Drathok fell back into his desk, papers scattering everywhere as the oak split beneath him and he tumbled straight through it.

“You dared…”

Drathok clutched his eye with one hand as he scrambled back to his feet, biting his tongue to prevent himself from crying out in pain. By the time he’d turned to face Elasar, he’d pushed his arm back to his side.

“I only did what I considered to be in our best intere—”

“You summoned a fucking Mana Manipulator to this place and you didn’t think to immediately offer him to me as tribute?” Elasar roared, flames darting from his horns and chest, his beautiful visage soon morphing into an evil mutation, horns growing further, twisting, his teeth both longer and sharper, his eyes black as midnight. “Thought you’d use him to pay off your debts, did you? Not only do you deny me a valuable pawn, you’d sell him off to our fucking enemies! What’s the harm in that?!”

Drathok tried as best he could to keep composed, his voice still vaguely shaking even if his hands weren’t. “The money he raises, the buzz he’s bringing about for the arena even now, it’s astounding. If you just saw the numbers flowing into our coffers, it’s all right here, if I can just show you—”

Drathok was levitating up fallen scraps of paper and flicking through them when they all turned to ash in his grasp. He flinched, retreating a step as Elasar closed the gap between them in an instant, breathing down at him, his presence alone so hot it could threaten to melt the skin of even a demon.

“I don’t care about the fucking money,” Elasar growled. Even his voice had changed. It was dark, primal, all of its richness evaporated. “If he falls into the wrong hands, if he’s taught to use that ability properly, and if it’s as potent as it fucking seems to be, then we could be annihilated.”

***

Markus ducked under three serrated claws as he slashed the giant four-legged bird-horse once more, severing ligaments, tendons, and even feathers from the creature as it struggled to face him. It squawked and shrieked from the pressure, diving forwards with its beak extended to strike his shoulder, only for Markus to deflect the attack with the handle of his glaive, a loud clang soon being drowned by the thunderous noise of the arena.

Next, the bird went for his arm, and he hesitated just a touch too long.

The creature bit him, and Markus cried out. He struggled and writhed in place, smashing the handle of the glaive into the bird’s head, punching it with his arm wrapped around the handle, repeatedly yanking his caught arm until he managed to dislodge it, a hefy portion of skin coming away as he ripped his limb from the quadruped’s beak, the creature stumbling from the impact.

It fucking hurt, but it had its desired effect.

He looked like he was struggling. If anything, he was a little as his injuries continued to mount. He’d let this thing bite him three times already, and had a line of deep scratches running down his front where it had torn through his clothes and sliced at his chest.

But that was what it took for him to undersell his strength, and that had been Markus’ plan the entire time.

He’d become a lot stronger in his time down in the dark. Too strong for these exhibition matches, these crude displays.

The monster could sense it. It had started their fight confident, but now it curled into itself and only struck when Markus came close enough.

He didn’t know if his subterfuge was having its desired effect, if he could fool the gods watching over him or not, but he had to hope he could. That none of them were studying his movements all too closely, that none of them had gifts of perception beyond his comprehension.

It was important to appear weaker than he was. To continue to stockpile strength and build it up in secret, so that when he used an explosion of power to secure his freedom, no one would think to see it coming, and by the time any of them reacted, it would be too late.

But Markus still wasn’t ready. He still didn’t have a good enough handle on this place or a good enough determination on how he might put his grand plan in motion, so for now, he bided his time, allowing himself to be struck once more, smacking the bird with the back of the glaive once more, grabbing a tuft of feathers and driving its head down into the sand below.

He was bleeding, he was sweating, his lungs were burning…

And he was almost enjoying the simplicity of it all.

***

Elasar barked a crude laugh, his voice demonic, his eyes darker than pitch. “Stupid ingrate. After everything I’ve done for you, all the responsibility you’ve been afforded, and you still manage to forget the fact that the gods fucking despise us! That’d they’d do anything to wipe us off the map!”

