I was back in my room in the temporary housing hex after a brief stop with the somators to get healed up. I hadn’t been back to the apartment in nearly 24 hours. Between the Arena fighting, falling unconscious, and the whole Raven Court sidetrack, I hadn’t actually slept.

I could feel the exhaustion putting a drain on my magic energy and the mostly unfilled blue hexagon in my vision confirmed it. This day had not at all gone how I expected. Other than my first Arena fight and one good meal, I was ready to sleep this day into the past.

I hefted my bag onto the tiny bed and pulled everything out. The newest addition, a pouch of coins, thumped loudly. I picked it up and shook it. I would guess it had around 1000₴. A thought occurred to me.

Link, how many sattang are in this pouch

A number appeared beneath the pouch: 1150₴. I smiled and tossed it back on the bed.

I suddenly felt more at ease. I could easily afford food for a few weeks. I might even go back to the market and look at the weird enchants they had there.

But first, I needed to sleep. I slumped onto the stiff cushion that passed for a mattress and was immediately out. I decided nine hours would do well for me.

____________________________________________________________________________

I was suddenly pulled upwards. The room was dark. I felt a shadow looming in front of me. My arms wouldn’t come out from behind me. My vision flashed white and my head reeled back from a blow I couldn’t see coming. I tasted copper in my mouth, but there was also a distinct scent of ash in the room.

A small flame lit in front of me, barely illuminating three faces around me. There was one on either side over my shoulder, showing the source of my bindings. And the third face floated ominously in the darkness, staring intently into my eyes. Even in the poor light I could see who they were, Himaho enforcers.

“You will not do magic in here,” his voice was sharp, intense. “You live with our people, you obey our rules. We may not own the whole city, but we control this hex. If we hear you showed magic again to the children or woman living here, it will be your last day alive.”

I wanted to laugh in this guy's face, but I held my tongue for now. I wasn’t in a strong position to fight them and there could be more waiting outside my room.

He didn’t wait for a response from me anyway. The flame went out and I found myself on the floor alone. I used my magic to activate the click and the illusory lights relit the room.

It was completely spotless and empty. The only sign there had been anyone in here other than me was the slight lingering smell of ash.

Link, show me the time

3:21RT, a few hours past midnight. I had been asleep for maybe 5 hours. I still needed rest, but there was no way I could get back to sleep. My blood was pumping, my adrenaline was rushing, I needed to go hit something.

I grabbed my stuff and threw it on. Dagger, sword, bow. I was ready to go. I made a beeline directly to the Arena, weaving through the sparse crowd and ignoring everything around me. My body said I needed to get food and water (and sleep), but I only had one need in mind: blood.

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I entered an almost trance-like state. I had left my room and moments later I was in front of the stadium.

The same pudgy oval man sat inside his window. He looked distracted, reading some tome or other.

I knocked loudly on the glass. “I’m heading in, open the wall.”

He slowly closed his book and carefully put it away somewhere.

“You seemed to get enough the first time around,” he smirked. If I ever get the chance, I’m going to crack this egg guy open.

“Just open the wall,” I growled through gritted teeth.

“I seem to have misestimated you. I thought you would be able to keep up with the stronger-looking freshies, but I’m going to put you up against the rest of the chaff now.”

“Just. Open. The wall.” I wasn’t sure which would happen first: my teeth cracking from clenching my jaw or my eyes popping out of my head from trying to kill this man with my stare.

The man laughed, activating the panel to allow me in. “Good luck.” He sounded even less genuine this time than he did the first.

I descended the stairs into the Underground. Despite the bland stone walls and the reek of sweat, I felt more comfortable here than back in my assigned room.

Dragana, the night watch (or whatever) for the Underground noticed me and walked over.

“Tough night? You look like a gryphon dragged you flailing backwards through the Western Wilderness.”

“I just need a couple fights,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

She glanced at the crystal reader on the wall. “It looks like you’ve been demoted to fighting Dycune.” She chuckled, “you’re right, you’ll be fine. Knock a couple of the losers out and you can start taking on real fighters again.” The reader chimed. “You’re next.”

I walked over to the door, got the armband placed on me, and headed into the tunnel. I didn’t pay my opponent any mind; he would be down soon enough.

The torches in the tunnel shone brightly. First, the green torches. My thoughts raced, my anger boiled. One day in this city and I’m about ready to take my own head off. Nearly dying in only my second Arena match. Yellow torches. The Raven Court forcing me to work for them and sending me blind into a deadly environment. Orange torches. The magicless Himaho scum threatening me inside my own apartment. Light from the crimson red torches poured out like blood streaming from a slashed artery. It's time for blood to flow.

The announcer's voice boomed, but I heard nothing except the pulse beating in my ears. The gates rose, I drew my sword. My bow wasn’t enough. I needed to feel the strikes land, the flesh rend.

The arena was pure flat ground of polished stone. Slippery, but an easy view. I sprinted across the ground, gaining more speed than I intended from the slick ground propelling me forward. I didn’t care. More speed just meant a stronger hit.

This was also the first time I really saw my opponent. It was a weasel-looking man with a large shield and no notable weapon in sight. He stayed still, holding his shield between us like it was a fortress wall.

I was still gaining speed. I had stopped running, instead keeping my feet planted to the ground and riding the momentum. When I reached him, I held my obstinite blade straight at the shield. The fragile iron stood no chance, especially with my speed. The pure black blade pierced so easily, I lost almost no speed and crashed into him, knocking him flat on his back. I twisted the blade and pulled it straight through as my speed continued.

I crashed into the wall. I heard a crack in my shoulder, but it didn’t matter. His shield dropped to the ground and slid away with his severed arm still attached. He was defeated.

The armband flashed, freezing me in place. The somators came down quickly, but I was gone before they reached the bleeding man. As soon as the band had released me, I was across the arena and back in the tunnel. I needed another fight.

The announcer's voice called out, celebrating me or mocking the ever-losing opponent I faced. I really don’t know. All I know is that one strike wasn’t enough. I needed more.