The arena was alive with energy as the announcer's voice thundered across the battleground, proclaiming the end of the initial rounds. My heart quickened its pace, a blend of nerves and excitement surging within me. With the announcement of the rules for the upcoming round—duels to the death—a wave of tension swept through the crowd. The stakes had soared to their peak, and the air crackled with anticipation, every fighter ready to prove their mettle or meet their fate. As the gravity of the situation sank in, a rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins, fueling my determination for what lay ahead.

I made my way through the sea of warriors, my gaze scanning the faces of those who had also survived the first round. The intensity in their eyes mirrored my own, a silent acknowledgment of the perilous path we were all on.

Then, amidst the chaos, I went to Mervan. His face was alight with joy as he caught sight of me, his voice ringing out above the clamor of the crowd. "Su!"

A small smile tugged at my lips as I waved back, a surge of warmth spreading through me at the sight of his happiness. Despite the grim circumstances, seeing Mervan filled me with a sense of reassurance. He was my anchor in this storm, a reminder of the light that still existed in this dark world.

As I approached him, Mervan rushed forward, throwing his arms around me in a tight hug. "You were so cool out there!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe and admiration.

Before I could respond, the announcer's booming voice cut through the din, drawing my attention back to the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen! Prepare yourselves for the first duel of the second round! In this corner, we have Herah, the fierce and formidable warrior from the northern clans!"

The crowd roared as Herah, a tall and muscular woman with fierce eyes, stepped into the arena, her presence commanding attention.

"And in the opposite corner, we have Rokie the Unstoppable! Known for his ruthless tactics and unyielding strength!"

Across from her stood Rokie, his arrogant sneer fixed on his face. The crowd's roar grew louder, eager for the bloodshed about to unfold.

"Let the duel begin!" the announcer declared.

The signal to begin was given, and Rokie wasted no time in showing his true nature. He fought dirty, using every unfair trick he knew. He threw sand into Herah's eyes, aimed low blows, and even used hidden blades strapped to his wrists. Despite her strength and skill, Herah was overwhelmed by Rokie's ruthless tactics.

Finally, with a cruel grin, Rokie delivered the fatal blow, a hidden blade thrusting deep into Herah's side. She fell to the ground, blood pooling around her. The crowd erupted in cheers, thrilled by the display of violence. My stomach churned at the sight.

I quickly covered Mervan's eyes with my hand. "Don't look," I whispered, shielding him from the gruesome scene. As Rokie basked in the crowd's adulation, he spotted me and pointed, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"You're next!" he shouted, his voice dripping with menace.

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I met his gaze with terrifying fury, my anger barely contained. Turning to Mervan, I spoke gently. "Why don't you go and buy some food outside the arena? Take a break from all this."

Mervan looked up at me, worry etched in his young face. "Yes, Su," he replied, his voice trembling.

I watched as Mervan left the arena, his small figure disappearing into the crowd. He soon returned, carrying a small bag of food, but his eyes remained downcast. I knelt down, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry," I said, ruffling his hair. "I'm going to show you how cool I am in the next fight, alright?"

Mervan nodded, a small smile breaking through his worry. The announcer's voice boomed again, bringing everyone's attention back to the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen, the third match of the second round! In this corner, we have Sheherazade, the mysterious hooded warrior whose skill with dual daggers is unmatched!"

Sheherazade entered the arena, their face obscured by a hood. their movements were graceful yet deadly, a testament to her agility and precision.

"And in the opposite corner, we have Voltran, the mighty axe-wielder whose strength is legendary!"

Voltran, a hulking brute armed with a massive axe, faced her with a menacing grin.

"Let the duel begin!" the announcer proclaimed.

The fight was intense, with Sheherazade's agility and speed clashing against Voltran's brute strength. He danced around him, his daggers flashing as they landed precise strikes. Despite his size and power, Voltran couldn't keep up with their swift attacks.

Voltran swung his axe with brutal force, but Sheherazade dodged effortlessly, his hood still concealing his face. With a swift move, he slashed his arm, causing him to drop the axe. He disarmed him with a final, breathtaking move and held their daggers to his throat. The crowd erupted in cheers, but they didn't deliver the killing blow. Instead, she looked up, her golden eyes locking onto mine.

Recognition struck me like lightning. Those eyes... It was the young woman from the oasis!

"It can't be... Is it really her?" I muttered to myself, my mind racing with the realization.

Suddenly, Sheherazade stepped back and raised her hands. "I forfeit," she declared, her voice steady.

The crowd booed loudly, their excitement turning to anger. The announcer looked shocked, stammering as he tried to regain control of the situation. "Sheherazade forfeits! The match goes to Voltran!"

The boos grew louder, but Sheherazade ignored them, her gaze never leaving mine. She turned and left the arena, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

Before the crowd could recover, the announcer's voice rang out again. "And now, the final match of the second round: Keliotor versus Kilian!"

Keliotor, a towering figure clad in dark armor, stepped into the arena, his presence exuding an aura of dread. Kilian, a muscular yet agile fighter with a terrifying look in his eyes, faced him.

"Prepare yourselves for a clash of two remarkable warriors! In this corner, we have Keliotor, the shadow of the battlefield and three-time champion of the Mehmoura arena!"

The crowd cheered loudly, acknowledging Keliotor's formidable reputation.

"And in the opposite corner, we have Kilian, the swift blade of the south!"

As the two combatants squared off, the crowd held its breath, anticipating the brutal clash. The tension was palpable, the air thick with expectation.

"Let the duel begin!" the announcer declared.

Keliotor moved with surprising speed for his size, his dark armor glinting under the arena lights. He swung his massive sword with deadly precision, forcing Kilian to rely on his agility to dodge and counter. Kilian darted around Keliotor, looking for an opening, his blade flashing as he aimed for the gaps in Keliotor's armor.

Kilian managed to land a few quick strikes, but Keliotor's armor absorbed most of the impact. With a roar, Keliotor unleashed a powerful swing, narrowly missing Kilian but sending a shockwave through the ground.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, the excitement palpable. As the battle raged on, Keliotor's brute strength clashed with Kilian's speed and finesse. The air seemed to vibrate with the intensity of their blows, each strike a testament to their skill and determination