Drathok’s voice was choked, but he found words. He couldn’t just take this. He had to defend himself somehow. Surely something he said could reach Elasar. “We’ve lived in Firrelia for over a thousand years, and there’s been peace in this region for so long. Times have changed. The sentiment surrounding demons has changed, too. One mortal with potential won’t change things so much.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Elasar laughed, howled. He grabbed up Drathok by the hem of his shirt, singing his chest beneath with the burning heat of his clenched fist. “Maybe Maxen doesn’t care if demons live here. Maybe Ciphelos doesn’t either. Your little friends. You fraternise so much with these beings that you’ve even convinced yourself they like you. Pathetic. You think there aren’t gods that would give anything to take this being and aim him directly at us like a fucking howitzer? At all of us?”

Drathok struggled against Elasar’s grasp, trying above everything to keep his voice level, to not do anything to betray fear. “And where are they? Ignoa became irrelevant after his temples were destroyed, Myra had her powers stripped away centuries ago, and Ser—”

He tightened his grip. “Don’t say her name.”

“She’s gone! She’s been gone for longer than anyone but you could possibly remember!”

“You think she couldn’t reappear at any fucking moment? You know gone doesn’t mean dead, don’t you, Drathok? That powerless doesn’t mean powerless when you’re a true fucking god?”

“I… I don’t…”

“No! You don’t know! You don’t fucking think, do you, Drathok? Just about yourself! Just about you, and your petty little desires, your paltry, pointless concerns.” His tone became more mocking, sinister. “Oh, the plight of a poor little imp baron that’s been given so much and wanted for so little, but no! You come first! You come before everyone, and everything for that matter! How fucking stupid of me to not have realised!”

“I… I…”

Elasar began prodding him between words, punctuating his words with the pressure, fingers so hot against Drathok’s forehead that they felt like a burning cigar.

“You?.. You?.. You what, Drathok?”

It was too much. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Well? What? What is it? What?”

“I just want to see my daughter!”

Drathok screamed up at Elasar as he held him in place. He’d never shouted at him before. Never raised his voice. Never lost his composure. Never once had he been so bold or reckless, no matter how many times he might’ve wished to.

Elasar looked stunned, if only for a moment, his demonic form losing a touch of its potency.

Then, the flames returned in full force, and Elasar pressed his head so hard against Drathok’s horns that the tips began to melt.

His voice dropped low, incremental. A whisper. “She wouldn’t want to see your pathetic fucking face. She wouldn’t want to see how much of a loser her father has become.”

With that, Elasar threw Drathok down, leaving him laid on his side, beaten and bruised. “Look at you… gods know I don’t even want to look at you. You’re disgraceful.”

“It’s been two years…” Drathok murmured, almost pleaded. “You told me…” he forced himself off the floor, his voice breaking even as he raised it. “You told me that if I made this place a success, then you’d at least let me see her!”

“You knew the terms of the agreement when I took you in.”

“You never told me you’d take her from me!”

“And you never told me you’d make me so little coin.” Elasar shrugged. “Stop shouting.”

Drathok returned to his feet, staring up at Elasar, feeling a fresh flame beginning to build within his stomach. He couldn’t win. He knew that, but it did nothing to quell the rage that he felt. “Why should I just stand for the way you treat me? Why have I ever stood for the relentless torment you’ve put me through? I’ve more than tripled this place’s revenue since I took over, employed every strategy I could think of, every unscrupulous means, and still it isn’t enough for you! Still you only take!”

Elasar sighed. He placed a hand on Drathok’s shoulder, his voice calming. “Listen. If you carry on shouting, I’ll let you see one of her hands on my next visit. Or perhaps an eye. Which part do you think she’d miss more?”

“I… I…”

“Better.” With that, the flames around Elasar’s body receded, and his voice took on its natural, silky tone once more. “Now, I expect you understand that I want him seeing no more gods. No more offers, nothing. He is to be mine.”

