Yun Jin sat cross-legged in quiet meditation, focusing on controlling his Qi. Across from him, Merlin did the same, his expression tight with concentration. Their private chamber was silent except for the faint flicker of a lantern, casting long shadows on the walls. Standing nearby, Elara kept watch, her stance rigid and unwavering, her eyes sharp as ever, scanning the room in a way that suggested she was ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Minutes passed in stillness, then Yun Jin slowly opened his eyes and exhaled. "Thanks," he said, nodding at Merlin. His muscles, sore from the previous battles, felt slightly refreshed, though he knew he wasn't at peak condition just yet.

Merlin hesitated before speaking. "Are you sure this is enough? We could keep going."

Yun Jin stretched before rising to his feet, rolling his shoulders. "It’ll be useful if we need it. Let’s just hope we don’t."

He stepped toward the window and pulled the curtain aside. The sun had dipped below the horizon, staining the sky in hues of crimson and deep violet. The moon loomed over the distant rooftops, half-shrouded in mist. He turned to Elara, and without a word, she moved to the door, pushing it open for them. Their carriage awaited.

The ride was quiet, the clip-clop of the horses echoing through the dimly lit city streets. Flickering lanterns illuminated the old stone walls and paved roads as they passed through winding alleyways. The faint chatter of the city's nightlife buzzed in the distance, but here, in the carriage, it was oddly serene.

Elara eventually pulled the reins and slowed the carriage, bringing it to a stop a few blocks from their destination. "This is as far as I go," she said. "I’ll wait here. If anything happens, get back to me."

Yun Jin hopped out, landing lightly on his feet. Merlin hesitated for a moment longer. "If something goes wrong, I can’t just leave you."

Yun Jin turned and placed a firm hand on Merlin’s shoulder. "You can, and you will. If anyone in this world should know how strong I am, it’s you. Trust me."

Merlin frowned but sighed, nodding reluctantly. "Fine. But be careful."

Elara watched them for a moment, her eyes unreadable. "I’ll be here when you return."

Without another word, she disappeared into the shadows, vanishing as if she had never been there.

The plan required them to split up. Merlin, posing as a VIP guest, would enter through the exclusive entrance. Yun Jin, taking Hagan’s place as a fighter, would go through the standard entry. Before they parted, Merlin attempted to cast a communication spell, but Yun Jin shook his head.

"Too risky. They might detect it."

Merlin sighed and relented. With a final glance at each other, they separated.

--

Yun Jin stepped into the vibrant, smoke-filled club.

The lower-tier fighter’s entrance differ from their original rank, which Hagan being normal person isn't that high, his purpose was to be a victim before Yun Jin replace him.

This place reeking of sweat, stale ale, and unwashed bodies. The flickering lanterns barely held back the oppressive gloom, casting jagged shadows over broken tables and cracked walls. The air was thick with the scent of spilled beer and cigar smoke, mixing with the distant metallic tang of blood.

In the center, a makeshift fighting pit dominated the room.

Two brawlers, their bodies bruised and battered, traded vicious blows while a drunken crowd hollered, placing bets with crumpled bills and clinking coins.

Every cheer shook the floorboards, and the rhythmic pounding of fists against flesh was punctuated by the occasional dull thud of a fighter collapsing.

Yun Jin walked forward, ignoring the leering glances and rough laughter, eyes set on the bar at the far end of the room.

He ignored the chaos and strode toward the bar, where a towering bartender, a woman with arms like steel cables, cleaned a glass with an old rag. She barely looked up as he slid his fighter’s invitation onto the counter.

She gave it a lazy glance, then scoffed before tossing it back at him. "Never seen you before. Lineup’s full. Come back tomorrow."

Yun Jin didn’t move. He let a beat of silence settle before speaking. "I’m Hagan’s replacement."

The entire club froze.

Laughter and drunken banter cut off instantly. Fighters, gamblers, and shady figures turned to stare, their expressions shifting from idle curiosity to something far more hostile. Yun Jin could feel the weight of their gazes—a silent, collective challenge. They weren’t just skeptical; they were offended.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The bartender leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter with a smirk. "You?" She eyed him up and down before barking out a laugh. "A scrawny little thing like you, replacing Hagan? That’s gotta be a joke."

The club erupted into laughter, some banging their mugs on the tables, others hurling slurred taunts.

One particularly large drunk, his face red from too much ale, grabbed a jug of beer and flung it straight at Yun Jin.

Without hesitation, Yun Jin flicked his wrist.

The jug stopped mid-air—then shot back with crushing force. It slammed into the thrower’s face, bones cracking as blood splattered across the table. The man dropped like a sack of bricks, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

The club went dead silent.

The bartender's smirk twitched.

Yun Jin met her stare, tilting his head slightly. "Any more questions?"

