, a number, one who…he overcame and now he’s a raven! Celebrate, give your cheers! Tonight is a good night.”