“He…” it took time for Drathok to find his voice. In an instant, he’d been reminded why he’d been complacent for so long. Resistance was pointless. He wasn’t strong enough. He never had been. “He refuses every offer he’s given. He won’t make another deal. I think he’s doing it to rebel against me.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Hah!” Elasar laughed, loud and unabated. “Good!” he chuckled. “I like that. It’s indicative of character.” He threw his hands up. “Well, cut him off from his options and make him so desperate for a way out that he can’t refuse. You can do that, can’t you, Drathok?”

“...yes.” He nodded, more for himself than Elasar. “Yes. I can.”

“Good. Do this right and I’ll forgive your duplicity. I’ll even allow you to see your daughter again. How does once a month sound?” He stopped himself, tapped on his chin. “Well, the specifics don’t matter. Once a month, once a year… any level of frequency is better than zero. Would you like that, Drathok?”

“You’re very generous, my lord.”

He had to choke the words out. The money he’d have made from selling that human would’ve easily bought her back entirely, plus settled his outstanding contract. If only he’d reached an agreement faster…

Drathok wanted to scream. He’d been so desperate to get a fighter out there, so unsure if Markus’ ability was anything worth getting excited about, that he’d allowed natural events to take their course, and what had started off seeming like such a good prospect had crumbled to nothingness within days.

He’d spent the last few days doing nothing but chasing around gods and attempting to get a good offer locked in. Something he thought the human would appreciate. Something that would wrap these proceedings up quickly. Now, none of those machinations could ever bear fruit. He’d wasted so much time…

Now it was all he could do to bring Markus to heel. If Elasar wanted him, Drathok had to oblige. There was no point in trying to do anything else.

What was even more disturbing was how Elasar even knew of Markus so quickly, but he supposed news this exciting travelled fast. His hope had been that by the time Elasar knew, he’d have already gotten rid of Markus and paid him what he owed, but that was out of the question now.

Drathok began to clean up his study, retaining his composure as best he could, ignoring the throbbing feeling in his face and his horns as he swept up papers and reconstructed his desk.

He’d shown Elasar how much he’d hurt him, and that had been his first mistake. He had to eliminate every vulnerability he had. It was the only way to survive this place.

***

Markus left the creature laid on the hot sand, covered in cuts, one of its paws stabbed through, a long slash running along its side…

The creature crashed down to the ground, panting, spent, unable to continue. It was too weak to even bother draining, an F Grade monster at best. He felt pity for it.

Markus, for all of his new injuries, didn’t feel that much worse for wear. Compared to the broken legs and severed and mangled limbs he’d endured, a few cuts and bites were a fair bit easier for him to deal with.

He hadn’t worked up enough of a sweat fighting that thing. That fight felt more like a warm up than a main event. His body still ached immensely from the nights previous, but the motion helped and the moment he stopped fighting, he almost wished he could be distracted with combat once more, that he could fight another five waves of enemies. Already he was considering what else he might do today to get stronger. What new challenges he might be ready to face.

But no new enemies came. This bird-horse had apparently been all he’d been expected to face. Frozen Tomb and Empower alone were enough to slow this thing down and break through it, and all it had going for it was speed, that and flight.

But even when it had taken wing, firing a small measure of Wind Mana in its direction was enough to make it reluctant to divebomb him. It was a bluff, and Markus had nowhere near enough command over Wind Mana to actually tear this thing from the air with it, especially considering its weight, but the bird didn’t know that and didn’t want to test it.

Wearing it out had been as simple as deflecting its attacks for long enough. Its stamina was limited, and it could only withstand so many blows to the beak before it stopped trying to bite him, and so many missed lunges with its claws before it no longer was willing to stand back up.

He felt sorry for the beast. It probably looked at him and thought he’d be a free meal. Now it was two steps off being a KFC bargain bucket.

The announcer continued to talk up Markus as he walked away from the monster, turning his back and standing to lean against a pillar, looking out at his audience, still lightly panting as he wiped himself down.