Meanwhile, Merlin’s entrance was far more elegant. He approached an illusion-coated gateway, where two imposing guards stood like statues. Their presence alone was oppressive, each radiating an aura of raw power that sent shivers down his spine.

"Invitation."

Merlin handed over the card. One of the guards inspected it before handing him a mask. "Wear this inside."

The moment he stepped through the gate, the illusion flickered. When it cleared, he found himself in a lavish ballroom.

The atmosphere was suffocating. Masked nobles mingled under golden chandeliers, laughter mixing with the delicate notes of a string quartet. Tables overflowed with extravagant dishes, yet the conversations were anything but pleasant. Business deals, bribes, slavery auctions—discussions carried out as if they were mere casual exchanges.

As Merlin walked further in, he was intercepted by several nobles who mistook him for a delicate noblewoman. They leaned in too closely, their breath thick with wine and their words coated in empty flattery and veiled intent.

"Such a rare beauty among these halls," one of them murmured, fingers brushing against Merlin’s wrist. "Are you enjoying the festivities, my dear? Perhaps we can make your visit even more memorable."

Merlin resisted the urge to recoil, keeping his expression neutral. Another noble, older and more brazen, chuckled as he traced a finger along the collar of Merlin’s outfit. "No need to be shy, little flower. The night is still young."

Before Merlin could react, a firm hand clamped down on the noble’s wrist, wrenching it away from him.

A cold voice followed. "Step back."

Merlin turned sharply to see an imposing male guard come to his rescue. He stood between Merlin and the nobles, his grip on the older man’s wrist strong enough to make him wince.

The nobles hesitated, their amusement fading into thinly veiled wariness. "A bit overprotective, aren’t you?" one muttered.

The guard didn't answer. Instead, he released the noble with a subtle shove and gestured for Merlin to follow. The tension in the air lingered, but the nobles chose not to press further.

Merlin swallowed hard. He had sensed it the moment he touched the noble—his mana signature.

Or rather, HER mana signature.

It’s her... His thoughts raced. She’s the same as that woman we met when we first arrived in Terrilstead.

His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he considered using a spell to flee, but Yun Jin’s words echoed in his mind. “If anything happens, you can run.” The guard glanced at him but said nothing.

She glanced at him with an unreadable expression before speaking. "You must be new here. Allow me to accompany you while you're here."

Before Merlin could respond, she gestured toward a grand dining area, leading him through the hall with measured steps.

Merlin grabbed some food from the table, chewing slowly as the guard leaned slightly closer, her voice smooth yet carrying an undeniable weight. "This place was not always an arena," she said. "Long ago, it was a hidden meeting ground for an ancient mage society. They gathered here in secret, wielding power and influence that shaped the course of history. But like all things, they faded, leaving only ruins and forgotten spells behind."

She tapped the rim of her glass, letting the liquid swirl. "Then the Lady came. She repurposed it, gave it a new purpose." She gestured toward the arena. "Money. Fame. Fortune."

Merlin swallowed another bite, his appetite dimming as he glanced at the enchanted mirrors showing live matches. Fighters clashed, some ending in quick knockouts, others with more gruesome conclusions. The crowd roared in delight when one man's head hit the ground, lifeless. Merlin stiffened.

She chuckled, catching his reaction. "Unsettling? For some, maybe. But for others, this is opportunity. Many come here for battle, some for fame—but most of all, for money. Fighters put their lives on the line, and the wealthy bet fortunes on their success or failure. It’s an economy built on violence."

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. "And the Death Throne?"

"Ah." She smirked, tilting her head as if waiting for that very question. "That’s something special. Held only once every six months, the Death Throne is unlike anything else. It's not for just any fighter. Only those with enough reputation, skill, or notoriety receive an invitation. The rules are simple: step into the arena, fight through every challenger, and claim victory."

She lifted her glass, watching him over the rim. "And unlike these warm-up matches… the Death Throne has no mercy. There are no doctors waiting ringside. No chance for surrender. Only one fighter walks away."

Merlin’s grip tightened on his fork. "And the rest?"

She smiled. "They become part of the show.""

She swirled the wine in her glass, watching Merlin carefully. "If you think this is horrifying, I wonder… what will you think when you see the real thing?"

As he ate, his eyes wandered toward a group of masked figures gathered around a magical mirror. Inside, brutal fights played out, some ending in knockouts, others in far bloodier finishes. A particularly violent moment—someone’s skull caving under a savage blow—made Merlin's stomach churn.

His escort smirked at his reaction. "This? This is just the warm-up," she said smoothly.

"We hope we can assure you of the highest form of entertainment."

"But first," she whispered before shoving him into a dark corner, pressing a blade against his throat.

"What is your reason for being here? Did you really think I wouldn't remember you?"