The sun wasn’t as bright today, wasn’t glaring down on him quite as hard, and as he looked out into the crowds, Markus began to notice just how varied the onlookers were. He couldn’t make out direct features from here, but it was easy to see that the average audience of this arena, while mostly humanoid, was just as varied and strange as any creature that worked in Drathok’s employ. He was starting to think that humans didn’t exist here at all, but he spotted a couple of creatures that he figured might be close enough to human that he’d count them. He wasn’t sure, it was hard to tell. They looked… smaller than him.

Dwarves? Hobbits? Gnomes? Something else entirely?

Eventually, his eyes found the booths. Ornate and gilded, these specially constructed areas housed only the most esteemed of patrons, gods of Firrelia, and there were a fucking lot of them. Far more than Markus had met. So many that he began to wonder whether some followed the same virtues as others, or no virtue at all.

Perhaps not all of them were gods. Perhaps some were merely entourage, or maybe some of these seats were reserved for the rich, or royalty. It was hard to say…

But some of these creatures he could definitely make out as gods. It wasn’t an [Identify] skill or anything like that which tipped him off, but moreso it was a question of demeanour. He’d been around enough gods by now that he’d seen how they liked to carry themselves, and beyond that, they had a rather distinctive look.

Beauty. Almost human, but something else entirely, with a level of attractiveness to them that seemed almost unnatural. It seemed to be the defining principal of godhood, and Markus had yet to meet a single god here that wouldn’t be a supermodel or sex symbol back on Earth, Maxen included, despite his unconventional look.

Speaking of Maxen…

He’d noticed him in the crowd almost immediately, but it was only when someone beside him moved to the side that he realised who the god was talking and laughing with…

That was Maesha! He was friends with that bitch?

Markus sighed. Suppose he shouldn’t have been too shocked. Maxen was a ‘neutral party’, right? Should go to show that he couldn’t trust him. Probably was friends with all the gods that frequented this place, the fucker. He felt a little ashamed that he’d accepted any help from him, even if it was apparently ‘unconditional’. He’d trusted that those stones he’d given him had been a real gift, too, that they wouldn’t blow up and kill him or something.

Sure, he’d been in an impossible situation, and he’d only swallowed one because he figured he’d die otherwise, and he had confirmed since that they were regular Essence Stones, but still…

Markus needed to be more wary. There was still so much he didn’t know, and the chances that he’d make a fatal mistake if he were too trusting was looming over him constantly.

By that same token, he couldn’t progress via inactivity. He had to take some risks if he wanted to get anywhere, but he knew he should focus on things that felt like sure bets, positions where he felt he had leverage. The alternative was…

The gates opened. Markus left the arena without looking back.

Fuck them all. Hope they enjoyed the show, hope they were fucking devastated when I didn’t finish that monster off. Hope they all beg for refunds and drive Drathok crazy.

Speaking of Drathok, he was waiting right at the other side of the corridor, wearing his characteristic smile.

Markus sighed.

“Hello, Markus Brown. The fight wasn’t too difficult, I hope?”

His voice sounded hoarse. And was he… paler than usual? His face looked like it’d been dusted in white.

“It was alright,” Markus said, walking straight past him.

“Good to hear!” Drathok followed, his stride long and powerful, easily keeping pace with Markus. “Now, listen to me.” He lowered his tone, voice sincere. “I’ve come here to inform you that you won’t be sold to any gods from here on.”

Markus stopped dead, his air of indifference immediately fading. “Wait, what? Why?”

“Two reasons. One, it’s come to my attention that some of the gods wishing to purchase you were attempting to do so for nefarious means, ones that I absolutely cannot condone under any circumstance.”

Well, that smelled like bullshit. What the fuck was so problematic that the universal kidnapper, slaver demon grandiose couldn’t abide by it?

“And the second reason?”

Drathok cleared his throat. “A generous donation made by one god to ensure that you wouldn’t be sold to any other god. I’m effectively treating this as a purchase, as that was the condition of the arrangement.”

A donation… Markus’ blood ran cold. “Don’t tell me it was Randall…”

Drathok clicked his cane against the stone below. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. As for where this leaves you…”

“Wait, hold on,” Markus said, cutting off Drathok. “Are you saying I’m stuck here because fucking Randall paid for me to be?”

Drathok tutted. “Again, I’m not at liberty to say more on the transaction. It was made in confidence. As for where this leaves you—”

“Because you know that he fucking hates me, don’t you? That he’s gonna use this as a chance to fuck with me nonstop?”

“Stop interrupting me.”

Markus looked up to find Drathok had managed to burn through some of the white dusting on his face, his whole body heated.

“Whoa, hold on. Do you have a black eye?”

That got Markus smacked. Hard enough that his jaw rattled. He thanked his lucky stars that Drathok wasn’t wearing his pimp rings.

“Do you wish for our relationship to sour?” Drathok asked, turning away as Markus fought dizziness, masking his face as he spoke. “You have seven fights left here. After those, assuming you’ve survived, you may go free. I’ve already been paid for you, but I see no reason we can’t maintain an amicable relationship from here, assuming you keep earning me money and don’t overstep your boundaries from here on out.”

“Hold on…” Markus spat blood on the floor, righting himself, staring at Drathok. “You’re saying that I don’t have to worry about making a deal anymore? That you just want me to fight my fights and get out of here?”

“Precisely that, yes.”

Markus slowed his tone, slowed his brain, really tried to take this in. “And you’re not gonna try to make my life a living hell or force me into a tighter contract or any other rat shit like that?”

“You’ve been bought out,” Drathok said, his tone light, his cadance soft. “I have no means to do those things to you anymore. I can’t extend a contract I do not own. But the terms haven’t changed. All that remains is that you fulfill the terms of your previous contract.”

A pause. Markus took a moment to try and think, and then was immediately blindsided once more.

“I apologise for striking you. It was a moment of weakness on my part.” He turned to Markus.

He smiled.

“Let us try to be friends from here.”

What?

“Right…” Markus wasn’t sure if he’d been hit so hard upside the head that he’d landed in another dimension, or if Drathok had been slipped a bag of crazy pills. Either way didn’t bode well. Either way, this was fucking uncanny, and Markus was only just beginning to get used to the usual standard of crazy.

“You’d like a reward for your fight, I expect? I’ll have Lexi bring it to you. Anything particular you’d like?”

“I…” Markus didn’t know what to say, what to think. This was fucking insane. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to argue this, or if he even had any choice in the matter. He almost wanted Drathok to threaten him some more, at least that made fucking sense to him. How was he supposed to fight back against an enemy that wouldn’t even attack him?

“Well? I’ll simply have her drop off a bag of silver if you don’t pick something. It’s no issue.”

“I…” Markus decided to shelve his fifty rising concerns. If there was one thing he knew, one thing he understood in this weird and fucked up situation, it was what he’d been planning to ask for.

“I want another bed,” Markus stated, his voice solid.

“...is there something wrong with the last double emperor four post royal deluxe we rewarded you with?”

“It’s not for me. It’s for next door.”

***

Markus had a million, trillion thoughts running through his brain at lightspeed. No deals? Just get through the rest of the contract and he was free? There had to be a trick to it. It was almost certainly too good to be true.

“Heavens, you reek. I can smell you from here,” came a voice from Markus’ cell as soon as he rounded the corner, an increasingly familiar one, knocking him out of his thoughts.

“So… How was your fight? Drathok say anything interesting?”

Hey, what the fuck happened to ‘no more gods’?

“What the hell are you doing here?” Markus asked, pointing a finger.

“Why don’t you come in and find out?”

The Serena sitting in his cell, stroking his Ember, was very much a god, and was very much overdue another appearance.